Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Saigyo Hoshi’s Mountain Home (Winter)
西行法师《山家集》之冬
English translaton by Burton Watson英译
Regret as I may,
even the bell
has a different sound now,
and soon frost will fall
in place of morning dew
甚至钟声
也音色有异
怎么惋惜都无奈哦
很快
晨露将被寒霜替代
Woodcutter
sleeping all alone
in his pine bough shelter,
the only sound,
his only visitor, the hail
啄木鸟
独自睡
在松树洞里
惟一的访客,
惟一的声音,来自冰雹
If only there were
someone else
willing to bear this loneliness—
side by side we’d build our huts
for winter in a mountain village
多么想除我之外
还有人
愿意来承担孤独——
我们一道各自搭一只小屋
在这山村过冬
Heaped with snow,
bamboos in the garden
bend and topple—
flocks of sparrows hunting
for another roost
园中竹子
积厚厚的雪
弯着腰、斜着身——
一群群麻雀钻来钻去
找一个新窝
At the first snowfall, yes,
some visitors pushed their way through,
but now all trails
are cut off
to this village deep in the mountains
是的,第一场雪时,
还有一些客人跋涉来访
如今,所有通往这个
深山小村的小径
都已封断
Living alone
in the shade of a remote mountain,
I have you for my companion
now the storm has passed,
moon of the winter night!
独自隐居
在这深山的草棚
只有你是我的伴儿
冬夜的月亮
在暴雪之后
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Saigyo Hoshi's Mountain Home (Autumn)
西行法师《山家集》之秋
English translation by Burton Watson
Chinese rewriting by Fan Jinghua
Even in a person
most times indifferent
to things around him
they waken feelings—
the first winds of autumn
哪怕多数时候
淡漠于
身边之物的人
面对初起的秋风
也会情怀波动吧
Pampas Grass Thick on the Path
With blooms of pampas grass
for markers
I push my way along
no trace of the trail
I vaguely remembered
蒲苇侵道
曾将蒲苇花
作为路标
可如今劈开它们
却已找不到
我依稀记得的小道
Reeds
Sounding even
more mournful
than I’d expected
an autumn evening wind
tossing in the reed leaves
芦苇
晚来的秋风
扫过芦苇叶
这调子听来
比我预料的
还要悲哀
How lonely, the light of the moon
filtering into my hut,
the only sound, the clackers
that shoo away birds
in the mountain paddies
月光漏进我的草屋
多么孤独
惟有稻田里
吓唬小鸟的噼啪声
叩打寂静
I used to gaze at the moon,
my mind wandering endlessly—
and now again
I’ve come on one of
those old time autumns
我总是眼盯着月亮
心思远游——
而此刻
我又走进
重复多次的秋天
Hearing Wild Geese at Dawn
As banked clouds
are swept apart
by the wind at dawn,
the cry of the first wild geese
winging over the mountain
破晓的雁声
积云被晨风
吹散
七零八落
第一阵雁声
展翅越过远山
The Call of Wild Geese Far and Near
Wild geese departing,
their wings in white clouds,
call longingly to their friends
in the paddies
outside my gate
远近的雁声
秋雁远去了
翅膀隐入白云
呼唤同伴的鸣声
仍然我门外的
稻田里回响
Falling Leaves at Dawn
Wondering if it’s a winter shower
I wake in my bed
and hear them—
the leaves that
couldn’t withstand the storm
黎明的落叶
醒来,还躺在床上
不知道外面的沙沙声
是否早来的冬雨
叶子
已经难耐晨风了
Insects on an Evening Road
On the road with not a soul
to keep me company,
as evening falls
katydids lift their voices
and cheer me along
昏黄路上的秋虫
那条小路上
无人与我同行
黄昏降临了
只有纺织娘尖着嗓子
给我打气
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Japanese Poet Saigyo
Japanese poet Saigyo Hoshi lived between 1118-1190, and was an official in the imperial court before becoming a wandering monk. His travels into the northern countries inspired many later poets, particularly Basho's (1644-1694) Journey into the Interior of the North. His "mountain home" was a very simple hut.

