归有光•《项脊轩志》英译
2011-08-20 01:31阅读：
归有光•《项脊轩志》英译
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。
然余居于此，多可喜，亦多可悲。先是庭中通南北为一。迨诸父异爨，内外多置小门，墙往往而是。东犬西吠，客逾庖而宴，鸡栖于厅。庭中始为篱，已为墙，凡再变矣。家有老妪，尝居于此。妪，先大母婢也，乳二世，先妣抚之甚厚。室西连于中闺，先妣尝一至。妪每谓余曰：“某所，而母立于兹。”妪又曰：“汝姊在吾怀，呱呱而泣；娘以指叩门扉曰：‘儿寒乎？欲食乎？’吾从板外相为应答。”语未毕，余泣，妪亦泣。余自束发读书轩中，一日，大母过余曰：“吾儿，久
不见若影，何竟日默默在此，大类女郎也？”比去，以手阖门，自语曰：“吾家读书久不效，儿之成，则可待乎！”顷之，持一象笏至，曰：“此吾祖太常公宣德间执此以朝，他日汝当用之！”瞻顾遗迹，如在昨日，令人长号不自禁。
轩东，故尝为厨；人往，从轩前过。余扃牖而居，久之，能以足音辨人。轩凡四遭火，得不焚，殆有神护者。
项脊生曰：“蜀清守丹穴，利甲天下，其后秦皇帝筑女怀清台；刘玄德与曹操争天下，诸葛孔明起陇中。方二人之昧昧于一隅也，世何足以知之？余区区处败屋中，方扬眉瞬目，谓有奇景。人知之者，其谓与坎井之蛙何异？”
余既为此志，后五年，吾妻来归。时至轩中，从余问古事，或凭几学书。吾妻归宁，述诸小妹语曰：“闻姊家有阁子，且何谓阁子也？”其后六年，吾妻死，室坏不修。其后二年，余久卧病无聊，乃使人复葺南阁子，其制稍异于前。然自后余多在外，不常居。
庭有枇杷树，吾妻死之年所手植也，今已亭亭如盖矣。
——选自《四部备要》本《震川先生集》
The Nape
Gui Youguang
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 bamboos, 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 approach 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.
For me this place has happy
occasions as well as sad ones. The north and south buildings were
formerly connected, but my uncles divided up the house, adding
various small walls and doors here and there, so that a dog on the
east side barks at the west side, to enter the dining-room guests
have to pass the kitchen, and hens roost in the hall. First fences
were built in the courtyard, later walls, renovated more than once.
An old family maid used to stay in this little chamber. Because she
had been my grandmother's maid and nurse in our house for two
generations, my mother showed her special consideration. Her
chamber opened into the inner apartments and my mother sometimes
visited her there. This old nurse told me where my mother had
stood, recalling, “When your elder sister was crying in my lap,
your mother would tap on the door and ask, 'Is the child cold? Does
she want to be fed?' And I would answer through the wooden door.”
Before she finished my eyes were wet, and hers, too.
One day, after I have bound up
my hair and started studying in this chamber, my grandmother came
in to me and said, “Child, I haven't seen so much as your shadow
for days. Why shut yourself up here all the time, quiet as a girl?”
On leaving, as she closed the door she mused, “The men of our
family have studied all these years without success, but perhaps
this child will get somewhere.” So she came back with an ivory
tablet and told me, “My grandfather carried this tablet when he
went to court as officer of ceremony. Who knows but some day you
may use it?” It seems just like yesterday when I look at these
relics, the sight of which now sets me weeping, unable to
stop.
There used to be a kitchen east
of this chamber, and as time went by I learned to recognize the
steps of the passersby behind closed doors. Four times the place
caught fire but was never destroyed, as if under the protection of
kindly spirits.
The Master of the Nape
comments: Widow Qing of Sichuan, who kept a cinnabar mine, was the
richest women in the land — the First Emperor of Qin built a tower
to commemorate her. When Liu Bei and Cao Cao were contesting for
power, Zhuge Liang arose in Longzhong. Yet while the widow and the
wise man were staying quietly in their different corners, the world
knew nothing of them. My content in this shabby room, where I hold
forth with dancing eyebrows and sparkling eyes on the wonders
around me, must remind those who know me of the proverbial frog in
the well. That is why I have made this record.
