《荷塘月色》英文翻译译文一（朱纯深译）（原载1927年7月10日《小说月报》第18卷第7期）Moonlight over the Lotus PondI have felt quite upset recently, Tonight, when I was sitting in the yard enjoying the cool, it occurred to me that the Lotus Pond, which I pass by everyday, must assume quite a different look in such moonlit night. A full moon was rising high in the sky; the laughter of children playing outside had died away; in the room, my wife was patting the son, Run-er, sleepily hum ming a cradle song. Shrugging on an overcoat, quietly, I made my way out, closing the door behind me.Alongside the Lotus Pond runs a small cinder footpath. It is peaceful and secluded here, a place not frequented by pedestrians even in the daytime; now at night, it looks more solitary, in a lush, shady ambience of trees all around the pond. On the side where the path is, there are willows, interlaced with some oth ers whose names I do not know. The foliage, which, in a moon- less night, would loom somewhat frighteningly dark, looks very nice tonight,although the moonlight is not more than a thin, greyish veil.I am on my own. strolling. hands behind my back. This bit of the universe seems in my possession now; and I myself seem to have been uplifted from my ordinary self into another world, I like a serene and peaceful life, as much as a busy and active one; I like being in solitude, as much as in company. As it is tonight, basking in a misty moonshine all by myself. I feel I am a free man, free to think of anything, or of nothing. All that one is obliged to do. or to say, in the daytime, can be very well cast a side now. That is the beauty of being alone. For the moment, just let me indulge in this profusion of moonlight and lotus fra- grance.All over this winding stretch of water, what meets the eye is a silken field of leaves, reaching rather high above the surface. like the skirts ef dancing girls in all their grace. Here and there, layers of leaves are dotted with white lotus blossoms, some in demure bloom, others in shy bud, like scattering pearls, or twinlking stars, our beauties just out of the bath. A breeze stirs, sending over breaths of fragrance, like faint singing drift- ing from a distant building. At this moment, a tiny thrill shoots through the leaves and flowers, like a streak of lightning, straight across thc forest of lotuses. The leaves, which have been standing shoulder to shoulder, are caught trembling in an e merald heave of the pond. Underneath, the exquisite water is covered from view. and none can tell its colour; yet the leaves on top project themselves all the more attractively. The moon sheds her liquid light silently over the leaves and flowers, which, in the floating transparency of a bluish haze from the pond, look as if they had just been bathed in milk, or like a dream wrapped in a gauzy hood. Although it is a full moon, shining through a film of clouds, the light is not at its brightest; itis, however, just right for me - a profound sleep is indispensable, yet a snatched doze also has a savour of its own. The moonlight is streaming down through the foliage, casting bushy shadows on the ground from high above, dark and check ered, like an army of ghosts; whereas the bengin figures of the drooping willows, here and there, look like paintings on the Io tus leaves. The moonlight is not spread evenly over the pond, but rather in a harmonious rhythm of light and shade, like a fa mous melody played on a violin.Around the pond, far and near, high and Iow, are trees. Most of them are willows. Only on the path side can two or three gaps be seen through the heavy fringe, as if specially re served for the moon. The shadowy shapes of the leafage at first sight seem diffused into a mass of mist, against which, however, the charm of those willow trees is still discernible. Over the trees appear some distant mountains, but merely in sketchy sil- houette. Through the branches are also a couple of lamps, as listless as sleepy eyes. The most lively creatures here, for the moment, must be the cicadas in the trees and the frogs in the pond. But the liveliness is theirs, I have nothing.Suddenly, something like lotus-gathering crosses my mind. It used to be celebrated as a folk festival in the South, probablydating very far back in history, most popular in the period of Six Dynasties. We can pick up some outlines of this activity in the poetry, It was young girls who went gathering lotuses, in sam- pans and singing love songs. Needless to say, there were a great number of them doing the gathering, apart from those who were watching. It was a lively season, brimming with vitality, and ro- mance. A brilliant description can be found in Lotus Gathenng written by the Yuan Emperor of the Liang Dynasty:So those charming youngsters row their sampans, heart buoyant with tacit love, pass to eath other cups oJ wine while their bird- shaped prows dtift around. From time to time their oars are caught in dangling algae, and duckweed float apart the moment their boats are about to move on. Their slender figures, girdled with plain silk, tread watchfully on board. This is the time when spring is growing into summer, the leaves a tender green and the flowers blooming,- among which the girls are giggling when evading an outreaching stem. their shirts tucked in for fear that the sampan might tilt.That is a glimpse of those