纳兰性德·《浣溪沙·残雪凝辉冷画屏》英译
残雪凝辉冷画屏。
落梅横笛已三更，
更无人处月胧明。
我是人间惆怅客，
知君何事泪纵横，
断肠声里忆平生。
Stream Silk-Rinsing
Nalan Xingde
The painted screen isn’t shorn of its cold light on the slushed snow,
The pipe on the tune of plum-petals is still blown in the dead of night,
When the quiet place has been bathed in the dim moonlight.
I’m only a heart-rending stranger in this very human life,
Yet I wonder why I have tears coursing down my cheeks.
In the mournful lore I cannot but conjure up my lifelong creeks.
(By 吴松林)
纳兰性德·《秣陵怀古》英译
山色江声共寂寥，十三陵树晚萧萧。
中原事业如江左，芳草何须怨六朝。
On the Capital of Yore1
Nalan Xinde
Both mountain hue and river song are sad and drear;
Showers of leaves on Thirteen Tombs ruffle the ear.
The Northern Kings sought pleasure on the Southern shore;
The bygone dynasties need no grass to deplore.
1. Nanjing was the capital of the Six Dynasties (211-280; 317-589) and of the early Ming, whose thirteen emperors were buried in the Thirteen Tombs and whose last emperor sought pleasure on the Southern shore and was overthrown.
（By 许渊冲）
纳兰性德·《记征人语（二）》英译
列幕平沙夜寂寥，楚云燕月两迢迢。
征人自是无归梦，却枕兜鍪卧听潮。
What I Hear From the Warriors
Nalan Xingde
The camps over the sandy field are quiet in the night;
Clouds of Chu are too far away from the moon of Yan.
A dream of reunion is impossible for us warriors;
We lie listening to the tidewater, head on helmet.
（By 王晋熙、文殊 ）
纳兰性德·《如梦令·万帐穹庐人醉》英译
万帐穹庐人醉，
星影摇摇欲坠。
归梦隔狼河，
又被河声搅碎。
还睡，
还睡，
解道醒来无味。
To the Tune-title “As in a Dream, a Short Lyric”
by Nalan Singde
Ten thousand felted tents filled with exhausted men;
Flicker and fade of stars about to set.
I was travelling home and trapped by the Wolf-River—that dream;
And again the river’s clamour has broken it!
Let me sleep on,
Let me sleep on;
Awake, I know the savour of life will be gone.
To the Tune of Ru Meng Ling
Nalan Xingde
The vast encampment is locked in drunken slumber.
The stars whirl and whirl, as if to crash to earth.
Dreams of return blocked and crashed by the Bailang River.
Sleep on! Sleep on!
To wake would be too doleful and too drear.
（杨宪益、戴乃迭 译）
Better Sleep
Na-lan Xing-de
Silence settles over this wilderness of tents. Many a cup have I drained. Ah! the stars are flickering, perilously reeling.
I am off, headed for home. But that Wolf River bars my way. It howls—my dream is shattered!
Sleep, better go back to sleep, for the waking hours are dreary.
（翁显良 译）
纳兰性德·《金缕曲·慰西溟》英译
何事添凄咽？
但由他、
天公簸弄，
莫教磨涅。
失意每多如意少，
终古几人称屈。
须知道、
福因才折。
独卧藜床看北斗，
背高城、
玉笛吹成血。
听谯鼓，
二更彻。
丈夫未肯因人热。
且乘闲、
五湖料理，
扁舟一叶。
泪似秋霖挥不尽，
洒向野田黄蝶。
须不羡、
承明班列。
马迹车尘忙未了，
任西风、
吹冷长安月。
又萧寺，
花如雪。
Grieve Not
Na-lan Xing-de
Why make misery more miserable? Let the gods do what they will, adamant we are, unsullied we shall remain.
Life is for us almost perpetual frustration. And no wonder. To show intelligence is to lose grace; it’s been so from time immemorial. Many — like us — were denied justice. How many, who knows?
Here I am all alone, stretched on a rude couch but still with an eye to the stars. Somewhere below the city walls some flutist is pouring out his heart in a torrent of agonizing music. Now I hear the watchtower drum booming out the hour: the dark night is not half way through.
Who would be a man shall seek no patronage. Better get ready a boat while we can, that we may leave these shores and lose ourselves in the watery wastes.
There’s no stanching my tears, copious as the autumn rain. Any living creatures take notice? Perhaps a few butterflies in the deserted fields.
Not that I envy those at court. A dizzy whirl, and then, when the west wind hits the capital, when even the moon shudders — what then?
Yet the cloistered flowers are chaste as virgin snow.
纳兰性德·《蝶恋花·又到绿杨曾折处》英译
又到绿杨曾折处，
不语垂鞭，
踏遍清秋路。
衰草连天无意绪，
雁声远向萧关去。
不恨天涯行役苦，
只恨西风，
吹梦成今古 。
明日客程还几许，
沾衣况是新寒雨。
Tune: “Butterflies in Love with Flowers”
Here where we parted and did break
Green poplar sprigs that each should take
For true love's sake,
—Wordless, riding-crop limp trailing,
Again those well-remembered ways
I tread, in the clear autumn rays;
Fronting a world of blear grass, feeling failing:
And far unto the Frontier Pass wild geese are wailing.
‘Tis not the bitterness of ever wending
On pilgrimage unending:
No, 'tis the West Wind's moaning makes me sorrow,
Which all our dreams must blow
Into the nothingness of evermore.
Yet farther, ever farther, on the morrow
The wanderer must go,
Dress drenched, afresh to face wet winter frore.
