古诗英译：白居易《观刈麦》

骥鸿

　　Watching Peasants Cutting Wheat

tr. by LI Jihong

Peasants never have leisure for a day;

Their busiest time is usually in May.

When night falls the south wind begins

to blow；

Covering field banks, the wheat grows

yellow.

The women carry meals to the farmland;

The children carry pots of soup by hand.

To send food and drinks, each other they

follow,

Their men on the south ridge working hard

so.

To stand the heat from soil their feet have

got

And their backs are scorched by sunlight so

hot.

Tired out they feel, but hot they never say,

Only hoping last still longer will the day.

Then there is a poor woman now in sight,

Who has just carried her child there aside.

Picked wheat in right hand, she's seen to

stand,

With a broken basket hanging from left

hand.

She turned to relate her sad life story,

Making all the listeners feel very sorry.

"Our land's sold up so taxes we can pay.

That's why I pick wheat ears to hunger allay."

What virtures and merrits do I have today?

I've never done farm work for a single day.

As an official, I've stipend so fair,

At the year's end still with grain to spare.

At thought of it, I feel ashamedly down;

Day and night, my shame will never be gone.

2024年6月8日制作于长沙