#1 关于【恨赋】英译--史诗形式译法研究
我看了一下【恨赋】，它是骈文的格式，几乎是诗一样。我觉得可以用写史诗或双行体手法来翻译，用Paraphase式的方法来英译的话会与原文不匹配。 当然现时我还译不来， 我是提出一个翻译方法的设想，在坚持准确，传神，浑然的原则下，觉得是可以行的。以下是我转来的【恨赋】的介绍和The Song of Hiawatha史诗例子。
Epic Poems ----An epic is a long and narrative poem that normally tells a story about a hero or an adventure. Epics can be oral stories or can be poems in written form. The Illiad and the Odyssey are examples of famous epic poems, as is The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
《恨赋》，南朝梁文学家江淹作。《恨赋》是六朝抒情骈赋中的名篇。全赋排章选句、哀恨绵绵，刻画了从得志皇帝到失意士人的诸多哀伤怨恨，概括了人世间各种人生幽怨与遗恨，不愧为通贯古今之天下第一“恨赋”。全赋语言清新、用词考究，艺术价值较高。
《恨赋》篇幅不长，全文总共405字，其名为“恨赋”，顾名思义，就是着重渲染这一“恨”字，文章通过对秦始皇、赵王迁、李陵、王昭君、冯衍、嵇康这六个历史人物各自不同的恨的描写，来说明人人有恨，恨各不同的普遍现象。赋作共10段，分为三个部分。
原文：
作品原文
编辑
试望平原，蔓草萦骨，拱木敛魂。人生到此，天道宁论？于是仆本恨人，心惊不已。直念古者，伏恨而死。
至如秦帝按剑，诸侯西驰。削平天下，同文共规，华山为城，紫渊为池。雄图既溢，武力未毕。方架鼋鼍以为梁，巡海右以送日。一旦魂断，宫车晚出。
若乃赵王既虏，迁于房陵。薄暮心动，昧旦神兴。别艳姬与美女，丧金舆及玉乘。置酒欲饮，悲来填膺。千秋万岁，为怨难胜。
至如李君降北，名辱身冤。拔剑击柱，吊影惭魂。情往上郡，心留雁门。裂帛系书，誓还汉恩。朝露溘至，握手何言？
若夫明妃去时，仰天太息。紫台稍远，关山无极。摇风忽起，白日西匿。陇雁少飞，代云寡色。望君王兮何期？终芜绝兮异域。
至乃敬通见抵，罢归田里。闭关却扫，塞门不仕。左对孺人，顾弄稚子。脱略公卿，跌宕文史。 赍志没地，长怀无已。
及夫中散下狱，神气激扬。浊醪夕引，素琴晨张。秋日萧索，浮云无光。郁青霞之奇意，入修夜之不旸。
或有孤臣危涕，孽子坠心。迁客海上，流戍陇阴，此人但闻悲风汩起，血下沾衿。亦复含酸茹叹，销落湮沉。
若乃骑叠迹，车屯轨，黄尘匝地，歌吹四起。无不烟断火绝，闭骨泉里。
已矣哉！春草暮兮秋风惊，秋风罢兮春草生。绮罗毕兮池馆尽，琴瑟灭兮丘垄平。自古皆有死，莫不饮恨而吞声。
The Song of Hiawatha
The Song of Hiawatha 1855
•The Song of Hiawatha Introduction
•The Song of Hiawatha I. The Peace-Pipe
•The Song of Hiawatha II. The Four Winds
•The Song of Hiawatha III. Hiawatha's Childhood
•The Song of Hiawatha IV. Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis
•The Song of Hiawatha V. Hiawatha's Fasting
•The Song of Hiawatha VI. Hiawatha's Friends
•The Song of Hiawatha VII. Hiawatha's Sailing
•The Song of Hiawatha VIII. Hiawatha's Fishing
•The Song of Hiawatha IX. Hiawatha and the Pearl Feather
•The Song of Hiawatha X. Hiawatha's Wooing
•The Song of Hiawatha XI. Hiawatha's Wedding-Feast
•The Song of Hiawatha XII. The Son of the Evening Star
•The Song of Hiawatha XIII. Blessing the Cornfields
•The Song of Hiawatha XIV. Picture-Writing
•The Song of Hiawatha XV. Hiawatha's Lamentation
•The Song of Hiawatha XVI. Pau-Puk-Keewis
•The Song of Hiawatha XVII. The Hunting of Pau-Puk-Keewis
•The Song of Hiawatha XVIII. The Death of Kwasind
•The Song of Hiawatha XIX. The Ghosts
•The Song of Hiawatha XX. The Famine
•The Song of Hiawatha XXI. The White Man's Foot
•The Song of Hiawatha XXII. Hiawatha's Departure
On the shores of Gitche Gumee,
Of the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
O'er the water pointing westward,
To the purple clouds of sunset.
