诗苑｜张若虚《春江花月夜》（多版英译）

《春江花月夜》是唐代诗人张若虚创作的七言长篇歌行。此诗以江为场景，以月为主体，描绘了一幅幽美邈远、惝恍迷离的春江月夜图，抒写了游子思妇真挚动人的离情别绪以及富有哲理的人生感慨，创造了一个深沉、寥廓、宁静的艺术境界，被闻一多誉为“诗中的诗，顶峰上的顶峰”。本篇推送分享《春江花月夜》四版英译，分别来自许渊冲、张庭琛、Charles Budd 和 W.J.B. Fletcher，供大家阅读学习。

（朗读者：康辉）

春江潮水连海平，海上明月共潮生。

滟滟随波千万里，何处春江无月明！

江流宛转绕芳甸，月照花林皆似霰；

空里流霜不觉飞，汀上白沙看不见。

江天一色无纤尘，皎皎空中孤月轮。

江畔何人初见月？江月何年初照人？

人生代代无穷已，江月年年望相似。

不知江月待何人，但见长江送流水。

白云一片去悠悠，青枫浦上不胜愁。

谁家今夜扁舟子？何处相思明月楼？

可怜楼上月裴回，应照离人妆镜台。

玉户帘中卷不去，捣衣砧上拂还来。

此时相望不相闻，愿逐月华流照君。

鸿雁长飞光不度，鱼龙潜跃水成文。

昨夜闲潭梦落花，可怜春半不还家。

江水流春去欲尽，江潭落月复西斜。

斜月沉沉藏海雾，碣石潇湘无限路。

不知乘月几人归，落月摇情满江树。

（朗读者：喜马拉雅用户 赵国之声）

In spring the river rises as high as the sea.

And with the river's tide uprises the moon bright.

She follows the rolling waves for ten thousand li.

Where'er the river flows, there overflows her light.

The river winds around the fragrant islet where

The blooming flowers in her light all look like snow.

You cannot tell her beams from hoar frost in the air,

Nor from white sand upon the Farewell Beach below.

No dust has stained the water blending with the skies.

A lonely wheel-like moon shines brilliant far and wide.

Who by the riverside did first see the moon rise?

When did the moon first see a man by riverside?

Many generations have come and passed away;

From year to year the moons look alike, old and new.

We do not know tonight for whom she sheds her way.

But hear the river say to its water adieu.

Away, away is sailing a single cloud white.

On Farewell Beach are pining away maples green.

Where is the wandering sailing his boat tonight?

Who, pining away, on the moonlit rails would lean?

Alas! The moon is lingering over the tower.

It should have seen her dressing table all alone.

She may roll curtains up, but light is in her bower.

She may wash, but moonbeams still remain on the stone.

She sees the moon, but her husband is out of sight.

She would follow the moonbeams to shine on his face.

But message-bearing swans can't fly out of moonlight.

Nor letter-sending fish can leap out of their place.

He dreamed of flowers failing o'er the pool last night.

Alas! Spring has half gone, but he can't homeward go.

The water bearing will run away in flight.

The moon over the pool will run away in flight.

In the mist on the sea the slanting moon will hide.

It's a long way from northern hills to southern streams.

How many can go home by moonlight on the tide?

The setting moon sheds o'er riverside trees but dreams.

In spring the river swells level with sea,

The bright moon rise mounting the tide.

Waters flash with infinite light.

Where on the spring river is there no bright moon?

The river winds through flower fragrant fields, 

Glistening in the moonlight like beads of ice.

Who can see the frost alight,

Or tell the island's white sand from the moon's white glow?

The sky, the river—one perfect hue.

Bright, bright - the solitary circle in the sky.

When did the moon first shine on men?

Who first saw the moon from the riverside?

Human beings, generation after generation without end, 

See the same river, the same moon:

Does anyone know whom she awaits?

We see only the long river moving on.

A wisp of cloud lingers in the sky.

What household tonight has a wanderer adrift upon the tide?

Upon what lonely woman's roof does the moon shine?

Pitiful, the light playing upon the house,

Moving over the dressing table of one left behin.

Impossible, to brush it off the washing block, or 

Rolling down the blinds, to keep it out.

Green Maple Pond! So far! Unbearable!

Now we only trace each other’s likeness in the moon.

