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[诗歌] 李清照《声声慢》数种英文译本

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发表于 2016-7-4 21:42 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
本帖最后由 DogMyCats 于 2016-7-4 21:47 编辑

寻寻觅觅,

冷冷清清,

凄凄惨惨戚戚。

乍暖还寒时候,

最难将息。

三杯两盏淡酒,

怎敌他晚来风急!

雁过也,

正伤心,

却是旧时相识。



满地黄花堆积,

憔悴损,

如今有谁堪摘?

守着窗儿,

独自怎生得黑!

梧桐更兼细雨,

到黄昏,

点点滴滴。

这次第,

怎一个愁字了得?
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:43 | 显示全部楼层
1 任治稷、余正 译



Sheng Sheng Man



Restless and lost,

Cold and lonely,

Wretched, miserable and anxious.

Early warmth laced with chill,

Hardest time for convalescing.

Two or three cups of light wine,

No antidote against the gusty evening wind.

Wild geese just flying by,

Heart-wrenching,

Turned out to be old acquaintances.



The yard piled up all over with yellow blossoms,

Withered and ruined,

Now none worth picking.

Vigil by the window alone,

What heavy time before dark!

Wutong trees on top of fine drizzling,

Until dark,

Dripping and trickling,

Things in this order,

How gloomy can the "gloom" be?
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:43 | 显示全部楼层
2 龚景浩 译

Sheng Sheng Man

(Song) Li Qing Zhao



I search and seek,

I'm lonely and depressed,

I'm sad, weepy, and feeling low.

When 'tis suddenly warm but remains cold,

That is the time really hard to cope.

Two, three cups of light wine —

How are they to resist the assault of evening gusts?

A flock of wild geese flew past,

It hurts to hear them cry, though we're old acquaintances.



Chrysanthemums lie about in piles.

They are now withered and which ones are worth picking?

Alone by the casement,

How am I to bear the darkness?

Add to this, the parasol and a thin rain falling.

By dusk time,

The dipping became incessant.

Steeped in a mood such as this,

To say I am sad is woefully inadequate.
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:44 | 显示全部楼层
3 杨宪益、戴乃迭 译



Sheng Sheng Man



Li Qingzhao



Seeking, seeking,

Chilly and quiet,

Desolate, painful and miserable.

Even when it's warmer there is still a chill,

It is most difficult to keep well.

Three or two cups of light wine,

How can they ward off the strong morning wind?

Wild geese fly past, while I'm broken-hearted;

But I recognize they are my old friends.



Fallen chrysanthemums piled up on the ground,

So withered,

Who would pluck them?

Leaning on the window,

How can I pass the time till night alone?

The drizzle falls on the wutong trees,

Rain-drops drip down at dusk.

At a time like this,

What immense sorrow I must bear!
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:44 | 显示全部楼层
4 徐忠杰 译



Shengshengman



I've a sense of something missing I must seek.

Everything about me looks dismal and bleak.

Nothing that gives me pleasure, I can find.

Even the weather has proved most unkind.

'Tis warm, but abruptly it turns cold again.

An unbroken rest — most difficult to obtain.

Three cups of thin wine would utterly fail —

To cope with the rising evening gale.

Myself, into woe, a flight of wild geese has thrown.

But with them, very familiar I have grown.



About the ground, chrysanthemums are bestrewn.

Gathering into heaps — bruised — withering soon.

With myself in utter misery and gloom,

Who cares to save them from their approaching doom?

Standing by the window — watching in anguish stark,

Could I bear alone the sight until it is dark?

Against the tung and plane trees, the wind rises high.

The drizzle becomes trickles, as even draws nigh.

How, in the word "Misearble," can one find —

The total effects of all these on the mind!
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:44 | 显示全部楼层
5 卓振英 译



Beats Slowing Down



Fumbling and searching, at a loss I feel,

At a loss in such lonely melancholy

And plaintive solitude as seem unreal.

Th' turn of cold and warmth is, incredibly,

The most miserable time to endure,

Of th' chill of morning winds how can I cure

Myself with a few cups of wine impure?

