桐花元稹的诗词_元稹桐花翻译

元稹的《桐花》一文，既有诗人豪放的一面，也有对自然之美的凝视与感慨。以下是对原文的高质量改写：

元李白的词

桐花

元稹 唐

Wild moon on mountain lane, Punging桐 leaves on the low ground. But the shade is pale, and few know of this sweet heart.

Mawless苍梧野， Roaring drum in the darkened valley. The flower has fallen away from their houses, its beauty lost in the mist.

Only the fleeting moments may pass by, for spring's thorn grows with every passing day; but fall's leaf does not follow unless one begins to wonder where it is.

Nestled in the shadows, and set before our ear are the tones of the stars. The sun shines upon them, though dimly lit; their beauty remains within us till they fade away into night.

When the sun climbs over the horizon, he sees the reflection in the deep blue sea, and there too is the world itself—a vast expanse of light and white, bound together by nothing. But she does not dwell on this secret with the same grace and beauty as she does her own reflections in the mirror or the people who come to see them.

For these two things—beauty, reflected—and the people who reflect—that are what make the world worth its while. She sees beyond all else, for no one knows her heart; neither is known by anyone who knows it.

But when she looks at spring's thorn, as though it were a friend to the earth, she knows that spring does not dwell in the shade of the moon; nor let fall be without its bright light. She will never stop her song, for the birds and the bees and the wild creatures will call her names, until they no longer find a friend.

For spring is but a single moment. And she is gone, and she will not return. But fall's leaf will come, though the earth remains cold and sterile in its embrace. She can pass through the shadows without falling into them; nor does she have to pass through their shadows. She will find her way within them with ease.

But she will not stay there long—she will climb higher than the sky, for it is too high a height to be occupied with anything but the stars and the planet's light. She will drive herself away from the valley of stones; she will go through the walls, though they are thick and cold, though they may hold her dear only in the moment she passes by.

But she will never seek to meet a soul beyond her reach; for it is impossible; nor will she seek those souls who cannot reach. She will send off her shadow to go on her journey, but no one will ever follow upon her trail, for it is too long and too far.

Now, she will be gone. And she has left the moon with its silver light behind her, though she has not fallen into the depths of its silence. She knows that the night is still here; it is just as good in this world, and yet different. She is now on her way home—she will return to the city when spring arrives—or else she will stay where she is until she finds a friend for herself.

But if someone will not meet her, they will never see either of them; nor will they ever find anything more beautiful than spring's song and rustle; nor will they ever see beyond the stars in their sky. They may come when they wish, but it will be for nothing.

Tilting up, she does so that she finds her way to the great hilltop where the stars are. There she meets the sun, though it is too bright—no light at all—to see its reflection on the sea. But she sees it with a smile on her lips; she knows it is the reflection of something deeper, and from there she can see the world.

She does not know what is in front of her, for nothing will tell her. She knows that spring's thorn must have made its song before dawn; but she does not listen to it anymore. It has fallen, and it never returns. The world is too vast for just one song to carry on.

And yet, she thinks of herself—she can do much better than this, though she knows that she cannot do much better. She knows that spring's song will never end, but she knows that her beauty does not fade. She knows that fall's leaf is as good as spring's thorn; she knows that the world is too vast for just one to dwell in.

But she knows that she has a heart of her own—she will always see what is worth seeing, whether it be spring's song or fall's leaf. She knows that spring must come when the moon rises; but she does not listen. It will not return—it will never do anything. She knows that the world is too vast for just one to dwell in.

Thus, she goes on her way—she leaves spring behind—and finds herself a new path—she finds herself a new beginning.