醉翁亭记翻译和译文 醉翁亭记翻译和原文 醉翁楼记原文及译文( 三 )


As dusk falls, one sees shifting shadows scattering in all directions. The prefect is leaving for home, and his guests are following him. The shadows of the trees are deepening, and birds are chirping high and low. The people are going home, leaving the birds free to enjoy themselves. The birds only know their joy in the wooded mountains, but are unaware of what makes the people joyful. The people only know that they are joyful on their excursion with the prefect, but are unaware that the prefect finds his joy in seeing them joyful. He, who enjoys himself with the people when drunk, and records this excursion in writing when sober, is the prefect himself. And who is the prefect? He is Ouyang Xiu of Luling.
(罗经国 译)
The Arbour of the Drunken Graybeard
Ouyang Xiu
Surrounding Chu Prefecture are all mountains. Those standing in the southwest with wooded peaks and valleys are the most sublime. The one that commands a view of luxuriant forests, imparting a sense of seclusion and veiled beauty, is Mount Langya. A walk of six or seven li along the mountain trail brings one within earshot of gurgling water, which announces Niang Spring gushing out between two peaks. The path twists and the peak gives a changed aspect. Then one comes in sight of an arbour soaring like a bird spreading its wings over the spring. This is namely the Arbour of the Drunken Graybeard. Who set up the arbour? The monk of the mountains called Zhi Xian. Who gave it the name? His Excellency the prefect. The prefect and his guests often come here to drink. Even with a few sips, the former would become intoxicated, and being the oldest, styled himself the Drunken Graybeard. The Drunken Graybeard does not aim at wine, but at the splendid scenery. The delight it bestows is acquired by heart but deposited in wine.
The sun rises, the fog in the forests dissipates, and the stone caves become obscured as clouds are vanishing—the shift of light to darkness marks the passage of time from dawn till dusk. And then the wild flowers blossom, emitting their delicate fragrance, the woods are clad with lush foliage. Again, nature is hoary with rime and stones stand out in the shallow stream—all this shows the changes of the four seasons in the mountains. Setting out from morn and returning at eve, one perceives the different views in different seasons and the joy of admiring nature’s beauty is simply infinite.
As for the carriers singing on the way, the ramblers resting in the trees’ shade, the men walking ahead calling and being answered by those trailing behind, and the senile trudging with bowed bodies or the adults leading their children by the hand, all forming an uninterrupted passage of people to and fro—it is the Chu folks sauntering on the mountain. Angling in the deep stream teeming with fat fish, brewing aromatic wine with Niang Spring water, hunting for game and gathering wild edible plants—all this is for the preparation of a miscellaneous feast in honour of the prefect. The jocundity of the feast does not find expression in music. You can see the contestants shooting their arrows into the pots for prizes, the chess players winning their games, cups and goblets scatters in confusion, and people roistering in standing or sitting postures —it is the guests revelling. And the white-haired old man, stricken in years, lying prostrate in their midst —it is the prefect being inebriated.
Then the sun is setting down the mountain ridges, and the excursionists are dispersing in different directions. The prefect is going home, followed by his guests. Under the canopy of leaves, birds are warbling everywhere, for they are glad of the departure of the intruders. However, the fowls know the joy of wooded mountains, but they are beyond the knowledge of man’s happiness. And the folks know how to make merry in the company of the prefect, but they have no idea how His Excellency enjoys himself. The one who is able to share the common mirth when intoxicated and put it down in refined description when sobered is none other than the prefect. Who is the prefect? Ouyang Xiu of Luling.
(谢百魁 译)
Chuchow is surrounded by mountains; the woods and valleys to the southwest are particularly beautiful. One of the ranges, the Langya, which can be seen from a long way off, is thickly covered with tall and graceful vegetation. After journeying on the mountainside for six or seven li, one begins to hear the sound of flowing water. It is the Niang Spring rushing out from between two peaks. Placed amidst surrounding elevations and winding roads is a pavilion which juts out over the spring like the wing of a bird. This is the Old Drunkard’s Pavilion, which was built by the monk Chih-hsien and named by the Prefect with an allusion to himself. He frequently comes here and drinks with his guests. He gets drunk on a few cups, and he is the oldest of all the topers. Hence the self-imposed nickname—Old Drunkard. However, Old Drunkard’s heart is not set on the wine, but lies somewhere betwixt the mountains and the rivers. The delight of mountains and rivers comes from the heart, and is derived from wine.