晋の太元年間のことである。武陵の地に、漁師として暮らしを立てる一人の男がいた。彼は日々小舟を操り、川をさかのぼっては魚を捕り、貧しいながらも穏やかな日々を送っていた。
It was during the Taiyuan era of the Jin dynasty. In Wuling lived a man who made his living by fishing. Each day he steered his small boat upriver, catching fish — leading a humble but peaceful life.
ある春の日のこと、漁師はいつものように谷川をさかのぼっていた。岸辺の風景に見とれるうちに、自分がどれほどの距離を進んだか、まるで分からなくなっていた。気がつけば、見覚えのない場所まで来ていた。
One spring day, as he made his way upstream as he always did, the fisherman became so absorbed in the scenery along the banks that he forgot how far he had come. When he came back to himself, he found that he had reached a place he had never seen before.
ふと顔を上げると、両岸はことごとく桃の花で埋め尽くされていた。数百歩にもわたって、桃以外の木は一本も交じらず、よい香りの草が地を覆い、桃色の花びらが風に乗ってはらはらと散り落ちていた。川面にも花びらは幾重にも浮かび、舟はまるで花の流れの上を行くように進んでいった。それは、人の世のものとは思えないほど美しい光景だった。
He looked up — and on both banks of the river were peach trees, in such density that nothing else could be seen. For several hundred paces, no other tree was mixed among them; fragrant grasses covered the earth, and pink petals drifted down on the wind. The water itself was layered with petals, and his boat seemed to be moving over a stream of blossoms. It was a scene of such beauty that it could not have belonged to the human world.
漁師は、これほどの桃の林をかつて見たことがなかったので、不思議に思いながらもなお舟を進めた。「この花の林はどこまで続くのだろうか」と、彼はひとりつぶやいた。やがて、桃の林は山のふもとで終わった。
Never in his life had he seen such a peach grove, and wondering at it, he pressed his boat on. "How far can this forest of flowers extend?" he murmured to himself. At length the peach grove ended at the foot of a mountain.
そこには小さな山があり、ふもとに猫の額ほどの穴が口を開けていた。穴の奥からは、かすかに光が漏れているように見えた。漁師は思わず舟を岸につけ、その光に誘われるように、穴へと足を踏み入れた。
There stood a small mountain, and in its base a tiny opening, no larger than a cat's brow, gaped. From its depths a faint light seemed to be seeping out. Hardly knowing why, the fisherman tied his boat to the bank and, as if drawn by that light, stepped into the opening.
入口こそ、ようやく人一人が通り抜けるほどの狭さだったが、しばらく進むうちに、突如として目の前が開けた。彼は、思わず息を呑んで立ち止まった。
The entrance was just barely wide enough for a single person to pass through, but as he advanced a little way, all at once the view before him opened wide. He stopped short, breath caught in his throat.
そこには、ゆるやかに開けた平地が広がっていた。整然と区切られた田畑、こざっぱりとした家々が連なり、そのあいだを桑や竹が緑濃く茂っている。あぜ道は東西南北にめぐらされ、どこからか鶏の鳴き声や、犬の遠吠えが聞こえてくる。
Before him spread a gently opening plain. Tidily marked-out fields and well-kept houses ran in a line, with mulberries and bamboo growing thickly between them. Footpaths ran north and south, east and west, and from somewhere came the crowing of roosters and the distant barking of dogs.
行き交う人々の身なりは、いささか古風ではあったが、男も女も、老人も若者も、皆ゆったりとした足取りで、楽しげに語らいながら歩いている。誰一人として、憂いを帯びた顔をしていなかった。それはまさに、桃源郷ならではの光景だった。
The dress of the people coming and going was somewhat old-fashioned, but men and women, the old and the young, all walked at an easy pace, talking happily together. Not one of them wore a face touched by care. It was a scene that could belong only to Peach Blossom Spring.
漁師の姿を見つけた村人の一人が、目を見開いて駆け寄ってきた。「あなたはどこから来たのか」と、その村人は驚きながら尋ねた。漁師がありのままに答えると、村人は彼を連れて、自分の家へと案内した。
One villager, catching sight of the fisherman, ran up to him with eyes wide. "Where have you come from?" he asked, astonished. When the fisherman told him truthfully, the villager led him along to his own house.
主人は鶏を絞めて酒を運び、客人を心からもてなした。やがて、村中の人々が漁師の来訪を聞きつけ、続々と集まってきた。彼らは皆、口々に外の世界の様子を尋ね、漁師の語る一言一句に、息をひそめて聞き入った。
The host killed a chicken and brought out wine, treating his guest with whole-hearted hospitality. Soon, hearing of the fisherman's arrival, the whole village began to gather, one after another. They all asked, each in their own way, about the world outside, listening with hushed breath to every word he spoke.
