《陶渊明诗文》(多译本)
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陶渊明诗文
归园田居 其一
《归园田居》共五首，作于晋安帝义熙二年（406），即陶渊明辞去彭泽令归隐田园的第二年。这里选录的是第一首。园田：即田园。
少无适俗韵，性本爱丘山。
误落尘网中，一去三十年。
羁鸟恋旧林，池鱼思故渊。
开荒南野际，守拙归田园。
方宅十余亩，草屋八九间。
暧暧远人村，依依墟里烟。
狗吠深巷中，鸡鸣桑树颠。
户庭无尘杂，虚室有余闲。
久在樊笼里，复得返自然。
1（ Burton Watson译本）
Returning to My Home in the Countryside, No.1
In youth I couldn’t sing to the common tune;
it was my nature to love the mountains and hills.
By mistake I got caught in that dusty snare,
went away once and stayed thirteen years.
The winging bird longs for its old woods,
the fish in the pond thinks of the deeps it once knew.
I’ve opened up some waste land by the southern fields;
stupid as ever, I’ve come home to the country.
My house plot measure ten mou or more,
a grass roof covering eight or nine spans.
Elm and willow shade the back eaves,
peach and damson range in front of the hall.
Dim dim, a village of distant neighbours;
drifting drifting, the smoke from settlements.
A dog barks in the deep lanes,
chickens call from the tops of mulberry trees.
Around my door and courtyard, no dust or clutter;
in my empty rooms, leisure enough to spare.
After so long in that cage of mine,
I’ve come back to things as they are.
2. （R.H. Kotewall et al译本）
Returning to live in the country
In my youth I was out of tune with the common folk:
My nature is to love hills and mountains.
In my folly I fell into the net of the world’s dust,
And so went on for thirty years.
The caged bird longs for its old woodland;
The pond-reared fish yarns for its native stream.
I have opened up a waste plot of the south moor,
And keeping my simplicity returned to garden and field.
A homestead of some ten acres,
A thatched cottage with eight or nine rooms;
Elms and willows shading the hinder eaves;
Peach and plum trees ranking before the hall.
Dim, dim is the distant hamlet;
Lagging, lagging hangs the smoke of the market-town;
A dog barks in the deep lane;
A cock crows on the top of the mulberry tree.
My door and courtyard have no dust and turmoil;
In the bare room there is leisure to spare.
Too long a captive in a cage,
I have mow come back to Nature.
3. （Cyril Birch译本）
Poems on Returning to Dwell in the Country, 1
In youth I had nothing
that matched the vulgar tone,
For my nature always
loved the hills and mountains.
Inadvertently I fell
into the Dusty Net,
Once having gone
it was more than thirteen years.
The tame bird
longs for his old forest-
The fish in the house-pond
thinks of his ancient pool.
I too will break the soil
at the edge of the southern moor,
I will guard simplicity
and return to my field and garden.
My land and house-
a little more than ten acres,
In the thatched cottage-
only eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows
shade the back veranda,
Peach and plum trees
in rows before the hall.
Hazy and dimly seen
A village in the distance,
Close in the foreground
the smoke of neighbour’s houses.
A dog barks
amidst the deep lanes,
A cock is crowing
atop a mulberry tree.
No dust and confusion
within my doors and courtyard;
In the empty rooms,
more than sufficient leisure.
Too long I was held
within the barred cage.
Now I am able
to turn again to Nature.
4. (Arthur Waley 译本)
When I Was Young, I Was out of Tune with the Herd
When I was young, I was out of tune with the herd;
My only love was for the hills and mountains.
Unwitting I fell into the Web of the World’s dust
And was not free until my thirtieth year.
The migrant bird longs for the old wood;
The fish in the tank thinks of its native pool.
I had rescued from wildness a patch of Southern Moor
And, still rustic, I returned to field and garden.
My thatched cottage has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows cluster by the eaves;
Peach trees and plum trees grow before the Hall.
Hazy, hazy the distant hamlets of men;
Steady the smoke that hangs over cottage roofs.
A dog barks somewhere in the deep lanes,
A cock crows at the top of the mulberry tree.
At gate and courtyard -no murmur of the world’s dust;
In the empty rooms-leisure and deep stillness.
Long I lived checked by the bars of a cage;
Now I have turned again to Nature and Freedom.
5. (Amy Lowell 译本)
Once More Fields and Gardens
Even as a young man
I was out of tune with ordinary pleasures.
It was my nature to love the rooted hills,
The high hills which look upon the four edges of Heaven.
What folly to spend one’s life like a dropped leaf
Snared under the dust of streets,
But for thirteen years it was so lived.
The caged bird longs for the fluttering of high leaves.
The fish in the garden pool languished for
the whirled water of meeting streams.
So I desired to clear and seed a patch of
the wild Southern moor.
And always a countryman at heart,
I have come back to the square enc
losures of my fields.
And to my walled garden with its quiet paths.
Mine is a little property of ten mou or so,
A thatched house of eight or nine rooms.
On the North side, the eaves are overhung
With the thick leaves elm-trees,
And willow-trees break the strong force of the wind.
On the South, in front of the great hall,
Peach-trees and plum-trees spread a net of branches
Before the distant view.
The village is hazy, hazy,
And mist sucks over the open moor.
A dog barks in the sunken lane which runs through the village,
A cock crows, perched on a clipped mulberry.
There is no dust or clatter
In the courtyard before my house.
My private rooms are quiet,
And calm with the leisure of moon light through an open door.
For a long time I lived in a cage;
Now I have returned.
For one must return
To fulfill one’s nature.
6. (Charles Budd译本)
On Returning to a Country Life (I)
My youth was spent amidst the simple charms
Of country scenes-secure from worldly din,
And then, alas! I fell into the net
Of public life, and struggled long therein.
The captive bird laments its forest home;
The fish in tanks think of the sea’s broad strands;
And I oft longed, amidst official cares,
To till a settler’s plot in sunny lands.
And now I have my plot of fifteen mou,
With house thereon of rustic build and thatch;
The elm and willow cast a grateful shade,
While plum and peach trees full the entrance patch.
Away from busy towns and dusty marts,
The dog barks in the silent country land;
While chicken cluck among the mulberry-tree,
And life is healthy and the mined is sane.
Here in my house-with room for friend or two,
On my own farm-won from the barren plain,
Escaped from cares of office and routine,
I live a free and natural life again.
7. (Patricial Pin-ching Hu译本)
Back to Garden and Fields
Unfit for worldly things ever since my youthful days,
I love by nature mountains and hills.
Fallen by error into earthly net,
There I remained for a score of years and ten.
A bird in the cage pines for its old forest,
A fish in the pond longs for its original source.
Now I grub up the weeds in the southern countryside,
Living humbly among gardens and rice fields.
On an area of over ten mou,
I built a house with a thatched roof.
Elms and willows spread their shade over the back eaves,
Peach and plum trees grow in front of my house.
Dimly loom the distant villages,
Gracefully curls the chimney smoke.
Dogs bark in the deep lane,
Cocks crow on the top of mulberry trees.
No noise in my house or in the courtyard
But plenty of leisure in my spacious chambers
Having long lived in a cage,
Finally I returned to nature.
8. (Andrew Boyd译本)
Returning
to my Farm
Young I was witless in the world’s affairs,
My nature wildness and hills prefers;
By mishap fallen into mundane snares,
Once I had left I wasted thirty years.
Birds in the cage long for their wonted woods,
Fish in the pool for former rivers yearn.
I clear the wildness that stretches south,
Hiding my defects homeward I return.
Ten acres built with scattered house square,
Beside the thatched huts eight or nine in all;
The elms and willows shade the hindmost eaves,
While peach and pear-trees spread before the hall.
