古代散文名篇英译1

1、岳阳楼记（宋）范仲淹

庆历四年春，滕子京谪守巴陵郡。越明年，政通人和，百废具兴。乃重修岳阳楼，增其旧制，刻唐贤、今人诗赋于其上。属予作文以记之。

予观夫巴陵胜状，在洞庭一湖。衔远山，吞长江，浩浩汤汤，横无际涯；朝晖夕阴，气象万千。此则岳阳楼之大观也。前人之述备矣。然则北通巫峡，南极潇湘，迁客骚人，多会于此，览物之情，得无异乎？

若夫霪雨霏霏，连月不开，阴风怒号，浊浪排空；日星隐耀，山岳潜形；商旅不行，樯倾楫摧；薄暮冥冥，虎啸猿啼。登斯楼也，则有去国怀乡，忧谗畏讥，满目萧然，感极而悲者矣。

至若春和景明，波澜不惊，上下天光，一碧万顷；沙鸥翔集，锦鳞游泳；岸芷汀兰，郁郁青青。而或长烟一空，皓月千里，浮光跃金，静影沉璧，渔歌互答，此乐何极！登斯楼也，则有心旷神怡，宠辱偕忘，把酒临风，其喜洋洋者矣。

嗟夫！予尝求古仁人之心，或异二者之为，何哉？不以物喜，不以己悲；居庙堂之高则忧其民；处江湖之远则忧其君。是进亦忧，退亦忧。然则何时而乐耶？其必曰“先天下之忧而忧，后天下之乐而乐”乎。噫！微斯人，吾谁与归？

时六年九月十五日。

译文：

Yueyang Pavilion

Fan Zhongyan

In the spring of the fourth year of the reign of Qingli, Teng Zijing was banished from the capital to be governor of Baling Prefecture. After he had govern the district for a year, the administration became efficient, the people became united, and all things that had fallen into disrepair were given a new lease on life. Then he restored Yueyang Pavilion, adding new splendor to the original structure and having inscribed on it pomes by famous men of the Tang Dynasty as well as the present time. And he asked me to write an essay to commemorate this. Now I have found that the finest sights of Baling are concentrated in the region of Lake Dongting. Dongting, nibbling at the distant hills and gulping down the Yangtze River, strikes all beholders as vast and infinite, presenting a scene of boundless variety; and this is the superb view from Yueyang Pavilion. All this has been described in full by writers of earlier ages. However, since the lake is linked with Wu Gorge in the north and extends to the Xiao and Xiang rivers in the south, many exiles and wandering poets gather here, and their reactions to these sights vary greatly. During a period of incessant rain, when a spell of bad weather continues for more than a month, when louring winds bellow angrily, tumultuous waves hurl themselves against the sky, sun and stars hide their light, hills and mountains disappear, merchants have to halt in their travels, masts collapse and oars splinter, the day darkens and the roars of tigers and howls of monkeys are heard, if men come to this pavilion with a longing for home in their hearts or nursing a feeling of bitterness because of taunts and slander, they may find the sight depressing and fall prey to agitation or despair. But during mild and bright spring weather, when the waves are unruffled and the azure translucence above and below stretches before your eyes for myriads of li, when the water-birds fly down to congregate on the sands and fish with scales like glimmering silk disport themselves in the water, when the iris and orchids on the banks grow luxuriant and green; or when

dusk falls over this vast expanse and bright moon casts its light a thousand li, when the rolling waves glitter like gold and silent shadows in the water glimmer like jade, and the fishermen sing to each other for sheer joy, then men coming up to this pavilion may feel complete freedom of heart and ease of spirit, forgetting every worldly gain or setback, to hold their winecups in the breeze in absolute elation, delighted with life. But again when I consider the men of old who possessed true humanity, they seem to have responded quite differently. The reason, perhaps, may be this: natural beauty was not enough to make them happy, nor their own situation enough to make them sad. When such men are high in the government or at court, their first concern is for the people; when they retire to distant streams and lakes, their first concern is for their sovereign. Thus they worry both when in office and when in retirement. When, then, can they enjoy themselves in life? No doubt they are concerned before anyone else and enjoy themselves only after everyone else finds enjoyment. Surely there are the men in whose footsteps I should follow!

