作者:佚名
归去来兮辞英文翻译：
O Come back home! Why not go home,
Since my fields with weeds are overgrown?
My soul has become a slave of the body;
Why regret over the bygones and grieve alone?
The past errors of mine were beyond repair,
But it’s not late to check the future wrong.
I have not gone astray too far yet,
I realize today I’m right but yesterday I was wrong.
Lightly, lightly the boat drifts along,
Gently, gently the wind flaps my gown.
I try to ask the directions of a traveler,
How I hate to see the dimness before dawn!
When I catch sight of my poor cottage,
With great joy I have quickened my steps.
Bidding me welcome there is my boy-servant,
Greeting me by the gate my darling son.
Now my garden path is thick with weeds,
Standing there are still the mums and pines.
I lead the kid in by the hand,
How nice to see a pot on the table full of wine!
With the wine I help myself with a hearty drink,
Smiling, I cast a glance around the courtyard trees,
I lean on the southern window to air my pride,
This small room is cosy enough to settle down.
It’s a real joy to make my daily round in the garden,
What if no one ever knocks at my closed door?
Carrying a stick to rest and while around,
I raise my eyes and gaze into the far-off ground.
The carefree clouds idle away from the hazy peaks,
And birds, tired of flights, think of their nests,
I try to fondle the lonely pines and loiter around.
O Come back home! Let me remain alone,
To keep away from the madding crowd.
Since I can’t see things eye to eye with the world,
What’s more to seek after and drive around?
What a real joy to chat with my kinsfolk!
And while away my sorrow in music and books.
When the farmers inform me of the coming of spring,
In the western fields we will start busy ploughing.
Driving a covered cart, rowing a lonely boat;
I explore the vales through cosy paths,
I climb over the steep and rugged hills.
Trees are glowing vivid green under the sun,
Spring water’s trickling with a gurgling sound;
I see everything is fine with the cycle of seasons,
But I feel this life of mine will end its round!
Alas, enough of all this!
How long may I keep this mortal shape in this world?
Why not just let everything take its own course,
Then for what all the bustle and bustle around?
Wealth and honor are not my real ambitions,
The fairyland is beyond my expectations.
Whenever there’s a fine morning, I’ll walk alone,
Without a stick I pluck the weeds and till the ground.
Heaving a deep sigh on top of the eastern hill,
I chant my poems before a clear-flowing stream.
Let me end my life journey with nature,
What’s more to doubt about the will of Heaven?
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