月夜憶舍弟 yuè yè yì shě dì 30 translations
戍鼓斷人行 shù
gǔ duàn rén xíng, hæng d r r L L
邊秋一雁聲 biān
qiū yī yàn
shēng. shiɛng L L e d L
露從今夜白 lù cóng jīn yè bái, bhæk d L L d e
月是故鄉明 yuè shì gù xiāng míng. miæng e
r d L L
有弟皆分散 yǒu dì jiē fēn
sǎn, sɑ̀n r d L L d
無家問死生 wú jiā wèn sǐ shēng. shræng L L d r L
寄書長不達 jì
shū cháng bù dá, dhɑt d
L L e e
況乃未休兵 kuàng nǎi wèi xiū
bīng. biæng d
r d L L
Rhyme AABACADA
Hawkes, David A Little Primer of Tu Fu (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1967) (literal)
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlit Night
Garrison drums
cut-off people’s travel
Frontier autumn one
goose sound
Dew from this-night
white
Moon is old-home
bright
Have brothers all
are-scattered
Haven’t family ask
dead-alive
Sent letters always
not arrive
Especially as
not-yet end fighting
anonymous (www.chinese-poems.com) (literal)
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlit Night
Garrison drum cut
person action
Autumn border one
goose sound
Dew from today night
white
Moon is homeland
bright
Have brother all
disperse
No home ask die
life
Send letter all not
reach
Condition be not
stop fighting
Alley, Rewi
Tu Fu: Selected Poems (Peking:
Foreign Languages Press, 1964)
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlight Night
Drums at the
watch-towers beat,
And roads below
clear of people;
I think of the
frontier as I
Hear the wild
geese’s autumn cry;
Dew changes to
frost, but I feel
Moonlight is not as
bright as it was
Back in my old
home; now my brothers
Are scattered, and
there is no way
For me to know if
they are alive
Or dead, for
letters cannot come
And the war that
keeps us apart
Seems unending.
Alley, Rewi
Peace Through the Ages: Translations
from the Poets of
Thinking of My
Brothers in the Moonlight
War drums rattle;
below, the roads are bare.
The sound of a wild goose flying
so low and so swiftly this autumn night
brings sharp desire for a message from home.
Here now, the dew changes to frost; and
the moon shines as bright as in my own
native land; my brothers are scattered
an now, at home, none remain to wonder if I
am alive or dead;
but why torture myself with all this thinking?
Even if we were at peace we are too far
for news to reach us; now at war,
what hope is there?
Ayscough,
Moon Night; Thinking of Younger Brothers
Soldiers on watch, drums; movement among people cut short;
Honk of single wild goose on Autumn frontier.
White dew season begins this night;
In old village moon must dazzle.
Younger brothers; all parted, scattered;
No home where I can ask, “Are they dead? Alive?”
I send letters; often they do not arrive,
Because alas! fighting is not ended.
Barnstone,
Tony & Chou Ping (www.7beats.com/2006_12_01_7beats_archive.html)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit Night
Curfew drums cut off a traveler's road.
At the border, autumn comes with a wild
goose's shriek.
From this night on, dew will whiten to
frost.
The moon looks brighter at home.
My brothers are scattered now.
Who can tell me if they live or die?
I send letters but no word arrives,
and the war goes on and on.
Brownrigg,
Ray (www.mcs.vuw.ac.nz/~ray/ChineseEssays)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit
Night
Watchtower drums interrupt travel,
Frontier in autumn - a lone goose
call.
From tonight on the frosts will
settle,
The moon’s as bright as it is back
home.
My brothers, they are scattered all
over;
No family to ask their fate at all.
Letters are slow to arrive wherever,
Besides, the war is not yet done.
Brownrigg,
Ray (www.mcs.vuw.ac.nz/~ray/ChineseEssays)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit
Night
Watchtower drums interrupt travel,
Autumn Frontier - a lone goose’s call.
From tonight on the frosts will settle,
This moon’s as bright as it is back home.
My brothers, they’re scattered all over;
No home to ask of their fate at all.
Letters are slow to get wherever,
Besides, the war is not yet done.
Bynner,
Witter The
Remembering My
Brothers on a Moonlight Night
A wanderer hears
drums portending battle.
By the first call
of autumn from a wildgoose at the border,
He knows that the
dews tonight will be frost.
...How much
brighter the moonlight is at home!
O my brothers, lost
and scattered,
What is life to me
without you?
Yet if missives in
time of peace go wrong --
What can I hope for
during war?
Davis, A. R. Tu Fu (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1971)
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlit Night
The guard tower drum puts an end to men’s
passing;
In the frontier autumn – a single wild
goose’s cry;
The dew from this night begins to whiten;
The moon is as bright as it is at home.
