《葬花吟》中英对照赏析

《葬花吟》中英对照赏析 Song of the Burial of Flowers Cao Xueqin [Qing Dynasty] Flowers fade and fall and fly about up in the sky, But who pities the loss of your fragrance when you die? Like gossamer you float and land on pavilions, With your fallen petals clung soft to fine curtains. In my boudoir I sigh over the close of spring, But there’s no way to express my sorrowful feeling. Spade in hand, I go out from under my fine curtain, To and fro on fallen petals, how can I bear treading? Willow twigs and elm buds send sweet scents as they may, Who cares when peach and plum petals are in decay? Next year peach and plum trees will be in bloom again, But who will be the master of my boudoir then? In March lunar swallows have got their nests ready, They on the beam seem to be those without mercy. Next year in their flight, fresh flowers they may peck, though, All that they and I have will be lost, they never know. There are three hundred and sixty days in one year, With you the elements of nature are severe. Time is not long for you to be bright and charming, Your trace and track are hard to find in your drifting. You are easy to see when open but hard when fallen, Before the stairs I am worried where to find your remains. Against the spade I lean and in secret weep sudden, Splashed on your bare branches are my tears like bloodstains. The cuckoo ceases its warbling at twilight, With my spade I return and shut the doors tight. I go to bed with a lone oil lamp still shining, My quilt is not warm when a cold rain is falling. I feel at heart it is a matter quite nerve-racking, For I like spring or I feel sad over its leaving. Spring I love and my sorrow repair at a fast pace, They come silent and go without leaving a trace. Last night beyond pavilions sad song seemed rising, Was it the souls of flowers or birds that were singing? It is always hard to ask their souls to stay behind, That birds are silent and flowers feel ashamed, I find. I wish to have two wings under my arms to fly, After you unto the farthest end of the sky. At the farthest end of the sky, Where can I find the grave of your fragrance lie? Better in silk to shroud your petals fair, With a handful of clean earth as your attire. For pure you have come and pure you repair, Lest you fall into some foul ditch or mire. I hold a burial when you die today, But there’s no telling when I pass away. Others laugh at me that have buried thee, Who will be the one that shall bury me? At the farthest end of the sky, Where can I find the grave of my fragrance lie? The end of spring makes flowers fall one by one, It’s also the time when beauty meets its doom. Once beauty is carried to its very tomb, Both beauty and flowers perish known to none. 葬花吟 (清) 曹雪芹 花谢花飞飞满天，红绡香断有谁怜？ 游丝软系飘春榭，落絮轻沾扑绣帘。 闺中女儿惜春暮，愁绪满怀无处诉。 手把花锄出绣帘，忍踏落花来复去。 柳丝榆荚自芳菲，不管桃飘与李飞。 桃李明年能再发，明岁闺中知是谁？ 三月香巢初垒成，梁间燕子太无情！ 明年花发虽可啄，却不道人去梁空巢也倾！ 一年三百六十日，风刀霜剑严相逼。 明媚鲜妍能几时，一朝飘泊难寻觅。 花开易见落难寻，阶前愁杀葬花人。 独把花锄偷洒泪，洒上空枝见血痕。 杜鹃无语正黄昏，荷锄归去掩重门。 青灯照壁人初睡，冷雨敲窗被未温。 怪侬底事倍伤神，半为怜春半恼春。 怜春忽至恼忽去，至又无语去不闻。 昨宵庭外悲歌奏，知是花魂与鸟魂？ 花魂鸟魂总难留，鸟自无语花自羞。 愿侬此日生双翼，随花飞到天尽头。 天尽头！何处有香丘？ 未若锦囊收艳骨，一杯净土掩风流。 质本洁来还洁去，强于污淖陷渠沟。 尔今死去侬收葬，未卜侬身何日丧？ 侬今葬花人笑痴，他年葬侬知是谁？ 试看春残花渐落，便是红颜老死时。 一朝春尽红颜老，花落人亡两不知！