<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 北征>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1973>
<BookName: LI PO AND TU FU POEMS SELECTED AND TRANSLATED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES>
<Translator: ARTHUR COOPER>
<TranslatedTitle: FROM THE JOURNEY NORTH: THE HOMECOMING>
<BookPage: 183>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1, 2, 3>
<End Header>
<Poem>
皇帝二載秋，
閏八月初吉。
杜子將北征，
蒼茫問家室。
維時遭艱虞，
朝野少暇日。
顧慙恩私被，
詔許歸蓬蓽。
拜辭詣闕下，
怵惕久未出。
雖乏諫諍姿，
恐君有遺失。
君誠中興主，
經緯固密勿。
東胡反未已，
臣甫憤所切。
揮涕戀行在，
道途猶恍惚。
乾坤含瘡痍，
憂虞何時畢。
靡靡踰阡陌，
人煙眇蕭瑟。
所遇多被傷，
呻吟更流血。
回首鳳翔縣，
旌旗晚明滅。
前登寒山重，
屢得飲馬窟。
邠郊入地底，
涇水中蕩潏。
猛虎立我前，
蒼崖吼時裂。
菊垂今秋花，
石戴古車轍。
青雲動高興，
幽事亦可悅。
山果多瑣細，
羅生雜橡栗。
或紅如丹砂，
或黑如點漆。
雨露之所濡，
甘苦齊結實。
緬思桃源內，
益歎身世拙。
坡陀望鄜畤，
巖谷互出沒。
我行已水濱，
我僕猶木末。
鴟鳥鳴黃桑，
野鼠拱亂穴。
夜深經戰場，
寒月照白骨。
潼關百萬師，
往者散何卒。
遂令半秦民，
殘害爲異物。
況我墮胡塵，
及歸盡華髮。
經年至茅屋，
妻子衣百結。
慟哭松聲回，
悲泉共幽咽。
平生所嬌兒，
顏色白勝雪。
見耶背面啼，
垢膩脚不韤。
牀前兩小女，
補綻才過膝。
海圖坼波濤，
舊繡移曲折。
天吳及紫鳳，
顛倒在裋褐。
老夫情懷惡，
嘔泄臥數日。
那無囊中帛，
救汝寒凜慄。
粉黛亦解苞，
衾裯稍羅列。
瘦妻面復光，
癡女頭自櫛。
學母無不爲，
曉妝隨手抹。
移時施朱鉛，
狼藉畫眉闊。
生還對童穉，
似欲忘飢渴。
問事競挽鬚，
誰能即嗔喝。
飜思在賊愁，
甘受雜亂聒。
新歸且慰意，
生理焉能說。
至尊尚蒙塵，
幾日休練卒。
仰觀天色改，
坐覺祅氣豁。
陰風西北來，
慘澹隨回鶻。
其王願助順，
其俗善馳突。
送兵五千人，
驅馬一萬匹。
此輩少爲貴，
四方服勇決。
所用皆鷹騰，
破敵過箭疾。
聖心頗虛佇，
時議氣欲奪。
伊洛指掌收，
西京不足拔。
官軍請深入，
蓄銳何俱發。
此舉開青徐，
旋瞻略恆碣。
昊天積霜露，
正氣有肅殺。
禍轉亡胡歲，
勢成擒胡月。
胡命其能久，
皇綱未宜絕。
憶昨狼狽初，
事與古先別。
姦臣竟葅醢，
同惡隨蕩析。
不聞夏殷衰，
中自誅褒妲。
周漢獲再興，
宣光果明哲。
桓桓陳將軍，
仗鉞奮忠烈。
微爾人盡非，
于今國猶活。
淒涼大同殿，
寂寞白獸闥。
都人望翠華，
佳氣向金闕。
園陵固有神，
埽灑數不缺。
煌煌太宗業，
樹立甚宏達。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
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Slowly, slowly we tramped country tracks,
With cottage smoke rarely on their winds:
Of those we met, many suffered wounds
Still oozing blood, and they moaned aloud! 

I turned my head back to Feng-hsiang's camp,
Flags still flying in the fading light;
Climbing onward in the cold hill's folds,
Found here and there where cavalry once drank; 

Till, far below, plains of Pin-chou sank,
Ching's swift torrent tearing them $(in two)$;
And 'Before us the wild tigers stood' ,
Had rent these rocks every time they roared: 

Autumn daisies had begun to nod
Among crushed stones waggons once had passed;
To the great sky then my spirit soared,
That secret things still could give me joy! 

Mountain berries, tiny, trifling gems
Growing tangled among scattered nuts,
Were some scarlet, sands of cinnabar,
And others black, as if lacquer-splashed: 

By rain and dew all of them were washed
And, sweet or sour, equally were fruits;
They brought to mind Peach-tree River's springs,
And more I sighed for a life misspent! 

