（原文略）
译文四Moonlight over the Lotus Pond
李 明 译
These days have found me quite in turmoil. Tonight as [ was sitting in my yard enjoying the cool. I suddenly thought of the lotus pond I pass by every day: on such a fully-moonlit night, it must assume a different outlook.
As ,the moon was rising higher and higher up in the sky, the laughter of children playing had died away from the alleys beyond our wall. Inside our home, my wife was patting om son--Ran' er, sleepily humming a cradle song. And quite quietly, I put on my long gown, left the door on me latch and made my way towards the pond.
Along the pond winds a narrow cinder footpath. The footpath, peaceful and secluded, is not much frequented by pedestrians in the daytime and at night, it is even more solitary. Around the pond grows s huge profusion of trees, exuber- ant and luxuriant. On one side of the path are willows and some other trees whose names are unknown to me. On a moonless night, it is somewhat somber here, looking rather forbidding. But it has a cheerful outlook tonight, though the moonlight is in a thin, whitish veil.
Strolling along the path I am, all alone, with my hands behind my back. I seem to have this bit of the universe all in my possession. What's more, it seems that I have overreached my usual self to such an extent as to have entered another world. I enjoy a tranquil life as well as a bustling one; I enjoy being in solitude as well as being in company. On such a night as this, bathing in the mist-like moonlight, I can think of anything or nothing, which makes me feel that I have complete freedom. Also, all that I have to do, or to say, in the daytime, can be totally cast aside at the moment. This is the best feeling that I have when being alone. And I can now immerse myself fully in this profusion of moonlight and flagrance
All over the pond with its winding margin what meeta the eye was a field trim leaves. The leaves rise high out of the water, looking like the flared skirts of fair lasses dancing gracefully. Upon layers of leaves are dotted with white lotus flowers, some blooming gracefully while others budding bashfully. They are just like pearls shining bright, or stars twinkling high in an azure sky. They are also like fair ladies coming fresh out of a bath. When a breeze passes, it wafts breaths of fragrance, which are like faint singing drifting from a far-away building. Instantly, a slight tremble thrills through the leaves and flowers,like a streak of lightning, flashing across the whole field. And the leaves, which have been jostling and overlapping, are caught trambling in an emerald heave of the pond. Underneath the leaves is the rippling water, which is hidden from view and whose color can not be seen.But the leaves project themselves all the more enchantingly.
The moonlight, like a casade was flowing dawn quietly to the leaves and flowers and a light blue mist shrouded the pond, which made the leaves and flowers look like being washed in milk or being caught in a gauzy dream. Though there was a full moon tonight, as the sky was covered with a veil of thin clouds, it could not shed its brightest brilliance. But to me, it was the moment of perfecfion--a sound sleep is certainly necessary, but a nap also has its own flavor. As the moon shed its light from behind the trees, the dense shrubs high above cast down checkered shadows which looked gloomy and ghost-like. But the sparsely-mapped beautiful shadows of the weeping willows looked as if they were paitned on the lotus leaves. The moonlight was not evenly distributed over the pond but there was a harmonious combination of light and shade, which was rhythmic as a famous melody played on a violin.
Around the lotus pond could be seen seen trees here and there, anywhere andeverywhere, most of them willows. These trees had the pond entirely enveloped, with only a few small clearings left on one side of the path, as if purposefully reserved for the moon to shed light. The trees were all enshrouded in such heavy gloom that they looked like a heavy mass of mist at first sight, but the charm of the willows could still be prominently discernible. Above the treetops loomed faintly distant hills--their shapes were rather sketchy, though, through the branches could be seen some light from a couple of stree-lamps, which was as tality at the moment, however, were the cicadas that were chirping on the trees and the flogs that were croaking in the water. But this vitality belongs to them; I have nothing in my possession.
Then I was suddenly reminded of the lotus-seed plucking, which was an old custom in areas south of the Changjiang River. The custom, as can be seen from clues in some poettar, could be dated far back in history but was tile most preva- lent during Ihe Six Dynasties Period. It was the young girls who went plucking lotus seeds in a boat with the singing of love songs. There were douhtlessly a huge number of them doing the plucking apart from those who were watching. That was a busy season, full of vitality as well as of romance. About that, a de scliption was brilliantly made in "Lotus-seed Plucking" written by Emperor Yuan of the Liang Dynasty: Charnming boys and fair maidens Row their boats in mutual understantings They veer their prows slowly, But pass the wine cups swiftly; When they pull the oars, They are easily caught in algae; When they row their boats, The duckweed apart floats; The maidens with slender waists Are girdled with plain silk And turn round watchfully and with grace. It is late spring and early summer When leaves are tender green and flowers blooming They giggle for fear of wetting their silk, They draw in their skirts lest the boats tilt. It can be seen that they had a merry life then. It must have been a very, fas- ing life, but unfortunately we have long been denied the chance to enjoy it. And then I could recall several lines from the Ballad of the West Islet: In autumn I pluck lotus seeds in the South Pond With lotus flowers high above my head. Lowering my head, I pluck lotus seeds Which are as green as the water underneath.
If there were someone plucking lotus seeds tonight, the lotus flowers would certainly be higher above their heads. But it was a pity that the rippling water Changjiang River.--Deep in such thoughts, I suddenly looked up, only to find myself at the door of my house. I gently pushed the door in, with quietness all around me. My wife had long fallen fast asleep.