This article is reprinted from: Hundred People, Hundred Translations
Wang Bo’s genius masterpiece, a difficult and memorable piece of parallel prose, please ChatGPT translate it and see if it is reliable:
Former capital of Yuzhang, new prefecture of Hongdu. Stars separate and surround, land meets the Heng and Lu Mountains. Embracing the Three Rivers and encircling the Five Lakes, controlling the wild tribes of Jing and leading the cultured people of Ou and Yue. A land of beautiful natural treasures, where the dragon’s light shines over the site of the Cowherd and Weaving Maid; a place of outstanding people and auspicious spirits, where Xu Ruo and Chen Fan once sat. The misty city of Xiongzhou boasts talented and brilliant individuals, where the gods of the temple rest between the boundaries of Yi and Xia, and guests and hosts are all from the beautiful southeast. The dignified reputation of Commander Yan Gong is felt from afar, with his spear and battle flag waving high, while the elegance of Governor Yuwen Xinzhou is temporarily stationed under the canopy. After ten days of rest and relaxation, the company of victorious friends abounds, with a thousand miles of travel to meet and greet, and many esteemed guests filling the hall. With the flying of dragons and rising of phoenixes, the words of scholar Meng and the martial skills of General Wang are revered. My father serves as an official in this distinguished region, where I, a young boy, am fortunate enough to experience such a grand celebration.
It was the ninth month, the beginning of autumn. The floodwaters had receded and the clear, cold ponds remained. The smoke and light lingered, turning the mountains purple as the sunset. We rode our horses on the high road and sought out the beautiful scenery of Chong’a. We came to Changzhou, the ancient estate of emperors and gods, where the layered mountains towered above the clouds and the flying pavilions flowed with red clouds, suspended in midair without any support. The Crane Pavilion, Duck Island, and the surrounding islands formed a winding path. The Cinnamon Palace and Orchid Palace looked like mountain peaks.
We walked through the decorated gates and looked down at the carved ridges. The mountains and plains stretched out before us, while the rivers and lakes looked endless. The sound of bells and drums could be heard coming from the families who bowed to the ground, while ships and boats passed through the rivers and the Yellow Dragon sailed across the sea. The clouds cleared, the rain stopped, and the colors of the world were bright and clear. The setting sun and the solitary duck flew together, and the autumn waters and the sky became one color. The fishing boats sang in the evening and the sound echoed along the shores of Pengli. The flocks of geese were startled by the cold and their cries were cut off at Hengyang.
With a far-reaching view and a carefree heart, my spirit soars high. When the clear notes arise, the refreshing breeze begins to blow; when the fine melody fades away, the white clouds linger still. In Sui Garden, the green bamboo stands tall, reaching up to the skies of Pengze; on Ye River, the red flowers shine brightly, illuminating the pens of Linchuan. Both the landscape and the music are exquisite, and both are difficult to surpass. Looking up at the sky, I realize the vastness of the universe; enjoying my leisure time, I understand the alternation of gain and loss. I gaze at Chang’an in the daylight and set my sights on Wu gathering in the clouds. The earth is vast and the southern sea is deep; the heavens are high and the northern star is far. It is difficult to cross the mountain pass, and who does not lament the lost traveler? Meeting each other by chance, we are all guests in a foreign land. How many years have passed since I guarded the emperor’s gate without seeing him? How many years have I served in the Imperial Palace without being granted an audience?
Alas! Fate is unpredictable, and life is full of trials and tribulations. Feng Tang aged too quickly, and Li Guang failed to receive the title he deserved. Jia Yi was banished to Changsha, but he had a virtuous ruler; Lian Hong was exiled to the seaside, but he lived in a prosperous age. What is fortunate is that wise men know how to seize opportunities, and knowledgeable people understand their own destinies. Should the old not grow stronger, instead of abandoning their youthful ambitions? Even in adversity, one should hold fast to one’s lofty aspirations, and never give up on achieving great things. Drinking from a greedy spring, one feels refreshed; dancing in the dry ruts, one can still find joy. Although the northern sea seems boundless, it is within reach; and although the eastern horizon has already passed, it is not yet too late. Meng Changjun’s integrity remains, and his patriotic spirit endures; Ruan Ji’s wildness remains, but he does not succumb to despair!
Bo, with his humble three-foot frame and status as a mere scholar, had no path to seek military service, waiting until he turned twenty to join the army. He had the desire to leave his writing and emulate the famed warrior Zong Que. He left his hairpin and writing tablet at the age of one hundred and joined the service of the far-off thousand-mile frontier. Although he did not have the fortune of the Xie family’s precious trees or the elegance of the Meng family’s gardens, he still managed to gain a reputation as a literati. In the future, he would rush to the court and bow before the emperor’s dragon throne, but today he is delighted to be invited to Dragon Gate to visit. Although Yang Yi never encountered this kind of opportunity, he would look up at the clouds and lament. Meanwhile, Zhong Qi has achieved his ambition and has no reason to feel ashamed of his achievements.
Alas! The best places do not last forever, and once a banquet is over, it is difficult to have another. The Orchid Pavilion Gathering is over, and the Zize Mound is now just ruins. As we say goodbye, let us offer our humble words of thanks for the great feast we have received. As we climb to the heights and compose our poems, we hope to impress distinguished guests with our simple and sincere words. Please raise your cups to the waters of the Pan River and let us pour our heartfelt emotions into the vastness of the land and sea.
Tengwang Pavilion stands by the river’s side,
With jade ornaments chiming, and dance and song denied.
The painted rafters soar like clouds in the southern sky,
Pearl curtains roll up, as western mountains catch the eye.
Idle clouds and shadows drift, days pass slow,
Objects change, stars shift, autumn breezes blow.
Where is the emperor’s son, once housed in the tower?
Outside the railings, the Yangtze flows on, hour by hour.