<Header>
<Author: 李白>
<Title: 夢遊天姥吟留別>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1971>
<BookName: CHINESE LYRICISM: Shih poetry from the second to the twelfth century>
<Translator: Burton Watson>
<TranslatedTitle: Song of a Dream Visit to T’ien-mu: Farewell to Those I Leave Behind>
<BookPage: 151-152>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
海客談瀛洲，
煙濤微茫信難求。
越人語天姥，
雲霓明滅或可覩。
天姥連天向天橫，
勢拔五嶽掩赤城。
天台四萬八千丈，
對此欲倒東南傾。
我欲因之夢吳越，
一夜飛度鏡湖月。
湖月照我影，
送我至剡溪。
謝公宿處今尚在，
淥水蕩漾清猨啼。
脚著謝公屐，
身登青雲梯。
半壁見海日，
空中聞天雞。
千巖萬轉路不定，
迷花倚石忽已暝。
熊咆龍吟殷巖泉，
慄深林兮驚層巔。
雲青青兮欲雨，
水澹澹兮生煙。
列缺霹靂，
丘巒崩摧。
洞天石扇，
訇然中開。
青冥浩蕩不見底，
日月照耀金銀臺。
霓爲衣兮風爲馬，
雲之君兮紛紛而來下。
虎鼓瑟兮鸞迴車，
仙之人兮列如麻。
忽魂悸以魄動，
怳驚起而長嗟。
惟覺時之枕席，
失向來之煙霞。
世間行樂亦如此，
古來萬事東流水。
別君去時何時還，
且放白鹿青崖間，
須行即騎訪名山。
安能摧眉折腰事權貴？使我不得開心顏。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Seafarers tell of the Isles of Ying,
shadowy in spindrift and waves, truly hard to seek out;
Yüeh men describe Tien-mu,
in clouds and rainbow clear or shrouded, there for eyes to glimpse;
Tien-mu touching the sky, surging toward the sky,
lord above the Five Peaks, shadowing the Red Wall;
Tien-tai's forty-eight thousand fathoms
beside it seem to topple and sprawl to south and east.
I longed, and my longing became a dream of Wu-Yüeh;
in the night I flew across the moon of Mirror Lake;
the lake moon, lighting my shadow,
saw me to the Valley of Shan,
Lord Hsieh's old home there today,
where green waters rush and roil and shrill monkeys cry.
Feet thrust into Lord Hsieh's clogs,
body climbing ladders of blue cloud,
halfway up the scraps I see the ocean sun,
and in the air hear the cocks of heaven.
A thousand cliffs, ten thousand clefts, trails uncertain,
I turn aside for flowers, rest on the rocks—suddenly it's night;
bear growls, dragon purrs in the din of cliffside torrents
shake the deep forest, startle the piled-up peaks;
clouds blue-dark, threatening rain,
waters soft-seething, sending up mists:
a rent of lighting, crack of thunder,
and hilltops sunder and fall;
doors of stone at grotto mouths
swing inward with a grinding roar,
and from the blue darkness, bottomless, vast and wild,
sun and moon shine sparkling on terraces of silver and gold.
Rainbows for robes, wind for horses,
whirling whirling, the Lord of the Clouds comes down,
tigers twanging zithers, luan birds to turn his carriage,
and immortal men in files thick as hemp—
Suddenly my soul shudders, my spirit leaps,
in terror I rise up with repeated sighs:
only the mat and pillow where now I woke—
lost are the mists of a moment ago!
All the joys of the world are like this,
the many-evented pasta river flowing east.
I leave you now— when will I return?—
to loose the white deer among green bluffs,
in my wandering to ride them in search of famed hills.
How can I knit brows, bend back to serve influence and power,
never dare to wear an open-hearted face?
<End Translation>