秋夕

杜牧

银烛秋光冷画屏，

轻罗小扇扑流萤。

天阶夜色凉如水，

坐看牵牛织女星。

（译者：许渊冲） 

Autumn has chilled

the painted screen in candlelight;

A palace maid uses

a fan to catch fireflies.

The steps seem steeped in water

when cold grows the night;

She sits to watch two stars

in love meet in the skies. 

鹊桥仙

秦观

纤云弄巧，飞星传恨，

银汉迢迢暗度。

金风玉露一相逢，

便胜却人间无数。

柔情似水，佳期如梦，

忍顾鹊桥归路！

两情若是久长时，

又岂在朝朝暮暮！

（译者：许渊冲） 

Clouds float like works of art；

Stars shoot with grief at heart.

Across the Milky Way

the Cowherd meets the Maid

When Autumn’s Golden wind

embraces Dew of Jades,

All the love scenes on earth,

however many, fade

Their tender love flows

like a stream;

This happy date seems

but a dream.

Can they bear

a separate homeward way?

If love between both sides

can last for aye,

Why need they

stay together night and day?

迢迢牵牛星

佚名

迢迢牵牛星，

皎皎河汉女。

纤纤擢素手，

札札弄机杼。

终日不成章，

泣涕零如雨。

河汉清且浅，

相去复几许？

盈盈一水间，

脉脉不得语。

（译者：杨宪益、戴乃迭） 

Far, far away, the Cowherd,

Fair, fair, the Weaving Maid;

Nimbly move her slender white fingers,

Click-clack goes her weaving-loom.

All day she weaves,

yet her web is still not done.

And her tears fall like rain.

Clear and shallow the Milky Way,

They are not far apart!

But the stream brims always between.

And, gazing at each other,

they cannot speak.

鹊桥仙·七夕

朱淑真

巧云妆晚，

西风罢暑，

小雨翻空月坠。

牵牛织女几经秋，

尚多少、离肠恨泪。

微凉入袂，

幽欢生座，

天上人间满意。

何如暮暮与朝朝，

更改却、年年岁岁。

（译者：谢艳明） 

The artful cloud adorns the evening sky;

The west wind sends away hot summer days;

The drizzle floats away and the moon sets from high.

The Cowherd and the Weaver Maid have had a year long wait.

How many tears are left

For their mournful parting sigh.

The cool air pierces into our sleeves;

The joy of their meeting comes to our seats.

Both high up there and down here, we get relief.

Every night and morning should be their meets.

Why is this changed

Into a year-long parting grief?

（译者：Wilt Idema and Beata Grant ） 

Ingenious clouds adorn the evening,

A western wind dispels the heat,

A light rain cleans out the sky, the moon sets.

Cowherd and Weaving Maiden have been through so many autumns,

But still how many

Feelings of separation, tears of despair.

A light chill enters my sleeves,

A secret pleasure fills the stars:

Satisfaction both in Heaven and down here below.

How much better were it every evening, every morning,

And do away with this

“One meeting once a year.”