欧阳修·《醉翁亭记》英译

Chuchow is surrounded by mountains; the woods and valleys to the southwest are particularly beautiful. One of the ranges, the Langya, which can be seen from a long way off, is thickly covered with tall and graceful vegetation. After journeying on the mountainside for six or seven li, one begins to hear the sound of flowing water. It is the Niang Spring rushing out from between two peaks. Placed amidst surrounding elevations and winding roads is a pavilion which juts out over the spring like the wing of a bird. This is the Old Drunkard’s Pavilion, which was built by the monk Chih-hsien and named by the Prefect with an allusion to himself. He frequently comes here and drinks with his guests. He gets drunk on a few cups, and he is the oldest of all the topers. Hence the self-imposed nickname—Old Drunkard. However, Old Drunkard’s heart is not set on the wine, but lies somewhere betwixt the mountains and the rivers. The delight of mountains and rivers comes from the heart, and is derived from wine.

When the sun rises, the atmosphere in the woods clears up. When the clouds come home, the mountain caves grow dark. This coming of brightness and darkness spells the arrival of morning and evening respectively in the mountains. Now the wild grass emits a refreshing perfume; now exquisite trees grow luxuriantly and cast a deep shade; now wind and frost, high and pure, go their rounds; now the water becomes clear and the pebbles are exposed to view. These are the four seasons in the mountains. If we make our outings in the morning and come back in the evening, the landscapes of the four seasons are different and the pleasures they afford are unlimited.

People carrying burdens sing as they go, travelers pause to rest under the trees, those walking in front give a shout and those following behind respond. The travelers, with their backs bent, carry their children and come and go incessantly. These are the people of Chuchow journeying on the road. When angle in the deep brook, we catch fat fish. When we make wine with the sweet spring water, it is clear and smooth to the palate. Other mountain food and wild vegetable are assembled with these and set on the table before us when the Prefect gives his feast. Even without wind or stringed instruments, the revelries become intense with arrow-throwing and chess, with drinking and wine games. Now seated, now standing up, the guests utter loud noises, and have a marvelous time. Little by little, the Prefect, sitting in the center with his wrinkled face and gray hair, is seen drooping under the effect of the wine.

Shortly after, the sun sets over the mountains, the shadows of the revelers are scattered around and the guests follow the Prefect as he returns home. A pall of darkness covers the trees, while the birds warble here and there as the guests leave. However, while the birds know the delights of mountains and trees, they do not know those of men; and while men know the delights of traveling with the Prefect, they do not know how the Prefect enjoys their pleasures. It is the Prefect who can share their pleasures while drunk and write about them while sober. Who is the Prefect? It is none other than Ou-yang Hsiu from Luling.

（刘师舜 译）