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诗苑｜毛泽东《七律二首·送瘟神》（多版英译）
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编者按
七律二首·送瘟神
毛泽东
一九五八年七月一日
读六月三十日《人民日报》，余江县消灭了血吸虫。浮想联翩，夜不能寐。微风拂煦，旭日临窗。遥望南天，欣然命笔。
其一
绿水青山枉自多，
华佗无奈小虫何！
千村薜荔人遗矢，
万户萧疏鬼唱歌。
坐地日行八万里，
巡天遥看一千河。
牛郎欲问瘟神事，
一样悲欢逐逝波。
其二
春风杨柳万千条，
六亿神州尽舜尧。
红雨随心翻作浪，
青山着意化为桥。
天连五岭银锄落，
地动三河铁臂摇。
借问瘟君欲何往，
纸船明烛照天烧。
【朗读：中国石油大学（北京） 谭怡敏、刘柳；中央民族大学 李玲】
译本一
许渊冲 译
Get Away, Pest!July 1, 1958
When I read in The People's Daily of June 30, 1958 that schistosomiasis had been wiped out in Yujiang County, thoughts thronged my mind and I could not sleep. In the warm morning breeze next day, as sunlight falls on my window, I look towards the distant southern sky and in my happiness pen the following lines.
ITo what avail were all these streams green and hills blue?A little germ defied the best physician's skill.Hundreds of hamlets saw men waste where weeds overgrew;Thousands of dreary homes heard vampires sing their fill.Riding the earth, one goes eight myriad li a day;Ranging the sky, one sees Milky Ways from afar.If the Cowherd inquired about the Plague God, say:“His joy is washed away just as our sorrows are.”
IIThe vernal wind awakens myriads of willows;Six hundred million are masters of wisest sort.Crimson rain, as we wish, turns into fertile billows;Green mountains, if we will, to bridges give support.On five sky-scraping Ridges fell our mattocks silver-bright;O'er the land with three streams our iron arms hold sway.May we ask the Plague God whither he would take flight?Burn paper boats with tapers to light his skyward way!They were boiling beans on a beanstalk fire;Came a plaintive voice from the pot,"O why, since we sprang from the selfsame root,Should you kill me with anger hot?"
译本二
黄龙 译
A SEND -OFF TO PLAGUE— two pieces of verses of eight seven-character linesJuly 1,1958
Upon my reading in the Renmin Ribao of June 30,1958 about the extinction schistosomiasis at Yujiang County, high frequency of winged thoughts on the news haunted my mind, keeping me wide awake throughout the night. The zephyr whiffles warmth and mom sunbeams revisit the window. Gazing toward the distant southern sky, I am ready to pen the following lines.
ⅠGreen waters and blue hills, however numerous, were insignificant;Confronting these tiny vermin, even Hua Tuo was impotent.Hundreds of villages overrun with Ficus pumila, the diarrhea sufferers wasted away;Myriad households thinned out, ghosts chanting with delight.Seated on the earth, I cover eight-myriad li per day;In touring the sky a thousand galaxies loom from afar into my sight.Would you inquire, Altair, about how Plague behaves?Similar joys and sorrows evanesced as usual with the elapse of tide waves.
ⅡThousands of poplar and willow wands dance on the vernal breezes;In this Sacred Land six hundred million match Shun and Yao, cach and all.The crimson shower swirls, pouring down into waves as the populace pleases;Green hills readily turn into bridges at our bidding and call.On the heaven-kissing Five Ridges fall the mattock of silver；And iron arms move Triple Rivers, throwing the earth into a quiver.“Whither Plague?” asked I,Paper barges ablaze and bright candles aflame illume the sky.
译本三
辜正坤 译
FAREWELL TO THE COD OF PLAGUETo the tune of Lü Shi (two poems)
After reading through the People's Daily of June 30, 1958, which said in Yujang County schistosomiasis had been completely wiped out, I could not sleep well at night with thoughts thronging my mind. Then in next morning as sunlight penetrates into my window, amid the warm breeze, I, looking the distant sky, pen the following lines with great pleasure.
ⅠWhat's the use of so many green and blue streams and hills?When even Hua Tuo could do nothing about this tiny creature of ills?Thousands of villages choked with weeds, men were sick in despair,Ten thousand homes deserted; ghosts howled everywhere.Sitting still on the earth is travelling eighty thousand li a day,Touring the heaven I command a distant view of many a Milky Way.If, of the God of Plague, the Cowherd asks about the plague's crime,Say griefs and happiness all gone with the passage of time.
ⅡThe spring breeze caresses thousands of willow wands and boughs,Millions of people in this Divine Land are all Shon’s and Yao's.At our will swirling into waves is red and flowery rain,To our taste turning into bridges is the green mountain chain.Shiny hoes are wielded on the Five Ridges towering into the skies,Iron arms move, the Three Rivers area are shaking in surprise.Now, the God of Plague, we ask, where are you bound anon?Burning candles and paper boats to the sky we'll get you gone.
南京农业大学 英语182班实习生巴里恒、徐千芝、张颖 收集整理