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《红楼梦》翻译（二百零八）

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twin05 2010-09-08 14:23 | 只看楼主 树型| 收藏| 小中大 1 ^#

《红楼梦》翻译（二百零八）

原著
　　湘云便取了诗题，用针绾在墙上．众人看了，都说：“新奇固新奇，只怕作不出来。”湘云又把不限韵的原故说了一番．宝玉道：“这才是正理，我也最不喜限韵。”林黛玉因不大吃酒，又不吃螃蟹，自令人掇了一个绣墩倚栏杆坐着，拿着钓竿钓鱼．宝钗手里拿着一枝桂花玩了一回，俯在窗槛上了桂蕊掷向水面，引的游鱼浮上来唼喋．湘云出一回神，又让一回袭人等，又招呼山坡下的众人只管放量吃．探春和李纨惜春立在垂柳阴中看鸥鹭．迎春又独在花阴下拿着花针穿茉莉花．宝玉又看了一回黛玉钓鱼，一回又俯在宝钗旁边说笑两句，一回又看袭人等吃螃蟹，自己也陪他饮两口酒．袭人又剥一壳肉给他吃．黛玉放下钓竿，走至座间，拿起那乌银梅花自斟壶来，拣了一个小小的海棠冻石蕉叶杯．丫鬟看见，知他要饮酒，忙着走上来斟．黛玉道：“你们只管吃去，让我自斟，这才有趣儿。”说着便斟了半盏，看时却是黄酒，因说道：“我吃了一点子螃蟹，觉得心口微微的疼，须得热热的喝口烧酒。”宝玉忙道：“有烧酒。”便令将那合欢花浸的酒烫一壶来．黛玉也只吃了一口便放下了．宝钗也走过来，另拿了一只杯来，也饮了一口，便蘸笔至墙上把头一个《忆菊》勾了，底下又赘了一个"蘅"字．宝玉忙道：“好姐姐，第二个我已经有了四句了，你让我作罢。”宝钗笑道：“我好容易有了一首，你就忙的这样。”黛玉也不说话，接过笔来把第八个《问菊》勾了，接着把第十一个《菊梦》也勾了，也赘一个"潇"字．宝玉也拿起笔来，将第二个《访菊》也勾了，也赘上一个"绛"字．探春走来看看道：“竟没有人作《簪菊》，让我作这《簪菊》。”又指着宝玉笑道：“才宣过总不许带出闺阁字样来，你可要留神。”说着，只见史湘云走来，将第四第五《对菊》《供菊》一连两个都勾了，也赘上一个"湘"字．探春道：“你也该起个号。”湘云笑道：“我们家里如今虽有几处轩馆，我又不住着，借了来也没趣。”宝钗笑道：“方才老太太说，你们家也有这个水亭叫`枕霞阁'，难道不是你的．如今虽没了，你到底是旧主人。”众人都道有理，宝玉不待湘云动手，便代将"湘"字抹了，改了一个"霞"字．又有顿饭工夫，十二题已全，各自誊出来，都交与迎春，另拿了一张雪浪笺过来，一并誊录出来，某人作的底下赘明某人的号．李纨等从头看起：

