<Header>
<Author: 韓愈>
<Title: 山石>
<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: Mountain Rocks>
<BookPage: 263-265>
<UsedPage: 3>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
山石犖確行徑微，
黃昏到寺蝙蝠飛。
升堂坐階新雨足，
芭蕉葉大支子肥。
僧言古壁佛畫好，
以火來照所見稀。
鋪牀拂席置羹飯，
疎糲亦足飽我飢。
夜深靜臥百蟲絕，
清月出嶺光入扉。
天明獨去無道路，
出入高下窮煙霏。
山紅澗碧紛爛漫，
時見松櫪皆十圍。
當流赤足蹋澗石，
水聲激激風吹衣。
人生如此自可樂，
豈必局束爲人鞿。
嗟哉吾黨二三子，
安得至老不更歸。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Mountain rocks here are jagged and craggy.
The paths are narrow; difficult to tread.
When we arrived at the abbey at eve,
Many bats were fluttering overhead.

As we ascended the steps and sat there,
Our feet were already wet with rain.
The leaves of the plantain were very large.
Luxuriant grew the elecampane.

The monks said that the murals of Buddha –
Are done with extreme skill and minute care.
They brought a lamp to illuminate them.
As specimens of such art, they are rare.

We were invited to stay overnight.
Beds were provided; a table was spread.
Though it was coarse rice and vegetables,
We're satisfied with being fully fed.

In the quiet of the night, we reclined.
Insect of any kind, we heard no more.
The bright moon rose out of the mountain;
Approached and even penetrated the door.

When morning arrived, we left the abbey.
But which way to go, we were in a maze.
Up and down rough terrain, we forged ahead,
Still in the midst of enveloping haze.

The mountain is red; the brooks are verdant.
Between them was colorful interplay.
At times, I saw pines and oaks of such girth –
It'd take tem men to gird it the whole way.

When we reached places where there was water,
We went in and touched bottom with bare feet.
We enjoyed hearing the water rushing on,
Wind filling out our robes like flowing sheet.

Life can be happy with such for pleasure.
Why be close-confined like lambs in a fold?
Alas! Indeed, people like us, two or three!
Couldn't we return home before we get old?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
Mountain rocks here are jagged and craggy. The paths are narrow; difficult to tread.
When we arrived at the abbey at eve, Many bats were fluttering overhead.

As we ascended the steps and sat there, Our feet were already wet with rain.
The leaves of the plantain were very large. Luxuriant grew the elecampane.

The monks said that the murals of Buddha – Are done with extreme skill and minute care.
They brought a lamp to illuminate them. As specimens of such art, they are rare.

We were invited to stay overnight. Beds were provided; a table was spread.
Though it was coarse rice and vegetables, We're satisfied with being fully fed.

In the quiet of the night, we reclined. Insect of any kind, we heard no more.
The bright moon rose out of the mountain; Approached and even penetrated the door.

When morning arrived, we left the abbey. But which way to go, we were in a maze.
Up and down rough terrain, we forged ahead, Still in the midst of enveloping haze.

The mountain is red; the brooks are verdant. Between them was colorful interplay.
At times, I saw pines and oaks of such girth – It'd take tem men to gird it the whole way.

When we reached places where there was water, We went in and touched bottom with bare feet.
We enjoyed hearing the water rushing on, Wind filling out our robes like flowing sheet.

Life can be happy with such for pleasure.
Why be close-confined like lambs in a fold?
Alas! Indeed, people like us, two or three!
Couldn't we return home before we get old?
<End Formatted Translation>