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黯乡魂，
追旅思。
夜夜除非，
好梦留人睡。
明月楼高休独倚。
酒入愁肠，
化作相思泪。
Tune: Waterbag Dance
Fan Zhongyan
Clouds veil emerald sky,
Leaves strewn in yellow dye.
Waves rise in autumn hue
And blend with mist cold and green in view.
Hills steeped in slanting sunlight, sky and waves seem one;
Unfeeling grass grows sweet beyond the setting sun.
A homesick heart,
When far apart,
Lost in thoughts deep,
Night by night but sweet dreams can lull me into sleep.
Don’t lean alone on rails when the bright moon appears!
Wine in sad bowels would turn to nostalgic tears.
（许渊冲 译）
To the Melody
<Sumuzhe – Pretty – Apparel>
Fan Zhongyan
It is a bluish cloudy sky,
The leaves cover the ground like yellow dye.
The autumn scenery seems to be in flow,
The verdant fog is cold like the white billow.
Over hills the setting-sun lying under the sky,
The fragrant grass has no love sense as human mind.
Spreading outside is the setting-sun light.
I am melancholy to be homesick of my traveling memories to seek.
Every night only my deep hearty bottom,
That could help me enter a good dream.
My mansion is so high,
The bright moon could not lean upon it to shine.
My heart was broken with the wine,
To turn my lovesick tears dropping in mind.
（朱曼华 译）
Sumuzhe
Fan Zhongyan
White clouds in the azure sky,
Seared leaves on the ground lie.
An autumn tint spreads over the waves,
Where a greenish smoke also laves.
The hills reflect the slanting sunbeams,
And sky and water meet; it seems.
Beyond the setting sun, the grass
Outstretches, tepid and crass.
A soul dismal from homesickness,
A mind filled with loneliness.
Every night even in dreams
There could only be restless and sore.
In the bright moonbeams
Don’t lean alone on rails at a top floor;
Nor drink, lest the wine, out of nostalgia,
Should turn into drops of tear.
（陈君朴、冯修文 译）
Sumuzhe · Reminiscence
Fan Zhongyan
Cloudlets floats in the azure,
Yellow leaves fall on ground.
The autumn scene is mirror’d on surging river
Which’s shrouded by blue mist chilly around.
Hills reflect th’ setting sun and ri’ers merg ’to the skyline.
The emotionless grasses stretch far beyond
Where th’ setting sun can’t overshine.
When recalling my roving life in plight,
I’m deeply lost in missing home,
Even can’t fall ’to sleep every night
Until haunts about a sweet dream.
No more ’lone upon the mansion rail ’neath the moon,
I drink wine with a great woe,
But ’tis turn’d into missing tears soon.
（冯志杰 译）