　　忆菊蘅芜君

　　怅望西风抱闷思，蓼红苇白断肠时．

　　空篱旧圃秋无迹，瘦月清霜梦有知．

　　念念心随归雁远，寥寥坐听晚砧痴，

　　谁怜我为黄花病，慰语重阳会有期．

　　访菊怡红公子

　　闲趁霜晴试一游，酒杯药盏莫淹留．

　　霜前月下谁家种，槛外篱边何处愁．

　　蜡屐远来情得得，冷吟不尽兴悠悠．

　　黄花若解怜诗客，休负今朝挂杖头．

　　种菊怡红公子

　　携锄秋圃自移来，篱畔庭前故故栽．

　　昨夜不期经雨活，今朝犹喜带霜开．

　　冷吟秋色诗千首，醉酹寒香酒一杯．

　　泉溉泥封勤护惜，好知井径绝尘埃．

　　对菊枕霞旧友

　　别圃移来贵比金，一丛浅淡一丛深．

　　萧疏篱畔科头坐，清冷香中抱膝吟．

　　数去更无君傲世，看来惟有我知音．

　　秋光荏苒休辜负，相对原宜惜寸阴．

　　供菊枕霞旧友

　　弹琴酌酒喜堪俦，几案婷婷点缀幽．

　　隔座香分三径露，抛书人对一枝秋．

　　霜清纸帐来新梦，圃冷斜阳忆旧游．

　　傲世也因同气味，春风桃李未淹留．

　　咏菊潇湘妃子

　　无赖诗魔昏晓侵，绕篱欹石自沉音．

　　毫端蕴秀临霜写，口齿噙香对月吟．

　　满纸自怜题素怨，片言谁解诉秋心．

　　一从陶令平章后，千古高风说到今．

　　画菊蘅芜君

　　诗余戏笔不知狂，岂是丹青费较量．

　　聚叶泼成千点墨，攒花染出几痕霜．

　　淡浓神会风前影，跳脱秋生腕底香．

　　莫认东篱闲采掇，粘屏聊以慰重阳．

　　问菊潇湘妃子

　　欲讯秋情众莫知，喃喃负手叩东篱．

　　孤标傲世偕谁隐，一样花开为底迟？

　　圃露庭霜何寂寞，鸿归蛩病可相思？

　　休言举世无谈者，解语何妨片语时．

　　簪菊蕉下客

　　瓶供篱栽日日忙，折来休认镜中妆．

　　长安公子因花癖，彭泽先生是酒狂．

　　短鬓冷沾三径露，葛巾香染九秋霜．

　　高情不入时人眼，拍手凭他笑路旁．

　　菊影枕霞旧友

　　秋光叠叠复重重，潜度偷移三径中．

　　窗隔疏灯描远近，篱筛破月锁玲珑．

　　寒芳留照魂应驻，霜印传神梦也空．

　　珍重暗香休踏碎，凭谁醉眼认朦胧．

　　菊梦潇湘妃子

　　篱畔秋酣一觉清，和云伴月不分明．

　　登仙非慕庄生蝶，忆旧还寻陶令盟．

　　睡去依依随雁断，惊回故故恼蛩鸣．

　　醒时幽怨同谁诉，衰草寒烟无限情．

　　残菊蕉下客

　　露凝霜重渐倾欹，宴赏才过小雪时．

　　蒂有余香金淡泊，枝无全叶翠离披．

　　半床落月蛩声病，**寒云雁阵迟．

　　明岁秋风知再会，
暂时分手莫相思．
霍克斯译文
Ying-chun sat apart from the rest beneath a flowering tree, stringing jasmine blossoms into a flower-chain with a needle and thread.
Bao-yu watched Dai-yu fishing for a bit, then went over and leaned on the railings and talked with Bao-chai for a bit, and finally, after watching Aroma and the other maids eating and drinking at their table, ended up by drinking with them himself while Aroma shelled a crab for him.
Presently Dai-yu put down her fishing-rod, went over to the central table, took up a silver ‘self-service’ wine-kettle whose su**ce was carved with a nielloed plum-flower pattern, and, having selected a little shallow, rose-quartz winecup, was just about to pour herself a drink, when a maid observed her and came hurrying up to do it for her.
‘No, let me pour it myself,’ said Dai-yu. ‘That is half the fun. You get on with your party.’
So saying, she proceeded to half-fill the tiny receptacle with liquor from the silver kettle. But it proved to be yellow rice-wine, whereas what she wanted was spirits.
‘I only ate a small amount of crab,’ she said, ‘but it has given me a slight heart-burn. What I really need is some very hot samshoo.’
‘We have some,’ said Bao-yu, and quickly ordered a kettle of special mimosa-flavoured samshoo to be heated for her. Dai-yu took only a sip of it before putting the winecup down again.
Presently Bao-chai strolled up and helped herself to the samshoo. She, too, put her cup down after taking only a tiny mouthful of it. Then she moistened a brush with ink, and going over to the list of titles, put a tick over the first one, ‘Remembering the Chrysanthemums’, and wrote the word ‘Allspice’ underneath it.
‘Please leave Number Two for me, Chai,’ said Bao-yu anxiously. ‘I’ve already thought of four lines for it.’
Bao-chai laughed.
‘I’ve had a hard enough job thinking of lines for this first one. You’ve nothing to worry about as far as I’m con cerned.’
Dai-yu, without saying a word, quietly relieved Bao-chai of the brush, ticked first ‘Questioning the Chrysanthemums’ and then the eleventh title, ‘The Dream of the Chrysanthemums’, and wrote ‘River’ underneath each of them.
After her, Bao-yu took up the brush and ticked ‘Seeking the Chrysanthemums’. He signed himself ‘Green’.
Tan-chun now drifted over and looked at the list.
