Monthly Archives: 七月 2013

鴛鴦


  • 《鴛鴦》

招子庸作,金文泰譯

 

鴛鴦一對,世上難分。總係人在天涯見佢倍愴神。佢眠食都捨不得離開呌我心事點忿。問一句夗央呀,我願託生為你不願為人。都係情義佢睇得咁鬆至此名利佢看得咁緊,想到青春難買就枉費你千金。都係俗世重箇的虛名故此想分佢一分,又想話為奴爭啖氣正捨得割斷情根。我地相隔睇住你相歡,如果係肉緊。唉真正係笨!就被你覓覓到封侯,你妹都要悔恨。想想到呢陣鳳寡鸞孤呌我怎不斷魂。

 

 

The teal

 

A brace of teal in this world is hard to part.

Howbeit, men at heaven’s verge, seeing them, wax the more disconsolate in spirit.

They two in sleeping and eating endure not to be parted. Tell me, how can my heart be content?

I make one request: 0 teal! When I return to life, I would fain be as ye are: I would not have human form.

Withal, my lover recks not of love’s duty, but prizes highly his ambition.

Methinks green spring is hard to buy: you will but waste your thousand gold-pieces all in vain.

With vulgar eyes he still esteems empty fame: therefore he desires to have his share thereof.

Also, he would fain be ambitious for his handmaid’s sake: thus he dares to sever passion’s root.

We two, far parted, watch you in joy’s union. If our flesh throbs with desire,

Ah! Truly ‘tis folly.

Though in your seeking you win a marquisate, yet must your handmaid mourn her fault.

As I now bethink me of the widowed phoenix and the mateless peacock, how should I not be heart-broken?

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春花秋月


《春花秋月》

招子庸作,金文泰譯

 

春呀你唔好去自,重有一句商量。共你年年離別寔係情傷。睇見花事係咁飄零我就魂魄蕩,大抵人生難乏都是聚散無常。捨得真正共你冇緣我亦唔敢咁勉強,做乜綢繆三個月又試兩地分張。睇吓王孫歸去我地就添惆悵。挽番我計算我負却春光。我想繁華春望亦都成虛況。唉無乜別講,送君南浦上。呢回有書難寫可惜紙短情長。

 

花呀你唔好謝自,重要賞吓芳容。無聊愁對住雨隂中,講到紅顏薄命邊個話心唔痛?算來人世共你一樣飄蓬。花你有時夜靜重把香來送,真正累人如果係個的淺深紅。若係花你無香未必惹得我真情動,獨惜我護花無力怨恨東風。呢回蜂狂蝶浪點都無中用。唉你妹愁有萬種,往事多如夢,邊個有憐香心事你便譜入絲桐。

 

秋呀你唔好老自,重要繫住吓年華。滿懷愁緒對住兼葭。人話秋風蕭瑟堪人怕,我愛盈盈秋水浸住紅霞。既係秋你冇情未必把我長牽掛,睇見你長留明月照我窓紗。大抵可人盡在個的丰瀟洒,莫話因風憔悴敢就瘦比黃花。我想悲秋宋玉都是成虛話,邊一個對秋唔想去泛仙槎。呢回我亦憐秋,秋亦要憐我一吓。唉你妹喉帶咽啞!采菊東籬下,你睇潯陽江上淚滴琵琶。

 

月呀你唔好落自,重要照到我通宵。夜裏懷人更重寂寥。人地只曉得月你團圓心就喜笈,點曉得月到圓時一自自減消。月呀你一個月一遍團圓我見你圓得太少,點得相逢卅夜,夜夜都把我相邀?試把聚散問吓嫦娥應亦畧曉,點解我姻緣無路敢就拆斷藍橋,更有心事許多重想月呀你同我照料。唉你妹愁都未了。衷情誰為表?點得夜夜逢君學個的有信海潮。

 

Spring, flowers, autumn, moon.

 

Spring

 

Spring! Go not yet! I still must speak a word of counsel with you.

As year by year I part from you, my passion is wrung with pain.

When I see how fitful is the plight of flowers, then my soul is distraught.

In fine, it is because meetings and partings have no norm, that a man’s life is uncertain

If indeed my fate were not wedded to yours, I should not dare thus to force myself on you.

Why, after taking counsel together for three spring months, are we sundered in separate places?

Behold, my prince has gone home, therefore my anguish increases.

I have no means of detaining you, meseems I have flouted spring’s radiance.

Methinks, the glorious scenes of spring are but an empty circumstance.

Ah! I have naught else to say.

I speed my lord down the Nam-pho river.

Now, though a letter is in my hand, I find it hard to write. Pity that my paper is so brief and my love so lasting!

 

Flowers

 

Flowers! Fade not yet! Let me still enjoy your fragrant features.

In hopeless sorrow I gaze upon you in the pelting rain.

Whose heart is not hurt at mention of beauty’s brevity?

Methinks this human world is as fitful as are ye.

O flowers! Sometimes in stillness of night you waft me your fragrance.

Truly you spite men by your charms, whether ye be faintly tinted or deep-stained with red.

If you, O flowers, were not fragrant, you could not infect me with true love’s emotion.

Only ‘tis pity that I am strengthless to protect flowers. I grieve at the East Wind.

Now also I cannot avail you against madness of bees or errantry of butterflies.

Ah! Your handmaid’s sorrow has a myriad phases.

Bygone things are most like a dream.

Whoso has a heart to pity fragrance, it behoves you to record his memory on the silk-stringed lyre of dryandra wood.

 

Autumn

 

O Autumn! Age not yet! Still must thou detain the splendour of the year.

Sorrow-fibres are knotted all around my breast, as I stand facing the sedge.

Folk say the autumn wind’s whistling makes men afraid.

But I love to watch the flooding and flowing autumn waves submerge the red clouds of sunset.

Since thou, O Autumn, art passionless, I doubt whether thou wilt long tug at my heart.

I see thou art wont to detain the bright moonshine upon my window curtains.

In fine man’s pleasure is all centred in those phases of graceful animation.

Say not that, because the wind is sad-sounding, therefore you are grown thinner than the yellow aster’s stalk.

Methinks, Sung Yuk’s lament for autumn is all an empty tale.

Who does not yearn, in face of autumn, to go afloat upon the fairy raft?

Now, since I pity the autumn, autumn too should pity me this once.

Alas! Your maid is stifled with dumb sobbing.

I gather asters beneath my eastern lattice.

Lo! Upon the Tsham-yong river, tears are shed over the guitar.

 

Moon

 

O Moon, sink not yet! Still shouldst thou shine on me throughout the night.

When in the dark I think of my lover, then I feel but the more forlorn.

Men only understand that thou, O Moon, waxest full and round, therefore their heart laughs with gladness:

How can they understand that, after the moon is full, little by little it waneth?

O Moon! Your orb is full but once a month: methinks ‘tis far too seldom.

Would I could meet thee night by night for all the thirty nights, being summoned to see thee.

Hazard, a question to Shong Ngoa, whether our fate be union or parting! She should have some cognizance thereof.

Why may not fate lead me to wedlock? Wherefore is the Blue Bridge thus pulled in pieces?

My love-affairs are overmany: fain would I that thou, O Moon, shouldst settle them for me.

Ah! Your handmaid’s sorrow knows no end.

Who will unfold my piteous passion?

Would that I could meet my lord night by night at tryst as certain as the ocean-tides!