While smoke form nearby huts hangs in the breeze;
A dog is barking in the alley deep;
A cock crows from the chump of mulberry trees.
Within my courtyard all is clear of dust,
Where tranquil in my leisure I remain.
Long have I been imprisoned in the cage;
Now back to Nature I return again.
9. (Ding Zuxing译本)
Return to the Countryside (I)
The world’s way was not mine,
Even as a small boy.
I was happier
With fields and hills.
Seduced into an official existence
I wasted thirty summers.
Like a caged bird
Still thinking of tress and woods,
Like a fish in a pond
Never forgetting its river,
I return to the countryside,
And open the southern fields
Rather than pay court to Dignity.
I have a farm,
Only a few acres,
And a humble cottage
Of eight or nine rooms.
There are elms and willows
Out back, for shade,
And in the front court
Peaches and plums,
In the dim dusk you can see far-off villages.
Smoke from cooking fires curl high in the air.
Dogs bark, down the deep lanes,
And cocks crow in the mulberry trees.
Nothing worldly crosses my threshold:
It is a house of sweet leisure,
After a life of long servitude
How I relish my return to nature!
10. (Roland C. Fang译本)
Back to the Garden and Fields (1)
From my youth I have loved the hills and mountains,
Never was my nature suited fir the world of men,
By mistake have I been entangled in the dusty web,
Lost in its snare for thirteen long years.
The fettered bird longs for its old wood,
The fish in the pond craves for its early pool.
Back to my land I cling to solitude,
To till the soil in the open south country.
My plot of ground is only a few acres square,
The thatched roof covers eight or nine rooms,
The back eaves are shaded by elms and willows,
Rows of peach-and plum-trees stand in my front court.
The hamlets spread out in the hazy distance,
Where chimney
smokes seem to waft in mid-air;
And the dog barks in the deep lane,
And the cock crows on the mulberry top.
In the vacant rooms there is ease and quiet.
Long have I lain within the prison of men,
Now I am to return to nature and its ways.
11. (Tan Shilin译本)
Back to Country-life
Unfit for worldly ways from the youth,
In nature’s beauties I rejoice.
Enmeshed in public life,
From home I’d strayed for thirteen years.
The caged-bird languishes for its woody shelter,
The pond-side pines for its native pool.
Down south I plough up the wastes,
Happy to be my humble self.
My house-stead boasts some ten mu of land
With eight or nine rooms all told.
Elms and willows shade the back eaves,
Plum-and peach-trees line the front hall.
Hamlets lie scattered in the hazy distance,
Light smoke curls up over them.
Dogs are heard in the deep lane,
Atop the mulberry crows the cock.
Clean and tidy is my home,
Restful are the empty rooms.
A captive in the cage for years,
Back to nature I’ve found my way.
12. (Xu Yuanzhong译本)
Return to Nature (1)
While young, I was not used to worldly cares,
And hills became my natural compeers,
But by mistake I fell in mundane snares
And thus entangled was for thirteen years.
A caged bird would long for wonted wood,
And fish in tanks for native pools would yearn.
Go back to till my southern fields I would.
To live a rustic life why not return?
My plot of ground is but ten acres square;
My thatched cottage has eight or nine rooms.
In front I have peach trees and plum trees there;
O’er back eaves willow trees and elms cast glooms.
A village can be seen in distant dark,
Where plumes of smoke rise and waft in the breeze.
In alley deep a dog is heard to bark,
And cock crows as if o’ver mulberry trees.
Into my courtyard no one should intrude,
Nor rob my private rooms of peace and leisure.
After long years of abject servitude,
Again in nature I find homely pleasure.
13. (Kenneth Rezroth译本)
I Return to the Place I Was Born
From my youth up I never liked the city.
I never forget the mountains where I was born.
The world caught me and harnessed me
And drove me through the dust, thirty years away from home.
Migratory birds return to the same tree.
Fish find their way back to the pools where they were hatched.
I have been over the whole country,
And have come back at last to the garden of my childhood.
My farm is only ten acres.
The farm house has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade the back garden.
Peach trees stand by the front door.
The village is out of sight.
You can hear dogs bark in the alleys,
And cocks crow in the mulberry trees.
When you come thro
ugh the gate into the court
You will find no dust or mess.
Peace and quiet live in every room.
I am content to stay here the rest of my life.
At last I have found myself.
14. (Stephen Owen译本)
Returning to Dwell in Gardens and Fields (1)
My youth felt no comfort in common things,
by my nature I clung to the mountains and hills.
I erred and fell in the snares of dust
and was away thirteen years in all.
The caged bird yearns for its former woods,
fish in a pool yearns for long-ago deeps.
Clearing scrub at the edge of the southern moors,
I stay plain by returning to gardens and fields.
My holdings are just more than ten acres,
a thatched cottage of eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade eaves at the back,
peach and plum spread in front of the hall.
The far towns of men are hidden from sight,
a fain blur of smoke comes from village hearths.
A dog is barking deep in the lanes,
a rooster cries out atop a mulberry.
No dust pollutes my doors or yard,
empty space offering ample peace.
For long time I was kept inside a coop,
now again I return to the natural way.
15. (am译本)
Returning to Live in the Country (No.1)
When I was young, I could not get on with the world,
I was so framed I loved the hills and mountains.
But by mistake I fell into the Dusty Net,
And I was tangled there for more than thirteen years.
The bird in its cage longs for its old forest,
The fish in the pool thinks of its native deeps.
I have cleared a patch on the edge of the southern wilds,
Rustic as ever, I’ve come home to my fields and garden.
Around my house, ten acres of ground or more,
My thatched cottage has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade the eaves at the back,
Peach and plum are set out in front of the hall.
In the hazy distance lie the villages,
Lightly the smoke floats over the country hamlets.
A dog is barking somewhere in the deep lanes,
A cock is crowing on top of a mulberry tree.
My gates and courtyard are free from the dust of the world,
In my empty rooms I have all the leisure I please
Too long I lived within the bars of a cage,
Now I am able to come back to nature once more.
16. (Pauline Yu译本)
Returning to Live on the Farm
From youth not fitting with the common tune,
My nature has always loved the hills and mountains.
By mistake I fell into the dusty net-
Gone at once for thirteen years.
The fettered bird cherishes its old forest;
Fish in a pond longs for deeps of old.
Clearing wastes at the edge of southern wilds,
I hold to the simple, returning to the farm.
My plot is one-odd acre square,
A thatched hut eight or nine measures large.
Elms and plum trees spread before the hall.
Wreathed on clouds lies a distant town,
Lingering thickly, the village’s smoke.
A dog barks deep within the lane;
Cocks crow atop mulberry trees.
My door and courtyard lack dust and confusion:
In empty rooms there is peace to spare.
So long confined within a cage,
I’ve come back again to what is natural!
17(Wang Rongpei译本)
Back to Country Life (I)
I’ve loathed the madding crowd since I was a boy
While hills and mountains have filled me with joy.
By mistake I sought mundane careers
And got entrapped in them for thirty years.
Birds in the cage would long for wooded hills;
Fish in the pond would yearn for flowing rills:
So I reclaim the land in the southern fields
To suit my bent for reaping farmland yields.
My farm contains a dozen mu of ground;
My cottage has eight or nine rooms around.
The elm and willow cover backside eaves
While peach and plum trees shade my yard with leaves.
The distant village dimly looms somewhere,
With smoke from chimneys drifting in the air.
In silent country lanes a stray dog barks;
Amid the mulberry trees cocks crow with larks.
My house is free from worldly moil or gloom
While ease and quiet permeate my private room.
When I escape from bitter strife with men,
I live a free and easy life again.