‘Oh, hasn’t anyone chosen “Wearing the Chrysanthemums” yet?’ she said. ‘Let me do that one.’
She turned, smilingly, to Bao-yu and pointed a warning finger at him.
‘We’ve just made a new rule, by the way. No naked ladies this time, please. You have been warned!’
Xiang-yun strolled up while she was saying this and ticked Numbers Four and Five — ‘Admiring the Chrysanthemums’ and ‘Arranging the Chrysanthemums’ — in rapid succession. She signed herself ‘Xiang’ underneath them.
‘You ought to have a pen-name like the test of us,’ said Tan-chun.
‘There are various pavilions and studios at home, of course,’ said Xiang-yun, ‘but I don’t live in any of them. It would be rather pointless to call myself after a building like the rest of you.’
‘What about that water pavilion “Above the Clouds” that Lady Jia was telling us about?’ said Bao-chai. ‘You could call that yours. Even if it doesn’t exist any more, you can pretend that it would have been yours. You should call yourself “Cloud Maiden”.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said the others; and before Xiang-yun herself could do anything, Bao-yu had crossed out the ‘Xiang’ and substituted the word ‘Cloud’ beneath it.
In less time than it would take to eat a meal, poems had been completed for each of the twelve titles. The young poets then wrote out their poems and handed them in to Ying-chun, who copied them out, each with the full pen-name of its author, on to the finest Snow Wave note**.
Li Wan then read them all through, the others overlooking her.

Remembering the Chrysanthemums
by Lady Allspice
The autumn wind that through the knotgrass blows
Blurs the sad gazer’s eye with unshed tears;
But autumn’s guest, who last year graced this plot,
Only, as yet, in dreams of night appears.

The wild geese from the North are now returning;

The dhobi’s thump at evening fills my ears.

Those golden flowers for which you see me pine

I’ll meet once more at this year’s Double Nine.

*

Seeking the Chrysanthemum
by Green Boy

The crisp day bids us go on an excursion—

Resistant to the wineshop door’s temptation—

Some garden, where, before the frosts, was planted

The glory of autumn, being our destination:

Which after weary walk having found, we’ll sing

An autumn song with unsubdued elation.

And you, gold flowers, if all the poet told

You understood, would not refuse his gold!

*

Planting the Chrysanthemums
by Green Boy

Brought from their nursery and, with loving hands,

Planted along the fence and by the door —

A shower last night their wilting leaves revived,

Opening the morning-buds all silver-hoar.

Sweet flowers! a thousand autumn songs I’ll sing

To praise your beauty, and libations pour,

And water you, and ridge with earth around.

No dust on my wet well-path shall be found!

*

Admiring the Chrysanthemums
by Cloud Maiden

Transplanted treasures, dear to me as gold—

Both the pale clumps and those of darker hue!

Rare-headed by your wintry bed I sit

And, musing, hug my knees and sing to you.

None more than you the villain world disdains;

None understands your proud heart as I do.

The precious hours of autumn I’ll not waste,

But bide with you and savour their full taste.

*

Arranging the Chrysanthemums
by Cloud Maiden

What greater pleasure than the lute to strum

Or sip wine by your delicate display?