2、《项脊轩志》(节选) (明)归有光

项脊轩，旧南阁子也。室仅方丈，可容一人居。百年老屋，尘泥渗漉，雨泽下注；每移案，顾视无可置者。又北向，不能得日，日过午已昏。余稍为修葺，使不上漏。前辟四窗，垣墙周庭，以当南日，日影反照，室始洞然。又杂植兰桂竹木于庭，旧时栏楯，亦遂增胜。借书满架，偃仰啸歌，冥然兀坐，万籁有声；而庭阶寂寂，小鸟时来啄食，人至不去。三五之夜，明月半墙，桂影斑驳，风移影动，珊珊可爱。

译文：

The Nape

Gui Y ouguang

The south passageway from our sidedoor known as the “Nape” is barely ten square feet, just big enough to serve as a room for one. Our house is a hundred years old. Dust used to fall and rain to drip through the ceiling, and I could find nowhere else to move my desk. Moreover, facing north and getting no sun, the room grew dark after noon. I patched it up so that it no longer leaked, opened windows in front and built a wall south of the courtyard to reflect the sunlight and brighten up the place. I also planted orchids, cassias and bamboo, showing off the old balustrades to better advantage. My shelves are piled with books, and here I rest and sing or sit quietly listening to the sounds all around in the stillness of the courtyard. Small birds alighting in search of food do not fly off at the appearance of men, and when a full moon casts its bright light over half the wall the mottled shadows of the cassia trees stir in the wind with a dappled loveliness.

刘士聪译文：

Xiangjixuan

Gui Y ouguang

My study , Xiangjixuan used to be called South Chamber. It was only ten feet by ten, large enough for one person to live in. As it was nearly one hundred years old, dust and flakes of plaster fell and the roof let in rain. When I moved my desk, I could find no place to keep it off the rain. It faced the north and the sun could not get inside. Soon after noon it turned dusky. I did some repairs to the roof to stop it leaking, opened four windows in front and built a wall around. I

planted orchids, laurels, bamboos and trees about and, therefore, the old railings looked brighter with colors. The bookshelf was filled with books on loan. I read and chanted aloud, beating time by swaying back and forth. Sitting in it I could hear various sounds emanating from outside. It was so quiet round the steps that small birds often came looking for food there, not scared of men?s presence. On the fifteenth night of the lunar month the bright moon flooded half of the wall. When a gentle breeze arose, laurel leaves shimmered flecks of moonlight on the wall and it was pleasing to see the shadows dancing and hear the leaves rustling in the wind.

3、《黄冈竹楼记》（节选） [宋]王禹偁

黄冈之地多竹，大者如椽。竹工破之，刳去其节，用代陶瓦。比屋皆然，以其价廉而工省也。

子城西北隅，雉堞圮毁,蓁莽荒秽，因作小楼二间，与月波楼通。远吞山光，平挹江濑，幽阒辽夐，不可具状。夏宜急雨，有瀑布声；冬宜密雪，有碎玉声。宜鼓琴，琴调和畅；宜咏诗，诗韵清绝；宜围棋，子声丁丁然；宜投壶，矢声铮铮然：皆竹楼之所助也。

译文：

The Bamboo Pavilion at Huanggang

Wang Yucheng

The county of Huanggang abounds in bamboo, the largest as big as rafters. Bamboo workers split the stems and slice off the knots, and the bamboo is used in place of earthen tiles. All the buildings here are roofed with these bamboo tiles because they are cheap and save labour. At the northwest corner of my city the walls had crumbled, the ground was overgrown with brambles, the place wild and dirty; so I had a small two-room pavilion constructed there, linking it with the Moon Wave Pavilion. It affords a view of the distant hills and dips at the shallows of the river below. The quiet seclusion there defies description. This pavilion is delightful during a sudden summer shower, when rain beats on the roof like a waterfall; it is equally delightful during heavy snow in winter, when the snow tinkles on the roof like jade. The pavilion is a good place for strumming a lyre, for the echo is smooth and mellow. It is a good place for chanting poetry too, for the recitation rings out fine and clear; it is a good place for playing draughts and hearing the sound made by draughtsmen on board, or for playing touhu and hearing the thud of arrows dropping into the spot; for all these sounds are brought out to the best advantage in this Bamboo Pavilion.

