Introduction: "A Journey to Dongshan" is a prose work written by Yang Shiqi, a literati in the Ming Dynasty. It comes from "Dongli Collection" and focuses on describing the literati's visits to cottages, drinking, composing poems, singing and dancing, and playing with fish, etc. Activity. Below is the classical Chinese translation of "A Journey to the East Mountain" that I compiled. I hope it will be helpful to everyone.
Original text
Hongwu Yihai, a guest in Wuchang. Mr. Jiang Yinxi from Wuchang is over eighty years old and is good at Taoist calligraphy. His son Li Gong was good at poetry. All are broad-minded. However, he hides himself deeply, does not make friends rashly, and gets along with others alone.
It was the first day of the third month of the year, and the remaining three people, together with four or five children, went on a trip with wine and food. Head east before dawn, pass Hongshan Temple for about two miles, then turn north and pass through a trail for ten miles, passing through pine forests and fording streams. The water in the stream is so clear that small boats can be floated in its depths. There is a rock next to it, and there are more than ten people sitting there. The shade of pines, cypresses and bamboo trees is dense. The wind is gentle and the sun is flowing, the herbs are blooming, the fragrance is blowing on the clothes, and the birds are singing. Then he swept the stone and sat down.
After sitting for a long time, I heard the sound of chickens and dogs. Yu Zhaoli stood up and walked eastward for dozens of steps. After passing a small hill, he saw a field spread out and dozens of thatched huts, so he built them. An old man may be more than seventy years old, with plain hair like snow, shoulders covered, and a plump face, like a drinker. The remaining two people sat down. There are several books under the door. Li Gong found "Liezi" and others "Bai Hu Tong". They all wanted to take it but couldn't tell. The old man understood what he meant and said, "I am of no use." Everyone thought of it and came out.
Still sitting on the stone, Gu Tongzi was instructed to pick taro leaves and make them into plates to hold meat. Li respectfully raised the pot to pour wine and passed the wine around several rows. Li Gong wrote one chapter of a seven-character modern poem, and I added it to it. After half a drink, someone rode by. Li Qianhu, my old friend from Wuchang who was guarding the left, laughed in shock and galloped away without dismounting. After a while, a sumptuous meal came with a Taoist priest, and he drank some wine. A scholar asked for poems from the "Pictures of the Real Person of Taiyi". Yu Fu contains one chapter in ancient five-character style, written in writing. I don't do any honors, but I drink wine and drink Taoist priests endlessly. The Taoist priest could not win, so he bowed his feet to thank him, and everyone laughed. Li came out to play a few songs on the pipa. Stand up and break the bamboo, blow it through the orifice, and make the sound of the flute. Yinxi Song Fei Wuyin's "Su Wuman". The Taoist priest danced, and the two boys clapped their hands and jumped behind him. The Taoist priest bowed to Li Gong again and said, "Why don't you write a poem with the Taoist priest?" Li Gong wrote several quatrains with his help, and his words became more and more strange, so he drank again, and I and Li Gong drank, and both of them were drunk.
The setting sun was only a few feet away from the west peak, and the hidden stream called me back, saying, "How can you enjoy it?" Then I said goodbye to Li and the Taoist priest. The hidden stream on the middle road pointed to the foothills of the hills beside the road, and Gu Yu said, "This is where I camped at Leqiu." He also pointed to the peach blossoms beside the road and Yu said, "ask me to come here when you see the flowers next year."
After returning home, Li Gong said: "This is a good trip to have a note." It was before he had time.
It is winter, the hidden stream is dead, and I cry. Next year, we will have a cold meal and make an appointment with Li Gongyu at the tomb. And if you have lingering illness, it won’t work. Not long after, I returned to Luling, passed by Li Gong and stayed there to say goodbye, and then ordered a pen to record it. Before it was finished, I respectfully read it and cried. I also cried and stopped. However, remembering the close friendship between the Jiang family and his son, and their many visits to the mountains and rivers of Wuchang, I had no more pleasure than this, so I reluctantly remembered it. Record it by hand and leave it respectfully.
After traveling to next year, August Wuzi will be recorded.