merrymaking scenes. It must have been fascinating; but unfortunately we have long been de nied such a delight.Then I recall those lines in Ballad of Xizhou Island:Gathering the lotus, I am in the South Pond, /The lilies, in autumn,, reach over my head; /Lowering my head I toy with the lotus seed, /look, they are as fresh as the water umderneath.If there were somebody gathering lotuses tonight, she could tell that the lilies here are high enough to reach over her head; but, one would certainly miss the sight of the water. So my memories drift back to the South after all.Deep in my thoughts, I looked up, just to find myself at the door of my own house. Gently I pushed the door open and walked in. Not a sound inside, my wife had been asleep for quite a while. Qinghua Campus, BeiiingJuly, 1927朱自清：荷塘月色(The Lotus Pool By Moonlight)译文二：译者不详The last few days have found me very restless. This evening as I sat in the yard to enjoy the cool, it struck me how different the lotus pool I pass every day must look under a full moon. The moon was sailing higher and higher up the heavens, the sound of childish laughter had died away from the lane beyond our wall, and my wife was in the house patting Juner and humming a lullaby to him. I quietly slipped on a long gown, and walked out leaving the door on the latch.A cinder - path winds along by the side of the pool. It is off the beaten track and few pass this way even by day, so at night it is still more quiet. Trees grow thick and bosky all around the pool, with willows and other trees I cannot name by the path. On nights when there is no moon the track is almost terrifyingly dark, but tonight it was quite clear, though the moonlight was pale.Strolling alone down the path, hands behind my back, I felt as if the whole earth and sky were mine and I had stepped outside my usual self into another world. I like both excitement and stillness, under the full moon, I could think of whatever I pleased or of nothing at all, and that gave me a sense of freedom. All daytime duties could be disregarded. That was the advantage of solitude: I could savour to the full that expanse of fragrant lotus and the moonlight.As far as eye could see, the pool with its winding margin was covered with trim leaves, which rose high out of the water like the flared skirts of dancing girls. And starring these tiers of leaves were white lotus flowers, alluringly open or bashfully in bud, like glimmering pearls, stars in an azure sky, or beauties fresh from the bath. The breeze carried past gusts of fragrance, like the strains of a song faintly heard from a far-off tower. And leaves and blossoms trembled slightly, while in a flash the scent was carried away. As the closely serried leaves bent, a tide of opaque emerald could be glimpsed. That was the softly running water beneath, hidden from sight, its colour invisible, though the leaves looked more graceful than ever.Moonlight cascaded like water over the lotus leaves and flowers, and a light blue mist floating up from the pool made them seem washed in milk or caught in a gauzy dream. Though the moon was full, a film of pale clouds in the skywould not allow its rays to shine through brightly; but I felt this was all to the good - though refreshing sleep is indispensable, short naps have a charm all their own. As the moon shone from behind them, the dense trees on the hills threw checkered shadows, dark forms loomed like devils, and the sparse, graceful shadows of willows seemed painted on the lotus leaves. The moonlight on the pool was not uniform, but light and shadow made up a harmonious rhythm like a beautiful tune played on a violin.Far and near, high and low around the pool were trees, most of them willows. These trees had the pool entirely hemmed in, the only small clearings left being those by the path, apparently intended for the moon. All the trees were somber as dense smoke, but among them you could make out the luxuriant willows, while faintly above the tree-tops loomed distant hills - their general outline only. And between the trees appeared one or two street lamps, listless as the eyes of someone drowsy. The liveliest sounds at this hour were the cicadas chirruping on the trees and the frogs croaking in the pool; but this animation was theirs alone, I had no part in it.Then lotus-gathering flashed into my mind. This was an old custom south of the Yangtse, which apparently originated very early and was most popular in the period of the Six Kingdoms,* as we see from the songs of the time. The lotus were picked by girls in small boats, who sang haunting songs as they padded. They turned out in force, we may be sure, and there were spectators too, for that was a cheerful festival and a romantic one. We have a good account of it in a poem by Emperor Yuan of the Liang dynasty called Lotus Gatherers:Deft boys and pretty girlsReach an understanding while boating;Their prows veer slowly,But the winecups pass quickly;Their oars are entangled,As they cut through the duckweed,And girls with slender waistsTurn to gaze behind them.Now spring and summer meet,Leaves are tender, flowers fresh;With smiles they protect their silks,Drawing in their skirts, afraid lest the boat upset.There we have a picture of these merry excursions. this must have been a delightful event, and it is a great pity we cannot enjoy it today.。