王羲之·《兰亭集序》英译

A Sketch of the Gathering at Orchid Arbour

At the beginning of late spring in the ninth year of Yong-he when the primordial signs of the calendar combine as Gui-chou, we meet at Orchid Arbour in the xian Shanyin of Guiji fu for washing off ill luck. All the virtuous come to meet here, the youthful as well as the elderly. Here there are noble mountains and precipitous cliffs, dense forests and tall bamboo groves, with limpid streams and torrential rapids flashing on the right and left. To sit by the side of the tortuous currents and empty the beakers, even though without the sounding of musical instruments, a mere drinking accompanied by the composition of poetry would be enough to exchange and interfuse our heartfelt feelings fro one another.

On this day, the sky is resplendent and the air serene, the beneficent breezes are graciously temperate. Looking ahead aloft, one sees the macrocosm of the universe and gazing downward, observes the multiplicity of the earthly existence, thus to extend one’s eyesight, and quicken one’s imagination for heightening to the top limit one’s wits: what bounteous delight this is!

For what men have to do with their fellows during their lifetimes, either fetched from their bosoms and discussed with others in certain rooms or taken from their apprehension and cast abroad far beyond their corporal frames, although what they adopt or reject are multifariously divergent, being variously different in quietude and tumult, — so when they are glad of what they have come across, well-contented with their state of being so far, living happily in their good fortune, without knowing that old age would soon descend upon them; and when they are tired of the past, their feelings undergo a metamorphosis as the result of the changed state of affairs and sentient responses are produced thereof.

What was acclaimed in the past has become during one’s looking ahead up and down things of bygone days; yet one could not help being deeply moved in feelings while touching them in reality. What is more, the length and shortness of life depend on Nature’s decree; they would sooner or later reach finality. As the ancient saying (by Confucius) has it —momentous is the matter of life and death: how awfully painful it is     ! Whenever we examine the occasion on which notable people of the past heaved their feelings in one accord, we cannot but notice that never one of them but was full of signs and lamentations on the subject and could not set it free from their inmost parts. Thence it could be concluded that to identify life and death is sheer nonsense and to equalize Peng Zu and a dead stripling is a sorry jest. Our succeeding generations would look on us as we do on the past, ala! Therefore, we delineate the participants of our gathering and note down their compositions at this conjuncture. Though the world of our succeeding generations would be different from ours and their affairs unlike ours, their sentiments about life and death would be the same as those we cherish. The future readers of this sketch would be sentiment of this brief piece.

（孙大雨 译）

At the Orchid Pavilion 

Wang Shichih

This is the ninth year of Yungho (353 A.D.), kueichou in the cycle. We met in late spring at the Orchid Pavilion in Shanyin to celebrate the Water Festival.

All the scholar friends are gathered, and there is a goodly mixture of old and young. In the background lie high peaks and deep forests. While a clear, gurgling brook catches the light to the right and to the left. We then arrange ourselves, sitting on its bank, drinking in succession form the goblet as it floats down the stream .No music is provided, but with drinking and with song, our hearts are gay and at ease. It is a clear spring day with a mild, caressing breeze. The vast universe, throbbing with life, lies spread before us, entertaining the eye and pleasing the spirit and all the senses. It is perfect.

Now when men come together, they let their thoughts travel to the past and present. Some enjoy a quiet conversation indoors and others play about outdoors, occupied with what they love. The forms of amusement differ according to temperaments, but when each has found what he wants, he is happy and never feels old. Then as time passes on and one is tired of his pursuits, it seems that what fascinated him not so long ago has become a mere memory. What a thought! Besides, whether individually we live a long life or not, we all return to nothingness. The ancient regarded death as the great question. Is it not sad to think of it?

I often thought that the people of the past lived and felt exactly as we of today. Whenever I read their writing, I felt this way and was seized with its pathos. It is cool comfort to say that life and death are different phases of the same thing and that a long span of life or a short one does not matter. Alas! The people of the future will look upon us as we look upon those who have gone before us. Hence I have recorded here those present and what they said. Ages may pass and times may change, but the human sentiments will be the same; I know that future readers who set their eyes upon these words will be affected in the same way.

（林语堂 译）