桃花源记
The Peach Blossom Spring, retold in modern Chinese
Name: ________________ Date: ________
一千六百多年前，东晋太元年间，武陵有一个靠打鱼生活的人。有一天，他坐着小船，沿着一条小河往上游走，走着走着，竟然忘了自己走了多远。
忽然，眼前出现了一片桃花林。小河的两边几百步之内，全是桃树，中间没有一棵别的树。青草又嫩又香，花一片一片地落下来，铺满了地面。打鱼人看得十分惊奇，便继续往前走，想看看这片桃花林到底有多深。
桃花林的尽头立着一座山，这条小河正是从那里流出来的。山脚下有个小洞口，里面好像透出一点儿光。打鱼人下了船，从洞口钻了进去。一开始，洞特别小，只能勉强过一个人。又走了几十步，眼前一下子豁然开朗：土地又平又宽，房屋整整齐齐，有很好的田地、美丽的池塘，还有桑树和竹子。田间的路四通八达，到处都能听见鸡和狗的叫声。男男女女在田里来来往往地干活，穿的衣服跟外面的人完全不同。老人和小孩个个自在，满脸笑容。
村里人看见打鱼人，大吃一惊，问他从哪儿来。他一一作了回答。于是有人把他请到家里，摆上酒，杀了鸡，做饭招待他。别的村民听说来了一位客人，也都赶来打听外面的消息。
原来，他们的祖先为了躲开秦朝时的战争，带着妻子儿女和同乡来到这个与世隔绝的地方，从此再也没有出去过，跟外面的人就断了来往。他们问打鱼人，现在外面是什么朝代。没想到，他们连汉朝都不知道，更不知道后来的曹魏和晋朝了。打鱼人把自己知道的事一件一件地讲给他们听，大家听了，都不禁叹气，感慨万分。
打鱼人在村里住了好几天，其他村民也轮流请他去家里吃饭。走之前，村里人叮嘱他：“这里的事情，不值得对外面的人说。”
可是打鱼人出来以后，找到自己的船，就沿着来时的路，处处做了记号。一回到城里，他就去拜见太守，把这番经历讲了一遍。太守马上派人跟他一起去，按照记号去找，结果却迷了路，怎么也找不到原来的路了。
后来，有一位叫刘子骥的读书人听说了这件事，很高兴地计划要去寻找，可是还没去成，不久就病死了。从那以后，再也没有人打听去桃花源的路了。
这个故事来自东晋诗人陶渊明的《桃花源记》。今天，中国人把远离战争和烦恼、理想中的安静地方叫做“世外桃源”。只可惜，跟那个打鱼人一样，谁也说不清它到底在哪儿。
Key words
| Word | Pinyin | Meaning |
|---|---|---|
| 靠 | kào | damn; shoot (exclamation) |
| 地面 | dìmiàn | ground; floor |
| 便 | biàn | then; and so |
| 洞 | dòng | hole; cave |
| 土地 | tǔdì | land; soil; territory |
| 平 | píng | (sports) draw; tie |
| 宽 | kuān | wide; broad; width |
| 房屋 | fángwū | house; building |
| 竹子 | zhúzi | bamboo |
| 铺 | pū | shop; store (as in 店铺) |
| 钻 | zuān | drill (tool) |
| 田 | tián | surname Tian |
English (for the teacher)
More than sixteen hundred years ago, in the Taiyuan years of the Eastern Jin, there was a man in Wuling who made his living by fishing. One day he took his little boat up a stream, and as he went along he quite forgot how far he had come.
Suddenly a peach grove appeared before him. For several hundred paces along both banks there was nothing but peach trees, without a single tree of any other kind among them. The grass was fresh and fragrant, and petals drifted down one after another until they covered the ground. The fisherman was amazed, and he went on further, wanting to see how deep the grove went.
Where the grove ended stood a mountain, and the stream flowed out of it right there. At the foot of the mountain was a small opening, and a little light seemed to come through from inside. The fisherman left his boat and squeezed in through the opening. At first the passage was so narrow that one person could only just get through. After a few dozen more paces it suddenly opened out: the land was flat and wide, the houses neat and orderly, with good fields, lovely ponds, mulberry trees and bamboo. Paths ran between the fields in every direction, and everywhere you could hear chickens and dogs. Men and women came and went in the fields at their work, dressed quite differently from people outside. Old people and children alike were at ease, their faces all smiles.
When the villagers saw the fisherman they were astonished and asked where he had come from. He answered every question. Then someone invited him home, set out wine, killed a chicken and cooked a meal for him. When the other villagers heard there was a guest, they all hurried over to ask for news of the outside world.
It turned out that their ancestors had fled the wars of the Qin dynasty, bringing wives, children and neighbours to this place cut off from the world; they had never gone out again, and all contact with outsiders had been lost. They asked the fisherman what dynasty it was out there now. To his surprise, they had never even heard of the Han, let alone the Wei and the Jin that came after it. The fisherman told them everything he knew, one thing after another, and as they listened they could not help sighing, deeply moved.
He stayed in the village for several days, and the other villagers took turns inviting him to their homes for meals. Before he left, the villagers told him: “What happens here is not worth telling the people outside.”
But once the fisherman was out, he found his boat and marked the way back at every turn. As soon as he was back in town he went to see the prefect and told him the whole story. The prefect at once sent men with him to follow the marks, but they lost their way and could never find the old path again.
Later a scholar named Liu Ziji heard about it and happily planned to go and look for it, but before he could go he fell ill and died. After that, nobody ever asked the way to the Peach Blossom Spring again.
The story comes from The Peach Blossom Spring by the Eastern Jin poet Tao Yuanming. Today Chinese people call any ideal, peaceful place far from war and worry a “Peach Blossom Spring beyond the world”. The pity is that, just like that fisherman, nobody can say where it really is.