Or put my staff aside to till and weed, Or climb the eastern hill to whistle and sing, Or compose a verse beside the limpid waters. Thus will I ride on the Flux to meet my end, Glad of Heaven‘s decree without questioning! 罗经国 译 Going Home
Going home! The land will soon lie in waste. Why shouldn't I go home? Since I willingly let my mind be enslaved by my worldly desires, Why should I feel remorseful and sad?
Knowing that what I did in the past cannot be redressed, I can still retrieve my mistakes in the future; I have not gone too far on the wrong path,
And now I am on the right path of today, not the wrong one of yesterday. The boat is moving swiftly ahead with the wind blowing on my garment,
I ask the way from a passer-by and feel sad that there is yet only a gleam of early dawn. The shabby house is in view in the distance, I run happily towards it.
The boy servant comes forward to welcome me, My youngest son is also waiting for me at the gate.
Though the paths in the garden have nearly been decimated, The pine trees and the chrysanthemums are still there. Holding the hand of my child, I walk into the house, There on the table is wine prepared. I take up the wine vessel and drink alone, Enjoying the view of the trees in the garden.
I lean against the south window to indulge in my lofty meditations, Contented with the ease of living in a small house. I find pleasure in walking in the garden every day, Though there is a gate, it is closed all day.
With a staff I roam around, and rest whenever I feel the need, And at times raise my head to look at things in the distance. Clouds drift out aimlessly from behind the mountains, Birds will return to their nests when tired.
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It grows dim as the sun sets,
I linger, stroking the trunk of the solitary pine tree. Going home! I will cut off all human relations. Since the world is at odds with me,
What should I seek by driving out in a carriage? I will have intimate talks with my kinsmen,
And forget my miseries by playing on the harp and reading books. Country folks will come to tell me that spring has come, And that farm work will begin in the western field. I would either ride on a cart, or row a small boat,
Sometimes following a clear and deep stream that leads me to a valley, Sometimes walking along a rugged and bumpy path that takes me over a hill. Trees are growing boisterously, Spring water is flowing smoothly.
I envy all things that enjoy the blessings of nature And feel miserable that my life will soon be over. Alas! How many more days can I live on this earth? Why not take life as it is?
Why do I worry? What am I aspiring to? I do not seek wealth and position,
Nor do I desire to live with fairies and gods. I would go out alone on a fine day,
To cultivate farmland with my staff laid aside. I would shout aloud on the top of the eastern hill, And compose poems by clear streams.
Welcoming death as part of the vicissitudes of life, I would be contented with what is willed by Heaven. What else do I want?
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东方朔·《东方朔自荐书》英译
Herbert A. Giles 译
臣朔少失父母，长养兄嫂。年十三学书，三冬文史足用。十五学击剑。十六学《诗》《书》，诵二十二万言。十九学孙吴兵法，战阵之具，钲鼓之教，亦诵二十二万言。凡臣朔固已诵四十四万言。又常服子路之言。
I lost my parents while still a child, and grew up in my elder brother‘s home. At twelve I learnt to write and within the year I was well advanced in history and composition. At fifteen, I learnt sword exercise; at sixteen, to repeat the Odes and the Book of History—220,000 words in all. At nineteen, I studied the tactics of Sun Wu, the accoutrements of battle array, and the use of the gong and drum, also 220,000 words in all, making a grand total of 440,000 words. I also carefully laid to heart the sayings of the bold Tzu Lu.
臣朔年二十二，长九尺三寸，目若悬珠，齿若编贝，勇若孟贲，捷若庆忌，廉若鲍叔，信若尾生。若此，可以为天子大臣矣。臣朔昧死，再拜以闻。
I am now twenty-two years of age. I am nine feet three inches in height. My eyes are like swinging pearls, my teeth like a row of shells. I am as brave as Meng Fen, as prompt as Chi‘ing Chi, as pure as Pao Shu, and as devoted as Wei Sheng. I consider myself fit to be a high officer of State; and with my wife in my hand, I await your Majesty‘s reply. Self-Recommendation
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刘伶·《酒德颂》英译
孙大雨 译
有大人先生，以天地为一朝，万期为须臾，日月为扃，八荒为庭衢。行无辙迹，居无室庐，幕天席地，纵意所如。止则操卮执觚，动则挈榼提壶，惟酒是务，焉知其余？有贵介公子，搢绅处士，闻吾风声，议其所以。乃奋袂攘襟，怒目切齿，陈说礼法，是非锋起。先生于是方捧甕承槽，衔杯漱醪，奋髯箕踞，枕麴藉糟，无思无虑，其乐陶陶。兀然而醉，豁然而醒。静听不闻雷霆之声，熟视不睹泰山之形，不觉寒暑之切肌，利欲之感情。俯视万物扰扰焉，若江汉之载浮萍，二豪侍侧焉，如蜾蠃之与螟蛉。 In Praise of the Quality of Drinking Liu Ling
There is a gentleman of high virtue and the right way Who takes the heaven and earth as of one morning And ten millenniums a mere wink of a day, The sun and the moon his portal and casement And the eight expanses his courtyard and highway. He comes and goes without a track of his vehicle, Puts up in no room or house wherein to stay, Using the sky as his tent and the ground his mat, Doing whatever seeming to him pleasant and gay. When he stops anywhere, he holds his vase and mug; When he moves on, he takes along his beaker and jug; Wine is the thing always and uppermost in his mind;
What else does he care for but to finger, of a flagon or a pot the lug? There are grand nobles and princes true blue
As well as courtiers high in rank and untitled celebrities too, Who, hearing of my sough of how he behaves himself, Talk of him and the things he deems fit to do.
Tossing the long sleeves and shaking the collar folds of their gowns, Throwing angry looks left and right and setting their teeth, They preach manners and stand for the regular order, With arguments rife as bristling swords out of sheath. Just then our good sire is holding his pot to fill from a cistern, Then imbibes at his stoup and parts the settled less from wine, Puffs up his whiskers while squatting upon his hams,
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Treads the waste dregs but pillows his barm loaves fine. Free from all cumbrous thoughts and nipping cares, Cheerily enjoying his breezy buoyancy under a vine, Now he is overcome with sousing at a sudden stroke, And then, recovering wide-awake, is in spirits divine; He hears not the thunderclaps though listening in quiet,
And looking steadily, sees not Tai Shan‘s towering majesty in the sunshine; He feels not the furies of burning heat and biting cold, Either the lust of desires, or the greed for gain malign. He overlooks the ten thousand puddering things of the world As the Long and the Han Rivers bearing up the tiny ―floating disks,‖ And the two mighty ones waiting on him by the side,
As the black bee, carrying on its back the ―ming-ling‖, that frisks
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