這是一個 10% 的口頭報告，大一的 Yu-chen 自己翻譯了黛玉的〈葬花詞〉，做了十二金釵，把我的書桌裝飾得美美的.....
The song of burying the flowers Translated by Jane Wu
The flowers wilt, fly and fill the air. Who would sympathize flowers without colorfulness and fragrance? Thrums float in the pavilion in spring. Fallen fluffy petals lightly touch the embroidered curtain. I pity the spring that goes toward the end. A gloomy mood overflows my heart and can’t be set free. I go out of my room with a hoe, unwillingly stepping on the fallen flowers to go there and back. No matter how beautifully the peach blossoms and the plum flowers fly, willow thrums and elms have their own beauty. Wilted flowers of peach and plum will blossom again. Who will be in the bedroom next year? The nest has been accomplished in March. The swallows on the roof beam are so heartless. Although they can eat the flowers next year, they don’t know that nest can lean like an empty house after everybody leaves. Three hundred and sixty days a year, strong winds like a knife and chilly frosts like a sword seriously draw near me. How long can a flower keep beautiful and magnificent? It will wander some day, hard to be found. It’s easy to see a flower blossom while it’s hard to find it after it falls. The person who buries the flowers is depressed in front of the steps. I lean the hoe and burst into tears—lonely me. The tears spill on the branch to be seen like blood marks. Cuckoos don’t call just in the evening. I go back and close the door. I just sleep when the dawn is coming, Chilly rains knock the window and the quilt is still cold. It deep strikes my spirit to blame you. It’s half for pity the spring and half for angering at it. The feeling of pity suddenly comes and suddenly goes away. I have nothing to say about its coming and don’t hear when it goes away. I sang a sad song outside the yard last night. Is it the spirit of flowers or birds? Both of them are hard to leave. Birds are silent and flowers are shy. I hope I can grow wings, following the flowers to fly to the end of the sky. In the end of the sky, where is the grave? I gather the gorgeous bones in the bag. Clean soils cover their beauty. They come with pure nature and also should cleanly go away. Today, you died and I bury you. I don’t know when I will be buried? Now, people laugh at me for being the one who buries the flowers, who will bury me in the future? Try to see the flowers get falling in the declining spring. It’s the time that I’m old and about to die. When the spring past and I am old, nobody knows the flowers fall and I die.
葬花吟
花謝花飛飛滿天，紅消香斷有誰憐﹖
游絲軟繫飄春榭，落絮輕沾撲繡簾。
閨中女兒惜春暮，愁緒滿懷無釋處，
手把花鋤出繡閨，忍踏落花來復去。
柳絲榆莢自芳菲，不管桃飄與李飛。
桃李明年能再發，明年閨中知有誰﹖
三月香巢已壘成，梁間燕子太無情。
明年花發雖可啄，卻不道人去樑空巢也傾！
一年三百六十日，風刀霜劍嚴相逼。
明媚鮮妍能幾時，一朝飄泊難尋覓。
花開易見落難尋，階前悶殺葬花人。
獨倚花鋤淚暗洒，洒上空枝見血痕。
杜鵑無語正黃昏，荷鋤歸去掩重門。
青燈照壁人初睡，冷雨敲窗被未溫。
怪奴底事倍傷神，半為憐春半惱春：
憐春忽至惱忽去，至又無言去不聞。
昨宵庭外悲歌發，知是花魂與鳥魂﹖
花魂鳥魂總難留，鳥自無言花自羞。
願奴脅下生雙翼，隨花飛到天盡頭。
天盡頭，何處有香丘﹖
未若錦囊收艷骨，一抔淨土掩風流。
質本潔來還潔去，強於污淖陷渠溝。
爾今死去儂收葬，未卜儂身何日喪﹖
儂今葬花人笑痴，他年葬儂知是誰﹖
試看春殘花漸落，便是紅顏老死時。
一朝春盡紅顏老，花落人亡兩不知。
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