Unrequited Devotion
Yue Fei*文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
Last night the cold crickets ceaselessly sang.文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
They aroused my dreams from a thousand miles afar,文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
It was already the third watch.文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
I rose up and lonely walked around the doorsteps文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
All souls were quiet;文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
Through the screen the moon dimly shone.文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
All my life I devote to service of the state.文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/14105.html
To my native land where the pine and bamboo are getting old,
My returning way has been barred.
I would like to put my thought to the jasper-mounted lute,
But, no-understanding friend,
Who would listen to my broken string?
Note:
* Yue Fei (1103-1142), a Southern Song Dynasty national hero in the resistance against he Nüchen invasion. Only a few pieces of his works were passed down which were permeated with strong patriotism.
（初大告 译）
Key: Hsiao Chung Shan
Yo Fei
Last night, the crickets sang ceaselessly,
And awakened my dream from far away.
It was mid-night already.
I rose and walked to and fro by the door way.
It was very quiet;
The moon was sometimes bright and sometimes shadowy.
In pursuing of career, my hair had turned grey.
The pines and bamboos on the old mountain had grown tall,
It deterred my homeward journey.
To express my feelings, the jade zither I’d like to play,
But there are few who appreciate the tone;
The strings may break, but the audience will be empty!
（王季文 译）
Xiaochongshan
Yue Fei
Last night, autumn cicadas chirred and chirred.
It was three, when, out of dreamland, I stirred.
I got up, and round the yard I took a stroll.
The moon was bright: but abroad was not a soul.
My hair has become white from efforts strained –
To have deserving merits to be gained.
Remote are those days with my folks at home I spent.
Bamboos and pines there must now be gnarled and bent.
To my guitar, I was to commit my care.
But appreciative ears are always rare.
I could play like mad, till I broke all the strings.
But few are people who understand such things?
（徐忠杰 译）
Manifold Little Hills
Yue Fei
The autumn crickets chirped incessantly last night,
Breaking my dream homebound;
’T was already midnight.
I got up and alone in the yard walked around;
On window screen the moon shone bright;
There was no human sound.
My hair turns grey
For the glorious day.
In native hills bamboos and pines grow old.
O when can I see my household?
I would confide to my lute what I have in view,
But connoisseurs are few.
Who would be listening,
Though I break my lute string?
（许渊冲 译）
Numerous Small Hills
Yue Fei
Chilly crickets chirped last night all the way,
Startling me awake from a dream of my galloping across battlefield far away.
It is at midnight already,
I get up, walking around steps lonely.
People sleep fine,
Outside windows in the hazy moonshine.
To achieve military exploits most of my life until I am gray-headed is sold,
At my hometown pines and bamboos have grown old.
The way back to hometown I can’t find,
By playing a lute I want to express what’s in my mind.
I have few soul mate,
Even if I play it so hard that strings are broken, who are willing to concentrate.
（刘忠 译）
To the Tune Hills Beyond Hills
Yue Fei
’T was deep in the night the autumn crickets chirped and chirped.
When all of a sudden out of my long march dream I was stirred.
I rose and took a stroll around the courtyard alone.
No other soul was about, but brightly the moonlight shone.
I’m growing gray-haired striving for honor, vainly though.
Return I can’t, while bamboos and pines round my farm grow old.
To the zither I wish to commit my yearning dear and sincere;
O broken might my strings be struck, but who’d lend an ear?
（刘国善、王治江、徐树娟等 译）
Tune: Xiaochongshan
Yue Fei
The autumn crickets chirped without a rest last night,
Breaking my dream home-bound,
It was midnight.
I got up and alone walked around the yard.
It was tranquil.
Outside the screen, the moon was bright.
My hair turns gray,
For fame and merits.
In my native mountains bamboos and pines become old,
I would not still return home.
I want to express my feelings by play lute,
But connoisseurs are few,
Who would appreciate though the string is broken?
（毛小雨 译）
Tune: “Xiao Zhong Shan”
Reflections
Yue Fei
The crickets kept chirping last night.
When I suddenly awoke from my distant dream,
it was already past midnight.
I got up and walked around the steps.
People were quiet.
Outside the curtain, the moon appeared bright.
Seeking official titles has turned my hair white.
Growing old on the former mountain
are bamboos and pines.
Homeward journey is delayed.
I wish to convey my feelings through the lute.
But few who can understand the tune’s meanings.
With a broken string, who is willing to listen?
（张畅繁 译）
Little Hills upon Hills
Yue Fei
Yestreen, the chilly crickets’ chirrup constant,
Awoke me from dream of going home distant;
The night was deep.
Up, alone, I paced the steps to and fro.
All was asleep,
Beyond the curtain, the dim moonlight flows.
White-crowned, I’m still yearning for renown.
Pine and bamboo aging in home town,
Road yet to trek upon.
To pour my woes into a pentachord?
Alas, strings’d be burdened and broken;
San confidants, who’d listen?!
（王昌玲 译）