Five years later, my wife came
to our house. She often slipped into this chamber to ask about
bygone days or practise her writing at my desk. Returning from a
visit to her family, she told me her younger sister wanted to know,
“What is that passageway we hear your house has?” Six years later
my wife died, I let the place go to ruin. After another two years,
lying ill for months with nothing much to do, I got men to rebuild
this south passageway with some slight changes. But since then my
frequent absences from home have rarely allowed me to stay here.
The loquat tree which I planted in the courtyard the year that my
wife died has grown up now to give
shade.（杨宪益、戴乃迭译）
Xiangjixuan
Gui Youguang
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.When the sun was reflected from the wall, the room
brightened up. I planted orchids, laurels, bamboos and trees about
and, therefore, the old railings looked brighter with colors. The
bookself was filled with books on loan. I read and chanted aloud,
beating time by swaying back 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. I lived in this room, happy in some ways and
sad in others.
Previously
the courtyard was all the way through from south to north. When my
uncles began to live separately, they put up low walls here and
there with small doors in them. Dogs in the east barked toward the
west. Guests had to go through the kitchen to wine and dine.
Sometimes chichens roosted in the hall. The courtyard was first
partitioned by fences and later by walls. Such changes had taken
place several times.
We had an
old maid who once lived in this room. She was the maid of my late
grandma. She had nursed two generations of my family. My late
mother had been very kind to her. The room was connected with my
mother's bedroom on the west and she once came over. 'That's where
your mum stood when she came,' she would tell me. 'I was holding
your elder sister in my arms when she cried. Your mum tapped on the
door with her fingers, asking:'Is the child cold or is she
hungry?'I answered her from this side…' Before she was finished I
wept and so did she.
Since I
was fifteen I had been reading in this study. One day Grandma came
and said:'I haven't seen you for ages, my child. Why do you shut
youself up in here like a girl?' When she left she closed the door
behind her, mumbling to herself:'Since long none of my family have
got anywhere with their studies. Hopefully, this child will be of
some promise. ' In a few moments she returned with an ivory tablet
in her hand, saying:'This is the tablet with which my grandfather
Duke Taichang attended court sessions during the years of Xuande.
You may have use for it some day.' Looking at it today I felt as if
it had occured just the day before. I couldn't help bursting into
tears.
On the
east of my study there used to be the kitchen. To get to the
kitchen one had to pass my study. Though I lived in it with the
windows closed, gradually I learned to tell by the tread who was
passing by. The room got fired for several times,but it didn't
break down.Maybe it had been protected by gods.
The
occupant of Xiangjixuan comments: Window Qing of Sichuan made so
much profits from her mining of cinnabar that she topped the whole
country and the Emperor of the Qin Dynasty built a terrace in her
honor. When Liu Bei and Cao Cao were fighting each other for the
rule of China, Zhuge Liang emerged from Longzhong. When Widow Qing
and Zhuge Liang lived in obscurity in far-off corners, how did they
become know to the outside world? This humble man is now living in
this shabby room, but when I raised my brows and look up, I claim
to see magnificent prospects in it. People who get to know about it
will think I am no more than a frog at the bottom of the
well.
Five years
after I wrote the above article, I got married. My wife often came
to my study, asking about things of old or learning calligraphy at
my desk. When she returned from her visit to her parents she told
me what her sisters had asked:'We hear there is a chamber in your
home, but what is a chamber really?' Six years later my wife died.
The condition of the room worsened and I left it as it was. Another
two years later I fell ill and was laid up in bed for a long time.
Feeling bored, I had South Chamber renovated and it looked a bit
different from before. Since then I had been away from home most of
the time and seldom lived in it.
In the
courtyard there was the loquat my wife planted the year she died.
It stood there with graceful poise, its top spread out with
exuberant foliage.（刘士聪 译）
