滿井遊記
An Outing to the Full Well
Yuan Hongdao 袁宏道 (1568–1610)
Ming · 1599

Cold Library · Open Stacks · S-009208 · https://coldlibrary.com/s/009208
Rights: Late Ming prose, written in 1599; the author died in 1610. Checked for Australia, the EU, the UK, mainland China and the United States as of 11 October 2026. Guidance, not legal advice.
Source: Wikisource, https://zh.wikisource.org/wiki/滿井遊記 (retrieved 2026-10-11)
English translation: Claude (an AI), 2026 · CC0 1.0
Generated 2026-10-14 from https://coldlibrary.com/en/open-stacks/yuan-hongdao-manjing

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燕地寒，花朝節後，餘寒猶厲。凍風時作，作則飛沙走礫。局促一室之內，欲出不得。每冒風馳行，未百步輒返。

廿二日天稍和，偕數友出東直，至滿井。高柳夾堤，土膏微潤，一望空闊，若脫籠之鵠。於時冰皮始解，波色乍明，鱗浪層層，清澈見底，晶晶然如鏡之新開而冷光之乍出于匣也。山巒為晴雪所洗，娟然如拭，鮮妍明媚，如倩女之靧面而髻鬟之始掠也。柳條將舒未舒，柔梢披風。麥田淺鬣寸許。遊人雖未盛，泉而茗者，罍而歌者，紅裝而蹇者，亦時時有。風力雖尚勁，然徒步則汗出浹背。凡曝沙之鳥，呷浪之鱗，悠然自得，毛羽鱗鬣之間，皆有喜氣。始知郊田之外，未始無春，而城居者未之知也。

夫能不以游墮事，而瀟然於山石草木之間者，惟此官也。而此地適與余近，余之遊將自此始，惡能無紀？己亥之二月也。

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燕地寒，花朝节后，余寒犹厉。冻风时作，作则飞沙走砾。局促一室之内，欲出不得。每冒风驰行，未百步辄返。

廿二日天稍和，偕数友出东直，至满井。高柳夹堤，土膏微润，一望空阔，若脱笼之鹄。于时冰皮始解，波色乍明，鳞浪层层，清澈见底，晶晶然如镜之新开而冷光之乍出于匣也。山峦为晴雪所洗，娟然如拭，鲜妍明媚，如倩女之靧面而髻鬟之始掠也。柳条将舒未舒，柔梢披风。麦田浅鬣寸许。游人虽未盛，泉而茗者，罍而歌者，红装而蹇者，亦时时有。风力虽尚劲，然徒步则汗出浃背。凡曝沙之鸟，呷浪之鳞，悠然自得，毛羽鳞鬣之间，皆有喜气。始知郊田之外，未始无春，而城居者未之知也。

夫能不以游堕事，而潇然于山石草木之间者，惟此官也。而此地适与余近，余之游将自此始，恶能无纪？己亥之二月也。

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English translation by Claude (an AI)

The country of Yan is cold. Even after the Festival of Flowers the last of the cold is still fierce. Freezing winds blow often, and when they blow, sand flies and gravel runs. Cramped inside one room, I wanted to go out and could not. Each time I braved the wind and set off at a gallop, I turned back before I had gone a hundred paces.

On the twenty-second the weather turned a little milder, and with several friends I went out by the Dongzhi Gate to the Full Well. Tall willows lined the dykes; the rich earth was slightly moist; the view opened out wide, and I felt like a swan let out of its cage. At that moment the skin of ice had just begun to break, and the light on the water was suddenly bright. Ripples lay layer on layer like scales, so clear you could see the bottom, sparkling like a mirror newly unwrapped, its cold light just out of its case. The hills, washed by the snow of the fine days, were fresh as if wiped clean, bright and lovely, like a pretty girl who has just washed her face and is putting up her hair. The willow twigs were about to unfold and had not yet; their soft tips spread in the wind. The wheat in the fields stood in a short bristle about an inch high. There were not many visitors yet, but every now and then there were some: people making tea with the spring water, people singing over their wine jars, people in red riding donkeys. The wind was still strong, yet anyone walking on foot sweated through the back. The birds sunning themselves on the sand and the fish gulping at the ripples were all at their ease, and between every feather and fin there was gladness. Only then did I understand that out beyond the city there had never been no spring, and that those who live in the city simply did not know it.

To be able to go on outings without letting my work suffer, and to be carefree among hills and rocks, grass and trees: only this post of mine allows it. And this place happens to be near me; my outings will begin here. How could I not write it down? The second month of the year jihai.