やがて、その中で最も年老いて見える人物が、静かに語り始めた。「我らの先祖は、その昔秦の世の乱を避けようと、妻子を率いてこの人里離れた土地までたどり着いたのです。それ以来、二度として外へ出る者はいませんでした」と。
At length the oldest among them stepped forward and began, quietly, to speak. "Our ancestors, in the chaos of the Qin dynasty long ago, led their wives and children into this remote land. From that day, not once has any of us passed beyond these walls."
「以来、我らはこの地で世を捨てて暮らしてまいりました。外の世界とは久しく交わりを絶ち、今がいかなる時代であるのかさえ知りません」と長老は続けた。漁師は驚きを抑えきれず、漢の世も、それを継いだ魏も、晋の今の世のことも、知らないのかと問うた。
"Ever since, we have lived here as men who have set the world behind. We have long since cut all ties with the outside, and we do not even know what age it is now," the elder went on. The fisherman could not contain his amazement: did they know, then, of neither the Han, nor the Wei that followed, nor of the present Jin?
長老をはじめ、村人たちはことごとく顔を見合わせ、深いため息をついた。漁師は乞われるままに、外の世界で起こったことの数々を、ひとつひとつ詳しく語って聞かせた。村人たちは、聞くたびにため息をつき、聞き終えた後もしばらくは言葉なく座っていた。
The elder, and with him all the villagers, looked at one another and let out long sighs. Asked to tell them more, the fisherman recounted in detail all that had befallen the outer world. With every part of the tale the villagers sighed, and even when he had finished, they sat in silence for some time longer.
それから数日のあいだ、漁師は村人たちの厚いもてなしを受け、家から家へと招かれた。どの家でも、酒と料理が惜しみなく振る舞われ、彼を歓迎してやまなかった。漁師は、これほど穏やかな日々を今までに過ごしたことがなかった。
For several days after, the fisherman received the villagers' generous hospitality, invited from one house to the next. In every home wine and dishes were spread without stint, and the welcome they showed him never failed. Never in his life had he passed days of such serenity.
やがて、漁師は外の世界へ帰る決意を伝えた。村人たちは、別れを惜しみつつ、こう告げた。「我らがここにあることを、どうか外の人々には語らずにいてください」と。漁師は固く約束をして、村を後にした。
At length, the fisherman told them of his decision to return to the outer world. The villagers, regretting the parting, said to him: "Please, do not tell others outside that we are here." The fisherman gave them his firm promise, and left the village behind.
しかし、漁師は、心のうちに約束を裏切る考えを抱きはじめていた。彼は舟を見つけて川を下りながら、目印になりそうな場所をひそかに記憶していった。「いつか必ず、もう一度ここへ戻ってこよう」と、彼は心ひそかに思っていた。
But within himself, the fisherman had already begun to harbor a thought of betraying that promise. As he found his boat and began the descent of the river, he was secretly noting every landmark he passed. "One day, without fail, I shall come back to this place," he told himself in his heart.
郡へ戻った漁師は、すぐに太守のもとへ行き、見聞きしたところをくわしく報告した。太守はこの不思議な話に驚き、ただちに役人を派遣し、漁師を案内人として、かの地を再び探させた。
When he returned to the prefecture, the fisherman went straight to the magistrate and reported in detail what he had seen and heard. Astonished at this strange story, the magistrate at once dispatched officers, with the fisherman as their guide, to search out the place again.
ところが、いくら漁師がかつての道筋をたどろうとしても、目印はすでにあとかたもなく失われていた。山を巡っても、川をさかのぼっても、桃源郷へ至る道は、ついに見つけ出すことができなかった。あれはまぼろしだったのかと、漁師は呆然と立ち尽くしていた。
But however hard the fisherman tried to retrace his former path, the marks he had set down had vanished without a trace. They circled the mountains, they ascended the rivers — yet the way to Peach Blossom Spring could not be found at all. Could it have been an illusion, the fisherman wondered, as he stood there dumbfounded.
その後、南陽の立派な人物である劉子驥という者が、この話を伝え聞いて、自らも桃源郷を求めて旅立とうとした。しかし、彼はその志を果たすことなく病に倒れ、まもなく世を去った。それからというもの、桃源郷を探そうとする者は、ついに二度と現れなかった。
Later, a noble recluse of Nanyang, Liu Ziji, hearing of this story, made ready to set out himself in search of Peach Blossom Spring. But before he could carry out his purpose, he fell ill and soon passed from this world. From that time on, never again did any man seek the way to Peach Blossom Spring.