水调歌头 林语堂译版

How rare the moon, so round and clear! With cup in hand, I ask of the blue sky, "I do not know in the celestial sphere What name this festive night goes by?" I want to fly home, riding the air, But fear the ethereal cold up there, The jade and crystal mansions are so high! Dancing to my shadow, I feel no longer the mortal tie. She rounds the vermilion tower, Stoops to silk-pad doors, Shines on those who sleepless lie. Why does she, bearing us no grudge, Shine upon our parting, reunion deny? But rare is perfect happiness-- The moon does wax, the moon does wane, And so men meet and say goodbye. I only pray our life be long, And our souls together heavenward fly!