<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 松聲>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1947>
<BookName: THE WHITE PONY: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Newly Translated>
<Translator: Robert Payne>
<TranslatedTitle: SONG OF THE PINES>
<BookPage: 220>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
月好好獨坐，
雙松在前軒。
西南微風來，
潛入枝葉間。
蕭寥發爲聲，
半夜明月前。
寒山颯颯雨，
秋琴泠泠弦。
一聞滌炎暑，
再聽破昏煩。
竟夕遂不寐，
心體俱翛然。
南陌車馬動，
西鄰歌吹繁。
誰知茲檐下，
滿耳不爲喧。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
I like sitting alone when the moon is shining,
And there are two pines standing before the verandah;
A breeze comes from the south-west,
Creeping into the branches and leaves.
Under the brilliant moon at midnight
It whistles a cool, distant music,
Like rustling rains in empty mountains
And the serene harp-strings in the fall.
On first hearing them, the heat of summer is washed away:
And this suffocating boredom comes to an end.
So I keep awake the whole night,
Both the heart and the body becoming clear.
Along the south street coaches and horses are stirring,
In the west city sounds of playing and singing.
Who knows that under the roof-trees of this place
The cars are full, but not with noise.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
I like sitting alone when the moon is shining,
And there are two pines standing before the verandah;
A breeze comes from the south-west,
Creeping into the branches and leaves.
It whistles a cool, distant music,
Under the brilliant moon at midnight
Like rustling rains in empty mountains
And the serene harp-strings in the fall.
On first hearing them, the heat of summer is washed away:
And this suffocating boredom comes to an end.
So I keep awake the whole night,
Both the heart and the body becoming clear.
Along the south street coaches and horses are stirring,
In the west city sounds of playing and singing.
Who knows that under the roof-trees of this place
The cars are full, but not with noise.
<End Formatted Translation>