To hold the garden’s fragrance in one vase,

And see all autumn in a single spray?

On frosty nights I’ll dream you back again,

Brave in your garden bed at close of day.

Since with your shy disdain I sympathize,

’Tis you, not summer’s gaudy blooms I prize.

*

Celebrating the Chrysanthemums
by River Queen

Down garden walks, in search of inspiration,

A restless demon drives me all the time;

Then brush blooms into praises, and the mouth

Grows scud-sweet, hymning those scents sublime.

Yet easier ’twere a world of grief to tell

Than to lock autumn’s secret in one rhyme.

That miracle old Tao did once attain;

Since when a thousand bards have tried in vain

*

Painting the Chrysanthemums
by Lady Allspice

The brush that praised them, eager for more tasks,

Would paint them now for painting’s no great cost

When cunning black-ink blots the flowers’ leaves make,

And white the petals, silvered o’er with frost.

Fresh scents of autumn from the ** rise,

And shapes unmoving by the wind are tossed.

No need at Double Ninth live flowers to pluck:

These living seem, upon a fine screen stuck!

*

Questioning the Chrysanthemums
by River Queen

Since none else autumn’s mystery can explain,

I come with murmured questions to your gate:

Who, world-disdainer, shares your hiding-place?

Of all the flowers why do yours bloom so late?

The garden silent lies in frosty dew;

The geese return; the cricket mourns his fate.

Let not speech from your silent world be banned:

Converse with me, since me you understand!

*

Wearing the Chrysanthemums
by Plantain Lover

Just to admire and not for our adornment

Were these reared and arranged with so much care;

Yet young Sir Fop, with whom flowers are a passion,

And drunk old Tao both dote on flowers to wear.

One’s head-cloth reeks of autumn’s acrid perfume;

Chill dew of autumn pearls the other’s hair

The vulgar crowd, which nothing understands,

Stops in the street and, jeering, claps its hands.

*

The Shadow of the Chrysanthemums

by Cloud Maiden

The autumn moonlight through the garden steals,

Filtered in patches variously bright.

Flowers by the house as silhouettes appear;

Flowers by the fence are flecked with coins of light.

In the flowers’ wintry scent their souls reside,

Not in those frost-forms, than a dream more slight.

Even the gross vandal, squinting through drunken eyes,

Can, by their scents, the crushed flowers recognize.

*

The Dream of the Chrysanthemums
by River Queen

Light-headed in my autumn bed I lie

And seem to chase the moon across the sky.

Well, if immortal, I’ll go seek old Tao,

Not imitate Zhuang’s flittering butterfly!

Following the wild goose, into sleep I slid;

From which now, startled by the cricket’s cry,

Midst cold and fog and dying leaves I wake,

With no one by to tell of my heart’s ache.

*

The Death of the Chrysanthemums
by Plantain Lover

The feasting over and the first *** fallen,

The flowers frost-stricken lie or sideways lean,

Their perfume lingering, but their gold hue dimmed

And few poor, tattered leaves bereft of green.

Now under moonlit bench the cricket shrills,

And weary goose-files in the cold sky are seen.

Yet of your passing let me not complain:

