君不学白公引泾东注渭,五斗黄泥一钟水。
又不学哥舒横行西海头,归来羯鼓打凉州。
但向空山石壁下,爱此有声无用之清流。
流泉无弦石无窍,强名水乐人人笑。
惯见山僧已厌听,多情海月空留照。
洞庭不复来轩辕,至今鱼龙舞钧天。
闻道磬襄东入海,遗声恐在海山间。
锵然涧谷含宫征,节奏未成君独喜。
不须写入薰风弦,纵有此声无此耳。
君不学白公引泾东注渭,五斗黄泥一钟水。
又不学哥舒横行西海头,归来羯鼓打凉州。
但向空山石壁下,爱此有声无用之清流。
流泉无弦石无窍,强名水乐人人笑。
惯见山僧已厌听,多情海月空留照。
洞庭不复来轩辕,至今鱼龙舞钧天。
闻道磬襄东入海,遗声恐在海山间。
锵然涧谷含宫征,节奏未成君独喜。
不须写入薰风弦,纵有此声无此耳。
你不学白公引泾水东注渭河,
五斗黄泥才换来一钟清水。
又不学哥舒翰横行西海之滨,
归来后击打羯鼓于凉州。
只向着空山石壁之下,
偏爱这有声却无用的清流。
流泉没有琴弦,岩石没有孔窍,
勉强称作“水乐”,惹人发笑。
山僧早已听惯,感到厌烦;
多情的海月空自留下清辉照耀。
洞庭湖不再迎来轩辕黄帝,
至今鱼龙仍随钧天乐舞动。
听说磬襄的乐声东流入海,
遗音恐怕就留在海山之间。
涧谷锵然鸣响,蕴含宫徵音律,
节奏虽未成曲,你却独自欣喜。
不必谱入和风般的琴弦,
纵有这般声响,也无知音之耳。
You won't learn from Bai Gong, who channeled the Jing east to feed the Wei,
Five pecks of yellow mud for a single bell of water.
Nor will you learn from Geshu, who roamed the Western Sea's edge,
Returning to beat the Jie drum in Liangzhou's cool breeze.
Instead, you seek the stone cliffs of this empty mountain,
Loving this clear stream that sings yet serves no use.
The spring flows without strings, the rocks have no holes,
Yet you force the name 'Water Music,' drawing everyone's laughter.
The mountain monks, long used to it, have grown weary of its sound;
The sentimental sea-moon lingers, shining in vain.
The Dongting Lake no longer welcomes the Yellow Emperor's chariot,
Yet fish and dragons still dance to heavenly music till today.
They say Qing Xiang's stone chimes sank east into the sea—
Their echoes are lost between the ocean and the hills.
The valley streams ring out with royal notes and scales,
Though rhythm is unfinished, you alone delight.
No need to write this into the zephyr's strings—
Even with such music, there's no ear to hear.
反思水利治理中人力与自然规律的互动关系。
借引水工程对比,阐发对自然之趣与人工巧拙的思考。
本诗为七言古诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理