<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 佳人>
<Format: 五言古詩>
<Year: 1884>
<BookName: GEMS OF CHINESE LITERATURE>
<Translator: HERBERT A. GILES>
<TranslatedTitle: THE DESERTED WIFE.>
<BookPage: 114-115>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
絕代有佳人，
幽居在空谷。
自云良家子，
零落依草木。
關中昔喪敗，
兄弟遭殺戮。
官高何足論，
不得收骨肉。
世情惡衰歇，
萬事隨轉燭。
夫壻輕薄兒，
新人已如玉。
合昏尚知時，
鴛鴦不獨宿。
但見新人笑，
那聞舊人哭。
在山泉水清，
出山泉水濁。
侍婢賣珠回，
牽蘿補茅屋。
摘花不插髮，
采柏動盈匊。
天寒翠袖薄，
日暮倚修竹。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
ONCE fairer than the fairest dame,
I live concealed in mountain dell.
I call myself scion of a virtuous house,
Though shrubs and trees are now my sole support.
   Trouble came upon us lately within the walls;
My brothers were put to death.
What matter that their rank was high?
We could not recover their dead bodies.
   The age has no charms for me:
All things are like the puffing-out of a candle;
My husband a frivolous libertine,
His new wife as fair as jade.
   The acacia knows the hour to close,
The turtle-dove will not live alone;
He only sees the new wife smile,
He hears not the old wife weep.
   Water on the hill is clear,
Water from the hill is thick;
My maids go to sell my pearls,
And with a wisp they mend the patched roof.
   I pluck flowers I do not wear;
Fir-cones I gather in handfuls;
My broidered sleeve is thin for cold winds
As day and eve I lean against the tall bamboo.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
ONCE fairer than the fairest dame,
I live concealed in mountain dell.
I call myself scion of a virtuous house,
Though shrubs and trees are now my sole support.
Trouble came upon us lately within the walls;
My brothers were put to death.
What matter that their rank was high?
We could not recover their dead bodies.
The age has no charms for me:
All things are like the puffing-out of a candle;
My husband a frivolous libertine,
His new wife as fair as jade.
The acacia knows the hour to close,
The turtle-dove will not live alone;
He only sees the new wife smile,
He hears not the old wife weep.
Water on the hill is clear,
Water from the hill is thick;
My maids go to sell my pearls,
And with a wisp they mend the patched roof.
I pluck flowers I do not wear;
Fir-cones I gather in handfuls;
My broidered sleeve is thin for cold winds
As day and eve I lean against the tall bamboo.
<End Formatted Translation>