<Header>
<Author: 韓愈>
<Title: 石鼓歌>
<Format: 七言古詩>
<Year: 1987>
<BookName: 300 Tang Poems: A New Translation>
<Translator: 許淵冲, 陸佩弦, 吳鈞陶>
<TranslatedTitle: An Ode to the Stone Drums>
<BookPage: 273-280>
<UsedPage: 8>
<Feature: 1, 2, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
張生手持石鼓文，
勸我試作石鼓歌。
少陵無人謫仙死，
才薄將奈石鼓何。
周綱陵遲四海沸，
宣王憤起揮天戈。
大開明堂受朝賀，
諸侯劒佩鳴相磨。
蒐于岐陽騁雄俊，
萬里禽獸皆遮羅。
鐫功勒成告萬世，
鑿石作鼓隳嵯峨。
從臣才藝咸第一，
揀選撰刻留山阿。
雨淋日炙野火燎，
鬼物守護煩撝呵。
公從何處得紙本，
毫髮盡備無差訛。
辭嚴義密讀難曉，
字體不類隸與科。
年深豈免有缺畫，
快劒斫斷生蛟鼉。
鸞翔鳳翥衆僊下，
珊瑚碧樹交枝柯。
金繩鐵索鎖紐壯，
古鼎躍水龍騰梭。
陋儒編詩不收入，
二雅褊迫無委蛇。
孔子西行不到秦，
掎摭星宿遺羲娥。
嗟予好古生苦晚，
對此涕淚雙滂沱。
憶昔初蒙博士徴，
其年始改稱元和。
故人從軍在右輔，
爲我度量掘臼科。
濯冠沐浴告祭酒，
如此至寶存豈多。
氊包席裹可立致，
十鼓祗載數駱駝。
薦諸太廟比郜鼎，
光價豈止百倍過。
聖恩若許留太學，
諸生講解得切磋。
觀經鴻都尚填咽，
坐見舉國來奔波。
剜苔剔蘚露節角，
安置妥帖平不頗。
大廈深簷與蓋覆，
經歷久遠期無佗。
中朝大官老於事，
詎肯感激徒媕婀。
牧童敲火牛礪角，
誰復著手爲摩挲。
日銷月鑠就埋沒，
六年西顧空吟哦。
羲之俗書趁姿媚，
數紙尚可博白鵝。
繼周八代爭戰罷，
無人收拾理則那。
方今太平日無事，
柄任儒術崇丘軻。
安能以此上論列，
願借辨口如懸河。
石鼓之歌止於此，
嗚呼吾意其蹉跎。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Zhang, rubbings of the Stone Drums in hand,
Urged me to try for an ode in their stand.
Shaoling of his laureateship deprived,
The Banished Fairy having not survived,
O Drums,
How could my limited talents
Be worthy of your high acomplishments?

With the reign of Zhou steadily declining,
The whole land in turmoil lay repining.
King Xuan resolved to set his state right,
The Sword of Justice he weilded with great might.
Flung wide were the doors of the Grand Hall,
Throned he was to be cheered by all,
Dukes and barons shoulders rubbing,
Their swords and pendants gaily jangling.
South of Mount Qi o'er the hunting ground,
Galloped the brilliant and brave;
For countless miles all around,
Birds and beasts fell their preys.
To have the feats engraved for eternity,
Drums were chipped from rock tumbled off crags lofty.
The arts and talents of the courtiers
All ranked among the superiors.
They picked and chose, wrote and carved till, all ready,
The drums were laid in the nook of a valley.
Rain-drenched, sun-baked, and wild fire grilled,
They begged of daemons to warn and shield.
"Where on earth did you get such rubbings,
Truthful and exact down to the finest tracings?"
Close in sense and strict in expression,
The text is hard for comprehension.
The calligraphy of the scroll
Is neither "Official" nor "Tadpole".
How could it be uneroded, being ages old?
Yet what masterful strokes – and behold!
Like soaring dragons hacked by swords whittling,
Like phoenix-walzing, argus-wheeling,
A host of fairies fast descending,
Coral and jade trees with their branches entwining.
Locked by iron-chains and gold-shackles,
They wrest and wring;
Like the Ancient Tripods and Dragon-shuttles,
They skip and spring.
Pedants are they who had the work omitted,
While the Book of Songs was being edited.
And its two sections of Hymns are too restricted
To have this grand piece properly admitted.
Confucius never reached Qin
While westward he was touring.
So, galaxies of poems though he had collected,
A gem that beams like Sun and Moon was neglected.
What a pity indeed that I,
Whom antiquities always fascinate,
Should have been born ever so late.
Down on my cheeks tears poured straight,
As I pondered on the Drums' fate!

