| 題名： | 自京赴奉先縣詠懷五百字 |
| 作者： | 杜甫 |
| 杜陵有布衣， 老大意轉拙。 許身一何愚， 竊比稷與契。 居然成濩落， 白首甘契闊。 蓋棺事則已， 此志常覬豁。 窮年憂黎元， 嘆息腸內熱。 取笑同學翁， 浩歌彌激烈。 非無江海志， 蕭灑送日月。 生逢堯舜君， 不忍便永訣。 當今廊廟具， 構廈豈云缺？ 葵藿傾太陽， 物性固莫奪。 顧惟螻蟻輩， 但自求其穴。 胡為慕大鯨， 輒擬偃溟渤？ 以茲誤生理， 獨恥事干謁。 兀兀遂至今， 忍為塵埃沒？ 終愧巢與由， 未能易其節。 沈飲聊自遣， 放歌破愁絕。 歲暮百草零， 疾風高岡裂。 天衢陰崢嶸， 客子中夜發。 霜嚴衣帶斷， 指直不得結。 凌晨過驪山， 御榻在嵽嵲。 蚩尤塞寒空， 蹴蹋崖谷滑。 瑤池氣郁律， 羽林相摩戛。 君臣留歡娛， 樂動殷膠葛。 賜浴皆長纓， 與宴非短褐。 彤庭所分帛， 本自寒女出。 鞭撻其夫家， 聚斂貢城闕。 聖人筐篚恩， 實欲邦國活。 臣如忽至理， 君豈棄此物？ 多士盈朝廷， 仁者宜戰栗。 况聞內金盤， 盡在衛霍室。 中堂舞神仙， 煙霧蒙玉質。 暖客貂鼠裘， 悲管逐清瑟。 勸客駝蹄羹， 霜橙壓香橘。 朱門酒肉臭， 路有凍死骨！ 榮枯咫尺異， 惆悵難再述！ 北轅就涇渭， 官渡又改轍。 群冰從西下， 極目高崒兀。 疑是崆峒來， 恐觸天柱折。 河梁幸未坼， 枝撐聲窸窣。 行旅相攀援， 川廣不可越。 老妻寄異縣， 十口隔風雪。 誰能久不顧？ 庶往共飢渴。 入門聞號咷， 幼子餓已卒！ 吾寧舍一哀， 里巷亦嗚咽！ 所愧為人父， 無食致夭折！ 豈知秋禾登， 貧窶有倉卒。 生常免租稅， 名不隸征伐。 撫迹猶酸辛， 平人固騷屑。 默思失業徒， 因念遠戍卒。 憂端齊終南， 澒洞不可掇！ | |
| 英譯： |
I am a commoner once living in Tuling County,
Despondent now when on the shady side of my forty.
How foolish was I that cherished the ambition
Of equalling the sages Ji's and Xie's tradition.
Eventually I have passed most of my life in vain;
Grey-haired, I'm content with the routines toilsome and plain.
When the coffin-lid is closed, all things will come to a still;
Yet before, I pondered always to realize my will.
Throughout the years I'm worried about people's miserable life;
Heaving sighs for them, my heart seems to be cut by a knife.
The more my valued colleagues make fun of my idealism,
The more I sing my songs with even stronger enthusiasm.
Not that I'm unwilling to roam among waters and hills,
And to watch with ease the sun and moon rotating on wheels;
But born at the time of our Liege who has Yao's and Shun's wise,
I cannot bear to leave forever from under his eyes.
Nowadays there are lots of pillars stocked in the court,
How can it be thought that the building material is short?
Yet like the sunflower inclining to face the bright sun,
One can't change the nature of things in their general run.
Reflecting on those who are merely ants and insect pests,
They seek after nothing for themselves but cosy nests,
And then for what reason should I admire the monstrous whale,
And always sign for in the boundless ocean swimming well?
So that I've wasted my time and detained my purpose,
And I alone had a sense of shame to visit the purples.
I've led a life of poverty and humbleness up to these days;
Can I endure to be guttered out in dust always?
I feel envy at the ancient hermites Chao and You,
Yet cannot I follow them and my volition subdue.
Therefor I'd sunk into drinking to give myself relief,
And sang songs loudly to break down the gloom of heavy grief.
Wild grasses are withered when the year draws to its close;
The sky-high ridges are torn broken by the winds' hard blows.
When on the roof of heaven the clouds loom like mountains' train,
I start on my way, at midnight, as a pedestrian.
My robe cord breaks untimely when it's a frosty weather,
And my stiffened fingers cannot tie both ends together.
The while I'm plodding through the Li Mountain at the break of day,
At the resort on the crags the Emperor is making a stay.
The wreaths of fogs spread and mix with the frigid atmosphere;
The snowy cliffs and vales are heavy for my feet to clear.
I see the vapours from hot springs screening the hills in blank,
And hear the palace guards making their weapons clink and clank.