(By John Tuner)
纳兰性德·《相见欢·落花如梦凄迷》英译
落花如梦凄迷，
麝烟微，
又是夕阳潜下小楼西。
愁无限，
消瘦尽，
有谁知？
闲教玉笼鹦鹉念郎诗。
Tune: “Joy at Meeting”
Nalan Xinde
Fallen petals are like a dream and mist,
—sad and blurred.
Again the sun is setting on the Western tower.
Inside the chamber filling the air is some musk
Too much gloom has made me thin down,
But who knows my sorrow?
Idling away the hours
I turn to teaching the parrot
To read aloud poems set by my love.
(By 唐正秋)
纳兰性德·《长相思·山一程》英译
山一程，
水一程，
身向榆关那畔行，
夜深千帐灯。
风一更，
雪一更，
聒碎乡心梦不成，
故园无此声。
To the Tune of Chang Xiang Si
Nalan Xingde
Over mountains, over rivers
We plod to the Shanhai Pass.
A myriad of fires light the night
From our camp on the river bank.
The shrieking snowstorm breaks my dream
Of my peaceful, tranquil home.
（BY 杨宪益 戴乃迭）
纳兰性德·《采桑子·那能寂寞芳菲节》英译
那能寂寞芳菲节， 欲话生平。
夜已三更，
一阕悲歌泪暗零。
须知秋叶春花促，
点鬓星星。
遇酒须倾，
莫问千秋万岁名。
Picking Mulberries
Nalan Xingde
Why feel lonely in the entrancing fragrance season?
My chest heaved with sighs for the lifelong track.
It is already in the dead of night,
When a dry-eyed monody floats in sight.
One should be aware that Tempus fugit, which is
Clearly proved by the graying sparse hairs.
Let’s drink till our tongues trip,
And never mind aeons of time without hetup.
（BY 吴松林）
纳兰性德·《浣溪沙·谁念西风独自凉》英译
谁念西风独自凉？
萧萧黄叶闭疏窗。
沉思往事立残阳。
被酒莫惊春睡重，
赌书消得泼茶香。
当时只道是寻常。
Stream Silk-Rinsing
Nalan Xingde
Cold on my own in the west wind, dear knows?
Incised windows blind by the fall of the rustled leaves,
In the setting sun the past to my mind flows.
Let my cup not to jerk awake her thick Spring sleep,
A go of the happy union was not made on nerves.
Who could only assume that were common shows!
（BY 吴松林）
纳兰性德·《蝶恋花·今古山河无定据》英译
今古山河无定据，
画角声中，
牧马频来去。
满目荒凉谁可语？
西风吹老丹枫树。
从前幽怨应无数。
铁马金戈，
青冢黄昏路。
一往情深深几许？
深山夕照深秋雨。
Die Lian Hua
Nalan Xing De
From of old to the present
There are no certain boundaries:
Amid the sound of painted bugles,
The nomads' horses swept back and forth.
A wasteland as far as the eye can see —
Who can you talk to?
The west wind has aged the maple tree.
Cases of past suffering would be numerous:
Metal spears and iron horses;
New graves by dusky roads.
Loving-feelings running deep — how deep do they go?
Like the evening glow, deep in the mountains —
And like late, late autumn rain.
BY 龚景浩）
纳兰性德·《少年游》英译
算来好景只如斯，
惟许有情知。
寻常风月，
等闲谈笑，
称意即相宜。
十年青鸟音尘断，
往事不胜思。
一钩残照，
半帘飞絮，
总是恼人时。
Excursion of Teenagers
Nalan Xingde
It seems a fine prospect similarly follows natural tendencies,
Whose way could only be learned by soul mates.
Romantic sights moderate,
Merry-making mood in a less graced state,
And to be gratified means a well-proportioned rate.
Nothing further is heard after parting for ten years,
The association of the past can’t bear to think of
A crescent moon with its streaks,
And willow catkins on the screen in fluffy streaks,
Which is nothing but curious freaks.
（吴松林 译）
纳兰性德·《相见欢·落花如梦》英译
落花如梦凄迷，
麝烟微，
又是夕阳潜下小楼西。
愁无限，
消瘦尽，
有谁知？
闲教玉笼鹦鹉念郎诗。
Tune: “Joy at Meeting”
Nalan Xinde
Fallen petals are like a dream and mist,
—sad and blurred.
Again the sun is setting on the Western tower.
Inside the chamber filling the air is some musk
Too much gloom has made me thin down,
But who knows my sorrow?
Idling away the hours
I turn to teaching the parrot
To read aloud poems set by my love.
（by唐正秋）
纳兰性德·《秋水·听雨》英译
谁道破愁须仗酒，酒醒后，心翻醉。正香销翠被，隔帘惊听，那又是、点点丝丝和泪。忆剪烛幽窗，小憩娇梦垂成，频唤觉，一眶秋水。
依旧乱蛩声里，短檠明灭，怎教人睡。想几年踪迹，过头风浪，只消受、一段横波花底。向
拥髻灯前提起。甚日还来同领略？夜雨空阶滋昧。
Tune: “Autumn Waters” (Ch’iu-shui)
Listening to Rain
Na-lan Hsing-te
Who claims one needs wine to dispel grief?
Upon sobering up, my heart becomes intoxicated.
Just then the fragrance dissolves from the kingfisher quilt. Across the screen, I’m startled to listen:
Drop after drop, threads of rain, mixed with tears.
I recall the time I snuffed out the candles by a dark window,
A light nap, and a dream of loveliness just formed, Then awakened again and again—
A pair of eyes brimming with tears.
The same as in the old says, amid the buzzing of crickets—
A low lamp glows, then dims;
How can I sleep?
Pondering on my life’s footprints several years past The storm waves higher than my head—
All that I needed was a glance from her beneath blossoms; To press close to her tall dressed hair before the lamp; I asked when we could again share together
The taste of night rain on vacant stairs.
（by Bruce Carpenter ）