Translation
In the twenty-eighth year of Hongwu, I lived in Wuchang. There is a Mr. Jiang Yinxi in Wuchang. His ancestor is also from Luling. He is over eighty years old and loves to read Taoist books. His son Li Gong knew how to write poems. Both father and son are open-minded people. They usually live in seclusion, hide their ambitions and talents, and do not associate with others casually. They only share the same feelings with me.
On the first day of March this year, the three of us took four or five servants, wine and food, and went on a long trip. Before dawn, we walked eastward, passed Hongshan Temple for about two miles, turned north, and walked on a path for about ten miles, passing through pine forests and wading through mountain streams. The water in the stream is so clear that you can take a boat in its depths. A large boulder by the stream can accommodate a dozen people. Green pines and green bamboos, shaded by greenery, are very dense. At this time, the wind is warm and the sun is shining, the flowers of the wild grass and trees are in full bloom, the fragrance is flowing and staining the clothes, and the birds are chirping. So he started to clean the stone surface and sat on it.
After sitting for a long time, I heard the crow of chickens and the barking of dogs. I greeted Li Gong and stood up, walked a few dozen steps eastward, climbed over a hill, and saw a flat and vast field with more than a dozen huts nearby. So I went to visit. An old man in his seventies, with long hair as white as snow, falling on his shoulders, and a ruddy and shiny face, he seemed to be a drinker. The old man invited the two of us to sit down. There are several sets of books under the window. Li Gong took out a volume of "Lieh Zi" and I picked up a copy of "White Tiger Tong". We both wanted to take the books away but were unable to ask for them. The old man saw what we were thinking and said, "I have no use for these two books." So we each put the books in our arms and said goodbye.
Go back to the stone and sit down, assign the boy to pick taro leaves as a plate, and put the meat on it. Li Gong raised the wine gourd to pour the wine, passed the wine glasses around and drank several rounds. Li Gong took advantage of the excitement and wrote a seven-character modern poem, and I wrote one. Halfway through my drink, a man riding by on horseback turned out to be my old friend Li Qianhu, the left guard of Wuchang. He was surprised at first, looked at each other and smiled, but did not stop and drove away directly. Soon, sumptuous food and wine were prepared and a Taoist priest came with him. So we drank with them. The Taoist priest took out a picture of "Taiyi Real Person" and asked us to write poems. I wrote a five-character ancient poem. He did not write any words of respect, but just toasted to the Taoist priest. The Taoist priest couldn't bear it and bowed down and begged for mercy, which made everyone laugh. Li Qianhu took out his pipa and played several songs.
Li Gong also broke a piece of bamboo, drilled a few holes, and played it, making a sweet sound like a flute. Mr. Yinxi couldn't help but sing a piece of Fei Wuyin's "Su Wu Man". The Taoist priest danced gracefully, and the two servant boys followed him and clapped their hands and danced. After that, the Taoist priest bowed his hands again and asked Li Gong: "Why don't you, sir, refuse to compose poems for poor Taoists?" Li Gong wrote several quatrains, and the poems became even more novel. So we started drinking again. Li Gong and I didn't drink much, so we were both a little tipsy.
Soon, the sun set in the west, and there was only more than ten feet away from the western peak. Mr. Yinxi called us back and said, "Is there no end to fun?" So we, Li Qianhu, and the Taoist priest Say goodbye. On the way, Mr. Yinxi pointed to the foot of the hill next to the road, turned around and said to me: "This is the place where I built my tomb." He also pointed to the peach tree on the roadside and told me: "Come here to see me when you enjoy the peach blossoms next year. "
After returning, Li Gong said to me: "I should write a travelogue during this trip." But I didn't have the time to write this article.
In the winter of this year, Mr. Yinxi passed away suddenly. I wept and mourned. During the Cold Food Festival the next year, I made an appointment with Li Gong to visit the grave of an old man. Unexpectedly, I fell ill again at that time and was unable to go as scheduled. Not long after, I was about to return to Luling. Before leaving, I specially stayed at Li Gong's house to say goodbye, and then I started to reminisce about my trip to Dongshan. Before I finished writing, Li Gong took it to read. I cried while reading, and I couldn't help but burst into tears, so I stopped writing again. But I remembered that I had a close relationship with the Jiang family and his son in the past, and that I had given him Li Gong during his stay in Wuchang.
Diary on the third day of August in the second year of the spring outing to Dongshan.