孤桐饱秋风,响作霜天鸿。
手翻九嶷色,下堕潇湘中。
谁言一寸路,不成西与东。
谁言少年时,不成衰老翁。
欲使胶漆意,通君山水衷。
尝恐金石奏,复为郑卫工。
所悲百年内,徒然羡华嵩。
华嵩有终极,愁泪终难穷。
愁泪一入地,春风无碧丛。
孤桐饱秋风,响作霜天鸿。
手翻九嶷色,下堕潇湘中。
谁言一寸路,不成西与东。
谁言少年时,不成衰老翁。
欲使胶漆意,通君山水衷。
尝恐金石奏,复为郑卫工。
所悲百年内,徒然羡华嵩。
华嵩有终极,愁泪终难穷。
愁泪一入地,春风无碧丛。
孤独的梧桐树饱受秋风吹拂,
声响如同霜天里的大雁哀鸣。
我手中翻动着九嶷山的色彩,
任其坠落在潇湘的流水之中。
谁说短短一寸的道路,
不能分隔西方与东方?
谁说少年的时光,
不会变成衰老的老翁?
我想让如胶似漆的情意,
穿越山水,通达你的内心。
却常常担心那金石般高雅的乐曲,
又会沦为庸俗的郑卫之音。
我所悲叹的是在这百年之内,
只能徒然羡慕华山与嵩山的永恒。
然而华山与嵩山也有终极之时,
我的愁苦泪水却终究难以穷尽。
愁苦的泪水一旦渗入大地,
春风便再也吹不出碧绿的丛林。
A lone tung tree, fed by the autumn wind,
Sings like a swan goose in the frosty sky.
My hands turn over the hues of Jiuyi Mountain,
Letting them fall into the Xiao-Xiang waters nigh.
Who says a distance of one inch,
Cannot separate the west from east?
Who says the time of youth,
Cannot turn into an old man, deceased?
I wish our bond, like glue and lacquer firm,
Could reach your heart through mountains and streams.
Yet I fear the music, once of metal and stone,
Might become a vulgar tune, or so it seems.
What saddens me within this hundred-year span,
Is vainly envying the Hua and Song peaks' stand.
But even Hua and Song have their end,
While my sorrowful tears seem to have no last strand.
Once these sorrowful tears sink into the earth,
The spring wind will find no green grove for its mirth.
孤桐作响是对个体认同的孤独追寻。
孤桐秋风中鸣响,如霜天鸿雁哀声。
本诗为五言古诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理