18.(Fang Zhong译本)
Back to the Garden and Fields (I)
From my youth I have loved the hills and mountains,
Never was my nature suited for the world of men,
By my mistake have I been entangled in the dusty web,
Lost in its snares for thirteen long years.
The fettered bird longs fir its old pool.
The fish in the pond craves for its early pool.
Back to my land I cling to solitude,
To till the soil in the open south country.
My plot of ground is only a few acres square,
The thatched roof covers eight or nine rooms,
The back eaves are shaded by elms and willows,
Rows of peach-and-plum trees stand in my front court.
The hamlets spread out in the hazy distance,
Where chimney smokes seem to waft in mid-air:
And the dog barks in the deep lane,
And the cock crows on the mulberry top.
My casement and hall are clear of dust,
In the vacant rooms there is ease and quiet.
Long have I lain within the prison of men,
Now I am to return to nature and its ways.
19.(Gladys M. Taylor & )
Returning to My Farm
Young I was witless in the world’s affairs,
My nature wilderness and hills prefers;
My mishap fallen into mundane snares,
Once I had left wasted thirty years.
Birds in the cage long for their wonted woods,
Fish in the pool for former rivers yearn.
I clear the wilderness that stretches south,
Hiding my defects homeward I return.
Ten acres built with scattered houses square,
Beside the thatched huts eight or nine in all;
The elms and willows shade the hindmost eaves,
With peach and pear-trees spread before the hall.
A distant village gleams beneath the sun,
While smoke from nearby huts hangs in the breeze;
A dog is barking in the alley deep;
A cock crows from the clump of mulberry trees.
Within my courtyard all is clear of dust,
Where tranquil in my leisure I remain.
Lon
g have I been imprisoned in the cage;
Now back to Nature I return again.
饮酒（五）
结庐在人境，而无车马喧。
问君何能尔？心远地自偏。
采菊东篱下，悠悠见南山。
山气日夕佳，飞鸟相与还。
此中有真意，欲辩已忘言。
1. (William Acker译本)
Written While Drunk 5
I built my house near where others dwell,
And yet there is no clamour of carriages and horses.
You ask of me “How can this be so?”
“when the heart is far the place of itself is distant.”
I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
And gaze afar towards the southern mountains.
The mountains air is fine at evening of the day
And flying birds return together homewards.
With these things there is a hint of Truth,
But when I start to tell it, I cannot find the words.
2. (Burton Watson译本)
Drinking Wine No.5
I built my hut in a place where people live,
And yet there is no clatter of carriage or horse.
You ask me how that could be?
With a mind remote, the region too grows distant.
I pick chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge,
See the southern mountain, clam and still.
The mountain air is beautiful at close of day,
Birds on the wing coming home together.
In all this here’s some principle of truth,
But try to define it and you forget the words.
3. (R.H. Kotewall et al译本)
Drinking Wine, V
I built my hut amid the throng of men,
But there is no din of carriages or horses.
You ask me how this can be.
When the heart is remote, earth stands aloof.
Culling chrysanthemums by the eastern hedge.
I see afar the southern hills;
The air of the hills at sunset is good;
The flying birds in company come back to their nests.
In this is the real savour,
But probing, I can find no words.
4. (Arthur Waley译本)
I Built My Hut in a Zone of Human Habitation
I built my hut in a zone of human habitation,
Ye near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach.
Would you know how that is possible?
A heart that is distant creates a wildness round it.
I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.
The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day;
The flying birds two by two return.
In these things there lies a deep meaning;
Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.
5. (Patricia Pin-ching Hu译本)
Drinking Wine 5
I built my house in a world of men
Yet the sounds of horses or chariots bother me not.
“How is that possible?”I am asked.
To a distant heart, every place is a retreat.
I pluck chrysanthemums by the east hedge,
Peaceful the South Hill appears to me.
Good is the mountain air in the eve,
One by one the flying birds return.
Therein lies the meaning of life,
Veritable but ineffable.
6. (Andrew Boyd译本)
Poems on Dring Wine 5
I have built my cottage amongst the throng of men,
And yet there is no noise of horse and of carriage.
You ask me, how can it be? And I reply:
When my heart is absent the place i
tself is absent;
For I pick chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
And far away to the south I see the mountains,
And the mountain mists are lovely at morning and evening,
While birds keep flying across and back again.
In all these things there lies a profound meaning,
I was going to explain…but now I forget what it was.
7. (Roland Fang (Fang Zhong)译本)
Drinking Wine (V)
Among the busy haunts of men I build my hut,
But near to no noise of wheels or trampling hoofs.
--you would stop to ask me how-
The distant heart creates a distant retreat.
Picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence,
Leisurely I look up and see the Southern Mountains.
The mountain air is good both day and night,
And the birds are flying homewards together.
In such things I find the truth of life.
I would tell how, but have forgotten the words.
8. (Tan Shilin译本)
Twenty Wine Poems 5
My hut I build in the midst of men
But do not hear the din of life.
“And how could you manage, Sir?”
Serenity keeps my mind, my hut remote.
Chrysanthemums I was picking under the east hedge
When the South Range met my tranquil eyes.
At sunset the mountains are at their loveliest,
Sundown called in the weary birds.
The soul of Nature was here revealed,
Too subtle it was for words.
9. (Shi Yinzhou译本)
Drinking Wine 5
I built my hut in peopled world,
No noise of coach or horse sounds here,
You ask me how could it be so?
The mind’s remote, the earth’ll be bare.
Chrysanthemums picked by east hedge,
I see at ease with the south hills there.
The mountain air’s fair day and night.
The flying birds come home in pair.
In all these things there is true sense,
I lose the words to make it clear.
10. (Xu Yuanzhong译本)
Drinking Wine 5
Among the haunts of men I build my cot,
There’s noise of wheels and hoofs, but I hear not.
How can it leave upon my mind no trace?
Secluded heart creates secluded place.
I pick fence-side chrysanthemums at will
And leisurely I see the southern hill,
Where mountain air is fresh both day and night,
And where I find home-going birds in flight.
What is the revelation at this view?
Words fail me e’en if I try to tell you.
11. (Xu Yuanzhong译本)
Drinking Wine 5
In people’s haunt I guilt my cot;
Of wheel’s and hoof’s noise I hear not.
How can it leave on me no trace?
Secluded heart makes secluded place.
I pick fenceside asters at will;
Carefree I see the southern hill.
The mountain air’s fresh day and night;
Together birds go home in flight.
What revelation at this view?
Words fail if I try to tell you.
12. (David Lattimore译本)
Drinking Wine (number 5)
I’ve built my shack near other people
Yet escape the clamour of horse and carriage
if you ask how this can be
with heart remote one’s home is hidden too
I pick chrysanthemums beneath the east hedge
and far away see the southern mountains
breath of the mountains at dusk is lovely
flying birds return togethe
r
in this is something right and true
hoping to tell it I lose the words.
13. (James Robert Hightower译本)
Poems after Drinking Wine (No.5)
I built my hut beside a traveled road
Yet hear no noise of passing carts and horses.
You would like to know how it is done?
With the mind detached, one’s place becomes remote.
Picking chrysanthemums by the eastern edge
I catch sight of the distant southern hills:
The mountain air is lovely as the sun sets.
14. (Stephen Owen译本)
Drinking Wine (V)
I built a cottage right in the realm of men,
Yet there was no noise from wagon and horse.
I ask you, how can that be so? -
When mind is far, its place becomes remote.
I picked a chrysanthemum by the eastern hedge,
Off in the distance gazed on south mountain.
Mountain vapours lovely in the twilight sun,
Where birds in flight join in return.
There is some true significance here:
I want to expound it but have lost the words.
15. (Anonymous译本)
Drinking Wine (5)
I built my hut in the world of men,
Yet there is no din of carriage and horse.