4、《前赤壁赋》（宋）苏轼

壬戌之秋，七月既望，苏子与客泛舟游于赤壁之下。清风徐来，水波不兴。举酒属客，诵明月之诗，歌窈窕之章。少焉，月出于东山之上，徘徊于斗牛之间。白露横江，水光接天。纵一苇之所如，凌万顷之茫然。浩浩乎如凭虚御风，而不知其所止；飘飘乎如遗世独立，羽化而登仙。

于是饮酒乐甚，扣舷而歌之。歌曰：“桂棹兮兰桨，击空明兮溯流光。渺渺兮予怀，望美人兮天一方。”客有吹洞箫者，倚歌而和之。其声呜呜然，如怨如慕，如泣如诉；余音袅袅，不绝如缕。舞幽壑之潜蛟，泣孤舟之嫠妇。

苏子愀然，正襟危坐而问客曰：“何为其然也？”客曰：“月明星稀，乌鹊南飞，此非曹孟德之诗乎？西望夏口，东望武昌，山川相缪，郁乎苍苍，此非孟德之困于周郎者乎？方其破荆州，下江陵，顺流而东也，舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗，固一世之雄

也；而今安在哉！况吾与子渔樵于江渚之上，侣鱼虾而友麋鹿，驾一叶之扁舟，举匏樽以相属。寄蜉蝣于天地，渺沧海之一粟。哀吾生之须臾，羡长江之无穷。挟飞仙以遨游，抱明月而长终。知不可乎骤得，托遗响于悲风。”

苏子曰：“客亦知夫水与月乎？逝者如斯，而未尝往也；盈虚者如彼，而卒莫消长也。盖将自其变者而观之，则天地曾不能以一瞬；自其不变者而观之，则物与我皆无尽也，而又何羡乎？且夫天地之间，物各有主，苟非吾之所有，虽一毫而莫取。惟江之清风，与山间之明月，耳得之而为声，目遇之而成色，取之无禁，用之不竭。是造物者之无尽藏也，而吾与子之所共适。”

客喜而笑，洗盏更酌。肴核既尽，杯盘狼藉。相与枕藉乎舟中，不知东方之既白。

译文：

First Visit to the Red Cliff

Su Shi

In the autumn of the year Renxu, at the time of the full moon in the seventh month, I went by boat with some friends to the Red Cliff. There was a fresh, gentle breeze, but the water was unruffled. I raised my winecup to drink to my friends, and we chanted the poem on the bright moon, singing the stanza about the fair maid. Soon the moon rose above the eastern mountain, hovering between the Dipper and the Cowherd. The river stretched white, sparkling as if with dew, its glimmering water merging with the sky. We let our craft drift over the boundless expanse of water, feeling as free as if we were riding the wind bound for some unknown destination, as light as if we had left the human world and become winged immortals. Drinking, we became very merry; and we sang a song, beating time on the side of the boat. This was the song:

Our rudder and oars, redolent of cassia and orchids;

Strike the moon?s reflection, cleaving the glimmering water;

But my heart is far away,

Longing for my dear one under a different sky.

One friend, who was a good flutist, played an accompaniment to this song. The notes rang out nostalgic, mournful and plaintive, trailing on and on like a thread of gossamer, arousing the serpents lurking in dark caverns, drawing tears from a widow in her lonely boat. Sad at heart, I sat up straight to ask my friend why the music was so mournful.