I have brothers but they are scattered;
I have no home to ask if they are alive or
dead.
Their letters for long have not reached me;
Worse still there’s no end to the war!
Fletcher, W. J. B. Gems of Chinese Verse (Shanghai:
Commercial Press Ltd., 1919)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit
Night
The war drum booms: all roads are bare.
One wild goose clangs: 'tis Autumn there.
Our nightly dews hence will be white.
On our old home the Moon is bright.
Brothers have I all scattered far.
Homeless, how know if still they are?
Letters I send: but none reply.
Is this not War's sad tyranny?
Giles
Herbert A.
To His Brother
The evening drum has emptied every street,
One autumn goose screams on its frontier flight,
The crystal dew is glittering at my feet,
The moon sheds, as of old, her silvery light.
The brothers, -- ah, where are they? Scattered each;
No home whence one might learn the other’s harms.
Letters has oft miscarried: shall they reach
Now when the land rings with the clash of arms?
Hart, Henry H. The Charcoal Burner, and Other Poems; Original Translations from the Poetry of the Chinese (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1974)
A Soldier’s Letter
On the frontier
The war drums roll;
The men are on the march.
It is autumn,
And henceforth
The nightly dew will be white,
Though in my homeland
The moon shines bright.
All my brothers are scattered far,
With none at home
To ask if they yet live.
Letters I write.
Long I wait,
But no answers come.
Ah, how uncertain
Is the life of a soldier.
Hawkes, David A Little Primer of Tu Fu (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1967)
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlit Night
Travel is interrupted by the war-drums of the garrisons. The sound of a solitary
wild goose announces the coming of autumn to the frontier. From tonight onwards the dew will be white.
The moon is that same moon which shines down on my birthplace. My brothers are
scattered in different places. I have no home to tell me whether they are alive
or dead. The letters we write never seem to reach their destination; and it
will be worse now that we are at war once more.
Hinton, David in Weinberger, Eliot, ed. The New Directions Anthology of Classical
Chinese Poetry (
Moonlit Night
Thinking of My Brothers
Warning drums have ended all travel.
A lone goose cries across autumn
Borderlands.
White Dew begins tonight,
This bright moon bright there over
My old village. My scattered brothers –
And no home to ask Are they alive or dead?
Letters never arrive. War comes
And goes – then comes like this again.
Hung, William Tu Fu: China’s Greatest Poet
(New York: Harvard University Press, 1952)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlight Night
The watch-tower drum has sounded to close
the road to travelling.
I hear a lone wild goose’s cry in the autumn
skies of the frontier.
The White Dew Season begins tonight;
The moon is not as bright as I used to see
it at home.
Brothers I have, but they are all scattered.
There is no home where I can inquire if they
are alive.
Their letters will never reach me now;
Moreover the war that separates us is not
ended.
Jenyns, Soame A Further Selection from the Three Hundred Poems of the T’ang Dynasty (London: J. Murray, 1944)
Under the Evening
Moon Thinking of My Younger Brother
The throb of drums
from (distant) garrisons holds up all communications,
On the frontiers in
autumn one goose is calling;
From tonight
onwards the white hoar-frost will fall.
This same moon
shines bright on my distant home,
Yet my brothers are
all scattered
There is none to
ask whether they live or die.
If I send a letter
on so long a journey it may not reach its destination
All is more
difficult now as the war sweeps on.
Liu, Shih
Shun One hundred and One Chinese Poems
(Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1967)
Thinking of My Brothers and Sisters on a
Moonlit Night
Frontier drums beating alarm the travellers;
At the border the solitary cry of a wild
goose.
From today the dewdrops will be white with
frost;
In my native town the moon is shedding a
special brightness.
All my brothers have been scattered;
Homeless, I know not whether they are alive
or dead;
No mail is ever received, or is like to be,
Since there is still no prospect of the war
ending.
Mosley, Ivo (www.ivo.mosley.com/EARTH_POEMS.html)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit Night
Drums on the watch-tower have emptied the
roads -
At the frontier it's autumn; a wild-goose
cries.
This is a night in which dew becomes frost;
The moon is bright like it used to be at
home.
I have brothers, but they're scattered;
My home's broken up; are they dead or alive?
If letters are sent, they never arrive;
This war that separates us seems unending.
Murphy, James R. (http://www.torusflex.com/poetry%20project1/poetry.html)
Remembering family in the moon light
the guard drums throb through the night
no one can travel more, we're lucky we're here
on the borderlands with an autumn moon
and the only friend heard is a lonely wild goose
the dew of this night glows bright
white in its crustal iciness
so bright the moon as in my youth
when it rose above where i was born
i remember all my younger brothers
they are scattered by these pains
i have no family left to counsel
no one to ask if they live, or die
i send letters to where they might be
i know my words still can't reach them
the only thing i might add
there is no end to the fighting
Wang Yushu Selected
Poems and Pictures of the Tang Dynasty (
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlit Night
The frontier’s garrison drums warn men not
to come near.