You ask me how this could be so:
With a distant heart one’s place becomes remote.
I pluck chrysanthemums beneath the eastern hedge
And glimpse faraway the southern mountain.
The mountain air at sunset is fine;
Flying birds return with one another.
Within this there is true meaning-
About to discuss it I’ve already forgotten words.
16. (Wang Rongpei译本)
Drinking Wine (V)
My house is built amid the world of men,
Yet little sound and fury do I ken.
To tell you how on earth I can keep blind,
Any place is calm for a peaceful mind.
I pluck hedge-side chrysanthemums with pleasure
And see the tranquil Southern Mount in leisure. The evening haze enshrouds it in fine weather
While flocks of birds are flying home together.
The view provides some veritable truth,
But my defining words seem to me uncouth.
桃花源诗并记
陶渊明
晋太元中，武陵人捕鱼为业。缘溪行，忘路之远近。忽逢桃花林，夹岸数百步，中无杂树，芳草鲜美，落英缤纷。渔人甚异之。复前行，欲穷其林。林尽水源，便得一山。山有小口，仿佛若有光。便舍船，从口入。
初极狭，才通人；复行数十步，豁然开朗。土地平旷，屋舍俨然，有良田美池桑竹之属；阡陌交通，鸡犬相闻。其中往来种作，男女衣著，悉如外人；黄发垂髫，并怡然自乐。
见渔人，乃大惊；问所从来。具答之。便要还家，设酒杀鸡作食。村中闻有此人，咸来问讯。自云先世避秦时乱，率妻子邑人来此绝境，不复出焉；遂与外人间隔。问今是何世，乃不知有汉，无论魏、晋。此人一一为具言所闻，皆叹惋。余人各复延至其家，皆出酒食。停数日，辞去。此中人语云：“不足为外人道也。”
既出，得其船，便扶向路，处处志之。及郡下，诣太守说
如此，太守即谴人随其往，寻向所志，遂迷，不复得路。
南阳刘子骥，高尚士也，闻之，欣然规往。未果，寻病终。后遂无问津者。
1. (A.R. Davis 译本)
Peach-Blossom Source
During the Taiyuan period (376-396) of Jin a man of Wuling, who made his living as a fisherman, ascended a stream, forgetful of the distance he traveled. Suddenly he came upon a grove of peach trees in blossom. They lined the banks for several hundred paces: among them were no other kinds of tree. The fragrant herbage was fresh and beautiful; fallen blossom lay in profusion. The fisherman, in extreme wonder, again went forward, wishing to go to the end of the grove,. The grove ended at the stream’s source, and there he found a hill. In the hill was a small opening from which a light seemed to come. So he left his boat and went in through the opening. At first it was very narrow, barely allowing a man to pass, but as he went on for some tens of paces, it came out into the open air, upon lands level and wide with houses of a stately appearance. There fine fields and beautiful pools, clumps of mulberries and bamboos. The field dykes intersected; cocks crowed and dogs barked to each other. The clothes of the men and women who came and went, planted and worked among them were entirely like those of people outside. The white-haired and the children with their hair in tufts happily enjoyed themselves.
When they saw the fisherman, they were greatly surprised and asked from what place he came. When he had answered all their questions, the invited him to come back to their home, where they set out wine, killed a chicken and made a meal. When the villagers heard of this man, they all came to pay their respects. They told him that their ancestors, fleeing from the troubles during the Qin period (221BC-208BC), had brought their wives and children and neighbours to this inaccessible spot and had not gone out again. Thus they became cut off from people outside. They asked what dynasty it was now: they did not know that there had been Ha (206 BC-220AD, nor of courts Wei (220-265AD) or Jin. The fisherman told them all he knew, item by item, and at everything they sighed with grief. The others in turn also invited him to their homes, and all set out wine and food. He stayed for several days ad then took leave of them. The people of this place said to him: “You should not speak of this to those outside.
When he had gone out, he found his boat and folllowed the route by which he had come: everywhere he noted the way. When he reached the commandery, he called on the prefect and told him this story. The prefect immediately sent a man to go with him and seek out the places he had previously noted, but they went astray and could not find the way again.
Liu Ziji of Nanyang, who was a scholar of lofty ideals, heard of it and joyfully planned to go. Soon after, before he had carried out his plan, he fell
ill and died. Afterwards there was no one who “sought the ford”.
2. (Lin Yutang 林语堂译本)
The Peach Colony
During the reign of Taiyuan of Chin, there was a fisherman of Wuling. One day he was walking along a bank. After having gone a certain distance, he suddenly came upon a peach grove which extended along the bank for about a hundred yards. He noticed with surprise that the grove had a magic effect, so singularly free from the usual mingling of brushwood, while the beautifully grassy ground was covered with its rose petals. He went further to explore, and when he came to the end of the grove, he saw a spring which came from a cave in the hill, Having noticed that there seemed to be a weak light in the cave, he tied up his boat and decided to go in and explore.
At first the opening was very narrow, barely wide enough for one person to go in. After a dozen steps, it opened into a flood of light. He saw before his eyes a wide, level valley, with houses and fields and farms. There were bamboos and mulberries; farmers were working and dogs and chickens were running about. The dresses of the men and women were like those of the outside world, and the old men and children appeared very happy and contented. They were greatly astonished to see the fisherman and asked him where he had come form. The fisherman told them and was invited to their homes, where wine was served and chicken was killed for dinner to entertain him. The villagers hearing of his coming all came to see him and to talk. They said that their ancestors had come here as refugees to escape from the tyranny of Tsin Shih-huang (builder of Great Wall) some six hundred years ago, and they had never left it. They were thus completely cut off from the world, and asked what was the ruling dynasty now. They had not even heard of the Han Dynasty (two centuries before to two centuries after Christ), not to speak of the Wei (third century A.D.) and the Chin (third and fourth centuries). The fisherman told them, which they heard with great amazement. Many of the other villagers then began to invite him to their homes by turn and feed him dinner and wine.
After a few days, he took leave of them and left. The villagers begged him not to tell the people outside about their colony. The man found his boat and came back, marking with signs the route he had followed. He went to the magistrate’s office and told the magistrate about it. The latter sent someone to go with him and find the place. They looked for the signs but got lost and could never find it again. Liu Tsechi of Nanyang was a great idealist. He heard of this story, and planned to go and find it, but was taken ill and died before he could fulfill his wish. Since then, no one has gone in search of this place.
3. (谢百魁译本)
The Peach Blossom Source
One day in the Taiyuan period of the Jin Dynasty, a native of Wuling Prefecture, being a fisherman by trade, was boating in a strea
m. Oblivious of the distance that he had covered, he came upon a peach grove, which lined the banks of the stream for several hundred paces. The grove was unmixed with any other trees and was carpeted with fragrant and tender grass, while the newly opened blossom was a riot of pink. The fisherman much wondered and proceeded further, hoping to reach the end of the grove, which turned out to be the head of the stream. There he was confronted with a crag, which had a small orifice looking as if it were lit by a dim light. Then he abandoned the boat and entered the opening.
At first the cave was very narrow, only passable for one person. After a further walk of several dozen paces, a broad view burst upon his sight. He saw an even and wide tract of land, on which some houses were arranged in good order, with fertile fields, beautiful ponds, mulberry trees and bamboos all around them. The fields were crisscrossed with ridged paths. The cocks and dogs heard and echoed each other. The clothes worn by them en and women tilling the land were identical with those of the outsiders. Te aged and the adolescent all enjoyed themselves in blissful ease.
