<Header>
<Author: 孟郊>
<Title: 峽哀 三>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1965>
<BookName: POEMS OF THE LATE T'ANG>
<Translator: Graham& Anque Charlet>
<TranslatedTitle: Sadness of the Gorges (Third of ten)>
<BookPage: 59>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
三峽一線天，
三峽萬繩泉。
上仄碎日月，
下掣狂漪漣。
破魂一兩點，
凝幽數百年。
峽暉不停午，
峽險多飢涎。
樹根鎖枯棺，
孤骨褭褭懸。
樹枝哭霜棲，
哀韻杳杳鮮。
逐客零落腸，
到此湯火煎。
性命如紡績，
道路隨索緣。
奠淚弔波靈，
波靈將閃然。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Above the gorges, one thread of sky:
Cascades in the gorges twine a thousand cords.
High up, the slant of splintered sunlight, moonlight:
Beneath, curbs to the wild heave of the waves.
The shock of a gleam, and then another,
In depths of shadow frozen for centuries:
The rays between the gorges do not halt at noon;
Where the straits are perilous, more hungry spittle.
Trees lock their roots in rotted coffins
And the twisted skeletons hang tilted upright:
Branches weep as the frost perches
Mournful cadences, remote and clear.
A spurned exile's shrivelled guts
Scald and seethe in the water and fire he walks through.
A lifetime's like a fine-spun thread,
The road goes up by the rope at the edge.
When he pours his libation of tears to the ghosts in the stream
The ghosts gather, a shimmer on the waves.
<End Translation>