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七言古詩 韓愈 山石
山石犖确行徑微, 黃昏到寺蝙蝠飛。
升堂坐階新雨足, 芭蕉葉大梔子肥。
僧言古壁佛畫好, 以火來照所見稀。
鋪床拂席置羹飯, 疏糲亦足飽我飢。
夜深靜臥百蟲絕, 清月出嶺光入扉。
天明獨去無道路, 出入高下窮煙霏。
山紅澗碧紛爛漫, 時見松櫪皆十圍。
當流赤足蹋澗石, 水聲激激風吹衣。
人生如此自可樂, 豈必局束為人鞿?
嗟哉吾黨二三子, 安得至老不更歸?
升堂坐階新雨足, 芭蕉葉大梔子肥。
僧言古壁佛畫好, 以火來照所見稀。
鋪床拂席置羹飯, 疏糲亦足飽我飢。
夜深靜臥百蟲絕, 清月出嶺光入扉。
天明獨去無道路, 出入高下窮煙霏。
山紅澗碧紛爛漫, 時見松櫪皆十圍。
當流赤足蹋澗石, 水聲激激風吹衣。
人生如此自可樂, 豈必局束為人鞿?
嗟哉吾黨二三子, 安得至老不更歸?
Seven-character-ancient-verse
Han Yu
MOUNTAIN-STONES
Rough were the mountain-stones, and the path very narrow;
And when I reached the temple, bats were in the dusk.
I climbed to the hall, sat on the steps, and drank the rain- washed air
Among the round gardenia-pods and huge bananaleaves.
On the old wall, said the priest, were Buddhas finely painted,
And he brought a light and showed me, and I called them wonderful
He spread the bed, dusted the mats, and made my supper ready,
And, though the food was coarse, it satisfied my hunger.
At midnight, while I lay there not hearing even an insect,
The mountain moon with her pure light entered my door....
At dawn I left the mountain and, alone, lost my way:
In and out, up and down, while a heavy mist
Made brook and mountain green and purple, brightening everything.
I am passing sometimes pines and oaks, which ten men could not girdle,
I am treading pebbles barefoot in swift-running water --
Its ripples purify my ear, while a soft wind blows my garments....
These are the things which, in themselves, make life happy.
Why should we be hemmed about and hampered with people?
O chosen pupils, far behind me in my own country,
What if I spent my old age here and never went back home?
And when I reached the temple, bats were in the dusk.
I climbed to the hall, sat on the steps, and drank the rain- washed air
Among the round gardenia-pods and huge bananaleaves.
On the old wall, said the priest, were Buddhas finely painted,
And he brought a light and showed me, and I called them wonderful
He spread the bed, dusted the mats, and made my supper ready,
And, though the food was coarse, it satisfied my hunger.
At midnight, while I lay there not hearing even an insect,
The mountain moon with her pure light entered my door....
At dawn I left the mountain and, alone, lost my way:
In and out, up and down, while a heavy mist
Made brook and mountain green and purple, brightening everything.
I am passing sometimes pines and oaks, which ten men could not girdle,
I am treading pebbles barefoot in swift-running water --
Its ripples purify my ear, while a soft wind blows my garments....
These are the things which, in themselves, make life happy.
Why should we be hemmed about and hampered with people?
O chosen pupils, far behind me in my own country,
What if I spent my old age here and never went back home?
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