Fiercely the red sun descending
Burned his way along the heavens,
Set the sky on fire behind him,
As war-parties, when retreating,
Burn the prairies on their war-trail;
And the moon, the Night-sun, eastward,
Suddenly starting from his ambush,
Followed fast those bloody footprints,
Followed in that fiery war-trail,
With its glare upon his features.
And Nokomis, the old woman,
Pointing with her finger westward,
Spake these words to Hiawatha:
"Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather,
Megissogwon, the Magician,
Manito of Wealth and Wampum,
Guarded by his fiery serpents,
Guarded by the black pitch-water.
You can see his fiery serpents,
The Kenabeek, the great serpents,
Coiling, playing in the water;
You can see the black pitch-water
Stretching far away beyond them,
To the purple clouds of sunset!
"He it was who slew my father,
By his wicked wiles and cunning,
When he from the moon descended,
When he came on earth to seek me.
He, the mightiest of Magicians,
Sends the fever from the marshes,
Sends the pestilential vapors,
Sends the poisonous exhalations,
Sends the white fog from the fen-lands,
Sends disease and death among us!
"Take your bow, O Hiawatha,
Take your arrows, jasper-headed,
Take your war-club, Puggawaugun,
And your mittens, Minjekahwun,
And your birch-canoe for sailing,
And the oil of Mishe-Nahma,
So to smear its sides, that swiftly
You may pass the black pitch-water;
Slay this merciless magician,
Save the people from the fever
That he breathes across the fen-lands,
And avenge my father's murder!"
Straightway then my Hiawatha
Armed himself with all his war-gear,
Launched his birch-canoe for sailing;
With his palm its sides he patted,
Said with glee, "Cheemaun, my darling,
O my Birch-canoe! leap forward,
Where you see the fiery serpents,
Where you see the black pitch-water!"
Forward leaped Cheemaun exulting,
And the noble Hiawatha
Sang his war-song wild and woful,
And above him the war-eagle,
The Keneu, the great war-eagle,
Master of all fowls with feathers,
Screamed and hurtled through the heavens.
Soon he reached the fiery serpents,
The Kenabeek, the great serpents,
Lying huge upon the water,
Sparkling, rippling in the water,
Lying coiled across the passage,
With their blazing crests uplifted,
Breathing fiery fogs and vapors,
So that none could pass beyond them.
But the fearless Hiawatha
Cried aloud, and spake in this wise:
"Let me pass my way, Kenabeek,
Let me go upon my journey!"
And they answered, hissing fiercely,
With their fiery breath made answer:
"Back, go back! O Shaugodaya!
Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!"
Then the angry Hiawatha
Raised his mighty bow of ash-tree,
Seized his arrows, jasper-headed,
Shot them fast among the serpents;
Every twanging of the bow-string
Was a war-cry and a death-cry,
Every whizzing of an arrow
Was a death-song of Kenabeek.
Weltering in the bloody water,
Dead lay all the fiery serpents,
And among them Hiawatha
Harmless sailed, and cried exulting:
"Onward, O Cheemaun, my darling!
Onward to the black pitch-water!"
Then he took the oil of Nahma,
And the bows and sides anointed,
Smeared them well with oil, that swiftly
He might pass the black pitch-water.
All night long he sailed upon it,
Sailed upon that sluggish water,
Covered with its mould of ages,
Black with rotting water-rushes,
Rank with flags and leaves of lilies,
Stagnant, lifeless, dreary, dismal,
Lighted by the shimmering moonlight,
And by will-o'-the-wisps illumined,
Fires by ghosts of dead men kindled,
In their weary night-encampments.
All the air was white with moonlight,
All the water black with shadow,
And around him the Suggema,
The mosquito, sang his war-song,
And the fire-flies, Wah-wah-taysee,
Waved their torches to mislead him;
And the bull-frog, the Dahinda,
Thrust his head into the moonlight,
Fixed his yellow eyes upon him,
Sobbed and sank beneath the surface;
And anon a thousand whistles,
Answered over all the fen-lands,
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Far off on the reedy margin,
Heralded the hero's coming.
Westward thus fared Hiawatha,
Toward the realm of Megissogwon,
Toward the land of the Pearl-Feather,
Till the level moon stared at him,
In his face stared pale and haggard,
Till the sun was hot behind him,
Till it burned upon his shoulders,
And before him on the upland
He could see the Shining Wigwam
Of the Manito of Wampum,
Of the mightiest of Magicians.
Then once more Cheemaun he patted,
To his birch-canoe said, "Onward!"
And it stirred in all its fibres,
And with one great bound of triumph
Leaped across the water-lilies,
Leaped through tangled flags and rushes,
And upon the beach beyond them
Dry-shod landed Hiawatha.
Straight he took his bow of ash-tree,
On the sand one end he rested,
With his knee he pressed the middle,
Stretched the faithful bow-string tighter,
Took an arrow, jasper-headed,
Shot it at the Shining Wigwam,
Sent it singing as a herald,
As a bearer of his message,
Of his challenge loud and lofty:
"Come forth from your lodge, Pearl-Feather!
