欧阳修·《醉翁亭记》英译

The Pavilion of the Drunken Old Man

Ouyang Xiu

Chu Zhou is surrounded with mountains. The forests and valleys on the southwest ridge are especially beautiful. Lying in the distance, where the trees grow luxuriantly and gracefully, is the Langya Mountain. Six or seven li up the mountain path, a gurgling sound grows clearer and clearer. It is from a spring that falls between two mountains. The spring is called the Wine-Making Spring. The path turns and twists along the mountain ridge, and above the spring rests a pavilion perching aloft like a bird with wings outstretched. This is the Pavilion of the Drunken Old Man. Who built this pavilion? Monk Zhixian, who lived in the mountain. And who furnished it with that name? It was the prefect, who named it after his own alias. The prefect often comes here to drink wine with his friends and he easily gets tipsy after a few cups. Being oldest in age among his companions, he calls himself "the drunken old man". The drinker's heart is not in the cup, but in the mountains and waters. The joy he gets from them is treasured in the heart, and now and then he will express it through wine-drinking.

In the morning, the rising sun disperses the forest mists, and in the evening, the gathering clouds darken the caves and valleys. This shifting from light to darkness is morning and evening in the mountains. In spring, blooming flowers send forth a delicate fragrance; in summer, the flourishing trees afford deep shades; in autumn, the sky is high and crisp, and the frost, snowy white; in winter, the water of the creek recedes and the bare bedrock emerges. These are the mountain scenes in the four seasons. Going to the mountain in the morning and returning home in the evening and enjoying the beauties of the mountain in different seasons is a delight beyond description!

Carriers are singing all along the way, and pedestrians are taking rest beneath the trees. Some are shouting from the fore and are answered by others from behind. There are hunchbacked old folks, and children led by their elders. They are people from Chuzhou who have come here in an endless stream. Some are fishing by the creek where the water is deep and the fish are big. The water itself is faintly scented and the wine brewed from it is crystal clear. Upon the prefect's banquet table is a sundry layer of dishes, including the meat of wild beasts and the flavorings of edible mountain herbs. The joy of the feast lies not in the musical accompaniment of strings or flutes, but in winning the games, such as throwing arrows into the vessel, or chess playing. Wine cups and gambling chips lay scattered in blithe disarray. The revelers, now sitting, now standing, cavort madly among themselves. These are the prefect's guests, and the old man with wizened face and white hair among them, who is half drunk, is none other than the prefect himself.

As dusk falls, one sees shifting shadows scattering in all directions. The prefect is leaving for home, and his guests are following him. The shadows of the trees are deepening, and birds are chirping high and low. The people are going home, leaving the birds free to enjoy themselves. The birds only know their joy in the wooded mountains, but are unaware of what makes the people joyful. The people only know that they are joyful on their excursion with the prefect, but are unaware that the prefect finds his joy in seeing them joyful. He, who enjoys himself with the people when drunk, and records this excursion in writing when sober, is the prefect himself. And who is the prefect? He is Ouyang Xiu of Luling.