傅正明中國古典詩詞英譯選2

 

孟郊·《遊子吟》傅正明英譯

 

Song of A Traveling Son

by Meng Jiao

 

A needle between a loving mother’s fingers

Turns to the clothe of her son before his journey.

The sewing thread moves into dense and denser

For worrying about his return will be late and later.

How can the heart of an inch-sized grass repay

The brightness of the spring sun’s mercy?

tr. by Zhengming Fu

 

附錄

孟郊·《遊子吟》英譯

2013-9-15 12:36| 發布者: patrick| 查看: 6418| 評論: 0|來自: 英文巴士

 

摘要: 龔景浩等；孫大雨；任治稷、餘正；張廷琛、魏博思；許淵衝；徐忠傑；唐一鶴；劉國善、王治江、徐樹娟 等；Robert Kotewell & Norman Smith 譯

 

 

慈母手中線，遊子身上衣。 臨行密密縫，意恐遲遲歸。 誰言寸草心，報得三春暉。   For Her Son Who’ll Be Away for a While Meng Jiao   Needle and thread in doting mother’s hand Turn out garments for her son out to roam the land. She puts in more stitches e’en as he leaves And frets that his homecoming may be moved back. Who says the tiny inch-tall blade of grass Can e’er repay the warm sunshine of spring?   （龔景浩 譯）   The Wandering Son’s Song   The thread from my dear mother’s hand Was sewn in the clothes of her wandering son. For fear of my belated return, Before my leave they were closely woven. Who says mine heart like a blade of grass Could repay her love’s gentle beams of spring sun?   （孫大雨 譯）   Chant of a Roaming Son   The thread in the mother’s hand, The clothes worn by the wanderlust son. The nearer the departure, The closer the stitches sown, Lest his return be further postponed. Who said the grass blade of a heart Could repay the glory of the late spring sun?   （任治稷、餘正 譯）   A Journeyer’s Song   Through a kind mother’s hands passed the thread That made the clothes I journeying wear. Tightly tightly she wove them then, Dreading year after year of no return. Can the young grass ever repay The spring sun’s kindly rays?   （張廷琛、魏博思 譯）   Song of the Parting Son   From the threads a mother’s hands weaves, A gown for parting son is made. Sown stitch by stitch before he leaves, For fear his return be delayed. Such kindness as young grass receives From the warm sun can’t be repaid.   （許淵衝 譯）   A Roamer’s Song   My benevolent mother — With thread and needle in hand, Mends the garment I have on, Ere I leave my native land.   More stitches, ere I take leave, To hold the seams firm and fast. As itinerant worker, To come home I’d be the last.   With what can I repay Ma? Whatever others may say, For what she has done for me, Her, I can never repay.   （徐忠傑 譯）