Hiawatha waits your coming!"
Straightway from the Shining Wigwam
Came the mighty Megissogwon,
Tall of stature, broad of shoulder,
Dark and terrible in aspect,
Clad from head to foot in wampum,
Armed with all his warlike weapons,
Painted like the sky of morning,
Streaked with crimson, blue, and yellow,
Crested with great eagle-feathers,
Streaming upward, streaming outward.
"Well I know you, Hiawatha!"
Cried he in a voice of thunder,
In a tone of loud derision.
"Hasten back, O Shaugodaya!
Hasten back among the women,
Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!
I will slay you as you stand there,
As of old I slew her father!"
But my Hiawatha answered,
Nothing daunted, fearing nothing:
"Big words do not smite like war-clubs,
Boastful breath is not a bow-string,
Taunts are not so sharp as arrows,
Deeds are better things than words are,
Actions mightier than boastings!"
Then began the greatest battle
That the sun had ever looked on,
That the war-birds ever witnessed.
All a Summer's day it lasted,
From the sunrise to the sunset;
For the shafts of Hiawatha
Harmless hit the shirt of wampum,
Harmless fell the blows he dealt it
With his mittens, Minjekahwun,
Harmless fell the heavy war-club;
It could dash the rocks asunder,
But it could not break the meshes
Of that magic shirt of wampum.
Till at sunset Hiawatha,
Leaning on his bow of ash-tree,
Wounded, weary, and desponding,
With his mighty war-club broken,
With his mittens torn and tattered,
And three useless arrows only,
Paused to rest beneath a pine-tree,
From whose branches trailed the mosses,
And whose trunk was coated over
With the Dead-man's Moccasin-leather,
With the fungus white and yellow.
Suddenly from the boughs above him
Sang the Mama, the woodpecker:
"Aim your arrows, Hiawatha,
At the head of Megissogwon,
Strike the tuft of hair upon it,
At their roots the long black tresses;
There alone can he be wounded!"
Winged with feathers, tipped with jasper,
Swift flew Hiawatha's arrow,
Just as Megissogwon, stooping,
Raised a heavy stone to throw it.
Full upon the crown it struck him,
At the roots of his long tresses,
And he reeled and staggered forward,
Plunging like a wounded bison,
Yes, like Pezhekee, the bison,
When the snow is on the prairie.
Swifter flew the second arrow,
In the pathway of the other,
Piercing deeper than the other,
Wounding sorer than the other;
And the knees of Megissogwon
Shook like windy reeds beneath him,
Bent and trembled like the rushes.
But the third and latest arrow
Swiftest flew, and wounded sorest,
And the mighty Megissogwon
Saw the fiery eyes of Pauguk,
Saw the eyes of Death glare at him,
Heard his voice call in the darkness;
At the feet of Hiawatha
Lifeless lay the great Pearl-Feather,
Lay the mightiest of Magicians.
Then the grateful Hiawatha
Called the Mama, the woodpecker,
From his perch among the branches
Of the melancholy pine-tree,
And, in honor of his service,
Stained with blood the tuft of feathers
On the little head of Mama;
Even to this day he wears it,
Wears the tuft of crimson feathers,
As a symbol of his service.
Then he stripped the shirt of wampum
From the back of Megissogwon,
As a trophy of the battle,
As a signal of his conquest.
On the shore he left the body,
Half on land and half in water,
In the sand his feet were buried,
And his face was in the water.
And above him, wheeled and clamored
The Keneu, the great war-eagle,
Sailing round in narrower circles,
Hovering nearer, nearer, nearer.
From the wigwam Hiawatha
Bore the wealth of Megissogwon,
All his wealth of skins and wampum,
Furs of bison and of beaver,
Furs of sable and of ermine,
Wampum belts and strings and pouches,
Quivers wrought with beads of wampum,
Filled with arrows, silver-headed.
Homeward then he sailed exulting,
Homeward through the black pitch-water,
Homeward through the weltering serpents,
With the trophies of the battle,
With a shout and song of triumph.
On the shore stood old Nokomis,
On the shore stood Chibiabos,
And the very strong man, Kwasind,
Waiting for the hero's coming,
Listening to his songs of triumph.
And the people of the village
Welcomed him with songs and dances,
Made a joyous feast, and shouted:
"Honor be to Hiawatha!
He has slain the great Pearl-Feather,
Slain the mightiest of Magicians,
Him, who sent the fiery fever,
Sent the white fog from the fen-lands,
Sent disease and death among us!"
Ever dear to Hiawatha
Was the memory of Mama!
And in token of his friendship,
As a mark of his remembrance,
He adorned and decked his pipe-stem
With the crimson tuft of feathers,
With the blood-red crest of Mama.
But the wealth of Megissogwon,
All the trophies of the battle,
He divided with his people,
Shared it equally among them.
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