声声慢·寻寻觅觅
李清照
寻寻觅觅，
冷冷清清，
凄凄惨惨戚戚。
乍暖还寒时候，
最难将息。
三杯两盏淡酒，
怎敌他晚来风急！
雁过也，
正伤心，
却是旧时相识。
满地黄花堆积，
憔悴损，
如今有谁堪摘?
守着窗儿，
独自怎生得黑！
梧桐更兼细雨，
到黄昏，
点点滴滴。
这次第，
怎一个愁字了得？
译版一任治稷、余正译
Sheng Sheng Man
Restless and lost,
Cold and lonely,
Wretched, miserable and anxious.
Early warmth laced with chill,
Hardest time for convalescing.
Two or three cups of light wine,
No antidote against the gusty evening wind.
Wild geese just flying by,
Heart-wrenching,
Turned out to be old acquaintances.
The yard piled up all over with yellow blossoms,
Withered and ruined,
Now none worth picking.
Vigil by the window alone,
What heavy time before dark!
Wutong trees on top of fine drizzling,
Until dark,
Dripping and trickling,
Things in this order,
How gloomy can the "gloom" be?
译版二龚景浩译
Sheng Sheng Man
I search and seek,
I'm lonely and depressed,
I'm sad, weepy, and feeling low.
When 'tis suddenly warm but remains cold,
That is the time really hard to cope.
Two, three cups of light wine —
How are they to resist the assault of evening gusts?
A flock of wild geese flew past,
It hurts to hear them cry, though we're old acquaintances.
Chrysanthemums lie about in piles.
They are now withered and which ones are worth picking?
Alone by the casement,
How am I to bear the darkness?
Add to this, the parasol and a thin rain falling.
By dusk time,
The dipping became incessant.
Steeped in a mood such as this,
To say I am sad is woefully inadequate.
译版三杨宪益、戴乃迭译
Sheng Sheng Man
Seeking, seeking,
Chilly and quiet,
Desolate, painful and miserable.
Even when it's warmer there is still a chill,
It is most difficult to keep well.
Three or two cups of light wine,
How can they ward off the strong morning wind?
Wild geese fly past, while I'm broken-hearted;
But I recognize they are my old friends.
Fallen chrysanthemums piled up on the ground,
So withered,
Who would pluck them?
Leaning on the window,
How can I pass the time till night alone?
The drizzle falls on the wutong trees,
Rain-drops drip down at dusk.
At a time like this,
What immense sorrow I must bear!
译版四徐忠杰译
Shengshengman
I've a sense of something missing I must seek.
Everything about me looks dismal and bleak.
Nothing that gives me pleasure, I can find.
Even the weather has proved most unkind.
'Tis warm, but abruptly it turns cold again.
An unbroken rest — most difficult to obtain.
Three cups of thin wine would utterly fail —
To cope with the rising evening gale.
Myself, into woe, a flight of wild geese has thrown.
But with them, very familiar I have grown.
About the ground, chrysanthemums are bestrewn.
Gathering into heaps — bruised — withering soon.
With myself in utter misery and gloom,
Who cares to save them from their approaching doom?
Standing by the window — watching in anguish stark,
Could I bear alone the sight until it is dark?
Against the tung and plane trees, the wind rises high.
The drizzle becomes trickles, as even draws nigh.
How, in the word "Misearble," can one find —
The total effects of all these on the mind!
译版五卓振英译
Beats Slowing Down
Fumbling and searching, at a loss I feel,
At a loss in such lonely melancholy
And plaintive solitude as seem unreal.
Th' turn of cold and warmth is, incredibly,
The most miserable time to endure,
Of th' chill of morning winds how can I cure
Myself with a few cups of wine impure?
'Tis heart-rending to see th' wild geese in th' sky —
My acquaintances of old — southward fly!
Chrysanthemums now flourish here and there,
But who would care to pluck them, feeling blue?
Sitting alone at th' window in despair,
Ere night falls I know not how to pull through.
Now dripping and dropping incessantly
On the Chinese parasols is the rain.
Alas, much much more than anxiety,
At such a time, is what one must sustain!
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