He replied, “Didn?t Cao Cao describe a scent like this in his poem: …The moon is bright, the stars are scattered, the crows fly south…?? And isn?t this the place where he was defeated by Zhou Yu？See how the mountains and streams intertwine, and how darkly imposing they are with Xiaokou to the west and Wuchang to the east. When Cao Cao took Jingzhou by storm and conquered Jiangling, then advanced eastward along the river, his battleships stretched for a thousand li, his armies? pennons and banners filled the sky. When he offered a libation of wine on the river and lance in hand chanted his poem, he was the hero of his times. But where is he now? We are mere fishermen and woodcutters, keeping company with fish and prawns and befriending deer. We sail our skiff, frail as a leaf, and toast each other by drinking wine from a gourd. We are nothing but insects who live in this world but one day, mere specks of grain in the vastness of the ocean. I am grieved because our life is so transient, and envy the mighty river which flows on forever. I long to clasp winged fairies and roam freely, or to embrace the bright moon for all

eternity. But knowing that this cannot be attained at once, I give vent to my feelings in these notes which pass with the sad breeze. ”

Then I asked him, “Have you considered the water and the moon? Water flows away but is never lost; the moon waxes and wanes, but neither increases nor diminishes. If you look at its changing aspect, the universe passes in the twinkling of an eye; but if you look at its changeless aspect, all creatures including ourselves are imperishable. What reason have you to envy other things? Besides, everything in this universe has its owner; and if it does not belong to me not a tiny speck can I take. The sole exceptions are the cool breeze on the river, the bright moon over the hills. These serve as music to our ears, as colour to our eyes; these we can take freely and enjoy forever; these are inexhaustible treasures supplied by the Creator, and things in which we can delight together.”

My friend was pleased and laughed. Then we rinsed our cups and filled them with wine again. When we had finished the dishes, and cups and plates lay about us in disorder, we stretched out in the boat and did not notice the coming of dawn in the east.

5、《桃花源记》(节选)（晋）陶渊明

晋太元中，武陵人捕鱼为业。缘溪行，忘路之远近。忽逢桃花林，夹岸数百步，中无杂树，芳草鲜美，落英缤纷。渔人甚异之。复前行，欲穷其林。

林尽水源，便得一山，山有小口，仿佛若有光。便舍船，从口入。初极狭，才通人。复行数十步，豁然开朗。土地平旷，屋舍俨然，有良田美池桑竹之属。阡陌交通，鸡犬相闻。其中往来种作，男女衣着，悉如外人。黄发垂髫并怡然自乐。

译文：

Peach-blossom Springs

Tao Yuanming

In the rein of Taiyua n①of the Jin Dynasty, there was a man of Wulin g②who was a fisherman by trade. One day he was fishing up a stream in his boat, heedless of how far he had gone, when suddenly he came upon a forest of peach tress. On either bank for several hundred yards there were no other kinds of trees. The fragrant grass was beautiful to look at, all patterned with fallen blossoms. The fisherman was extremely surprised and went on further, determined to get to the end of this wood.

He found at the end of the wood the source of the stream and the foot of a cliff, where there was a small cave in which there seemed to be a faint light. He left his boat and went in through the mouth of the cave. At first it was very narrow, only wide enough for a man, but after forty or fifty yards he suddenly found himself in the open.

The place he had come to was level and spacious. There were houses and cottages arranged

in a planned order; there was fine fields and beautiful pools; there were mulberry trees, bamboo groves, and many other kinds of trees as well; there were raised pathways round the fields; and he heard the fowls crowing and dogs barking. Gonging to and fro in all this and busied in working and planting, were people, both men and women. Their dress was not unlike that of people outside, and all of them,. Whether old people with white hair or children with their hair tied in a knot, were happy and content with themselves.

①AD 376-396

②In Hunan Pronvince

说明：

本英译文除标明出处的，其他译文均选自中国文学出版社编，《中国文学·古代散文卷》，北京：外语教学与研究出版社/中国文学出版社，1998