At sight of the fisherman, they were dumbfounded. Then they asked whence hi came, and he answered their questions one by one. He was soon invited to their homes, treated to a dinner with wine and chicken. Hearing of the stranger, the villagers all came to see him and made him inquires. By their own account their ancestors, in order to escape from the tumults of war during the Qin Dynasty, led their wives, children and townsmen to this secluded place, and never went out again. Thus they were isolated from the outsider world. Their inquires about the present times showed that they had no idea of the Han, let alone the Wei and Jin dynasties. The fisherman told them everything he knew, and they were all surprised and regretted their ignorance. The remaining folks also invited him to their homes, entertaining him with wine and food. The fisherman, having stayed for several days, bade them farewell. The people said to him, “There is no need to tell the outside world about us.”
Having left the cave, the fisherman found his boat and rowed along the former route, making marks all the way. Upon his return in the prefecture he visited the prefect and gave him a detailed account. The later sent immediately some people as his escort, tracing the marks in search of the place. But they went astray and lost their way.
Liu Ziji of Nanyang, a high-minded recluse, having been informed of it, set out gladly for this unknown village, but to no purpose. Later he died of illness. Afterwards, no one went to search for it again.
4. (Yang Xianyi & Gladdys Yang杨宪益 戴乃迭译本)
Peach-Blossom Springs
In the reign of Taiyuan of the Jin Dynasty, there was a man of Wuling who was a fisherman by trade. One day he was fishing up a stream in his boat, heedless of how far he had gone,
when suddenly he came upon a forest of peach trees. On either bank for several hundred yards there were no other kinds of trees. The fragrant grass was beautiful to look at, all patterned with fallen blossoms. The fisherman was extremely surprised and went on further, determined to get to the end of this wood.
He found at the end of the wood the source of the stream and the foot of a cliff, where there was a small cave in which there seemed to a faint light. He left his boat and went in through the mouth of the cave. At first it was very narrow, only wide enough for a man, but after forty or fifty yards he suddenly found himself in the open.
The place he had come to was level and spacious. There were houses and cottages arranged in a planned order; there were fine fields and beautiful pools; there were mulberry trees, bamboo groves, and many other kinds of trees as well; there were raised pathways round the fields; and he heard the fowls crowing and dog barking. Going to and fro in al this, and busied in working and plating, were people, both men and women. Their dress was not unlike that of people outside, and all of them, whether old people with white hair or children with their hair in a knot, were happy and content with themselves.
Seeing the fisherman, they were greatly amazed and asked him where he had come from. He answered all their questions, and then they invited him to their homes, where they put wine before him, killed chickens and prepared food in his honour. When the other people in the village heard about the visitor, they too all came ask questions.
They themselves told him that their ancestors had escaped from the wars and confusion in the time of the Qin dynasty. Bring their wives and children, all the people of their area had reached this isolated place, and had stayed here ever since. Thus they had lost all contact with the outside world. They asked what dynasty it was now. The Han they had never heard of, let alone the Wei and the Jin. Point by point the fisherman explained all he could of the world that he knew, and they all sighed in deep sorrow.
Afterwards all the rest invited him to their homes, and all feasted him with wine and food. He stayed there several days and then bade them goodbye; before he separated these people said to him: “Never speak to anyone outside about this!”
So he went out, found his boat and went back by the same route as he had come, all along the way leaving marks. When he go to the provincial town he called on the prefect and told him all about his experience. The prefect at once sent men to go with him and follow up the marks he had left. But they became completely confused over the marks and never found the place.
Liu Ziji, a scholar of high reputation from Nanyang, heard of this and enthusiastically offered to go out wit the fisherman to try again. But he fell ill and died before realizing his plan. After that no one went any m
ore to look for the way.
5. (孙大雨Sun Dayu译本)
The Peach Blossom Visionary Land
During the Tai-yuan years of the dynasty Jin, a fisherman from the county of Wuling strolled on the bank of a stream, forgetting the distance of his track, into a grove of blossoming peach trees all at once. For several hundred steps along the bank side, there were no other trees; the sward was freshly green and fallen petals of the peach blooms were scattered on the grass verdure. The fisherman, surprised by the sight, walked on to see where the grove would end. It ended at the source of the stream, where there was a mountain. An aperture opened on the mount, from which light seemed to be emitted.
The man abandoned his boat and entered the opening. It was narrow at first, just enough to pass through. After several tens of steps, the way led to vast spaciousness. The land was level and expanded, houses were spread out in good order; goodly farms, fair ponds and mulberry and bamboo thickets were to be seen everywhere. The ways and cross roads were stretched out far and wide. Cocks’ crew and dogs’ barking were heard here and there. The men and women coming and going in their tilling and handicraft work were dressed all like people outside. The aged with hair of light beige and children with cut hair fringing their foreheads all looked gay and contented. Seeing the fisherman, people were greatly surprised, asking him whence he came from and being replied to. They then invited him to their homes, offering wine and killing chickens for entertainment. When it was generally known in the village that there was this man, more people came to see and ask questions of him. They all said that their forefathers, fleeting from turmoil’s during the Qin Dynasty, led their families and villagers hither to this isolated district to stay, and so being separated from the outside world. They asked what time it was then, knowing not there was any dynasty Han, to say nothing of those of Wei and Jin. Then man answered them all in details, whereon they heaved sighs and exclamations. All the others also invited him severally to their homes for hospitality. After many a day, he made his departure. They told him not to publicize his sojourn there.
When out, he sought out his boat and noted closely they leading to the aperture of the mount. After his return to the chief town of county he went to the alderman市议员 and made report of his outlandish excursion. The county official dispatched a man to follow him whereto he would lead. But he could not find the spots he had noted on his way back and so lost the whereabouts of the grove of blossoming peach trees. Liu Ziji of Nanyang, a scholar of high repute, hearing of the story sought to find out the place. He fell sick and died, before his attempted trial. Thereafter, no one ever ventured the visionary deed.
6. (Fang Zhong 方重译本)
Peach-Blossom Springs
(A Prose Narrative)
Dur
ing the reign of Emperor Shao-Wu of Eastern Tsin there was once a native of Wuling, who lived on fishing. One day he rowed up a stream, and soon forgot how far he had gone. All of a sudden he came upon a peach grove. For hundreds of paces along both banks of the stream, the peach-trees were in full bloom. No other trees were to be seen in the whole grove. The soft grass looked fresh and beautiful. Here and there falling blossoms were dancing gracefully in a thousand hues. The fisherman was beside himself with amazement. He went on further in order to reach the uppermost limits of the grove. As the peaches came to an end, the headsprings of the stream was found to issue from the side of a mountain. A narrow cave-like opening showed him some light that seemed to emerge from within. Leaving his boat he ventured in.
At first it was just wide enough to admit one person. But after a few dozen paces an extensive view suddenly appeared before him. He saw the level plain stretch out far and wide, and the houses and homesteads all neatly arranged. Rich rice-fields, picturesque ponds, and mulberry and bamboo groves were everywhere. The foot-paths crossed and re-crossed one another. As the cocks crowed, the dogs barked in return. All the inhabitants busied themselves with farm work in the same manner as the people outside, so did their men and women attire themselves. The yellow-tressed梳成发髻的 old folk and the youngsters with flowing hair were all living in self-contentment.
Seeing the fisherman they were so eager to find out from whence he came. He made his answers accordingly and was invited to their homes to be entertained with chicken and wine. Others in the village, on hearing of the arrival of a stranger, also flocked round to make inquiries. Of their own accord they told him of the forefathers who had, during the troublous times of the Chins, sought refuge in this place of absolute seclusion together with their families and neighbours. After having settled down here they never thought of going out again. They had been so cut off from the rest of the world that a knowledge of the times would be a revelation to them. They had not heard of the Han Dynasty, not to say the Wei and the Tsin. The fisherman informed them all about these changes, and they could not help being deeply affected. Then more of them asked him to dine by turns. It was not until several days later that he begged to take leave. He was bidden, however, to keep to himself all the things talked about among them, for, they said, such matters would not be worth imparting to the outside world. Our fisherman came out, found his boat again, and took care to leave marks all along his way home. As soon as he was back to the city he told his adventure to the magistrate, who sent men to go with him. They tried to trace the marks he had left, but failed, and lost their way thither.