Enjoying on high with his subjects there is the Sovereign,
With the musical performance making the welkin ring.
The noblemen only are favoured to bath in the pool.
And at the banquets there never have been the poor.
The silks with which they are bestowed in the vermeil hall,
Are woven by the women under the low roofs of straw.
Their husbands are scourged by the officials to extort
Things from the hungry mouths to offer to the imperial court.
Gifts in the bamboo caskets show the grace of the Emperor's,
On purpose, actually, to make our country prosperous.
If the courtiers in power neglect the meaning of it,
Would not it be that those materials are uselessly quit?
There are so many liege men around the Sovereign,
At the waste the good-hearted one must be shock with shivering.
It's said, besides, the golden plates from the inner court are gone,
And the queen's kins Wei and Huo had taken the vessels down.
The fairylike dancers are dancing in the median hall,
Their vestures with pretty figures turning in a misty roll.
The guests are warmed up with the coats made of marten fur,
Listening to the flutes crooning after the zither's soft purl.
Now they're served with thick soup of the pads of camel's feet,
And the autumn oranges piled on tangerines so sweet.
Behind the mansions' crimson gates wines and meat are rotten,
While on the road there are corpses lying in the frost wanton!
The purples inside and paupers outside are within cry;
Too sad and worried am I to have more to describe!
Now my cart-shafts head north to the confluence of the Jing and Wei;
At the Official Ferry, the cart changes again its way.
A sea of ice floes flow down the waters from the west;
Gazed from a distance, they are hillocks with steep crests.
I wonder if from the Kongtong Mountain they have come to raven,
And am afraid they would break down the pillars of Heaven.
But fortunately the bridge stands the swashing;
Only the supports creak audibly in the sloshing.
We travellers help each other as timid movers,
And the expanse of the river seems unable to cross over.
In a strange county my old wife lodges in a bind,
Our family of ten are obstructed with snow and wind.
How can I leave them there for such a long duration?
So that I make my way forward to share their starvation.
Yet when arriving I hear the wailful cry of my wife;
Hunger had already carried off my youngest son's life!
Should I be scanty of expressing my heart-rending griefs
When our neighbours are sobbing too, with tears wetting their sleeves?
It stings in me that, being father without food to lend,
I see thus a young life come to a premature end!
I never thought that when the autumn crops are stored in heaps,
Mishaps betide people like us always living in weeps.
Born into the upper class, I'm exempt from taxes all;
My name, too, would not be listed in the conscription roll.
Yet bethinking myself of what I've met I am sad,
No wonder more unsafe are low lives since fate treats them bad.
Turning about in my heart the peasants who lost their land,
And the private soldiers sent to far frontiers to defend,
My miscellaneous sorrows pile up to Zhongnan Mountain's top,
So unrestrained also like the ocean's boundless lops!
Imagine a man in commonplace clothes, advancing years, impractical and even strupid, struggling on he wanted to rank with sages instead he has white hair and failure he'll stick with his goals, though, until they close him into his coffin a poet who writes from the heart, anxious about the poor for which his fellow scholar laugh at him! well, I will not stop singing even though I dream of traveling far away I have to think the emperor still cares about this realm of his the sunflower turns to the sun that is its very nature the ant seeks security retreats to its own burrow why should it imitate the whale trying to swallow the seas? but oh I am sick of begging whining about my obscurity I know it all ends in dust and I think about famous hermits the only things that relieve my heart are poetry and drinking Year's end, the grasses withered a great wind scouring the high ridges in bitter cold at midnight I set out along the imperial highway sharp frost, my belt snaps my fingers are too stiff to tie it around dawn I pass the emperor's winter palace army banners against the sky the ground tramped smooth by troops thick steam from the hot green springs imperial guards rub elbows cabinet ministers live it up the musci drifts through the wintry landscape the hot baths here are for important people nothing for common folks the silk the courtiers wear was woven by poor women while soldiers beat their husbands demanding tribute of course our emperor is generous he wants the best for us we have to blame his ministers when government is bad plenty of good people at the court must be especially worried when they see the palace gold plate carted off by royal relations women like goddesses are dancing inside all silk and perfume guests in sable furs music of pipes and fiddles camel-pad broth is served with frosted oranges, pungent tangerines behind those red gates meat and wine are left to spoil outside lie the bones of people who starved and froze luxury and misery a few feet apart－ my heart aches to think about it! But now I must go on to cross the Wei and Jing the ferry landing has been moved because of floods one bridge is still in tact above the surging waters thinking ahead to my wife trying to cope with this weather desperate to be with my family I arrive at last to learn my little son has died probably from sheer hunger and I stand and weep in the street the neighbors crowd round me, weeping my shame overwhelms me, a father who couldn't feed his family I who have never paid taxes never been conscripted I realize I've had an easy life and I think again of the poor losing thier farms, sons sent to war no end to their griefs till my sorrow becomes a mountain whose peak I cannot see. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |