• 博客等级:
  • 博客积分:0
  • 博客访问:77,614
  • 关注人气:26
  • 获赠金笔:0支
  • 赠出金笔:0支
  • 荣誉徽章:
正文 字体大小:

译:是什么将我们照耀 What illuminates us?

(2011-08-07 16:53:58)








分类: (译)生命的忧伤与光芒

是什么将我们照耀, 作者:舒洁  [原文]

What illuminates us?  by Mr.Shujie






    It is called boyhood

    The screen in memory still hanged in between two willows, white nylon ropes winding around trunks of tree.  I still remember those black and white details of films, including many classical actors’ lines.  In my poor boyhood on Mongolia plateau, “facing the street” was my paradise, whenever I saw the white screen, the inner delight was as if walking towards a festival.  Later I understood that, it was prospect.

     Later, I understood that: Poverty is unable to strangle a youth’s imagination.




    Poetry cannot determine the normality of our livings, yet poetry is the most core part of your spiritual world.  The relationship between living and poetry is paradox – pursue bliss in living, perceive incompleteness in poetry.  Those people who can only know simple imitation, certainly have not acquired the real knowledge of nature, they have got used to conceal realities and pains, most of them are people who are relative worriless to material living, they speechify directing the landscape with the identity of poet over there; people’s sufferings are nearby--- they laud rain, ignore the roof leaking of house; they are those people whose spirit have lost the last hair, discussing comb over there; pain for them, no other than a voguish word, the luxury enjoyed during the process of entertainment.






    It is called homeland.

    The place had given my life, where my parents rest peacefully now.  Homeland is details, in which containing bitter sorrows.  For the existence of great love, my feeling of homeland is full of reverence at foreign land---Xar Moron River, Gongger River, Laoha River, these three rivers respectively symbolize mother in period of youth age, middle age and old age.  For this, thirty years ago, when I wrote the first poem on the way of parting homeland, I had sworn inwardly: In lifetime, I will not let an unclean word get in poem.

    At this moment, at mother’s campsite, I told her soul: Mother, I have honored my words


    1897年11月6日,罗曼·罗兰在他的日记里写道: “令我愤慨的是,在法兰西的大人物中,没有一个伟大的良心发言。此时此刻,多么需要一个维克多·雨果呵!只有这位坚强的人敢仗义执言,也许能感动人民。”







     On 6 November, 1987, Romain Rolland wrote on his dairy, “It let me feel indignation, among those France great personages, there is no great conscientious speech.  At this present moment, it needs a Victor-Marie Hugo so much!  Only this sturdy person dared speak boldly to uphold justice, may be able to affect people.”

     In our era, poetry has already become the embellishment of somewhat, visible transactions of exchange throughout, what has it been covered? When our “poets” greedily climb up towards some utilitarian goal with the cost of losing morality and moral integrity for oneself interest and desire, whatever “ingenious” theory related to poetry, can never hide their shameful conducts.

     It utterly lacks of the “clean spirit” emphasized by author Zhang Chengzhi in nowadays field of Chinese poetry.

     Some pale souls, quite enamored of bright colors, beneath the predomination of morbid psychology, they conceal distortion with fabricated ornate diction, exaggerate discovery without the least contemplation; they refuse to concede themselves as the short stature of spirit, before the majestic sanctuary that human poetry sages accomplished by love, painstaking effort and tribulations, they have got used to compare the height of mountain with shoulder.

     Basically, this sort of people neglects the omnipresent divinity.

     And the great kindness and incessant wisdom are the midst of people.








    It is called journey.

    Those are all departed days; an oncoming new day always vaguely implies us.  This is a pace that may be tired, yet it is process of heart always being full of aspirations, because of unknown, we feel mysterious.

    There is an ever unchanged coordinate that is homeland.

    The intercross of latitudes and longitudes, we may slip some points again.  Why do we feel agitation in night of lacking sight of flame? People who walk ahead and behind us, the destined road of life and death, the rotating seasons, we take part in this huge group, continuing this journey.

    There is no terminal point as long as living on earth.




    Today, poets who adhere to divinity and inherit the tradition of national poetry, they write at the distance of illusory nimbus, just like hermit.  And some other people, minutely use poetry to parade, they utilize poetry as mask or tools; in time of almost collective lack words, they highly lift up concept that is unrelated with poetry in nature as if highly lifting up prayer flag of evoking spirits—parade and evoking spirits, the actual intension is to beckon somewhat that cannot be talked, that is their portrayal.  There is no way to deny that within our unique system, some official institutions of culture and art (including literature), in which large group of mediocrity parasitize-mediocrity, especially is poetry mediocrity, even you cover with clothes weaved by golden threads, are unable to conceal your original depraved appearance either.






     It is called heart.

     You can deceive the whole world, yet you just cannot deceive your heart, all your spiritual activities cannot go beyond any fringe of this domain, whether great or humble, you will feel the real delight and secret anguish of it, if God is in your heart, that we call it the tender merciful sentiment, you will firstly take care your families, your friends; on the contrary, if concealed evil thoughts are minutely contained your heart, if you let this sort of evil thoughts drive, slaying dignity with dignified phases, your character is lower than ants.

     Please examine your conscience: Living on earth, to those love you, are you sincere? Are you clean? Do you feel no qualm? Are you a person of possessing dignified morality? Do you have guilty? Do you acknowledge being born from soil? Do you acknowledge your life being much less far and persistent than a tree?


(待续)to be continued



      16 July, 2011 afternoon, in Musdar




阅读 评论 收藏 转载 喜欢 打印举报/Report
  • 评论加载中,请稍候...




    新浪BLOG意见反馈留言板 电话:4000520066 提示音后按1键(按当地市话标准计费) 欢迎批评指正

    新浪简介 | About Sina | 广告服务 | 联系我们 | 招聘信息 | 网站律师 | SINA English | 会员注册 | 产品答疑

    新浪公司 版权所有