E74 白浪横江起，槎牙似雪城

E74 白浪横江起，槎牙似雪城

课程导读

在上节课中，我们通过船夫年轻时攀高山、听猿鸣、闻山风的经历，再次感受巫峡山高景寂，鲜有人至。此外，在相继穿过危险的“东濡滩”、“怒吼滩”后，苏东坡又感船夫“真不啻是自己生身的父母，再造的爹娘”。在这节课中，我们将继续了解他们出巫峡、入秭归后的情状。

英文原文

Coming out of the Wu Gorges, they soon arrived at Tsekuei and began to see shabby huts dotting the bank at different levels.

It was a very small town, with no more than three or four hundred families, situated on the sharp slope of the hillside.

The inhabitants were extremely poor, and yet considering the exciting beauty of the place, which must enter into men's souls, it was not altogether unreasonable that this half-civilized remote village should have produced two major poets, a famous queen, and another famous woman in history.

As is generally the custom with mountaineers, the men and women carried their loads in a barrel or basket swung on their backs; but it was mostly the women who did the carrying.

This was tiring for their muscles, but as we know, was always good for their figures.

The unmarried girls distinguished themselves by wearing a high coiffure in two joined buns, decorated with as many as six silver pins sticking out on both sides and a large ivory comb, the size of one's palm, at the back.

But the travelers had passed only two of the gorges, and the worst was yet to come.

About thirty years before, there had been a landslide which threw sharp-edged rocks into the middle of the stream, and made it impossible for navigation.

River traffic had been stopped at this point for about twenty years until a narrow passage had been opened.

This place was, therefore, called "the New Rapids."

At this point Su Tungpo and his family were held up for three days by a snow storm.

Lying huddled in the night, I slept like a frozen turtle,
But I was the first to know that it was snowing outside.

In the morning I discovered a vast expanse of white,
And the cold wind was shaking the treetops.

The green hills were like a youth transformed,
Overnight covered with white hair and whiskers.

The atmosphere of warmth had descended to the river,
And the gurgle of the stream had been silenced on the bank.

Up in the air the flakes fluttered without choice of direction,
And down they came and spread and disappeared
Over the wide river and the empty wastes.
But entering the boat their fluffy footsteps were light;

Like engraved flowers they rested on one's clothing.
Could it be that God had carved these one by one?

Extravagantly these were broadcast and filled the valley;
Alas! Who held this mighty power in his hands? ...

I see the mountaineers carrying their load of fuel;
They would not know of the pleasure of warm wine and song...

The poet's frozen brush is hard and ready to break,
And the peasant girl is weaving at night uncurtained.

A recluse is treading in the icy cold in his sandals,
And the wind blowing at his hood makes him look like one of God.

A poor monk is clearing the snow before his doorstep,
And the cold liquid is frozen below his nose ...

What does the traveler in the boat want?
He wants a hunting horse to dash through the winds.

While a cold rabbit is hiding in the grass,
A lone falcon swoops down like a fierce host.

Ah, to boil venison in water from broken ice!
Though I cannot drink, I will raise the cup high.

The people of Ch'u are known for hunting;
I will follow whoever leads the hunt.

Let the snowflakes flutter and swirl round my face;
I will take up my brush and make of them a worthy poem.