介绍:
The High Studio of Old Cui, Assistant Magistrate of Whitewater County: thirty Couplets
A traveler came from the county to the south,
swept on in the vastness, with nowhere to go.
Dining as a guest, the days stretched long,
even more with summer’s red light blazing.
I sit at the treetops in your high studio,
staying a couple of nights, carefree outings are tranquil.
In the clear morning I join you for a climb,
Jauntily[1] peering down from a sheer cliff.
The lofty hills lie resting against each other,
I feel the broad moors are but a few feet away.
Now I realize that my worthy host
has given me this to dispel lonely melancholy.
By sheer stairways giving root to the dark skies,
layers of ice give off trickling rills.
Above are clouds that go without will,
below there are rocks ready to fall.
The stream’s sound heard, then quiet again,
moving or still, according to what it strikes.
Birds cry out, hiding their bodies,
seeming to fear the slings and arrows.
Being a hermit[2]-clerk suits your nature,
and your hideaway is here.
At Whitewater I meet my uncle,
of senior gentlemen, indeed an immortal elder.
He leans on his staff in a tall pine’s shade,
serves as sheriff in a remote valley.
He cooks up wild rice for me,
then rambling free, unfolds these fine sights.
After sitting long, the winds are very melancholy,
as it gets late, the mountains are still more green.
Facing us, a ten-yard kraken
in a flash flew, splitting a whirlpool.
From where did we get this thunder in a clear sky,
rumbling, we trace it to the veins of earth?
Mist and haze occlude[3] vertiginous[4] heights,
thick with goblins gloomy and dreary.
The summits of Kunlun and Kongtong
seem not far removed as I turn my head.
At the front balcony evening’s sunshine sinks down,
and towering to the utmost, Mount Hua turns red.
War’s atmosphere floods forests and ridges,
the river glints mixes with blade-tip and arrowhead.
I know it’s the Minister’s army,
armored horses massing like a fog.
The jade goblet is bland and without savor—
how can the Hu be stronger foes?
My long songs stir the roof-beams,
tears fall, flowing onto my seat.
Human life is half sorrow, half joy,
in this world things go well and things go awry[5].
I am distressed that men from ten thousand domains
in this glorious age prepare to campaign against the Di folk.
Fierce commanders mass in droves,
court planners formulate far-reaching policies.
When will the eastern marches be recovered?—
men can’t take their armor off for the while.
The clear feast will soon be declared at an end—
hard to resist darkness and light pressing on.
Repeatedly sighing over my ale and food,
how can times be as peaceful as they used to be?
单词释义
[1] jauntily [ˈdʒɔːntɪli] adv. 心满意足地; 洋洋得意地; 高兴地;
[2] hermit [ˈhɜːmɪt] n. 隐士; 隐修者; 遁世者;
[3] occlude [əˈkluːd] v. 使闭塞; 堵塞;
[4] vertiginous [vɜːˈtɪdʒɪnəs] adj. 引起眩晕的;
[5] awry [əˈraɪ] adv. 出错; 出岔子; 歪; 斜;