There, in autumn, a lonely wild goose’s cry
one can hear.
Tonight falls on the night when dew begins
to be white.
The moon that shines in one’s native place
is the most bright.
All younger brothers I have are widely
separate
And nowhere can I ask about their existence
state.
The letters I have written can’t reach them
anyway,
Especially now when warfare is still under
way.
Watson,
On a Moonlit Night, Thinking of My Younger
Brothers
Martial drums cut off all human concourse;
borderland autumn, cry of a lone wild goose.
Tonight we enter the season of white dew,
though the moon still shines with a homeland
brightness.
I've younger brothers, every one of them
scattered,
no home where I can ask if they're dead or
alive.
I send letters that never succeed in getting
through,
much less now, with hostilities unceasing!
Whincup, Greg. The
Heart of Chinese Poetry (Garden City: Anchor Press, Doubleday, 1987)
Thinking of My Younger Brothers on a Moonlit
Night
Drums on the
watchtower
Cut off men’s travels.
Autumn in the borderlands–
A wild goose’s cry.
The dew
Starting from tonight
Is white.
The moon
Over my old home
Is bright.
I have brothers,
But they are scattered.
There is no one to tell me
If they live or die.
The letters that
I send
Never reach them.
And still,
The fighting goes on.
Wu Juntao 吴钧陶 (www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21983&ttt=)
Thinking of My Brothers in a Moonlit Night
The garrison drums warning the pass to be clear,
A wild goose honks above in autumnal frontier.
The season called the White Dew begins tonight,
Nowhere like in our native place the moon’s so bright.
I’m very worried about my brothers’ existence,
And no place to ask and connect our far distance.
Letters I sent, but reached them not even a word;
The warfare is still going in the mundane world!
Xu
Zhongjie 徐忠杰 (www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=21983&ttt=)
Longing for my Brothers This Moonlit Night
With war drums beating, all human traffic cease.
In the border are plaintive cries of wild geese.
Dew will become frosty white from tonight.
Back in our native home, the moon is bright.
Two brothers! Each is sent to a different place;
Dead or alive? No way to know in each case.
Letters will be long in coming to hand.
Hostilities haven’t ceased in this, our land.
Yang Xianyi and Gladys Yang Poetry and Prose of the Tang and Song
(Beijing, China: Chinese Literature, 1984)
Thinking of My Brothers in the Moonlight
The drum from the watchtower sounds; all are
forbidden to move.
In autumn in this frontier town a lone swan
is heard.
This is the season when the dew turns white,
But the moon seems brighter at my home.
I have brothers but all are scattered.
Homeless now I know not if they are alive or
dead.
The letters I have written never reach them,
Especially now that war is raging.
Zhang Xueqing 章学清 (www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=8000&ttt=)
Missing My Brothers under the Moon
The curfew has the people indoors
keeping;
In frontier's fall, a lone wild wild
goose is weeping.
Tonight the dew begins to turn off
white;
The moon beyond old home seems none
so bright.
My brothers all have scattered up to
date,
Now homeless, whence to know about
their fate?
No answer to my letters, can I
stand?
If hatchets would be buried soon!
Good land!
Zhang Xueqing 章学清 (www.poetic.com.cn/go.asp?id=8000&ttt=)
Missing My Brothers under the Moon
The curfew drums are warning, all
the people indoors keeping;
No voice is heard in frontier's fall
but one wild goose's weeping.
Tonight begins the season for the
dew to turn off white;
Howe’er, I feel the moon beyond old
home is none so bright.
Far, far apart have all my brothers
scattered up to date,
Alive or dead? Now homeless, whence
to know about their fate?
To wait in vain for answer to my
letters, can I stand?
If only hatchets would be buried
pretty soon! Good land!
anonymous (www.chinese-poems.com)
Thinking of My
Brothers on a Moonlit Night
The army drum cuts
off people's actions,
A lone goose sounds
on the borderland in autumn.
Tonight we start
the season of white dew,
The moon is just as
bright as in my homeland.
My brothers are
spread all throughout the land,
No home to ask if
they are living or dead.
The letters we send
always go astray,
Still the fighting
does not cease.
unknown (blog.myspace.com)
Thinking of My Brothers on a Moonlit Night
No one walks when the guardian drum sounds,
The cry of wild geese marks autumn on the
frontier:
Now at night the dewdrops twinkle with
starry whiteness,
Yet how much brighter shines the moon on my
home!
My brothers are separated and wanderers in
the land,
And there is nowhere I can ask whether they
are alive or dead:
A letter takes so long upon the way:\
O, but I know there is so much more than war
in this country.