Then I, downhill, spied Fu-chou far off
And rifts and rocks quickly disappeared
As I ran down to a river's edge,
My poor servant coming far behind; 

There we heard owls hoot from mulberry leaves,
Saw fieldmice sit upright by their holes;
At deep of night crossed a battlefield,
The chill moonlight shining on white bones: 

Guarding the Pass once a million men,
But how many ever left this Pass?
True to orders half the men in Ch'in
Here had perished and were alien ghosts! 

I had fallen, too, in Tartar dust
But can return with my hair like flour,
A year but past, to my hair like flour,
A year but past, to my simple home
And my own wife, in a hundred rags; 

Who sees me, cries like the wind through trees,
Weeps like the well sobbing underground;
And them my son, pride of all my days,
With his face, too, whiter than the snows, 

Sees his father, turns his back to weep --
His sooty feet without socks or shoes;
Next by my couch two small daughters stand
In patched dresses scarcely to their knees 

And the sea waves do not even meet
Where old bits of broidery are sewn;
Whilst the Serpent and Purple Bird
On the short skirts both are upside-down! 

'Through your father is not yet himself,
Suffers sickness and must rest some days,
How could his scrip not contain some stuff's
To give you all, keep you from the cold? 

'You'll find there, too, powder, eyebrow black
Wrapped in the quilts, rather neatly packed,'
My wife's thin face once again is fair,
Then the mad girls try to dress their hair: 

Aping mother in her every act,
Morning make-up quickly smears their hands
Till in no time they have spread the rouge,
Fiercely painted great, enormous brows! 

I am alive, with my children, home!
Seem to forget all that hunger, thirst:
These quick questions, as they tug my beard,
Who'd have the heard now to stop and scold? 

Turning my mind to the Rebel Camp,
It's sweet to have all this nonsense, noise…
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
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Slowly, slowly we tramped country tracks,
With cottage smoke rarely on their winds:
Of those we met, many suffered wounds
Still oozing blood, and they moaned aloud! 
I turned my head back to Feng-hsiang's camp,
Flags still flying in the fading light;
Climbing onward in the cold hill's folds,
Found here and there where cavalry once drank; 
Till, far below, plains of Pin-chou sank,
Ching's swift torrent tearing them $(in two)$;
And 'Before us the wild tigers stood' ,
Had rent these rocks every time they roared: 
Autumn daisies had begun to nod
Among crushed stones waggons once had passed;
To the great sky then my spirit soared,
That secret things still could give me joy! 
Mountain berries, tiny, trifling gems
Growing tangled among scattered nuts,
Were some scarlet, sands of cinnabar,
And others black, as if lacquer-splashed: 
By rain and dew all of them were washed
And, sweet or sour, equally were fruits;
They brought to mind Peach-tree River's springs,
And more I sighed for a life misspent! 
Then I, downhill, spied Fu-chou far off
And rifts and rocks quickly disappeared
As I ran down to a river's edge,
My poor servant coming far behind; 
There we heard owls hoot from mulberry leaves,
Saw fieldmice sit upright by their holes;
At deep of night crossed a battlefield,
The chill moonlight shining on white bones: 
Guarding the Pass once a million men,
But how many ever left this Pass?
True to orders half the men in Ch'in
Here had perished and were alien ghosts! 
I had fallen, too, in Tartar dust
But can return with my hair like flour,
A year but past, to my simple home
And my own wife, in a hundred rags; 
Who sees me, cries like the wind through trees,
Weeps like the well sobbing underground;
And them my son, pride of all my days,
With his face, too, whiter than the snows, 
Sees his father, turns his back to weep –
His sooty feet without socks or shoes;
Next by my couch two small daughters stand
In patched dresses scarcely to their knees 
And the sea waves do not even meet
Where old bits of broidery are sewn;
Whilst the Serpent and Purple Bird
On the short skirts both are upside-down! 
'Through your father is not yet himself,
Suffers sickness and must rest some days,
How could his scrip not contain some stuff's
To give you all, keep you from the cold? 
'You'll find there, too, powder, eyebrow black
Wrapped in the quilts, rather neatly packed,'
My wife's thin face once again is fair,
Then the mad girls try to dress their hair: 
Aping mother in her every act,
Morning make-up quickly smears their hands
Till in no time they have spread the rouge,
Fiercely painted great, enormous brows! 
I am alive, with my children, home!
Seem to forget all that hunger, thirst:
These quick questions, as they tug my beard,
Who'd have the heard now to stop and scold? 
Turning my mind to the Rebel Camp,
It's sweet to have all this nonsense, noise…
<End Formatted Translation>