欧阳修·《醉翁亭记》英译

The Pavilion of an Old Drunkard

Ouyang Xiu

The Town of Chu is encircled by hills. However, those in the southwest boast the most fascinating forests and valleys. Yet the most lushly verdant and beautifully secluded among them is Mount Langya. Hiking one to two miles into it, you begin to hear water gurgling, and that gurgling sound will usher you to a natural fountain—the Brewing Spring, where a stream of water gushes out between two peaks. Rounding the bend and winding along the track, you will see, perched right above the fountain, a pavilion with its roof spreading upward like a big open-winged bird, and that is the Pavilion of an Old Drunkard. Who built it, you may wonder? It is Zhixian, the monk in the mountain! Who named it? The Governor, after his own nickname! Once, the Governor brought his friends here to hobnob. Because he was the most senior and soon got tipsy, he thus referred to himself as “an Old Drunkard”. However, what he is interested in is not to get drunk from the wine, but to get intoxicated with the scenery, for the fun with scenery comes from one’s heart but enlivens in the cup. 

When the sun rises, the mist in the forests lifts; when the sky hazes over, the valleys blur. This alternation of brightness and dimness characterizes the mornings and dusks in the hills. When the wild flowers bloom, a faint fragrance permeates; when the sturdy trees flourish, they turn bosky and bowery; when the wind drifts high, frost appears white; when the water recedes, rocks emerge. These shifts typify the four seasons in the hills. And so, the varied scenes of the four seasons you see during your morning visit here or upon your evening home-returning will give you endless pleasure.

Therefore, now on this path, which is frequented by all kinds of sightseers from the town, you can see people carrying travel packs and singing; hikers resting under the trees; fellow travelers ahead and those behind calling out to each other; the aged, the infirm, and even the toddlers in arms. The stream is deep, apt to breed fat fish; the water from the fountain is good for brewing aromatic and mellow wine. And now the Governor’s feast is in progress, with dishes of wild game and wild vegetables casually laid out in front. What creates the joyous mood here is not string music, nor flute music, but the moment when all the invited jump up to cheer for a pot-target hitter, or a chess winner, or the vociferous finger-game competitors. Amid them all is the intoxicated silver-haired Governor.

Soon the glowing sun sinks toward the hills, slanting and scattering the human shadows. The Governor starts to leave, followed by his guests. The verdant woods are shaded, and the birds, rioting. The retreat of the humans brings cheer to the fowl and birds. Yet the fowl and birds only know the happiness obtained from the hills and woods, but do not understand the humans’ happiness, and the guests only know the happiness of accompanying the Governor, but not that their Governor enjoys his own enjoyments, that is, when drunk, enjoying his guests, and when sober, enjoying writing down his prose. This is the type of Governor he is! And who is he? Ouyang Xiu, a Luling dweller!

（徐英才 译）