'Tis heart-rending to see th' wild geese in th' sky —

My acquaintances of old — southward fly!



Chrysanthemums now flourish here and there,

But who would care to pluck them, feeling blue?

Sitting alone at th' window in despair,

Ere night falls I know not how to pull through.

Now dripping and dropping incessantly

On the Chinese parasols is the rain.

Alas, much much more than anxiety,

At such a time, is what one must sustain!
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:44 | 显示全部楼层
6 许渊冲 译



Slow, Slow Tune



I look for what I miss;

I know not what it is.

I feel so sad, so drear,

So lonely, without cheer.

How hard is it

To keep me fit

In this lingering cold!

Hardly warmed up

By cup on cup

Of wine so dry,

O how could I

Endure at dust the drift

Of wind so swift?

It breaks my heart, alas!

To see the wild geese pass,

For they are my acquaintances of old.



The ground is covered with yellow flowers,

Faded and fallen in showers.

Who will pick them up now?

Sitting alone at the window, how

Could I but quicken

The pace of darkness that won't thicken?

On plane's broad leaves a fine rain drizzles

As twilight grizzles.

O what can I do with a grief

Beyond belief?
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:45 | 显示全部楼层
7 朱纯生  译



What a Day — To the Tune of Shengshengman



Look. Seek. Sink.

Sinking into thinking of everything

About nothing, and nothing

About everything is

A lonely heart, in the gloomy fold

Of a most dismal, unrestful season

— now warm, then cold.

Wine, two or three cups — thin wine —

How can it hold

Off the biting gusts at dawn?

Overheard, a heart-rending line —

South-bound wild geese at morn

Yet old acquaintances of mine.



Massing chrysanthemums, everywhere;

Yet languid and grief-worn,

Who could be out there

Buoyant in gathering mood?

I sit, in solitude, waiting,

At the windowsill,

Yet dusk is so far off still!

In a drizzle so light

Dripping dropping into the oncoming night,

In the garden a wutong tree stands, blurred.

What a day,

How can you pack it away

In a single word

DISMAY?
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:46 | 显示全部楼层
8 刘国善、王治江、徐树娟等 编译



To the Tune Slow, Slow Strains



O what's it I'm seeking, seeking,

All around as I'm peeping, peeping?

With ev'rything depressing, depressing,

Remains one sick'ning, sick'ning despairing, despairing!



Warm just a while, and chill e'er and anon.

'Tis hard to keep from feeling afflicted and forlorn.

What little warmth my sorry wine's begetting,

Ne'er guards me 'gainst the gale at dusk a-raging!

Wild geese are crying past, and ruffling my thoughts;

They're acquaintances of old, I then find out.



About the ground are yellow petals bestrewn,

All faded away, decayed in dismay so soon.

Just where is a spray remaining unspoilt so far,

To be plucked and brought to me, displayed in my vase?



Beside the window, sitting in anguish stark,

How could I bear this solitude till dark?

On drying leaves of plane trees should there be

A drizzle pattering, pattering towards the eve!

How could the saddest of sad words not be failing

To depict this train of saddening scenes I'm facing?
 楼主| 发表于 2016-7-4 21:46 | 显示全部楼层
9 贺淯滨 译



The Single Word for the Scene

(shengsheng-man)



By Li Qingzhao (poetess) (1048—C.1151)



Longing, longing,

Missing, missing;

Lone, lone,

Bleak, bleak;

Sad, sad; sorrowful, sorrowful; forlorn, forlorn.

At this season, now warm now cold,

It is most difficult to keep well.

How could a remnant of soft wine, two or three cups

Withstand the wind that comes rushing up at dusk?

The wild geese have passed over,

While I feel heartbroken, and only to know

There are my old friends of the past!



Yellow flowers are piled all over the ground.

Withered as they are,

Who cares to pick them?

I am staying alone by the casement,

How terribly dark!

Tick-tack, tick-tack,

The rain drips onto the paulownia-tree upto gloaming.

Such a scene is

Too much for the single word "Sorrow"!
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