《林黛玉葬花詞》

海外逸士

花謝花飛花滿天，Blooms withered, blooms flying, blooms filling the sky;
紅消香斷有誰憐？Red’s faded; scent’s ended; who has pity on them?
遊絲軟繫飄春榭，Wafting Gossamers, hovering, softly tie to spring pavilions;
落絮輕沾撲繡簾。Fallen catkins, fluttering, lightly stick on embroidered screens.
簾中女兒惜春暮，A girl behind the screens feels sorry for spring soon gone;
愁緒滿懷無處訴，No one she can tell of her heart full of sorrows.
手把花鋤出繡簾，She gets out of embroidered screens with a hoe in hand,
忍踏落花來復去。And walks to and fro, unbearable to tread on
fallen blossoms.
柳絲榆莢自芳菲，Willow twigs and elm pods enjoy their self aroma,
不管桃飄與李飛。Caring not for blooms of peach floating away, of plum flying down.
桃李明年能再發，Blossoms of peach and plum can blow afresh next year;
明歲閨中知有誰？But next year, who will be in the boudoir?
三月香巢已壘成，The scented nest finished building in March;
梁間燕子太無情！But the swallows on beams are so merciless.
明年花發雖可啄，Albeit they can peck blossoms blowing next year,
卻不道人去梁空巢也傾。Yet, unawares, the person’s gone, the empty nest on beams leaning.
一年三百六十日，There are three hundred sixty days in a year;
風刀霜劍嚴相逼，The knifelike wind and the swordlike frost press so hard;
明媚鮮妍能幾時？How long can flowers remain so beautiful and fresh?
一朝飄泊難尋覓。Once they float down, nowhere to look for.
花開易見落難尋﹐Flowers in bloom are easy to see, but hard to find, once fallen.
階前悶殺葬花人，The one on steps who will bury flowers is now feeling sulky,
獨把花鋤淚暗灑，And holding the hoe alone, tears trickling stealthily.
灑上花枝見血痕。Tears splash on boughs that show the trace of blood.
杜鵑無語正黃昏，’Tis twilight, and the cuckoo is silent;
荷鋤歸去掩重門。Shouldering the hoe, I return and shut door after door.
青燈照壁人初睡，I just fall asleep with the lamp shining on the walls,
冷雨敲窗被未溫。And cold rains pelting on the window, quilts not warm yet.
怪奴底事倍傷神？I wonder why I’m so doubly unhappy.
半為憐春半惱春。It’s half pitying spring, half annoyed at spring.
憐春忽至惱忽去，Pitying spring for its sudden coming, annoyed for its sudden going;
至又無言去不聞。It’s silent when coming, and no one knows when it’s going.
昨宵庭外悲歌發，Yesterday evening in the courtyard, a melancholy song was heard;
知是花魂與鳥魂。So I know it’s souls of flowers and of birds.
花魂鳥魂總難留，The souls of flowers and birds can’t always stay;
鳥自無言花自羞。Birds keep silence and flowers so shy.
願奴脅下生雙翼，I wish to grow two wings under my armpits,
隨花飛落天盡頭。And follow the flowers flying to the end of heaven.
天盡頭，何處有香丘？At the end of heaven, where’s the aromatic tomb?
未若錦囊收艷骨，I’d rather gather beautiful bones in a brocade bag,
一抔淨土掩風流。And cover the beauty with a handful of pure earth.
質本潔來還潔去，Since born in purity, now gone in purity,
強於污淖陷渠溝。Better than buried in a dirty ditch.
爾今死去奴收葬，As you died now, I gather and bury you;
未卜奴身何日亡？I don’t know on which day I’ll pass away.
奴今葬花人笑痴，People laugh at me as idiot for burying flowers;
他年葬奴知是誰？But who will bury me in years to come?
試看春殘花漸落，Lo, flowers gradually drop in late spring;
便是紅顏老死時。It’s time for young beauty to grow old and die.
一朝春盡紅顏老，Once spring’s at the end, the beauty becomes old;
花落人亡兩不知！Then none remember fallen flowers and the deceased.
希大家踴躍來個同題譯詩。

自娱自乐

来个接龙吧，怎么样？每人译一到二句。谁让俺们的（特别是俺的）水平不如老逸士呢，呵呵呵，技不如人，甘拜下风，呵呵呵
花謝花飛花滿天，Blooms withered, blooms flying, blooms filling the sky;
flowers fell down, now flowers fly away, and then flowers fill the sky;
hehehe, my version is full of Fs, hehehe:P

自娱自乐

原帖由 海外逸士 于 2009-11-8 2:37:00 发表
花落人亡兩不知！Then none remember fallen flowers and the deceased.

Should it be 'remembers'?

