雙語詩歌翻譯|歸有光·《項(xiàng)脊軒志》

《項(xiàng)脊軒志》是明代文學(xué)家歸有光的作品。歸有光的遠(yuǎn)祖曾居住在江蘇太倉的項(xiàng)脊涇。作者把小屋命名為項(xiàng)脊軒，有紀(jì)念意義?！敝尽奔础庇洝保枪糯洈⑹挛?、抒發(fā)感情的一種文體。借記物、事來表達(dá)作者的感情。擷取日常瑣事，通過細(xì)節(jié)描寫，來抒情言志。他的風(fēng)格”不事雕琢而自有風(fēng)味”，借日常生活和家庭瑣事來表現(xiàn)母子，夫妻，兄弟之間的感情。此文是歸有光抒情散文的代表作。

歸有光 《項(xiàng)脊軒志》

項(xiàng)脊軒，舊南閣子也。室僅方丈，可容一人居。百年老屋，塵泥滲漉，雨澤下注；每移案，顧視無可置者。又北向，不能得日，日過午已昏。余稍為修葺，使不上漏。前辟四窗，垣墻周庭，以當(dāng)南日，日影反照，室始洞然。又雜植蘭桂竹木于庭，舊時(shí)欄楯，亦遂增勝。借書滿架，偃仰嘯歌，冥然兀坐，萬籟有聲；而庭階寂寂，小鳥時(shí)來啄食，人至不去。三五之夜，明月半墻，桂影斑駁，風(fēng)移影動，珊珊可愛。

然余居于此，多可喜，亦多可悲。先是庭中通南北為一。迨諸父異爨，內(nèi)外多置小門，墻往往而是。東犬西吠，客逾庖而宴，雞棲于廳。庭中始為籬，已為墻，凡再變矣。家有老嫗，嘗居于此。嫗，先大母婢也，乳二世，先妣撫之甚厚。室西連于中閨，先妣嘗一至。嫗每謂余曰：“某所，而母立于茲?！眿炗衷唬骸叭赕⒃谖釕眩蛇啥?；娘以指叩門扉曰：‘兒寒乎？欲食乎？’吾從板外相為應(yīng)答?！闭Z未畢，余泣，嫗亦泣。余自束發(fā)讀書軒中，一日，大母過余曰：“吾兒，久不見若影，何竟日默默在此，大類女郎也？”比去，以手闔門，自語曰：“吾家讀書久不效，兒之成，則可待乎！”頃之，持一象笏至，曰：“此吾祖太常公宣德間執(zhí)此以朝，他日汝當(dāng)用之！”瞻顧遺跡，如在昨日，令人長號不自禁。

軒東，故嘗為廚；人往，從軒前過。余扃牖而居，久之，能以足音辨人。軒凡四遭火，得不焚，殆有神護(hù)者。

項(xiàng)脊生曰：“蜀清守丹穴，利甲天下，其后秦皇帝筑女懷清臺；劉玄德與曹操爭天下，諸葛孔明起隴中。方二人之昧昧于一隅也，世何足以知之？余區(qū)區(qū)處敗屋中，方揚(yáng)眉瞬目，謂有奇景。人知之者，其謂與坎井之蛙何異？”

余既為此志，后五年，吾妻來歸。時(shí)至軒中，從余問古事，或憑幾學(xué)書。吾妻歸寧，述諸小妹語曰：“聞姊家有閣子，且何謂閣子也？”其后六年，吾妻死，室壞不修。其后二年，余久臥病無聊，乃使人復(fù)葺南閣子，其制稍異于前。然自后余多在外，不常居。

庭有枇杷樹，吾妻死之年所手植也，今已亭亭如蓋矣。

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.