【宋词英译】周邦彦《瑞龙吟》（大石春景）
章台路，还见褪粉梅梢，试花桃树。愔愔坊陌人家，定巢燕子，归来旧处。黯凝伫，因念个人痴小，乍窥门户。侵晨浅约宫黄，障风映袖，盈盈笑语。前度刘郎重到，访邻寻里，同时歌舞。唯有旧家秋娘，声价如故。吟笺赋笔，犹记燕台句。知谁伴，名园露饮，东城闲步？事与孤鸿去，探春尽是，伤离意绪。官柳低金缕。归骑晚，纤纤池塘飞雨。断肠院落，一帘风絮！Bustling long street, you can also see the plum blossom will be hanging on the branches, budding peach blossoms have been covered with a tree. The brothels in the streets were silent, only the swallows busy building their nests, and returned to the old place last year. I stood dejectedly, thinking of my small old lover. When she first saw her that morning, she was leaning against the door. Her forehead was covered with a faint palace yellow, her colorful sleeves were raised to shield her from the morning breeze, and she smiled like a silver bell.
Now I go back to visit her old neighborhood and her singing and dancing sisters, only the former song prostitute, her voice is still the same. Now that I am writing, I remember vividly how much she loved me. I'm sorry I can't see you. Who else can I drink with in the garden and walk east of town? All the old things have gone away with the flying wild geese in the sky. Come back with interest and intention to visit spring, but full of parting feelings, touching and sad. The willow trees beside the official road are low with golden branches, as if they were regretting for me. It was late when I returned from riding, and the autumn rain, the thin rain, wet the skirt, fell all over the pond. The sad courtyard, the wind blows catkins, the courtyard is full of mess, the door curtain is also full of catkins flying in the wind!
变体一（方千里）
楼前路，愁对万点风花，数行烟树。依依斜日红收，暮山翠接，平芜尽处。
小留伫，还是画栏凭暖，半扃朱户。帘栊尽日无人，消凝怅望，时时自语。
堪恨行云难系，赋情杨柳，徘徊犹舞。追想向来欢娱，怀抱非故。题红寄绿，魂断江南句。何时见，轻衫雾唾，芳茵莲步。燕子西飞去。为人试道，相思闷绪。空有肠千缕。清泪满，斑斑多于春雨。忍看鬓发，密堆飞絮。
The road in front of the building, facing the fluttering petals of ten thousand points, a few lines of scattered tree shadows. The lopsidedly setting sun was red, and at sunset the verdant hills met and the flat fields stretched to the end. A little nostalgia to stop, still leaning beside the fence to enjoy the warmth, half closed the vermilion door. There is no one between the Windows all day, quietly condensing the sad reverie, from time to time to talk to himself. Unfortunately, the clouds can not stay, can only express sadness on the weeping willows, wandering like a dance.
Recalling the joy and joy of the past, the embrace in my heart is no longer complete. The title of the red letter, the sustenance of youth, but let people's hearts fragmented. When can you see, wearing light clothes in the mist walking, footsteps like lotus generally graceful. The swallow has flown west. As a person, can not help but try to tell the feelings of the heart, the suffering of acacia is troubling. There are only a thousand strands of sadness woven into the void.
变体二（陈允平）
长安路，还是燕乳莺娇，度帘迁树。层楼十二阑干，绣帘半卷，相思处处。
漫凭伫，因念彩云初到，琐窗琼户。梨花犹却春寒，翠羞粉怨，尊前解语。
空有章台烟柳，瘦纤仍似，宫腰飞舞。憔悴暗觉文园，双鬓非故。闲拈断叶，重托殷勤句。频回首，河桥素约，津亭归步。恨逐芳尘去，眩醉眼尽，游丝乱绪。肠结愁千缕，深院静，东风落红如雨。画屏梦绕，一篝香絮。
On Chang 'an Avenue, swallows still sing and move through the curtains. High 12 floors, beautiful curtain half volume, everywhere filled with missing feelings.
I leaned on the railings aimlessly, for I remembered the clouds at the beginning, and I looked at the lights of the thousands of homes in the distance. Pear flower still can not help the cold spring, tender green shy of rouge resentment, they talk to each other on the seat in front of the flower.
Although there are the steps of prostitutes, and the misty rain of the willow trees, but the small waist, still floating like a fairy, like a dancer in the palace. As my face faded, I could not help but feel that the landscape of the garden had changed. Those temples are no longer the way they used to be. I picked a few dead leaves in my spare time, and once again wrote affectionate verses to show my missing relatives. Often look back, the promise of the river bridge, and the return journey in the ferry pavilion, have left their footsteps. Resentment is hard to chase away the aromatic dust, dazzling drunkenness dissipates, hairspring scattered. The courtyard was silent, and the spring breeze had blown off several petals. My thoughts seemed to be in a dream around the screen, and suddenly I remembered the ash powder that remained after the incense was burned.
变体三（翁元龙）
清明近。还是递选东风，做成花讯。芳时一刻千金，半晴半雨，酬春未准。
雁归尽。离字向人欲写，暗云难认。西园猛忆逢迎，翠纨障面，花间笑稳。
曲径池莲平砌，绛裙曾与，濯香湔粉。无奈燕幕莺帘，轻负娇俊。青榆巷陌，踏马红成寸。十年梦，秋千吊影，袜罗尘褪。事往凭谁问？昼长病，酒添新恨。烟冷斜阳紧，山黛远，曲曲阑干凭损。柳丝万尺，不如轻鬓。
Qingming Festival is coming. It is better to send the wind to the hurried east wind to convey the news of flowers. These balmy moments are short and precious, or half-sunny, half-rainy days, responding to the coming of spring.
The migratory birds have returned to their nests. Want to write farewell words, but there is a dark cloud cover. When I recall the meeting in the West Garden, the green veil on your face reflects the smile, like the jade hidden in the flowers.
The pond beside the winding path, lotus flowers spread flat on the stone platform, the crimson skirt was accompanied by it, and washed fragrant in the clear spring together, moisturizing powder. But can not resist the curtain that swallows fly over, also can not stop the charming young crooning light burden. In the alley composed of green elm, riding through, the red horseshoe impression engraved under an inch of acacia. Ten years like a dream, swing rippling shadow, red socks like grosgrain, gradually faded dust. Past events with the wind, I do not know who to tell. The days are long, the sickness is new, and the wine is company. The cold sun, more mercilessly urged the passage of time, the distant green mountains, criss-cross, in any case can not see which one is high, which one is low. Willow hanging long branches, not as light as the temples, as if for me and sigh.
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