自娱自乐

霍克斯的译文
The blossoms fade and falling fill the air,
Of fragrance and bright hues bereft and bare.
Floss drifts and flutters round the Maiden’s bower,
Or softly strikes against her curtained door.
The Maid, grieved by these signs of spring’s decease,
Seeking some means her sorrow to express,
Has rake in hand into the garden gone,
Before the fallen flowers are trampled on.
Elm-pods and willow-floss are fragrant too;
Why care, Maid, where the fallen flowers blew?
Next year, when peach and plum-tree bloom again,
Which of your sweet companions will remain?
This spring the heartless swallow built his nest
Beneath the eaves of mud with flowers compressed.
Next year the flowers will bloom as before,
But swallow, nest, and Maid will be no more.
Three hundred and three-score the year’s full tale:
From swords of frost and from the slaughtering gale
How can the lovely flowers long stay intact,
Or, once loosed, from their drifting fate draw back?
Blooming so steadfast, fallen so hard to find!
Beside the flowers’ grave, with sorrowing mind,
The solitary Maid sheds many a tear,
Which on the boughs as bloody drops appear.
At twilight, when the cuckoo sings no more,
The Maiden with her rake goes in at door
And lays her down between the lamplit walls,
While a chill rain against the window falls.
I know not why my heart’s so strangely sad,
Half grieving for the spring and half glad:
Glad that it came, grieved it so soon was spent.
So soft it came, so silently it went!
Last night, outside, a mournful sound was heard:
The spirits of the flowers and of the bird.
But neither bird nor flowers would long delay,
Bird lacking speech, and flowers too shy to stay.
And then I wished that I had wings to fly
After the drifting flowers across the sky;
Across the sky to the world’s farthest end,
The flowers’ last fragrant resting-place to find.
But better their remains in silk lay
And bury underneath the wholesome clay,
Pure substances the pure earth to enrich,
Than leave to soak and stink in some foul ditch.
Can I, that these flowers’ obsequies attend,
Divine how soon o r late my life will end?
Let others laugh flower-burial to see:
Another year who will be burying me?
As petals drop and spring begins to fail,
The bloom of youth, too, sickens and turns pale.
One day, when spring has gone and youth has fled,
The Maiden and the flowers will both be dead.

自娱自乐

杨宪益、戴乃迭的译文
As blossoms fade and fly across the sky,
Who pities the faded red, the scent that has been?
Softly the gossamer floats over spring pavilions,
Gently the willow fluff wafts to the embroidered screen.
A girl in her chamber mourns the passing of spring,
No relief from anxiety her poor heart knows;
Hoe in hand she steps through her portal,
Loath to tread on the blossom as she comes and goes.
Willows and elms, fresh and verdant,
Care not if peach and plum blossom drift away;
Next year the peach and plum blossom will bloom again,
But her chamber may stand empty on that day.
By the third month the scented nests are built,
But the swallows on the beam are heartless all;
Next year, though once again you may peck the buds,
From the beam of an empty room your nest will fall.
Each year for three hundred and sixty days
The cutting wind and biting frost contend.
How long can beauty flower fresh and fair?
In a single day wind can whirl it to its end.
Fallen, the brightest blooms are hard to find;
With aching heart their grave-digger comes now
Alone, her hoe in hand, her secret tears
Falling like drops of blood on each bare bough.
Dusk falls and the cuckoo is silent;
Her hoe brought back, the lodge is locked and still;
A green lamp lights the wall as sleep enfolds her,
Cold rain pelts the casement and her quilt is chill.
What causes my two-fold anguish?
Love for spring and resentment of spring;
For suddenly it comes and suddenly goes,
Its arrival unheralded, noiseless its departing.
Last night from the courtyard floated a sad song--
Was it the soul of blossom, the soul of birds,
Hard to detain, the soul of blossom o r birds?
For blossoms have no assurance, birds no words.
I long to take wing and fly
With the flowers to earth’s uttermost bound;
And yet at earth’s uttermost bound
Where can a fragrant burial mound be found?
Better shroud the fair petals in silk
With clean earth for their outer attire;
For pure you came and pure shall you go,
Not sinking into some foul ditch o r mire.
Now you are dead I come to bury you;
None has divined the day when I shall die;
Men laugh at my folly in burying fallen flowers,
But who will bury me when dead I lie?
See, when spring draws to a close and flowers fall,
This is the season when beauty must ebb and fade;
The day that spring takes wing and beauty fades
Who will care for the fallen blossom o r dead maid?