Next autumn equinox we’ll meet again!
杨宪益译文
Then Xiangyun pinned the themes on one wall. And the others crowding round to look exclaimed:
"How original! But this isn't going to be easy."
She explained why they had chosen no definite rhymes.
"Quite right too," approved Baoyu. "I don't like hard-and-fast rhyme schemes either."
As Daiyu did not want much wine or crab, she sent her maid for an embroidered cushion and sat by the balustrade angling for fish. Baochai played for a while with a spray of fragrant osmanthus, then leaned out of the window to toss some petals into the water so that the fish would come and nibble at them. Xiangyun roused herself from a brown study to urge Xiren's party and the maids at the foot of the slope to eat their fill. Tanchun, Li Wan and Xichun stood in the shade of the willows watching the waterfowl, while Yingchun, standing apart in the shade of the blos som, threaded jasmine flowers with a needle.
Baoyu first watched Daiyu fishing, then went over to make a few remarks to Baochai, after which he joined Xiren and the rest and sipped some wine with them while Xiren prepared a shellful of meat for him.
At this point Daiyu, laying down her rod, walked over to the table. She picked up a tarnished silver pot with a plum-blossom design and chose a tiny red soapstone cup shaped like a palm leaf. To the maid who hurried forward to pour her a drink she said:
"Go on with your meal. Let me pour my own wine, that's more fun."
By now she had poured half a cup and could see it was yellow wine.
"After eating a bit of crab I've slight indigestion," she said. "What I really want is a mouthful of hot spirits."
"There's some here," said Baoyu promptly. He told the maids to heat a pot of spirits in which acacia flowers had been steeped.
After just one sip Daiyu put the cup down. Baochai, coming over just then, picked up another cup and drank a mouthful before wetting her brush and ticking off the first title on the wall Thinking of the Chry santhemum, beside which she wrote "Alpinia."
"Dear cousin," put in Baoyu hastily. "I've got four lines already for the second. Do leave that one for me."
"I've only just taken one, yet what a fluster you're in!" replied Baochai mockingly.
Daiyu silently took the brush from her and ticked off the eighth sub ject, Questioning the Chrysanthemum, as well as the eleventh, A Dream of Chrysanthemums, writing "Bamboo" beside them. Baoyu, the next to take the brush, ticked off the second title Visiting the Chrysanthe mum and wrote "Red" by it.
Tanchun, strolling over now to look, remarked, "If no one's doing Wearing the Chrysanthemum, I'll try that." She wagged a finger teas ingly at Baoyu. "It's just been announced that no allusions to the inner chambers are allowed, so be careful!"
Meanwhile Xiangyun had come over to tick off numbers four and five, Facing the Chrysanthemum and Displaying the Chrysanthe mum, next to which she wrote her name.
"You should have a pen-name too," Tanchun objected.
"Though we've still a few pavilions and lodges at home, I'm not living there now," replied Xiangyun. "And there's no point in using a borrowed name."
Baochai countered, "Just now the old lady said your house has a water pavilion called Pillowed Iridescence. That's yours all right. Even though it's in other hands now, you're after all its old mistress."
"That's right," approved the rest.
Before Xiangyun could make any move, Baoyu blotted out her name and wrote up "Iridescence" in its place.
Then, in less time than it takes for a meal, the twelve poems were finished, written out and handed to Yingchun, who copied them out on a fresh sheet of coloured Xue Tao stationery1, adding the pen-name of the author to each. Li Wan and the others read them.

THINKING OF THE CHRYSANTHEMUM
I gaze around in the west wind, sick at heart;
A sad season this of red smartweed and white reeds;
No sign is there of autumn by the bare fence round my plot.
Yet I dream of attenuated blooms in the frost.
My heart follows the wild geese back to the distant south,
Sitting lonely at dusk I hear pounding of washing blocks.
Who will pity me pining away for the yellow flowers?
On the Double Ninth Festival they will reappear.
The Lady of the Alpinia

VISITING THE CHRYSANTHEMUM
Seize the chance to ramble out on a clear frosty day
Rather than linger over wine or tea.
Who has planted this flower before the frost under the moonlight?
Whence springs this autumn glory by balustrade and fence?
Waxed sandals patter, come gaily from far away,
In soaring spirits he chants endless poems;
If the yellow bloom will take pity on the poet,
Let it welcome him with a string of cash hung from his cane.

The Happy Red Prince

PLANTIING CHRYSANTHEMUMS
With my hoe I moved them from their bed in autumn
To plant them by the fence before my court;
An unexpected rain last night revived them,
How good to see them flower in this morning's frost.
I chant a thousand poems to this autumn splendour
And drunk with wine toast its cold fragrance,
Seal its roots with mud and water it with spring water
To keep it free from dust by the three paths to the house of the recluse.