If only I could stream down upon you in the moonlight,

Or send a message by the fish that leaping from the water plunges to

The depth or by the wild goose that soaring high into the sky remains within the brightness. Last night I dreamt of petals falling

Into the stillness of the pond,

A pity, half the spring—passed without your returning.

Spring! Almost exhausted, swept away with the river’s waters.

Now dim, hidden in a sea of rising mist.

The moon slants westward over the river and the pond. 

Endless, the road from Jieshi to the Xiang River.

How many will return by moonlight?

Setting, the moon seems to shake the flowering trees along the 

River with unquiet thought.

In spring the flooded river meets the tide

Which from the ocean surges to the land; 

The moon across the rolling water shines

From wave to wave to reach the distant strand.

And when the heaving sea and river meet,

The latter turns and floods the fragrant fields;

While in the moon's pale light as shimmering sleet.

Alike seem sandy shores and wooded wealds.

For sky and river in one color blend

Without a spot of dust to mar the scene;

While in the heavens above the full-orbed moon

In white and lustrous beauty hangs serene.

And men and women, as the fleeting years,

Are born into the world and pass away; 

And still the river flows the moon shines fair,

And will their courses surely run for ay.

But who was he who first stood here and gazed

Upon the river and the heavenly light? 

And when did moon and river first behold

The solitary watcher in the night?

The maples sigh upon the river's bank,

A white cloud drifts across the azure dome; 

In yonder boat some traveler sails to-night

Beneath the moon which links his thoughts with home.

Above the home it seems to hover long,

And peep through chinks within her chamber blind; 

The moon-borne message she cannot escape.

Alas, the husband tarries far behind!

She looks across the gulf but hears no voice.

Until her heart with longing leaps apace.

And fain would she the silvery moonbeams follow

Until they shine upon her loved one's face.

'Last night', she murmured sadly to herself,

'I dreamt of falling flowers by shady ponds;

My Spring, ah me! Half through its course has sped,

But you return not to your wedded bonds.'

For ever onward flows the mighty stream;

The Spring half gone is gliding to its rest; 

While on the river and the silent pools

The moonbeams fall obliquely from the west.

And now the moon descending to the verge

Has disappeared beneath the sea-borne dew; 

While stretch the waters of the 'Siao and Siang,'

And rocks and cliffs, in never-ending view.

How many wanderers by to-night’s pale moon

Have met with those from whom so long apart:

As on the shore midst flowerless trees I stand

Thoughts old and new surge through my throbbing heart!

Over a river by the ocean floating 

That flows not for the tide

The moon uprises on the water’s motion 

With equal kingdom wide.

The Ocean’s face is radiant with her glory.

Perfumed through flowery banks the river flows. 

And serpents with a winding desultory

By flowering woods that gleam as purest snows, 

So white that ivory no outline shows,

Nor seen the white sand on the shore thereby. 

The fleckless sky meets with the stainless sea; 

And wheel-large floats in vast eternity 

The moon upon the flawless crystal sky.

Who by this river first beheld her face?

Whom by this river did the moon first see? 

Ah, many generations of his race 

Have come, and past into infinity 

While she rode lightly in immensity,

I do not know for whom her beams always 

Shine-but the river waters flow away!

And one white fleck of cloud them follows too; 

Tracing their windings with its pearly hue.

To-night who floats upon the tiny skiff?

From what high tower years out upon the night 

The dear beloved in the pale moonlight 

Alone, so lonely with the lonely moon?

In the deep chamber where her hair she braids,—

And where the moon oft kissed our arms entwined—

Where, oh, we parted-lo, she rolls the blind

And inward steps the moon with silent pace: 

Or noiseless gazes on her thoughtful

When busied in the working of her maids.

To each unknown our thoughts go forth to meet. 

How could I ride the moonbeams to thy feet! 

The wild swans and the geese go sailing by—

But rob not any brightness from the sky; 

And fishes ripples on the water pleat.

Last night, when dreaming, ah I seemed to see 

That many flowers had fallen by this stream. 

And how I moaned “already spring will flee 

And I can barely see thee in a dream.” 

The waters bear away the spring; and now 

But scattered stars remain upon the bough. 

The moon is sinking to her western hall,

Darkened and drooping in the sea mist’s pall.

From thee to me I cannot tell how far!

How many with the moon home wandered are 

I cannot tell—But as the shadowy trees

Stir on the stream with sighings sad and lone 

So sighs my soul to thee my own, my own!

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