《荷塘月色》英文翻译
译文一 （朱纯深译）（原载1927年7月10日《小说月报》第18卷第7期）
Moonlight over the Lotus Pond
I have felt quite upt recently, Tonight, when I was sitting in the yard enjoying the cool, it occurred to me that the Lotus Pond, which I pass by everyday, must assume quite a different look in such moonlit night. A full moon was rising high in the sky; the laughter of children playing outside had died away; in the room, my wife was patting the son, Run-er, sleepily hum ming a cradle song. Shrugging on an overcoat, quietly, I made my way out, closing the door behind me.
Alongside the Lotus Pond runs a small cinder footpath. It is peaceful and cluded here, a place not frequented by pedestrians even in the daytime; now at night, it looks more solitary, in a lush, shady ambience of trees all around the pond. On the side where the pa
th is, there are willows, interlaced with some oth ers who names I do not know. The foliage, which, in a moon- less night, would loom somewhat frighteningly dark, looks very nice tonight,although the moonlight is not more than a thin, greyish veil.
I am on my own. strolling. hands behind my back. This bit of the univer ems in my posssion now; and I mylf em to have been uplifted from my ordinary lf into another world, I like a rene and peaceful life, as much as a busy and active one; I like being in solitude, as much as in company. As it is tonight, basking in a misty moonshine all by mylf. I feel I am a free man, free to think of anything, or of nothing. All that one is obliged to do. or to say, in the daytime, can be very well cast a side now. That is the beauty of being alone. For the moment, just let me indulge in this profusion of moonlight and lotus fra- grance.
All over this winding stretch of water, what meets the eye is a silken field of leaves, reaching rather high above the surface. like the skirts ef dancing girls in all their grace. Here and there, layers of leaves are dotted with white lotus blossoms, some in demure bl
oom, others in shy bud, like scattering pearls, or twinlking stars, our beauties just out of the bath. A breeze stirs, nding over breaths of fragrance, like faint singing drift- ing from a distant building. At this moment, a tiny thrill shoots through the leaves and flowers, like a streak of lightning, straight across thc forest of lotus. The leaves, which have been standing shoulder to shoulder, are caught trembling in an e merald heave of the pond. Underneath, the exquisite water is covered from view. and none can tell its colour; yet the leaves on top project themlves all the more attractively.
The moon sheds her liquid light silently over the leaves and flowers, which, in the floating transparency of a bluish haze from the pond, look as if they had just been bathed in milk, or like a dream wrapped in a gauzy hood. Although it is a full moon, shining through a film of clouds, the light is not at its brightest; it is, however, just right for me - a profound sleep is indispensable, yet a snatched doze also has a savour of its own. The moonlight is streaming down through the foliage, casting bushy shadows on the ground from high above, dark and check ered, like an army of ghosts; whereas the bengin figures of the drooping willows, here and there, look like paintings on the Io tus leaves. The moonlight i
s not spread evenly over the pond, but rather in a harmonious rhythm of light and shade, like a fa mous melody played on a violin.
Around the pond, far and near, high and Iow, are trees. Most of them are willows. Only on the path side can two or three gaps be en through the heavy fringe, as if specially re rved for the moon. The shadowy shapes of the leafage at first sight em diffud into a mass of mist, against which, however, the charm of tho willow trees is still discernible. Over the trees appear some distant mountains, but merely in sketchy sil- houette. Through the branches are also a couple of lamps, as listless as sleepy eyes. The most lively creatures here, for the moment, must be the cicadas in the trees and the frogs in the pond. But the liveliness is theirs, I have nothing.
Suddenly, something like lotus-gathering cross my mind. It ud to be celebrated as a folk festival in the South, probably
dating very far back in history, most popular in the period of Six Dynasties. We can pick up some outlines of this activity in the poetry, It was young girls who went gathering lotus
es, in sam- pans and singing love songs. Needless to say, there were a great number of them doing the gathering, apart from tho who were watching. It was a lively ason, brimming with vitality, and ro- mance. A brilliant description can be found in Lotus Gathenng written by the Yuan Emperor of the Liang Dynasty:
So tho charming youngsters row their sampans, heart buoyant with tacit love, pass to eath other cups oJ wine while their bird- shaped prows dtift around. From time to time their oars are caught in dangling algae, and duckweed float apart the moment their boats are about to move on. Their slender figures, girdled with plain silk, tread watchfully on board. This is the time when spring is growing into summer, the leaves a tender green and the flowers blooming,- among which the girls are giggling when evading an outreaching stem. their shirts tucked in for fear that the sampan might tilt.
That is a glimp of tho merrymaking scenes. It must have been fascinating; but unfortunately we have long been de nied such a delight.
Then I recall tho lines in Ballad of Xizhou Island:
Gathering the lotus, I am in the South Pond, /The lilies, in autumn,, reach over my head; /Lowering my head I toy with the lotus ed, /look, they are as fresh as the water umderneath.