A good scholar of Nanyang, on learning of it, was anxious to re-discover the place.
Nor did he succeed, and died soon of illness. Ever since then, few have attempted the passage again.
归去来兮辞
归去来兮，田园将芜胡不归！既自以心为形役，奚惆怅而独悲？悟已往之不谏，知来者之可追：实迷途其未远，觉今是而昨非。
舟遥遥以轻飏，风飘飘而吹衣，向征夫以前路，恨晨光之熹微/伪。乃瞻衡宇，载欣载奔，僮仆欢迎，稚子候门。三径就荒，松菊犹存；携幼入室，有酒盈樽。
引壶觞以自酌，眄庭柯亦怡颜；倚南窗以寄傲，审容膝之易安。园日涉以成趣，门虽设而常关；策扶老以流憩，时矫首而遐观。云无心以出岫，鸟倦飞而知还；景翳翳以将入，抚孤松而盘桓。
归去来兮，请息交以绝游。世与我而向违，复驾言兮焉求！悦亲戚之情话，乐琴书以消忧。农人告余以春及，将有事于西畴。
或命巾车，或棹孤舟；既窈窕以寻壑，亦崎岖而经丘。木欣欣以向荣，泉涓涓而始流；羡/善万物之得时，感吾生之行休！
已矣乎，寓形宇内复几时，曷不委心任去留。胡为遑遑欲何之？富贵非吾愿，帝乡不可期。怀良辰以孤往，或植杖而耘耔。登东皋以舒啸，临清流而赋诗。聊乘化以归尽，乐夫天命复奚疑！
1. (林语堂Lin Yutang 译本)
Ah, Homeward Bound I Go!
Ah, homeward bound I go! Why not go home, seeing that my field and garden with weeds are overgrown? Myself have made my soul serf to my body: why have vain regrets and mourn alone?
Fret not over bygones and the forward journey take. Only a short distance have I gone astray, and I know today I am right, if yesterday was a complete mistake.
Lightly floats and drifts the boat, and the wind gently flows and flaps my gown. I inquire the road of a wayfarer, and sulk at the dimness of the dawn.
Then when I catch sight of my old roofs, joy will my steps quicken. Servants will be there to bid my welcome, and waiting at the door are the greeting children.
Gone to seed, perhaps, are my garden paths, but there will still be the chrysanthemums and the pines! I shall lead the youngest boy in by the hand, and on the table there stands a cup full of wine!
Holding the pot and cup I give myself a drink, happy to see in the courtyard the hanging bough. I lean upon the southern window with an immense satisfaction, and note that the little place is cozy enough to walk around.
The garden grows more familiar and interesting with the daily walks. What if no one ever knocks at the always closed door! Carrying a cane I wander at peace, and now and then look aloft to gaze at the blue above.
There the clouds idle away from their mountain recesses without any intent or purpose, and birds, when tired of their wandering flights, will think of home. Darkly then fall the shadows a
nd, ready to come home, I yet fondle the lonely pines and loiter around.
Ah, homeward bound I go! Let me from now on learn to live alone! The world and I are not made for one another, and why drive round like one looking for what he has not found?
Content shall I be with conversations with my own kin, and there will be music and books to while away the hours. The farmers will come and tell me that spring is here and there will be work to do at the western farm.
Some order covered wagons; some row in small boats. Sometimes we explore quiet, unknown ponds, and sometimes we climb over steep, rugged mounds.
There the trees, happy of heart, grow marvelously green, and spring water gushes forth with a gurgling sound. I admire how things grow and prosper according to their seasons, and feel that thus, too, shall my life go its round.
Enough! How long yet shall I this mortal shape keep? Why not take life as it comes, and why hustle and bustle like one on an errand bound?
Wealth and power are not my ambitions, and unattainable is the abode of the gods! I would go forth alone on a bright morning, or perhaps, planting my cane, begin to pluck the weeds and till the ground.
Or I would compose a poem beside a clear stream, or perhaps go up Dongkao and make a long-drawn call on the top of the hill. So would I be content to live and die, and without questionings of the heart, gladly accept Heaven’s will.
2. (孙大雨译本)
Retracing My Way Home -A prose poem
Let me retrace my steps home! My fields and garden would be grown over with weeds apace; why do I not went my way home? Since I have subjected my heart to serve my body, wherefore do I become dejected and choked with grief? Realizing my past to be lacking in counsel, I know my future is yet within the bounds of my pursuit. Having indeed lost my way but not long, I feel I am right at present and was wrong yesterday.
The barque swung gently on the waves afar, and gusts of wind aflutteringmy a thwart clothes. Asking the travelers coming my path about the way stretching ahead, I deplored that the dawn dusk was still dimly gray. Catching sight of the cross plank door of my house, I felt glad on a sudden and fell to running …My errand boy and men greeted me cheerfully, and my children were waiting at the entrance. The byways and paths of my garden began to look desolate, but the pines and the chrysanthemums were still there. Holding the little dear by the hand and going into the parlour, I found an earthen pot full of wine. Making use of a jug and a feathered beaker to drink by myself, I gazed at the trees in the yard to lighten my face. Leaning against the southern window in airing my pride, I mused on the reposing of my legs in the nook as a token of my quietude.
Roving daily in the garden becomes my favourite practice; the hedge-door, though it stands there, is usually closed. With a cane to rely upon for support
ing my years and helping me to pace on or to pause, I often lift my head to command a fair view of the distance. The clouds with a vacant heart float forth from the cliffs; the birds tiring of flight know when to return to their nests. The landscape looks blurred as I am to retire under the roof, resting my hand on a solitary pine to linger for a while. Thus I have retraced my way home, and am going to end my intercourse with the world. Since it runs counter to my bents, for what should I venture forth to it with words convened in vain? Pleased with the feeling words of my kin and friends, I also find good cheer in the table heptachord and tomes of books for dispelling my gloom.
Farmer told me spring has come here and they would be busy at the western suburb. I take to a draped cart or row a solitary boat to look for caves and caverns that seem so quaint and unearthly, and climb across heights steep and ramble over hillocks rather low. The trees shoot out joyously in new glory; the springs bubble merrily and begin to overflow. Being glad that all living things are in the heyday of their youth, I am passing my life in contented rest.
Let it come then as it would! Remaining in this world for I know not how long, why do I not set my mind at ease in thinking of whether to leave or to remain? Why should I be in a hurry to get to know not whither? To be wealthy and to be high in rank are not what I wish to be the celestial city is not what I expect. I may wish to go somewhere on a fair day alone, or to weed and manure the soil, sticking my cane nearby in the clay. Or I may wish to rise on the eastern bank to halloo in easing my heart, or to compose poetry by the side of a limpid stream. In such wise, I may merge into Nature and come to my end, delighting in the decree of Heaven and doubting nought.