It all happened –
When to the Doctoratel I was first named,
And the reign of Yuanho just proclaimed.
An old friend of mine in the West Garrison served,
Who helped me have the drums located and unearthed,
Having washed my hat and bathed,
To the Academy Dean I spake:
Of treasures like these how many could have remained:
But rug- or mat-wrapped, they could be readily obtained.
And with the ten drums to carry
Just a few camels are necessary.
If in the Ancestral Temple
They are enshrined as a sample,
To the Gao Tripod they would be comparable,
And indeed a hundred-fold more splendent and valuable.
If by the Emperor's special grace,
In the Academy allowed a place,
Among the students they are sure to create
Diligent study and fruitful debate.
For the Inscribed Classics
Even Hongdu was choked with viewers;
To have a peep of our relics
People would soon flock from all quarters.
With lichen raked and moss scraped,
Their lines and angles kept in hard shape,
Solid and safe, on smooth ground firmly laid,
A great hall to shield and deep eaves to shade,
O may these Drums be blessed by Fate,
And go down to eternity.
But service-worn, the high court official
Being callous and non-commital,
How could his zest be ever kindled? –
So he just hung back and dawdled!
Cowherds kept striking fire on each drum;
And for cow-horns whetstones they've all become.
Who then has ever come again
To care and stroke these remains?
Eroded and consumed as days and months slipped by,
From memory their radiance began to fade and die,
For six years, westward, straining my eye,
Ah me, what else could I do but sing and sigh?
Of Xizhi's popular script, seeking charm and ease,
Even a few sheets had won him the white geese 
$(How ridiculous it is indeed)$
$(That none should have paid the Drums any heed)$
Ever since Zhou, for eight dynasties, 
After the end of all hostilities!

Now a long and secure peace has reigned,
With creeds of Confucius and Mencius ordained,
And powers by their disciples firmly obtained,
How, then, could my above points be re-gained?
Fain would I loose my torrential eloquence
To bring them all into royal presence.
But alas, alas.
This Ode to the Stone Drums must now be ended.
Would all not prove in vain that I've intended?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
Zhang, rubbings of the Stone Drums in hand,
Urged me to try for an ode in their stand.
Shaoling of his laureateship deprived, The Banished Fairy having not survived,
O Drums, How could my limited talents Be worthy of your high acomplishments?

With the reign of Zhou steadily declining, The whole land in turmoil lay repining.
King Xuan resolved to set his state right, The Sword of Justice he weilded with great might.
Flung wide were the doors of the Grand Hall, Throned he was to be cheered by all,
Dukes and barons shoulders rubbing, Their swords and pendants gaily jangling.
South of Mount Qi o'er the hunting ground, Galloped the brilliant and brave;
For countless miles all around, Birds and beasts fell their preys.
To have the feats engraved for eternity,
Drums were chipped from rock tumbled off crags lofty.
The arts and talents of the courtiers All ranked among the superiors.
They picked and chose, wrote and carved till, all ready, The drums were laid in the nook of a valley.
Rain-drenched, sun-baked, and wild fire grilled,
They begged of daemons to warn and shield.
"Where on earth did you get such rubbings,
Truthful and exact down to the finest tracings?"
Close in sense and strict in expression,
The text is hard for comprehension.
The calligraphy of the scroll Is neither "Official" nor "Tadpole".
How could it be uneroded, being ages old? Yet what masterful strokes – and behold!
Like soaring dragons hacked by swords whittling,
Like phoenix-walzing, argus-wheeling, A host of fairies fast descending,
Coral and jade trees with their branches entwining.
Locked by iron-chains and gold-shackles, They wrest and wring;
Like the Ancient Tripods and Dragon-shuttles, They skip and spring.
Pedants are they who had the work omitted, While the Book of Songs was being edited.
And its two sections of Hymns are too restricted To have this grand piece properly admitted.
Confucius never reached Qin While westward he was touring.
So, galaxies of poems though he had collected, A gem that beams like Sun and Moon was neglected.
What a pity indeed that I, Whom antiquities always fascinate, Should have been born ever so late.
Down on my cheeks tears poured straight, As I pondered on the Drums' fate!

It all happened – When to the Doctoratel I was first named,
And the reign of Yuanho just proclaimed.
An old friend of mine in the West Garrison served,
Who helped me have the drums located and unearthed,
Having washed my hat and bathed,
To the Academy Dean I spake: Of treasures like these how many could have remained:
But rug- or mat-wrapped, they could be readily obtained.
And with the ten drums to carry Just a few camels are necessary.
If in the Ancestral Temple They are enshrined as a sample, To the Gao Tripod they would be comparable,
And indeed a hundred-fold more splendent and valuable.
If by the Emperor's special grace, In the Academy allowed a place,
Among the students they are sure to create Diligent study and fruitful debate.
For the Inscribed Classics Even Hongdu was choked with viewers;
To have a peep of our relics People would soon flock from all quarters.
With lichen raked and moss scraped, Their lines and angles kept in hard shape,
Solid and safe, on smooth ground firmly laid,
A great hall to shield and deep eaves to shade,
O may these Drums be blessed by Fate, And go down to eternity.
But service-worn, the high court official Being callous and non-commital,
How could his zest be ever kindled? – So he just hung back and dawdled!
Cowherds kept striking fire on each drum; And for cow-horns whetstones they've all become.
Who then has ever come again To care and stroke these remains?
Eroded and consumed as days and months slipped by, From memory their radiance began to fade and die,
For six years, westward, straining my eye, Ah me, what else could I do but sing and sigh?
Of Xizhi's popular script, seeking charm and ease,
Even a few sheets had won him the white geese 
$(How ridiculous it is indeed)$
$(That none should have paid the Drums any heed)$
Ever since Zhou, for eight dynasties,  
After the end of all hostilities!

Now a long and secure peace has reigned,
With creeds of Confucius and Mencius ordained,
And powers by their disciples firmly obtained, How, then, could my above points be re-gained?
Fain would I loose my torrential eloquence To bring them all into royal presence.
But alas, alas. This Ode to the Stone Drums must now be ended.
Would all not prove in vain that I've intended?
<End Formatted Translation>