君不见昔日西京全盛时,汾阴后土亲祭祀。 斋宫宿寝设储供,撞钟鸣鼓树羽旂。 汉家五叶才且雄,宾延万灵朝九戎。 柏梁赋诗高宴罢,诏书法驾幸河东。 河东太守亲扫除,奉迎至尊导鸾舆。 五营夹道列容卫,三河纵观空里闾。 回旌驻跸降灵场,焚香奠醑邀百祥。 金鼎发色正焜煌,灵祗炜烨摅景光。 埋玉陈牲礼神毕,举麾上马乘舆出。 彼汾之曲嘉可游,木兰为楫桂为舟。 櫂歌微吟彩鹢浮,箫鼓哀鸣白云秋。 欢娱宴洽赐群后,家家复除户牛酒。 声明动天乐无有,千秋万岁南山寿。 自从天子向秦关,玉辇金车不复还。 珠帘羽扇长寂寞,鼎湖龙髯安可攀。 千龄人事一朝空,四海为家此路穷。 豪雄意气今何在,坛场宫馆尽蒿蓬。 路逢故老长叹息,世事回环不可测。 昔时青楼对歌舞,今日黄埃聚荆棘。 山川满目泪沾衣,富贵荣华能几时? 不见只今汾水上,唯有年年秋雁飞。
Ballad of Fen-yin Li
Chiao
Haven’t
you seen in olden days when the western Capital was in full glory, His
Majesty himself made sacrifice to the Earth at Fen-yin. In
the fasting room he spent the night, set out the offering, Then
they rang bells, beat the drums, planted the feathered banners. The
House of Han’s fifth generation, brilliant and bold, Who
banqueted the hosts of spirits, who brought the barbarians to court. And
when the great feast and poem session at Po-liang was over An
edict was made and the Royal Coach went on tour to Ho-tung. The
Governor of Ho-tung himself swept the region clean, Humbly
welcomed the Most High, led the belled palanquin. Set
out as guards, Imperial Armies lined all the roads, The
three River Provinces permitted to watch, their villages emptied. Banners
circled, His Majesty halted on the field where the spirits come down, Incense
was burned, libations offered, to invite a hundred blessings. The
golden tripod’s beauty shone forth its aureate sheen, The
spirits and Earth God shimmered, unfurling their radiance. Jades
were buried, sacrifices spread, the rites were ended, Then
pennons lifted, horses mounted, and He left on the palanquin. The
bends of the river Fen were perfect for excursions, His
oars were of magnolia, his boat of cassia. Rowing
songs hummed softly, painted cormorant prows drifted, Flutes
and drums played mournfully, an autumn of white clouds. Then
joyous banquets were provided and gifts for great princes Home
after home sent men to court, all given meat and wine. The
sounds and the brilliance stirred Heaven, such joy there has never been, “A
thousand autumns, ten thousand years—live as long as South Mountain!” But
since the Son of Heaven went back toward the passes of Ch’in, The
jade-fitted palanquins, gilded coaches never returned again. The
pearled screens and feather fans are silent forever How
can one hold to the dragon’s whiskers that leap from Tripod Lake? A
thousand years of human deeds can vanish in a morning, The
whole world is an emperor’s home, but not the road there. Where
now are their bold manners, their proud spirits?— Altar
fields and palace halls, all covered in weeds. On
the road I met an old man and he heaved a great sigh: “The
way of the world is a whirling ring, not to be fathomed, Where
in the blue brothels long ago they faced the songs and the dances, Today
there is yellow dust clusters of brambles and thorns.” Mountains
and rivers fill my eyes, tears soak my robes, Riches,
glory, and honor—how long can they endure? Don’t
you see right now, there above the river Fen, Only
the autumn geese, flying by year after year.
(Stephen Owen 译) |
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