3.(谢百魁译本)
Sentiments on My Homecoming
Go home! My homestead is being desolated, why not go home? Since I myself am to blame for having my soul enthralled by my body, why should I be so sad and forlorn? I conceive that the past is irredeemable, yet the future has something rewarding in store. I did not go far astray. I feel today I am doing the sensible, though all I did yesterday was inane. The boat is rocking, speeding lightly in the river; the wind is blowing and fluttering my robe. I ask a traveler about the way lying ahead, and hate that the twilight is so dim at dawn. Then my rustic abode comes into my view. I hurry there at a joyful trot. My servant comes to greet me, while my children wait for me at the door. Though the three lanes are left untended, the pines and chrysanthemums are in good form. Entering with my lads into the room, I see a wine cup filled to the brim. I drain the dup, replenish it and relish the wine alone, while contemplating the trees in the courtyard in a blithe mood. Leaning on the southern window, I show my pride in my humble home, aware of the ease that might be enjoyed even in a tiny ro
om. The garden becomes my chief delight with my frequent strolls. The door, though put up there, is often closed. Supporting my self with a stick, I walk leisurely, and lifting my head now and then, I gaze on the distant wooded land. The clouds emerge unwittingly from behind the peaks, and the tired birds fly instinctively back to their nests. The sunlight is fading at he skyline. I caress the solitary pine, lingering there with a sympathetic mind.
Go home! I plead with all people to part company with me and leave me in seclusion. Since I am a misfit in this world, what I to court, driving a cart away from home? I take it for a great pleasure to listen to my kinsfolk’s affectionate words and a good diversion to play the lute and read my books. The farmers tell me that spring is coming and ploughing will begin in the western fields. I will either ride in my curtained chariot or row my single boat. I will walk along a twisted trail to visit a deep valley or ramble on a rugged path and traverse the hills. Trees are thriving in the sun’s glory; water is trickling into a spring at it course. I envy that all things are in their prime, and deplore that my life is drawing to a close.
Be resigned to what must be! How long could I lodge my body in the universe after all? Why not trust my heart to roam at its will? Why should bustle with disquietude, getting nowhere at all? Wealth and honour are not my wish, and paradise is beyond hope. Cherish my time and take lonely saunters in the splendid morn. Or planting my stick in the ground, do some weeding in the fields. Ascend the eastern hills and shout to my heart’s content or, standing before a limpid stream, compose and declaim my poetic prose. Obey the laws of nature and let my life run its course. Be reconciled to my fate with a good grace, leaving no doubt in my soul!
4. (Yang Xianyi and Gladdys Yang杨宪益 戴乃迭译本)
Returning Home
My fields are filled with weeds: why not return?
My heart in service to my frame was pressed,
Why am I grieving, lonely and distressed?
I know that to regret the past is vain,
And may atone with years that still remain:
Indeed I have not wandered far astray,
And now am right though erring yesterday.
Dancing on rippling waves my small boat goes,
A light breeze gently on my garment blows;
I ask the wayfarer to point my way,
Sad that the sky is not yet bright with day.
When finally my home appears in sight
I start to run, transported with delight,
With joyful greetings all my servants wait,
My little ones are gathered at the gate;
And though wild weeds within my paths abound
Chrysanthemums and pine trees still are found.
My little ones into the house I lead,
Where brimming goblets overflow with mead:
To pour myself more wine the jug I raise
And on my courtyard’s trees with pleasure gaze;
By southern still, with lofty thoughts in mind,
Contentment in my simple room I find;
I stroll each day for pleasure in my yard
And gates, although there are, rest always barred.
Taking my staff my leisured course I tread
And sometimes gazing far I raise head;
The clouds inanimate drift from the glen,
While tired in flight the birds turn home again;
Deep shadows lengthen at the sun’s decline
But still linger by the lonely pine,
I must return-
To be set free from worldly ties I yearn.
Since with the world I am at variance set
What need I more desire or regret?
With joy my kinsmen’s idle talk I share,
And with my books and lyre I banish care.
The farmers tell me spring is now at hand
And I must cultivate my western land.
Sometimes with curtains drawn my coach I ride,
Or sail a little boat upon the tide;
I pass through winding ways to reach the vale
Or by a rugged road the mountains scale.
The trees that burgeon gladly seem to grow.
While murn’ring streams once more begin to flow.
I envy things of Nature in their prime,
Sad that so soon I shall complete my time.
Alas,
When will this earthly form and features pass?
Why should I not content with life remain?
By haste and speed what profit shall I gain?
Riches and rank are not what I desire,
Nor would I to some Paradise aspire;
Alone I’d wander on some pleasant day,
And with my stick would cut the weeds away;
Si8nging for joy I’d climb the eastern hill,
Or make a song beside some limpid rill;
At one with Nature I would die aptly,
Content, I would not question destiny.
5. (Luo Jingguo 罗经国译本)
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 desire,
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.
It grow
s 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 blessing 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 don 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?
6. (A. R. Davis译本)
Return Home
Return home!
My fields and garden will be covered with weeds;
Why not return?
When I have made my heart the body’s slave,
Why should I sorrow and solitary grieve.
Aware “the past may not be censured”,
I know “the future is to be striven for”.
Truly I am not far astray from the road;
I feel today is right, yesterday was wrong.
My boat lightly tosses on the broad waters;
The wind, whirling, blows my robe about.
I ask a traveler of the way ahead;
I resent the dawn light’s faintness.
Then I espy my humble house;
So I am glad, so I run.
The servants welcome me;
The children wait at the gate,
The three paths（courtyard） have become overgrown,
But pines and chrysanthemums remain.
Taking the children by the hand, I enter the house,
Where there is wine, filled ready in the jug.
Taking up the jug and cup, I pour for myself.
A glance at the courtyard trees makes my face happy;
I lean by the southern window in a mood of pride;
I ponder the easy content of a narrow sufficiency.
My garden daily I pace with a quick step;
Although there is a gate, it is always closed.
Staff in hand, I roam or stop for rest;
At times raise my head and gaze into the distance.
Clouds aimlessly come out from the mountain-tops;
Birds, weary of flying, know they should to home.
The sun’s light grows dim and is about to sink;
Stoking a solitary pine, I linger.
Return home!
Let there be an end to intercourse, a break with society!
The world and I shall be estranged from one another;
If I harnessed， my carriage again, what should I seek?
I delight in the affectionate conversation of my family
;
Finding pleasure in lute and books, I drive away care.
The farmers tell me that spring has come;
There will be work in the western fields.
Sometimes I order a covered cart;
Sometimes I steer a solitary boat.
Along hidden ways I trace the gullies;
By steep paths I cross the hills.
The trees joyously begin to blossom;
The springs, bubbling up, begin to flow.
Rejoicing that everything finds its season,
I am moved at my life’s coming to its rest.
It is finished!
How long may one lodge in the body in the universe?
Why not follow the heart and let things go their way?
Why be troubled over where one should go?
Riches and honour are not my desire;
The Heavenly Village I may not hope for.
I desire a fair morning to go out alone;
Sometimes to plant my staff and weed or hoe;
Or climb the eastern hill and let out long whistles;
Or looking on the clear stream, compose a poem.
So following change. I shall go to my end;
Happy in my destiny, why should I doubt any more?
