红楼梦之好了歌

个人随笔 Alan 11年前 (2013-01-06) 8700次浏览 0个评论 扫描二维码

红楼梦无疑是一本伟大的名著,对于此书虽然Alan不过是浅尝辄止,但也有留下深刻印象的段子。让我印象最为深刻的除了那句“假作真时真亦假,无为有时有还无”外,我想就是第一回中的“好了歌”了。下面就帖这首“好了歌”以及书中甄士隐关于此歌注解的原文及杨宪益、戴乃迭和霍克斯相应段落的译本:

世人都晓神仙好,惟有功名忘不了。

古今将相在何方?荒冢一堆草没了。

世人都晓神仙好,只有金银忘不了。

终朝只恨聚无多,及到多时眼闭了。

世人都晓神仙好,只有姣妻忘不了。

君生日日说恩情,君死又随人去了。

世人都晓神仙好,只有儿孙忘不了。

痴心父母古来多,孝顺儿孙谁见了?

杨宪益、戴乃迭译:

All men long to be immortals

Yet to riches and rank each aspires;

The great ones of old, where are they now?

Their graves are a mass of briars.

All men long to be immortals,

Yet silver and gold they prize

And grub for money all their lives

Till death seals up their eyes.

All men long to be immortals

Yet dote on the wives they’ve wed,

Who swear to love their husband evermore

But remarry as soon as he’s dead.

All men long to be immortals

Yet with getting sons won’t have done.

Although fond parents are legion,

Who ever saw a really filial son?”

 

霍克斯译

‘Men all know that salvation should be won,

But with ambition won’t have done, have done.

Where are the famous ones of days gone by?

In grassygraves they lie now, every one.

Men all know that salvation should be won,

But with their riches won’t have done, have done.

Each day they grumble they’ve not made enough.

When they’ve enough, it’s goodnight everyone

Men all know that salvation should be won,

But with their loving wives they won’t have done.

The darlings every day protest their love:

But once you’re dead, they’re off with another one.

Men all know that salvation should be won,

But with their children won’t have done, have done.

Yet though of parents fond there is no lack,

Of grateful children saw I ne’er a one.’

 

陋室空堂,当年笏满床,衰草枯杨,曾为歌舞场。蛛丝儿结满雕梁,绿纱今又糊在 蓬窗上。说什么脂正浓,粉正香,如何两鬓又成霜?昨日黄土陇头送白骨,今宵红灯帐底卧鸳鸯。金满箱,银满箱,展眼乞丐人皆谤。正叹他人命不长,那知自己归来丧!训有方,保不定日后作强梁。择膏粱,谁承望流落在烟花巷!因嫌纱帽小,致使锁枷杠,昨怜破袄寒,今嫌紫蟒长:乱烘烘你方唱罢我登场,反认他乡是故乡。甚荒唐,到头来都是为他人作嫁衣裳!

杨宪益、戴乃迭译:

“Mean huts and empty halls

Where emblems of nobility once hung;

Dead weeds and withered trees,

Where men have once danced and sung.

Carved beams are swathed in cobwebs

But briar-choked casements screened again with gauze;

While yet the rouge is fresh, the powder fragrant,

The hair at the temples turns hoary for what cause?

Yesterday, yellow clay received white bones;

Today,redlanterns light the love-birds’ nest;

While men with gold and silver by the chest

Turn beggars, scorned by all the dispossessed.

A life cut short one moment makes one sight,

Who would have known it’s her turn next to die?

No matter with what pains he schools his sons.

Who knows if they will turn to brigandry?

A pampered girl brought up in luxury

May slip into a quarter of ill fame;

Resentment at a low official rank

May lead to fetters and a felon’s shame.

In ragged coat one shivered yesterday,

Today a purple robe he frowns upon;

All’s strife and tumult on the stage,

As one man ends his song the next comes on.

To take strange parts as home

Is folly past compare;

And all our labour in the end

Is making clothes for someone else to wear.”

 

霍克斯译本:

Mean hovels and abandoned halls

Where courtiers once paid daily calls:

Bleak haunts where weeds and willows scarcely thrive

Were once with mirth and revelry alive.

Whilst cobwebs shroud the mansion’s gilded beams,

The cottage casement with choice muslin gleams.

Would you of perfumed elegance recite?

Even as you speak, the raven locks turn white.

Who yesterday her lord’s bones laid in clay,

On silken bridal-bed shall lie today.

Coffers with gold and silver filled:

Now, in a trice, a tramp by all reviled.

One at some other’s short life gives a sigh,

Not knowing that he, too, goes home—to die!

The sheltered and well-educated lad,

In spite of all your care, may turn out bad;

 

And the delicate, fastidious maid

End in a foul stews, plying a shameful trade.

The judge whose hat is too small for his head

Wears, in the end, a convict’s cangue instead.

Who shivering once in rags bemoaned his fate,

Today finds fault with scarlet robes of state.

In such commotion does the world’s theatre rage:

As each one leaves, another takes the stage.

In vain we roam:

Each in the end must call a strange land home.

Each of us with that poor girl may compare

Who sews a wedding-gown for another bride to wear.’

 

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