李清照·《声声慢》英译

Slow, Slow Tune

I look for what I miss;

I know not what it is.

I feel so sad, so drear,

So lonely, without cheer.

How hard is it

To keep me fit

In this lingering cold!

Hardly warmed up

By cup on cup

Of wine so dry,

O how could I

Endure at dust the drift

Of wind so swift?

It breaks my heart, alas!

To see the wild geese pass,

For they are my acquaintances of old.

The ground is covered with yellow flowers,

Faded and fallen in showers.

Who will pick them up now?

Sitting alone at the window, how

Could I but quicken

The pace of darkness that won’t thicken?

On plane’s broad leaves a fine rain drizzles

As twilight grizzles.

O what can I do with a grief

Beyond belief?

（许渊冲 译）

What a Day — To the Tune of Shengshengman

Look. Seek. Sink.

Sinking into thinking of everything

About nothing, and nothing

About everything is

A lonely heart, in the gloomy fold

Of a most dismal, unrestful season

— now warm, then cold.

Wine, two or three cups — thin wine —

How can it hold

Off the biting gusts at dawn?

Overheard, a heart-rending line —

South-bound wild geese at morn

Yet old acquaintances of mine.

Massing chrysanthemums, everywhere;

Yet languid and grief-worn,

Who could be out there

Buoyant in gathering mood?

I sit, in solitude, waiting,

At the windowsill,

Yet dusk is so far off still!

In a drizzle so light

Dripping dropping into the oncoming night,

In the garden a wutong tree stands, blurred.

What a day,

How can you pack it away

In a single word

DISMAY?

（朱纯深 译）

To the Tune Slow, Slow Strains

O what’s it I’m seeking, seeking,

All around as I’m peeping, peeping?

With ev’rything depressing, depressing,

Remains one sick’ning, sick’ning despairing, despairing!

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

‘Tis hard to keep from feeling afflicted and forlorn.

What little warmth my sorry wine’s begetting,

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

Wild geese are crying past, and ruffling my thoughts;

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

About the ground are yellow petals bestrewn,

All faded away, decayed in dismay so soon.

Just where is a spray remaining unspoilt so far,

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

Beside the window, sitting in anguish stark,

How could I bear this solitude till dark?

On drying leaves of plane trees should there be

A drizzle pattering, pattering towards the eve!

How could the saddest of sad words not be failing

To depict this train of saddening scenes I’m facing?

（刘国善、王治江、徐树娟等 译）