陶渊明传
萧统
陶渊明，字元亮。或云潜字渊明。浔阳柴桑人也。曾祖侃，晋大司马。渊明少有高趣，博学，善属文；颖脱不群，任真自得。尝著“五柳先生转”以自况，时人谓之实录。亲老家贫，起为州祭酒；不堪吏职，少日自解归。州召主簿，不就。躬耕自资，随抱赢疾。江州刺史檀道济往候之，偃卧疾馁有日矣。道济谓曰：“贤者处世，天下无道则隐，有道则至；今子生文明知识，奈何自苦如此？”对曰：“潜也何敢望贤，志不及也。”道济馈以梁肉，麾而去之。后为镇军、建威参军，谓亲朋曰：“聊欲弦歌以为三径之资，可乎？”执事者闻之，以为彭泽令。不以家累自随，送一力给其子，书曰：“汝旦夕之费，自给为难，今遣此力，助汝薪水之劳。此亦人子也，可善遇之。”公田悉令吏种秫，曰：“吾尝得醉于酒足矣！”妻子固请种秔（同粳jing1），乃使二顷五十亩种秫，五十亩中粳。岁终，会郡遣督邮至，县吏请曰：“应束带见之。”渊明叹曰：“我岂能为五斗米，折腰向乡里小儿！”即日解绶去职，赋“归去来”。 徵（zhi3）著作郎，不久。江州刺史王弘欲识之，不能致也。渊明尝住庐山，弘名渊明故人庞通之齎（同赍ji1怀着；抱着，把东西送给人）酒具，于半道栗里之间邀之。渊明有脚疾，使一门生舁（yu2共同抬东西[of two or more persons] carry）二儿篮舆；即至，欣然便共饮酌。俄顷弘至，亦无迕也。先是颜延之为刘柳后军功曹，在浔阳与渊明情款，后为始安郡，经过浔阳，日造渊明饮焉。每往，必酣饮至醉。弘欲邀延之坐，弥日不得。延之临去，留二万钱与渊明；渊明悉遣送酒家，稍就取酒。尝九月九日出宅边菊从中坐，久之，满手把菊，忽值弘送酒至；即便就酌，醉而
归。渊明不解音律，而蓄无弦琴一张，每酒适， 輙（同辄zhe2总是；就always; often; regularly; as soon as; soon after） 抚弄以寄其意。贵贱造之者，有酒輙设。渊明若先醉，便语客：“我醉欲眠，卿可去！”其真率如此。郡将尝候之，值其酿熟，取头上葛巾漉酒，漉毕，还复著之。时周续之入庐山，事释慧远；彭城刘遗民亦遁匡山，渊明又不应 命，谓之 阳三隐。后刺史檀韶苦请续之出州，与学士祖企谢景夷三人，共在城北讲礼，加以雠校。所住公廨（xie4官吏办事的地方公廨：government office），近于马队。是故渊明示其诗云：“周生述孔业，祖谢响然臻；马队非讲肆，校书亦已勤。“”其妻翟氏亦能安勤苦，与其同志。自以曾祖晋世宰辅，耻复屈身后代，自宋高祖王业渐隆，不复肯仕。元嘉四年将复徵命，会卒。时年六十三。世号靖节先生。
Tao Yuan-ming, A Biographical Sketch
by Hsiao Tung (A.D 527)
(Heir apparent to Emperor Wu-ti of the Liang Dynasty, being one of the outstanding men of letters in literary history. This biographical sketch on Tao Yuanming, one of the three earliest records, and the best, was written just one hundred years after the death of the poet.)
Tao Yuanming (A.D. 365-427), alias Yuan-liang, otherwise known as Tao Chien, alias Yuanming, was a native of the district of Chaishang in Shunyang(in modern Jiangxi). His great grandfather, Tao Kan, served under the Tsin, holding a high official post. From his early youth our poet cherished rare tastes of his own, and was well-read and proficient in the art of poetry. Like an arrow-head out of its sheath he prided himself on his way of true living as being far above those of his contemporaries. He wrote the “Story of the Man of Five-Willows” to throw light on his own character, a sketch considered in his day to be a self-portraiture.
What with poverty and an aged mother at home he began to join the petty ranks in the local prefecture. On finding the work irksome, he soon resigned. Another position was offered and rejected. Then he toiled so hard on his scanty farm to support his family that his health broke down. When Governor Tan called on him, he was found to have been bed-ridden for days from illness and hunger. “A wise man,” expostulated Tan, “should learn to meet the times when justice reigns, and never think of retirement unless darkness prevails. As it is, you are born into these piping days of peace, what sense is there for you to afflict yourself like this?”
“But how could I ever presume to be wise and knowing? I am not equal to it,” answered Yuan-ming.
Thereupon Governor Tan sent him some rice and meat, which he only waved off with nonchalance.
Then he was appointed adviser to a certain military bureau, for which he complained to some of his personal friends, saying, “How I wi
sh to be embarked upon a peaceful job with just enough emoluments to pave my garden-paths!” Such like sentiments of his reached the ears of his superiors, and he was presently transferred to the magistracy of the district of Pentze.
To Pengtze he went without his family. But he took care to dispatch a man-labourer to his son with a note, in which he wrote: “Considering the heavy housework you have on hand day and night, I am sending this man along to help you carry water and chop wood. Remember though, he is also someone’s son. Treat him well.”
As district magistrate he was allotted 300 mou of ricefield as a source for his official revenue. He had a mind to have the whole area planted with millet. “If I could only get drunk on the yield of millet-wine I should be more than satisfied,” said he. But his wife and sons insisted on his planting rice instead. It was then agreed to turn 250 mou into millet, leaving the rest for rice.
By the end of the year there came an official from the higher prefecture, “Welcome him in proper form,” was the advice given by his colleagues in the district yamen.
“Am I expected to bow to a little town-fool for the sake of five bushels of rice?” And on the same day he gave up his magistracy and wrote the famous fu, “Come away Home!” Though a different post was suggested he did not give it a thought.
By this time a certain Governor Wang of Kiangchow asked to be introduced to him, but could find no way of approach. When it was known that the poet was going up the Lushan Mountains the Governor lost no time in causing one of the poet’s old friends, Pang, to bring some wine in order to meet him on the way. Yuan-ming was being accompanied by a pupil and two sons of his who were carrying luggage for him on account of some ailment in his foot. Seeing the wine before him he was glad to sit down and begin to drink it. At this moment Governor Wang appeared in person. Yuanming saw him, but went on drinking as nothing happened.
At first, a minor official named Yen had cultivated his friendship at Shunyang. While taking up a new post sometime later Yen had to pass the same place again. On this occasion he spent everyday drinking together with the poet; and whenever they met they never parted without getting quite drunk. Governor Wang again sought their company, yet saw the days slip by without any access. Now it was time for Yen to say goodbye to Yuanming, with whom he was good enough to leave a fair sum of money. Yuanming sank the whole thing in a drinking house, which he frequented as long as the money lasted.
Then on the Double-ninth Day the poet stepped out of his house to sit ensconced in the chrysanthemum beds. When he had filled his lap with those favorite flowers of his, suddenly came Governor Wang again with wine. Yuanming partook of it without ceremony, got drunk, and quietly retired into the house.
He used to keep a stringless
zither, though he was not well versed in the technique of musical tunes. Wine-cup by his side he would play on the old instrument in imaginary expressions of silent music. Among his friends he made no difference between the high and the low so long as there was wine. And if he could get drunk first, he would not hesitate to address his partner in these terms: “I am drunk and will go to sleep; you may go.” Such was the frankness of his manners. Another time when certain high officials paid him a visit, they found him busily brewing the wine. For straining off the dregs he was seen to take down off-hand his head-scarf for the purpose, and after straining, the wet scarf was immediately restored to his head with perfect unconcern.
At that time there were three men known as the three Shunyang recluses. One was Chou, who had gone up the Lushan Mountains to become a disciple of a Buddhist monk. The second was Liu of Pengcheng, who also left the world to live in the same mountains. Out poet made up the trio by refusing all governmental offers. Not long afterwards Chou was, under entreaty, made to lecture to students and to edit old classics with two other scholars. As they were put up in the vicinity of a stable-yard for horse-guard, the poet made reference to it in a verse epistle addressed to them in these lines:
You carry on the tradition of the great sage,
And colleagues there are to echo your words.
………………………………
………………………………
But the stable-yard is no lecture-hall,
Where you are just wasting your powers.
The poet’s wife, Ti, accepted poverty and hardship with like equanimity. His great-grandfather, he thought, had championed the cause of the Tsin; it would be a shame on his part to serve the new rulers. As the rule of the new regime grew to be deeper-rooted all the less was he inclined to be summoned to any post.
He lived to the age of sixty-three and died before he could be made to accept the last offer. Posthumously死后地 he was honoured with the title of Tao the Modest and Serene.