The Happy Red Prince

FACING THE CHIRYSANTHEMUM
Brought from another plot, more precious than gold,
One clump is pale, one dark;
Sitting bareheaded by the lonely fence,
In the cold clean scent I hug my knees and chant.
None, surely, in the world as proud as you;
I alone, it seems, know your worth.
We should make the most of autumn, gone so soon,
And facing you I treasure every moment.
Old Friend of Pillowed Iridescence

DISPLAYING THE CHRYSANTHEMUM
Music and wine gladly accompany
Chrysanthemum adorning a desk with style.
By the seat dewy fragrance as if from the garden path;
Tossing my book aside I face a spray of autumn.
Fresh dreams penetrate the curtain in clear frost,
Sunset in chill garden recalls a former visit.
You too disdain the world, for we share the same taste,
Not lingering by
breezy spring's peach and plum blossom.

Old Friend of Pillowed Iridescence

WRTITNG ABOUT THE CHRYSANTHEMUM
Day and night the imp of poetry assails men;
Skirting the fence, leaning on the rock, they start chanting;
With the tip of the brush, by the rime, they write fine lines,
Or facing the moon croon their sweet melodies.
We may fill a page with sorrow and self-pity,
But who can put into words what autumn means?
Ever since Tao Yuanming of old passed judgement
This flower's worth has been sung through the centuries.

The Queen of Bamboos

PAITTING THE CHRYSANTHEMUM
Painting for pleasure after writing verses
One brushes on the reds and blues at random;
A thousand ink-dots form the leaves,
Traces of frost stain the clustering flowers;
Dark and light their shadows overlap in the breeze,
Under one's hand autumn exhales its fragrance.
Don't think these flowers are picked by the east fence,
They are fixed to the screen for the Double Ninth Festival.

The Lady of the Alpinia

QUESTIONING THE CHIRYSANTHEMUM
My questions about autumn none can answer,
Musing alone I stroll to the eastern fence.
Proud recluse, with what hermit are you taking refuge?
All flowers must bloom, what makes you bloom so late?
So lonely in dewy gardens and frosty courts,
When swans fly off, crickets chirp, does your heart ache?
Say not there is none in the world worth talking to;
Since you understand, why don't we chat awhile?

The Queen of Bamboos

WEARING THE CHRYSANTHEMUM
Busy every day planting by the fence, picking for vases,
Not to adorn himself before the mirror,
The young lord of Changan is infatuated with flowers,
Just as the poet of Pengze 2 was crazy for wine.
His short hair is wet with cold dew from the path,
His coarse cap stained with autumn frost and fragrance;
This eccentric recluse is scorned by the men of today,
But let them clap their
hands and jeer by the roadside.

The Stranger Under the Plantain

THE CHRYSANTHEMUM'S SHADOW
The teeming, diverse shades of autumn splendour
Quietly loiter about the mountain path;
The few lamps inside windows far or near cast their shadows,
Chequered patterns of moonlight filtered through wicker fence.
The soul of cold fragrance should dwell in these reflections,
Empty even in dreams the frost tracery of their spirit;
Tread softly and take good care of this dark sweetness,
For who can discern it in his drunken eyes?
Old Friend of Pillowed Iridescence

A DREAM OF CHRYSANTHEMUMS
A refreshing sleep by the fence while autumn mellows
And clouds and moonlight mingle hazily;
No need to envy Zhuang Zi his butterfly dream;
Recalling old friends, let me seek out Tao Yuanming.
In sleep the vision recedes with the flight of swans,
Aroused with a start we resent the chirp of crickets;
Awake, to whom can I describe my grief,
The infinite melancholy of cold mist and withered grass?
The Queen of Bamboos

THE WITHERED CHRYSANTHEMUM
Slowly drooping below congealed dew and heavy frost
Just after a feast in its honour on the Day of Light Snow.
The pale golden petals still retain some fragrance,
But the marred green leaves are withering on the stem.
Crickets chirp sadly under denuded boughs,
Wild geese wing slowly through far-flung frosty clouds;
Next year in autumn we shall meet again,
No need to sorrow over this brief parting.
The Stranger Under the Plantain

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