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《故都的秋》是中國現代作家郁達夫于1934年創作的散文，寄寓了作者眷戀故都自然風物和對美的執著追求，流露出一種沉靜、寡淡的心境。此文感情濃厚，意味雋永，文辭優美，多次被選入中學語文教材。
此處選用的英譯版本及文末注釋出自中國著名翻譯家、杰出教授張培基先生。張先生的譯文自然流暢并且極具文采，充分體現了譯者的翻譯理念，實乃翻譯作品的經典，令許多讀者和翻譯愛好者受益匪淺。
| 【原文】 |
【張培基 譯注】 |
| 故都的秋 |
Autumn in Peiping |
| 作者：郁達夫 |
By Yu Dafu |
| 秋天，無論在什么地方的秋天，總是好的；可是啊，北國的秋，卻特別地來得清，來得靜，來得悲涼。我的不遠千里，要從杭州趕上青島，更要從青島趕上北平來的理由，也不過想飽嘗一嘗這“秋”，這故都的秋味 |
Autumn, wherever it is, always has something to recommend itself. In North China, however, it is particularly limpid, serene and melancholy. To enjoy its atmosphere to the full in the onetime capital, I have, therefore, made light of travelling a long distance from Hangzhou to Qingdao, and thence to Peiping. |
| 江南，秋當然也是有的，但草木凋得慢，空氣來得潤，天的顏色顯得淡，并且又時常多雨而少風；一個人夾在蘇州上海杭州，或廈門香港廣州的市民中間，混混沌沌地過去，只能感到一點點清涼，秋的味，秋的色，秋的意境與姿態，總看不飽，嘗不透，賞玩不到十足。秋并不是名花，也并不是美酒，那一種半開、半醉的狀態，在領略秋的過程上，是不合適的。 |
There is of course autumn in the South too, but over there plants wither slowly, the air is moist, the sky pallid, and it is more often rainy than windy. While muddling along all by myself among the urban dwellers of Suzhou, Shanghai, Xianmen, Hong Kong or Guangzhou, I feel nothing but a little chill in the air, without ever relishing to my heart's content the flavour, colour, mood and style of the season. Unlike famous flowers which are most attractive when half opening, good wine which is most tempting when one is half drunk, autumn, however, is best appreciated in its entirety. |
| 不逢北國之秋，已將近十余年了。在南方每年到了秋天，總要想起陶然亭的蘆花，釣魚臺的柳影，西山的蟲唱，玉泉的夜月，潭柘寺的鐘聲。在北平即使不出門去吧，就是在皇城人海之中，租人家一椽破屋來住著，早晨起來，泡一碗濃茶，向院子一坐，你也能看得到很高很高的碧綠的天色，聽得到青天下馴鴿的飛聲。從槐樹葉底，朝東細數著一絲一絲漏下來的日光，或在破壁腰中，靜對著像喇叭似的牽?；ǎǔ瘶s）的藍朵，自然而然地也能夠感覺到十分的秋意。說到了牽牛花，我以為以藍色或白色者為佳，紫黑色次之，淡紅色最下。最好，還要在牽?；ǖ祝涕L著幾根疏疏落落的尖細且長的秋草，使作陪襯。 |
It is more than a decade since I last saw autumn in North. When I am in the South, the arrival of each autumn will put me in mind of Peiping's Tao Ran Ting with its reed catkins, Diao Yu Tai with its shady willow trees, Western Hills with their chirping insects, Yu Quan Shan Mountain on a moonlight evening and Tan Zhe Si with its reverbrating bell. Suppose you put up in a humble rented house inside the bustling imperial city, you can, on getting up at dawn, sit in your courtyard sipping a cup of strong tea, leisurely watch the high azure skies and listen to pigeons circling overhead. Saunter eastward under locust trees to closely observe streaks of sunlight filtering through their foliage, or quietly watch the trumpet-shaped blue flowers of morning glories climbing half way up a dilapidated wall, and an intense feeling of autumn will of itself well up inside you. As to morning glories, I like their blue or white flowers best, dark purple ones second best, and pink ones third best. It will be most desirable to have them set off by some tall thin grass planted underneath here and there. |
| 北國的槐樹，也是一種能使人聯想起秋來的點綴。像花而又不是花的那一種落蕊，早晨起來，會鋪得滿地。腳踏上去，聲音也沒有，氣味也沒有，只能感出一點點極微細極柔軟的觸覺。掃街的在樹影下一陣掃后，灰土上留下來的一條條掃帚的絲紋，看起來既覺得細膩，又覺得清閑，潛意識下并且還覺得有點兒落寞，古人所說的梧桐一葉而天下知秋的遙想，大約也就在這些深沉的地方。 |
Locust trees in the North, as a decorative embellishment of nature, also associate us with autumn. On getting up early in the morning, you will find the ground strewn all over with flower-like pistils fallen from locust trees. Quiet and smellless, they feel tiny and soft underfoot. After a street cleaner has done the sweeping under the shade of the trees, you will discover countless lines left by his broom in the dust, which look so fine and quiet that somehow a feeling of forlornness will begin to creep up on you. The same depth of implication is found in the ancient saying that a single fallen leaf from the wutong tree is more than enough to inform the world of autumn's presence. |
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