Ice wedged fast
in the crevice of the rock
this morning begins to melt—
under the moss the water
will be feeling out a channel
岩缝之中,冰
从今晨开始融化,
如木楔的削损,
厚厚的青苔下,水
摸出一条小道。
You can tell
from the outline of the hills
the way it’s hazed over—
from this morning on
we’ll have spring dawns
山的轮廓
无言地说出
雾浓雾淡,
从今起,每个破晓
破的都是春晓。
Sad the haze in the meadow
where I pick young herbs
when I think
how it shrouds me
from the faraway past
草地上,雾霭含愁,
我手采幼嫩的药草,
心里想着
它们也有雾霭——
那是由来已久的前生。
Seeping through the haze
the voice
of the bush warbler—
few people passing
mountain village in spring
黄莺的婉转
划穿薄雾,
这片草丛无人经过,
一只草舍便是一个村子,
满含春色。
This spring I’ll stay
close to my rustic hedge,
make friends
with people who come
in search of the plum’s fragrance
这个春季,
我将不离开草舍,
我要结识每一位
来山中
寻访梅香的游客。
Curtained by spring showers
pouring down from the eaves,
a place where someone lives,
idle, idle,
unknown to others
春雨如帘,
自屋檐泻下。
这个居处
无人知晓,
悠闲得很悠闲。
I’ll forget the trail
I marked out on Mount Yoshino
last year,
go searching for blossoms
in the directions I’ve never been before
访花进了吉野山,
今年的小径
偏离了去年留下的
记号,越走越远,
越看越多。
原文:吉野山こぞのしをりの道かへて
まだ見ぬかたの花をたづねむ
Since the day I saw
Mount Yoshino’s
blossoming treetops,
my body’s one place,
my heart in another
自从那天望见
花儿在吉野山上
缀满了枝头,
我便身在此处,
心,在远方。
Why should my heart
still harbor
this passion for cherry flowers
I who thought
I had put all that behind me?
怎么还会
眼见樱花而心中
涌起荡漾的激情?
我还以为自己
早已将一切置之心外。
Let me die in spring
under the blossoming trees
let it be around
that full moon
of Kisaragi month
惟愿能死在春天,
死在一棵盛开的樱树下,
在二月,
佛陀的次日,
月亮最圆的时候。
原文:願はくは花の下にて春死なむ
その如月の望月の頃
Take a good look
even the blossoms
of the old cherry seem sad—
how many more times
will they see the spring?
用心看:
老树上的樱花
也很伤感。
它们还能再见到
几个春天呢?
Gazing at them,
I’ve grown so very close
to these blossoms,
to part with them when they fall
seems bitter indeed!
若我凑近、凝目,
便会和它们非常接近。
看着这些花瓣凋落,
弃我而去,
心中苦涩难对君说!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Saigyo Hoshi: Mountain Home- Summer
西行法师《山家集》之夏
English translation Burton Watson
Chinese translation Fan Jinghua
The twilight cuckoo
now quite at home in the village—
I pretend no to hear,
hoping to make him
speak his name again
暮色中 布谷鸟
已然安居在村上了
我假装没听到它
心想这会令它
再把自己的名字报上来
In the fifth-month rains
no trace of a path
where I can make my way,
meadows of bamboo grass
awash in muddy water
五月的雨
淹没了小路
我无处落脚
竹草青青
被泥浆水漫过
In willow shade
where clear water flows
by the wayside—
“Just a while!” I said,
as I stopped to rest
柳荫下
碧水流
人迹罕至
我驻足停留
就歇一小会儿吧,我说
Across the face of the field
wilted grasses
darken:
the chill clouding-over
of a sudden storm sky
旷野的糙脸上
散落着
枯黑的草
暴雨骤降前
冷冷的乌云低垂
Traveler pushing his way
through a summer meadow,
grasses so thick
his sedge hat seems
to float over their tips
夏日炎炎
又浓又高的草丛
分开一道口子
一顶草帽
漂浮在梢头

Saigyo Hoshi 西行法师 1118-1190