| 題名： | 長干行二首 一 |
| 作者： | 李白 |
| 妾髮初覆額， 折花門前劇。 郎騎竹馬來， 遶床弄青梅。 同居長干里， 兩小無嫌猜。 十四為君婦， 羞顏未嘗開。 低頭向暗壁， 千喚不一迴。 十五始展眉， 願同塵與灰。 常存抱柱信， 豈上望夫臺。 十六君遠行， 瞿塘灩澦堆。 五月不可觸， 猿聲天上哀。 門前遲行跡， 一一生綠苔。 苔深不能掃， 落葉秋風早。 八月胡蝶黃， 雙飛西園草。 感此傷妾心， 坐愁紅顏老。 早晚下三巴， 預將書報家。 相迎不道遠， 直至長風沙。 | |
| 英譯： |
WHEN the hair of your Unworthy One first began to cover her forehead,
She picked flowers and played in front of the door.
Then you, my Lover, came riding a bamboo horse.
We ran round and round the bed, and tossed about the sweetmeats of green plums.
We both lived in the village of Ch’ang Kan.
We were both very young, and knew neither jealousy nor suspicion.
At fourteen, I became the wife of my Lord.
I could not yet lay aside my face of shame;
I hung my head, facing the dark wall;
You might call me a thousand times, not once would I turn round.
At fifteen, I stopped frowning.
I wanted to be with you, as dust with its ashes.
I often thought that you were the faithful man who clung to the bridge-post,
That I should never be obliged to ascend to the Looking-for-Husband Ledge.
When I was sixteen, my Lord went far away,
To the Ch’ü T’ang Chasm and the Whirling Water Rock of the Yü River
Which, during the Fifth Month, must not be collided with;
Where the wailing of the gibbons seems to come from the sky.
Your departing footprints are still before the door where I bade you good-bye,
In each has sprung up green moss.
The moss is thick, it cannot be swept away.
The leaves are falling, it is early for the Autumn wind to blow.
It is the Eighth Month, the butterflies are yellow,
Two are flying among the plants in the West garden;
Seeing them, my heart is bitter with grief, they wound the heart of the Unworthy One.
The bloom of my face has faded, sitting with my sorrow.
From early morning until late in the evening, you descend the Three Serpent River.
Prepare me first with a letter, bringing me the news of when you will reach home.
I will not go far on the road to meet you,
I will go straight until I reach the Long Wind Sands.
When first o'er maiden brows my hair I tied, In sport I plucked the blooms before, the door. You riding came on hobby-horse astride, And wreathed my bed with greengage branches o'er. At Ch'ang-kan village long together dwelt We children twain, and knew no petty strife. At fourteen years lo! I became thy wife. Yet ah! the modest shyness that I felt! My shame-faced head I in a corner hung; Nor to long calling answered word of mine. At fifteen years my heart's gate open sprung, And I were glad to mix my dust with thine. My troth to thee till death I keep for aye: My eyes still gaze adoring on my lord. When I was but sixteen you went away. In Chü-t’ang Gorge how Yen-yü's billows roared! For five long months with you I cannot meet. The gibbon's wail reëchoes to the sky! Before the door, where stood your parting feet, The prints with verdant moss are covered high. Deep is that moss! it will not brush away. In early autumn's gale the leaflets fall. September now !—the butterflies so gay Disport on grasses by our garden wall. The sight my heart disturbs with longing woe. I sit and wail, my red cheeks growing old. Early and late I to the gorges go, Waiting for news that of thy coming told. How short will seem the way, if we but meet! Across the sand the wind flies straight to greet. When first o'er maiden brows my hair I tied, In sport I plucked the blooms before, the door. You riding came on hobby-horse astride, And wreathed my bed with greengage branches o'er. At Ch'ang-kan village long together dwelt We children twain, and knew no petty strife. At fourteen years lo! I became thy wife. Yet ah! the modest shyness that I felt! My shame-faced head I in a corner hung; Nor to long calling answered word of mine. At fifteen years my heart's gate open sprung, And I were glad to mix my dust with thine. My troth to thee till death I keep for aye: My eyes still gaze adoring on my lord. When I was but sixteen you went away. In Chü-t’ang Gorge how Yen-yü's billows roared! For five long months with you I cannot meet. The gibbon's wail reëchoes to the sky! Before the door, where stood your parting feet, The prints with verdant moss are covered high. Deep is that moss! it will not brush away. In early autumn's gale the leaflets fall. September now !—the butterflies so gay Disport on grasses by our garden wall. The sight my heart disturbs with longing woe. I sit and wail, my red cheeks growing old. Early and late I to the gorges go, Waiting for news that of thy coming told. How short will seem the way, if we but meet! Across the sand the wind flies straight to greet. My forehead covered by my hair cut straight, I played with flowers pluck'd before the gate. On a hobby-horse you came on the scene, Around the well we played with mumes still green. We lived, close neighbors on Riverside lane. Carefree and innocent, we children twain. I was fourteen when I became your young bride, I'd often turn my bashful face aside, Hanging my head, I'd look towards the wall, A thousand times I'd not answer your call. I was fifteen when I composed my brows, To mix my dust with yours were my dear vows. Rather than break faith, you declared you'd die. Who knew I'd live alone in a tower high? I was sixteen when you went far away, Passing Three Canyons studded with rocks gray, Where ships were wrecked when spring flood ran high, Where gibbons' wails seemed coming from the sky. Green moss now overgrows before our door, Your footprints, hidden, can be seen no more. Moss can't be swept away: so thick it grows, And leaves fall early when the west wind blows. The yellow butterflies in autumn pass Two by two o'er our western-garden grass. This sight would break my heart, and I'm afraid, Sitting alone, my rosy cheeks would fade. Sooner or later, you'll leave the Western land. Do not forget to let me know beforehand. I'll walk to meet you and not call it far To go to Long Wind Sands or where you are. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |