印度洋上的秋思

 

文/徐志摩    译/黎历

    

昨夜中秋。黄昏时西天挂下一大帘的云母屏，掩住了落日的光潮，将海天一体化成暗蓝色，寂静得如黑衣尼在圣座前默祷。过了一刻，即听得船梢布篷上窸窸窣窣啜泣起来，低压的云夹着迷蒙的雨色，将海线逼得像湖一般窄，沿边的黑影，也辨认不出是山是云，但涕泪的痕迹，却满布在空中水上。

 

Autumn Thoughts On The Indian Ocean

 

By Xu Zhimu  /Tr. by Lily

 

It was mid-autumn last night. By the evening a huge mica curtain was hanging down from the western sky. It overshadowed the light tides of the sunset, merging the sea and the sky into a stretch of dark blue. It was so quiet as if the nuns in black were praying silently before the Holy Seat. After a while, a rustling and sobbing sound was heard from the awning on the stern. Low clouds tucked with misty rain narrowed the coastline as thin as the lakeshore. These black silhouettes on the shore were unrecognizable as mountains or clouds, but traces of tearful rains were found up in the air and down to the waters.

又是一番秋意！那雨声在急骤之中，有零落萧疏的况味，连着阴沉的气氲，只是在我灵魂的耳畔私语道：“秋”！我原来无欢的心境，抵御不住那样温婉的浸润，也就开放了春夏间所积受的秋思，和此时外来的怨艾构合，产出一个弱的婴儿——“愁”。

 

It’s autumn again! In the abrupt raindrops, there was a sense of desolation and bleakness associated with the gloomy air, whispering by my ear of soul: ‘autumn!’ My initial sad mood couldn’t resist the infiltration of such tenderness. So I had to unfold the autumn thoughts accumulated in spring and summer, integrating with the external gloom, to produce a fragile baby – ‘sorrow’.

 

天色早已沉黑，雨也已休止。但方才啜泣的云，还疏松地幕在天空，只露着些惨白的微光，预告明月已经装束齐整，专等开幕。同时船烟正在莽莽苍苍地吞吐，筑成一座蟒鳞的长桥，直联及西天尽处，和轮船泛出的一流翠波白沫，上下对照，留恋西来的踪迹。

 

It had already been dark when rain stopped. But the clouds which were weeping a while ago still loosely shrouded the sky. Only some pale shimmers passed through the clouds, forecasting an awaited opening for a neatly dressed bright moon. Meanwhile the ship was spitting out the luxuriant smokes which built into a long bridge of python scales spanning the ship and the western horizon. The foaming waves of an emerald stream by the sides of ship were in contrast to the smoke. Up and down, both were lingering traces left behind by the ship from the west.

 

北天云幕豁处，一颗鲜翠的明星，喜孜孜地先来问探消息，像新嫁媳的侍婢，也穿扮得遍体光艳。但新娘依然姗姗未出。

 

In the rift of clouds of the northern sky, a bright emerald-like star joyfully probed out first, like a wedding maiden dressed splendid all of over. But the bride had not yet showed up.

 

我小的时候，每于中秋夜，呆坐在楼窗外等看“月华”。若然天上有云雾缭绕，我就替“亮晶晶的月亮”担扰。若然见了鱼鳞似的云彩，我的小心就欣欣怡悦，默祷着月儿快些开花，因为我常听人说只要有“瓦楞”云，就有月华；但在月光放彩以前，我母亲早已逼我去上床，所以月华只是我脑筋里一个不曾实现的想象，直到如今。

 

When I was a child, I always sat blankly by the window of the upper chamber of house for each mid-autumn night, waiting for the ‘splendor moon’. If there were clouds lingering in the sky, I would worry for a ‘shining moon’. If I saw scale-like clouds, my worry would be taken away by joyfulness. I prayed for the moon to bloom, since I often heard that as long as corrugated clouds appear, there will be a splendor moon. But before the moon reached the prime, my mother had already urged me to go to bed. So until now a splendor moon is just an unrealized fantasy in my mind.

 

现在天上砌满了瓦楞云彩，霎时间引起了我早年许多有趣的记忆——但我的纯洁的童心，如今哪里去了！

 

And now the sky was fully stacked with corrugated clouds, which suddenly aroused many a fun memory of my early years - but where my pure innocence of childhood is now!

 

月光有一种神秘的引力。她能使海波咆哮，她能使悲绪生潮。月下的喟息可以结聚成山，月下的情泪可以培畤百亩的畹兰，千茎的紫琳耿。我疑悲哀是人类先天的遗传，否则，何以我们几年不知悲感的时期，有时对着一泻的清辉，也往往凄心滴泪呢？

 

Moonlight has a kind of mysterious gravity. She lets the sea billows growl and the sad mood surge tides. Grievous sighs under the moon can be piled up into mountains. Emotional tears under the moon can nurture hundreds of acres of orchids and violets. I doubt if sadness is a congenital genetic heritage of humankind. Otherwise, in those sorrow-insensitive years of our life, why should we often shed sad tears when facing the shower of clear moonlight?

 

但我今夜却不曾流泪。不是无泪可滴，也不是文明教育将我最纯洁的本能锄净，却为是感觉了神圣的悲哀，将我理解的好奇心激动，想学契古特白登来解剖这神秘的“眸冷骨累”。冷的智永远是热的情的死仇。他们不能相容的

 

But tonight I won’t shed any tears, neither tearless nor the education of civilization has eradicated my purest instinct. But it was for a feeling of sacred sadness which aroused my curiosity for understanding. I’d like to learn from Qi Gute Biden to anatomize this mysterious ‘cold eyes and tired bones’.  Cold calm is always the dead enemy of heated enthusiasm. Both repel each other.

 

但在这样浪漫的月夜，要来练习冷酷的分析，似乎不近人情！所以我的心机一转，重复将锋快的智力剧起，让沉醉的情泪自然流转，听他产生什么音乐，让绻缱的诗魂漫自低回，看他寻出什么梦境。

 

But at such a romantic moonlit night, to practise cold-blood analysis seems unreasonable! So another idea occurred to me: pack up again the sharp and quick intellect capability, allow the intoxicated and emotional tears to trickle naturally, listening to what music it’ll produce; allow the lingering poetic soul to roam alone, seeing what dream it’ll seek out.

 

明月正在云岩中间，周围有一圈黄色的彩晕，一阵阵的轻霭，在她面前扯过。海上几百道起伏的银沟，一齐在微叱凄其的音节，此外不受清辉的波域，在暗中坟坟涨落，不知是怨是慕。

 

The moon wandering among the rocks of cloud was gilded with a yellow halo and veiled by fits of passing thin mists. Hundreds of silver grooves undulating on the sea were in concert to the moon in a low and desolate tune. While those waves, not lit by the moon, rose and fell quietly, with unknown grief or envy.  

 

我一面将自己一部分的情感，看入自然界的现象，一面拿着纸笔，痴望着月彩，想从她明洁的辉光里，看出今夜地面上秋思的痕迹，希冀她们在我心里，凝成高洁情绪的菁华。因为她光明的捷足，今夜遍走天涯，人间的恩怨，哪一件不经过她的慧眼呢？

 

While considering part of my emotion as a natural phenomenon, I glanced up at the moon crazily with pen and paper in hand. I’d like to see from its bright and pure lights the traces of autumn thoughts on the earth tonight. Wish those thoughts to crystalize into noble and decent emotional essence in my heart. Because the bright feet of the moon had walked all around the world tonight, which earthly love and hate didn’t go through its eyes?

 

印度的Ganges（埂奇）河边有一座小村落，村外一个榕绒密绣的湖边，坐着一对情醉的男女，他们中间草地上放着一尊古铜香炉，烧着上品的水息，那温柔婉恋的烟篆，沉馥香浓的热气，便是他们爱感的象征。月光从云端里轻俯下来，在那女子脑前的珠串上，水息的烟尾上，印下一个慈吻，微晒，重复登上她的云艇，上前驶去。

 

In India, there was a small village by the Ganges River. Outside the village, there was a lake thickly lined by Banyan trees. On the lakeshore, sat a pair of man and woman who were intoxicated in love. On the grass stood a statue of bronze incense burner, burning the top grade incense. The lingering soft smoke and strong scent were the symbol of their love. Slightly bending over from the clouds the moonlight printed a blessing kiss on the string of beads on the woman’s forehead, on the tapering incense smoke. Then she boarded her boat of clouds again in smile and sailed further ahead.

 

一家别院的楼上，窗帘不曾放下，几枝肥满的桐叶正在玻璃上摇曳斗趣，月光窥见了窗内一张小蚊床上紫纱帐里，安眠着一个安琪儿似的小孩，她轻轻挨进身去，在他温软的眼睫上，嫩桃似的腮上，抚摩了一会。又将她银色的纤指，理齐了他脐圆的额发，蔼然微哂着，又回她的云海去了。

 

On the upstairs of another courtyard, the curtain was never drawn down. A few broad paulownia leaves were swaying for fun on the panel. The moonlight peeped in and had a glimpse of inside, an angle-like child sleeping in bed netted with purple gauze. She approached him gently and stroked for a while on his soft eyelids and peach-like cheeks. Using her slender silvery fingers, she managed well his round-shaped hair on the forehead in smile and then went back to her sea of clouds.

 

一个失望的诗人，坐在河边一块石头上，满面写着幽郁的神情，他爱人的倩影，在他胸中像河水似的流动，他又不能在失望的渣滓里榨出些微甘液，他张开两手，仰着头，让大慈大悲的月光，那时正在过路，洗沐他泪腺湿肿的眼眶，他似乎感觉到清心的安慰，立即摸出一枝笔，在白衣襟上写道：

月光，

你是失望儿的乳娘！

A desperate poet was sitting on a rock by the river with a sad look. His lover's figure was flowing in the river inside his chest. But he couldn’t squeeze some nectar out of those disappointed wastes. He reached out his hands and looked up, to let the passing merciful moonlight wash his tear-swollen eyes. He seemed to feel the soothing power of a pure heart, and immediately took out a pen to write in his white blouse:

Moonlight,

You are the wet nurse of desperate children!

 

面海一座柴屋的窗棂里，望得见屋里的内容：一张小桌上放着半块面包和几条冷肉，晚餐的剩余，窗前几上开着一本家用的圣经，炉架上两座点着的烛台，不住地在流泪，旁边坐着一个皱面驼腰的老妇人，两眼半闭不闭地落在伏在她膝上悲泣的一个少妇，她的长裙散在地板上像一只大花蝶。老妇人掉头向窗外望，只见远远海涛起伏，和慈祥的月光在拥抱蜜吻，她叹了声气向着斜照在圣经上的月彩嗫道：

“真绝望了！真绝望了！”

 

Through the window of a hut overlooking the sea, inside could be seen: standing on a small table were half a loaf and a few strips of cold meat, the leftover of the dinner. Opened on the end table by the window was a Bible for the household. Tears were running down from two burning candlesticks on the grate. Next to it sat an old woman with wrinkled face and bent back. Her half-closed eyes fell on a young woman weeping on her lap, with her butterfly-like skirt scattered on the floor. The old woman turned around to look out of the window, only seeing the undulating waves in the distance kissed and hugged by the sweet moonlight. She sighed and whispered to the moonlight shining on the Bible:
‘It’s really desperate! It’s really desperate!’

 

她独自在她精雅的书室里，把灯火一齐熄了，倚在窗口一架藤椅上，月光从东墙肩上斜泻下去，笼住她的全身，在花砖上幻出一个窈窕的倩影，她两根垂辫的发梢，她微澹的媚唇，和庭前几茎高峙的玉兰花，都在静谧的月色中微颤，她加她的呼吸，吐出一股幽香，不但邻近的花草，连月儿闻了，也禁不住迷醉，她腮边天然的妙涡，已有好几日不圆满：她瘦损了。但她在想什么呢？月光，你能否将我的梦魂带去，放在离她三五尺的玉兰花枝上。

 

Alone in her elegant study, she quenched all lights and leaned on a rattan chair by the window. Slanting moonlight poured in from the shoulder of the east wall, shrouding her all over and throwing a slim and graceful shadow on the patterned bricks. Her two hanging braids, her slightly opened lips, and a few lofty magnolia blossoms in the front yard were quietly trembling in moonlight. She and her breath exuded a fragrance. Not only neighboring plants, but also the moon was intoxicated by her scented smell. The natural and sweet dimples on her cheeks were not full those days: she lost weight. But what was she thinking? Moonlight, could you please take my dream to her, to place it on the magnolia blossoms three or five feet away from her.

 

威尔斯西境一座矿床附近，有三个工人，口衔着笨重的烟斗，在月光中间坐。他们所能想到的话都已讲完，但这异样的月彩，在他们对面的松林，左首的溪水上，平添了不可言语比说的妩媚，惟有他们工余倦极的眼珠不阖，彼此不约而同今晚较往常多抽了两斗的烟，但他们矿火熏黑，煤块擦黑的面容。表示他们心灵的薄弱，在享乐烟斗以外，虽然秋月溪声的戟刺，也不能有精美情绪之反感。等月影移西一些，他们默默地扑出了一斗灰，起身进屋，各自登床睡去。月光从屋背飘眼望进去，只见他们都已睡熟；他们即使有梦，也无非矿内矿外的景色！

 

Near a deposit at the border of Will Haris, three workers sitting in the moonlight were smoking with heavy cigarette pipe in mouth. All words occurring to them had been said. But this exotic moon added unspeakable charm to the pine woods across from them and the stream running on their left side. Their eyes were still open regardless of the weariness caused by tedious work. They smoked more cigarettes tonight without any agreement. But their faces blackened by the mine fire and the coal dust revealed their vulnerable minds. Beyond the pleasure of smoking, they couldn’t resent the exquisite emotion provoked by the autumn moon and the running stream. When the moon moved somehow away to the west, they quietly doped the smoke ashes and went back their own houses for sleep. When the moon peeped into the house from the backyard, they had already been asleep. Even if they were dreaming, there were nothing more than the scenery around the coal mine!

　

月光渡过了爱尔兰海峡，爬上海尔佛林的高峰，正对着静默的红潭。潭水凝定得像一大块冰，铁青色。四围斜坦的小峰，全都满铺着蟹青和蛋白色的岩片碎石，一株矮树都没有。沿潭间有些丛草，那全体形势，正像一大青碗，现在满盛了清洁的月辉，静极了，草里不闻虫吟，水里不闻鱼跃；只有石缝里潜涧沥淅之声，断续地作响，仿佛一座大教堂里点着一星小火，益发对照出静穆宁寂的境界，月儿在铁色的潭面上，倦倚了半晌，重复拔起她的银舄，过山去了。

 

Moonlight crossed over the Irish Channel and climbed up the summit of Haierfolin, overlooking the silent Red Lake. Lake water was as stagnate as a huge block of iron blue ice. All sloping small hills around were covered with crab-blue and egg-white rocks and rubbles, no any bush at all. There were some grasses along the lake shore. Overall, it just looked like a big green bowl, brimmed with clean and pure moonlight. It was so extremely quiet that no chirping insect in the grass and jumping fish in the lake were heard. Only streams were intermittently rustling in the deep ravine between rocks, as if a tiny spark of fire was lit in a huge cathedral, in a more striking contrast to a realm of silence and loneliness. The moon wearily leaned on the iron-colored lake for a while before pulling up her silvery feet and crossing over the hills.

 

昨天船离了新加坡以后，方向从正东改为东北，所以前几天的船梢正对落日，此后“晚霞的工厂”渐渐移到我们船向的左手来了。

 

After our ship left Singapore yesterday, its direction had been shifted from the east to the north-east. So the end of our ship was facing the sunset for some days before. From now on, ‘the factory of afterglow’ gradually moved to the left side of our ship.

 

昨夜吃过晚饭上甲板的时候，船右一海银波，在犀利之中涵有幽秘的彩色，凄清的表情，引起了我的凝视。那放银光的圆球正挂在你头上，如其起靠着船头仰望。她今夜并不十分鲜艳：她精圆的芳容上似乎轻笼着一层藕灰色的薄纱；轻漾着一种悲喟的音调；轻染着几痕泪化的雾霭。她并不十分鲜艳，然而她素洁温柔的光线中，犹之少女浅蓝妙眼的斜瞟；犹之春阳融解在山巅白云反映的嫩色，含有不可解的迷力，媚态，世间凡具有感觉性的人，只要承沐着她的清辉，就发生也是不可理解的反应，引起隐复的内心境界的紧张，——像琴弦一样，——人生最微妙的情绪，戟震生命所蕴藏高洁名贵创现的冲动。有时在心理状态之前，或于同时，撼动躯体的组织，使感觉血液中突起冰流之冰流，嗅神经难禁之酸辛，内藏汹涌之跳动，泪腺之骤热与润湿。那就是秋月兴起的秋思——愁。

 

After dinner, I came to the deck last evening. Silvery waves were shining on the right side of the ship. The sharp color was mysteriously tinted. Their desolate look attracted my gaze. The shining silver ball was hanging overhead when I glanced up at her. She was not very bright tonight: her exactly round face was seemingly covered with a lotus-grey veil, rippling with a sad tune and lightly stained with a few tear-like mists. She was not very bright. But her simple, pure and soft light was just like an oblique glimpse thrown out from the charming pale blue eyes of a maiden, just like the reflected tenderness of the spring sun melted in the clouds on a mountain summit, with an irresistible charm and gentleness. Any sensible humans on the earth, once bathed in her limpid light, will react beyond understanding and stir up the hidden and sophisticate nervousness in their inner being. Just like music strings---the most wonderful emotion in life, convey the noble, pure and creative impulse hidden in life. Sometimes before or at a psychological outbreak, it shocks the physical tissues, touches the surging icy stream in blood, saddens the smell nerves, triggers organs to throb and tear glands to warm up and moisten. This autumn moon evoked the autumn thoughts---sorrow.

 

昨晚的月色就是秋思的泉源，岂止、直是悲哀幽骚悱怨沉郁的象征，是季候运转的伟剧中最神秘亦最自然的一幕，诗艺界最凄凉亦最微妙的一个消息。

 

The moonlight of last night was the source of autumn thoughts. It was more than a symbol of sorrow, resentment and gloom, but a most mysterious and natural episode of a great drama on the shifting seasons, a most desolate and exquisite message in the poetry world.

 

今夜月明人尽望，不知秋思在谁家。

 

Everyone tonight is longing in moonlight, but no one knows where the autumn thoughts are.

 

中国字形具有一种独一的妩媚，有几个字的结构，我看来纯是艺术家的匠心：这也是我们国粹之尤粹者之一。譬如“秋”字，已经是一个极美的字形；“愁”字更是文字史上有数的杰作；有石开湖晕，风扫松针的妙处，这一群点画的配置，简直经过柯罗①的画篆，米仡朗其罗②的雕圭，chopin③的神感；像——用一个科学的比喻——原子的结构，将旋转宇宙的大力收缩成一个无形无踪的电核；这十三笔造成的象征，似乎是宇宙和人生悲惨的现象和经验，吁喟和涕泪，所凝成最纯粹精密的结晶，满充了催迷的秘力。你若然有高蒂闲④（gautier）异超的知感性，定然可以梦到，愁字变形为秋霞黯绿色的通明宝玉，若用银槌轻击之，当吐银色的幽咽电蛇似腾入云天。

 

Chinese character has a unique charm. The structure of a few words seems to me as a pure ingenuity of artist: This is one of our best national essences. For example, the character ‘autumn’ has already been in an extremely beautiful form. The character ‘melancholy’ is more like one of the limited masterpieces in the history of word. It has the charm of ripples on the lake stirred up by a stone or the beauty of whistling pine needles blown by the wind. This stippling drawing was configured simply through the painting brush of Corot (1), the sculpture knife of Michelangelo (2) and a divine sense of Chopin (3). Like - with a scientific metaphor - the structure of atom, it condenses the power of the orbiting universe into an invisible and untraceable nucleus. The symbol created with thirteen pen strokes seems to be the tragic experience and phenomenon of universe and human life, the purest and most sophisticated crystals concealed by sighs and tears, full of the enchanting mystery. If you have the super sensibility of Gautier (4), surely you can dream, the character ‘melancholy’ morphs into an autumn afterglow brightly lit upon the dark green gem. Once lightly hit with a silver hammer, it will soar into the sky like a dim electrical snake spitting out silvery smoke.

 

我并不是为寻秋意而看月，更不是为觅新愁而访秋月；蓄意沉浸于悲哀的生活，是丹德⑤所不许的。我盖见月而感秋色，因秋窗而拈新愁：人是一簇脆弱而富于反射性的神经！

 

I’m not looking up at the moon for searching autumn, nor visiting the moon for seeking new melancholy. Deliberate immersion in the sorrow of life is not allowed by Dande (5). I feel the autumn when I see the moon, and contract the new melancholy because of the window in autumn: human beings are a category of vulnerable and reflex-prone nuts.

 

我重复回到现实的景色，轻裹在云锦之中的秋月，像一个遍体蒙纱的女郎，她那团圆清朗的外貌像新娘，但同时她幂弦的颜色，那是藕灰，她踟躇的行踵，掩泣的痕迹，又使人疑是送丧的丽姝。所以我曾说：

秋月呀？

我不盼望你团圆。

 

I came back again to the scenery of reality. The moon lightly wrapped in the brocade of clouds is a maiden veiled with gauze mask. Her full, cool and bright complexion looks like the bride. But at the same time, the color of her crescent is lotus-gray. Her hesitating gait and her tear traces in weeping let us to assume she is a funeral maiden. So I said:
Ah, Moon?
I don’t expect you to be full.

 

这是秋月的特色，不论她是悬在落日残照边的新镰，与“黄昏晓”竞艳的眉钩，中宵斗没西陲的金碗，星云参差间的银床，以至一轮腴满的中秋，不论盈昃高下，总在原来澄爽明秋之中，遍洒着一种我只能称之为“悲哀的轻霭”，和“传愁的以太”。即使你原来无愁，见此也禁不得沾染那“灰色的音调”，渐渐兴感起来！

 

This is the characteristics of the autumn moon. No matter whether she is a new sickle hanging on the edge of the afterglow, a charming eye brow in competition with ‘the twilight at dusk’, the golden bowl at midnight with its nebula sinking in the western horizon, a silvery bed amid changing stars and clouds, even a full moon at mid-autumn, no matter whether it is full or waned, high or low, it always sprinkles a kind of ‘sad haze’ and ‘sorrowful ethernet’in the original orange and bright autumn.  Even if you are not in a blue mood, on seeing such a moon, you cannot help being contaminated with the ‘gray tones’, becoming gradually emotional!

 

秋月呀！

谁禁得起银指尖儿

浪漫地搔爬呵！

不信但看那一海的轻涛，可不是禁不住她一指的抚摩，在那里低徊饮泣呢！就是那：

无聊的云烟，

秋月的美满，

熏暖了飘心冷眼，

也清冷地穿上了轻缟的衣裳，

来参与这

美满的婚姻和丧礼。

 

Oh, autumn moon!

Who can stand up the romantic scratch

Of your silvery fingertips!

If you don’t believe, please take a look of the weeping waves which are tempted by the stroke of her fingers!

Boring clouds,

Happy autumn moon,

The haze warms up the drifting heart and the cold eyes

Also dressed in a light stripe of clothe

To attend the happy wedding and funeral ceremony.

 

 

十月六日志摩

 

October 6 By Zhimu

 

①柯罗（1796—1875），法国画家。

②米仡朗其罗，通译米盖朗琪罗（1475—1564），意大利文艺复兴盛期的雕塑

家、画家。

③chopin，通译肖邦（1810—1849），波兰作曲家、钢琴演奏家。

④高蒂闲，通译戈蒂埃（1811—1872），法国诗人、小说家、批评家。

⑤丹德，通译但丁（1265—1321），意大利诗人，著有《神曲》等。^[1] 

 

① Corot (1796-1875), a French painter.

② Michelangelo (1475-1564), an Italian Renaissance sculpturer and painter.

③ Chopin (1810-1849), a Polish composer and pianist.

④ Gautier (1811-1872), a French poet, novelist and critic.

⑤ Dante (1265-1321), an Italian poet, the author of "The Divine Comedy" and so on.