碑存溪石高嵯峨,汉字漫灭新镌讹,台非旧筑行人过。
赤帝当年布衣起,老妪悲啼白龙死,芒砀生云凝夜紫。
一朝花发咸阳春,老剑磨血消京尘,归来故里天上人。
千古斜阳愁色里,草没荒城狐掉尾,不信英雄化为鬼。
碑存溪石高嵯峨,汉字漫灭新镌讹,台非旧筑行人过。
赤帝当年布衣起,老妪悲啼白龙死,芒砀生云凝夜紫。
一朝花发咸阳春,老剑磨血消京尘,归来故里天上人。
千古斜阳愁色里,草没荒城狐掉尾,不信英雄化为鬼。
石碑矗立在溪边岩石上,高大而险峻,
汉代的字迹已漫漶不清,新刻的又有了讹误,
这高台已非旧时建筑,只有行人从此经过。
赤帝当年以一介布衣起事,
老妇人曾为之悲啼,白龙也已死去,
芒山与砀山云雾滋生,在夜色中凝成一片紫气。
一朝咸阳春来,百花盛开,
磨砺过的旧剑沾着血,扫清了京城的尘埃,
功成归来故里,他已如天上之人。
千古以来,斜阳都沉浸在愁绪的颜色里,
荒草淹没了废弃的城池,狐狸甩动着尾巴,
我不信英雄会就此化为鬼魂。
The stele stands tall by the stream, rugged and high,
The Han inscription, worn and blurred, now bears a new, flawed lie,
The terrace, not the old structure, sees passersby.
The Red Emperor rose from common cloth in days of yore,
An old woman wailed, the white dragon was no more,
Over Mang and Dang, clouds gather, night's purple they pour.
One spring day, flowers bloomed in Xianyang, fair and bright,
An old sword, blood-whetted, swept the capital's dust from sight,
He returned to his homeland, a man from heaven's height.
Through ages, the slanting sun sets in a hue of sorrow,
Grass buries the ruined town, foxes flick their tails in the morrow,
Who'd believe a hero could turn into a ghost, hollow?
物质遗迹的漫灭揭示了历史记忆在时间周期中的脆弱性。
通过歌风台古迹的残破与变迁,寄托历史兴衰与人事代谢的深沉感喟。
本诗为七言古诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理