自娱自乐

林语堂的译文如下：
黛玉葬花词
曹雪芹
Taiyu Predicting Her Own Death
Tsao Shuehchin
Fly, fly ye faded and broken dreams
Of fragrance, for the spring is gone!
Behold the gossamer entwine the screens,
And wandering catkins kiss the stone.
Here comes the maiden from out her chamber door,
Whose secret no one shall share.
She gathers the trodden blossoms lingeringly,
And says to them her votive prayer.
I smell the scent of elm seeds and the willow
Where once did blush the peach and pear.
When next they bloom in their new-made spring dress,
She may be gone—no one knows where.
Sweet are the swallow’s nests, whose labors of love
This spring these eaves and girders grace.
Next year they’ll come and see the mistress’s home
To find her gone—without a trace.
The frost and cutting wind in whirling cycle
Hurtle through the seasons’ round.
How but a while ago these flowers did smile
Then quietly vanished without a sound.
With stifled sobs she picks the wilted blooms,
And sheds her scalding tears which shall be changed
Into the cuckoo’s heartbreak song.
But the cuckoo is silent in the twilight eve,
And she returns to her lone home.
The flickering lamp casts shadows upon the wall,
And night rain patters, bed unwarmed.
Oh, ask not why and wherefore she is grieved.
For loving spring, her heart is torn
That it should have arrived without warning,
And just as noiselessly is gone.
I heard last night a mournful wail and I knew
It was the souls of parting flowers,
Harried and reluctant and all in a rush,
Bidding their last farewell hours.
Oh, that I might take winged flight to heaven,
With these beauties in my trust!
‘Twere better I buried you undefiled,
Than let them trample you to dust.
Now I take the shovel and bury your scented breath,
A-wondering when my turn shall be.
Let me be silly and weep atop your grave,
For next year who will bury me?
Oh, look upon these tender, fragile beauties,
Of perfumed flesh and bone and hair.
The admirer shan’t be there when her time is up,
And the admired shall no longer care!

自娱自乐

许渊冲译文
As flowers fall and fly across the skies,
Who rues the red that fades, the scent that dies?
Softly the gossamer floats over bowers green;
Gently the willow fluff wafts to broidered screen.
In my chamber I’m grieved to see spring depart.
Where can I pour out my sorrow-laden heart?
I step out of my portal with a hoe.
On fallen petals could I come and go?
Willow threads and elms leaves are fresh and gay;
They care not if peach and plum blossom drift away.
The peach and plum will bloom next year.
But my chamber who will then appear?
By the third moon the swallows built their nest,
But apathetically on the beam they rest.
Next year though they may peck the buds again,
O in my empty chamber can their nest remain?
For three hundred and sixty days each year,
The cutting wind and biting frost make flowers sear.
How long can they blossom fresh and fair?
Once blown away, they cannot be found anywhere.
Their gravedigger, I find no flowers in bloom;
My aching heart is further filled with gloom.
With hoe in hand, tears secretly shed
Like drops of blood turn bare branches red.
As twilight falls, the cuckoos sing no more;
I come back with my hoe and close the door.
Abed in dim-lit room when night is still,
I hear cold rain and my quilt feels damp and chill.
I wonder why I’m thrown in such a fret:
Is it for love of spring o r for regret?
I love it when it comes, regret it when it goes;
But spring comes and goes mute as water flows.
Last night from the courtyard a dirge was heard,
Sung by the soul of flower and of bird.
The bird’s and flower’s soul is hard to detain;
The flowers blush and silent birds remain.
I long on wings to fly
With the flowers to the end of the earth and sky.
At earth’s uttermost bound,
Where can I find a fragrant burial mound?
Why don’t I shroud in silken bag the petals fair
And bury them in the earth forever to mingle there?
Pure they come and pure shall go,
Not sinking to oblivion below.
Now they are dead, I come to bury them today.
Who can divine the date when I shall pass away?
Men laugh at my folly in burying fallen flowers.
But who will bury me when come my last hours?
See spring depart and flowers wither by and by.
This is the time when beauty must grow old and die.
Once spring is gone and beauty dead, alas!
Who will care for the fallen bloom and buried lass?

无心剑

O(∩_∩)O~，大餐耶，慢慢享用。

自娱自乐

原帖由 无心剑 于 2009-11-8 7:04:00 发表
O(∩_∩)O~，大餐耶，慢慢享用。

呵呵呵，不知无心君最中意哪个版本呢？

自娱自乐

奴今葬花人笑痴
逸士---- People laugh at me as idiot for burying flowers;
霍克斯---Let others laugh flower-burial to see:
杨宪益、戴乃迭---Men laugh at my folly in burying fallen flowers,
林语堂----Let me be silly and weep atop your grave,
许渊冲----Men laugh at my folly in burying fallen flowers.
这一句，许的是拿来主义。（照搬杨和戴的版本）林和霍的版本，林的好一些，霍的离原文似乎有点距离。
逸士用了‘idiot', 是不是有点过了？另外，should it be 'an idiot' rather than just 'idiot'?