| 題名： | 隋宮 |
| 作者： | 李商隱 |
| 紫泉宮殿鎖煙霞， 欲取蕪城作帝家。 玉璽不緣歸日角， 錦帆應是到天涯。 于今腐草無螢火， 終古垂楊有暮鴉。 地下若逢陳後主， 豈宜重問後庭花。 | |
| 英譯： |
THE rooms of your purple spring palace are enveloped in the mists (of the past) and have melted away;
You wished to take Wu-chêng and make it an imperial abode,
But the jade seal was not yours by rightful affinity and went to T‘ai Tsung.
Your embroidered sails might have reached to the utter-most regions of the world.
But now even the fireflies have deserted the decayed grasses (that cover your palace)
And to the last of your ancient willows only one crow comes home to roost.
If in the grave you meet the last emperor of the Chên
You will scarcely care to ask him to sing you “the flowers in the inner garden.”
His Palace of Purple Spring has been taken by mist and cloud, As he would have taken all Yang-chou to be his private do-main But for the seal of imperial jade being seized by the first T'ang Emperor, He would have bounded with his silken sails the limits of the world. Fire-flies are gone now, have left the weathered grasses, But still among the weeping-willows crows perch at twilight. ... If he meets, there underground, the Later Ch'ên Emperor, Do you think that they will mention A Song of Courtyard Flowers? Now Purple Stream and kingly halls in misty veils are bound, With him who o'er-grown towns would win a Prince's home to found. The Jade Seal was not fated so; beyond the sun it flew. The silken sails he used then have passed far out of view. And now amid the rotting grass no fireflies glimmer free. And crows at eve call sadly from each weeping willow tree. Beneath the earth if he should meet with Ch'en Hou Chu again, The song that made the peach trees bloom would he demand in vain. Now Purple Stream and kingly halls in misty veils are bound, With him who o'er-grown towns would win a Prince's home to found. The Jade Seal was not fated so; beyond the sun it flew. The silken sails he used then have passed far out of view. And now amid the rotting grass no fireflies glimmer free. And crows at eve call sadly from each weeping willow tree. Beneath the earth if he should meet with Ch'en Hou Chu again, The song that made the peach trees bloom would he demand in vain. THE rooms of your purple spring palace are enveloped in the mists (of the past) and have melted away; You wished to take Wu Chêng and make it an imperial abode, But the jade seal was not yours by rightful affinity and went to T‘ai Tsung. Your embroidered sails might have reached to the utter-most regions of the world. But now even the fireflies have deserted the decayed grasses (that cover your palace) And to the last of your ancient willows only one crow comes home to roost. If in the grave you meet the last emperor of the Chên You will scarcely care to ask him to sing you “the flowers in the inner garden.” In clouds and mists was locked his palace bleak; The Tyrant fancied a new home to seek. Had his power not fallen in the Rebel's hand, His Dragon boat would have brought him across the land. Amid the weeping willows cry the crows; In the rotting weeds not a firefly glows. Would he dare to ask for that dance of mirth When he faces Lord Chen underneath the earth. The capital palace, its purple pools were shrouded in heavy cloud; He wanted to take the Wasteland City and make it his royal home. If he hadn’t been fated to lose his jade seal to a man of regal mien, He would have hoisted his brocade sails and gone to that far-off place. Now there is no light from fireflies born of mouldering grass And in the ancient weeping willows there are crows at dusk. If he meets in the underworld with Chen, the ruler his house overthrew, He shouldn’t ask any more about the song ‘Rear palace flowers’. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |