THE ONLY REVOLUTION INDIA PART 3
《唯一的革命》 印度 第三篇
It was an old Mogul garden with many great trees. There were big monuments, dark inside with marble sepulchers, and the rain and the weather had made the stone dark and the domes still darker. There were hundreds of pigeons on these domes. They and the crows would fight for a place, and lower down on the dome were the parrots, coming from everywhere in groups. There were nicely kept lawns, well trimmed and watered. It was a quiet place and surprisingly there were not too many people. Of an evening the servants of the neighbourhood with their bicycles would gather on a lawn to play cards. It was a game they understood, but an outsider looking on couldn't make head or tail of it. There were parties of children playing on a lawn of a different tomb. There was one tomb which was especially grand, with great arches, well proportioned, and a wall behind it which was asymmetrical. It was made of bricks and the sun and the rain had made it dark, almost black. There was a notice not to pick flowers but nobody seemed to pay much attention to it for they picked them all the same.
这是一座古老的莫卧儿 花园，生长着许多茂密的参天大树。还有多座巨大的纪念碑，内部是黝黑的大理石墓穴，雨水和天气将石头染成了深色，而那些圆顶的颜色则更深。这些圆顶上栖息着数百只鸽子。它们与乌鸦争着地盘，而低处的圆顶上是从四处成群飞来的鹦鹉。草坪打理得很漂亮，整齐地修剪过也浇过了水。这是个很安静的地方，令人意外的是这里的人并不太多。傍晚的时候，邻里的仆佣们会骑着自行车聚集到一片草地上玩牌。这是一种只有他们才懂的游戏，而一个旁观的局外人则完全不知首尾。几群孩子在另一座墓穴的草坪上玩耍。有一座墓穴特别宏伟，比例匀称，其后的那面墙则是不对称的。这座墓穴由砖砌成，日光和雨水使其颜色黝暗，几乎变成了黑色。有块牌子提示不要摘花，但是似乎没人注意到这点，因为他们还是照样摘着花。
There was an avenue of eucalyptus, and behind it a rose garden with crumbling walls around it. This garden, with magnificent roses, was kept beautifully, and the grass was always green and freshly cut. Few people seemed to come to this garden and you could walk around it in solitude, watching the sun set behind the trees and behind the dome of the tomb. Especially in the evening, with the long dark shadows, it was very peaceful there, far from the noise of the town, from the poverty, and the ugliness of the rich. There were gypsies uprooting the weeds from the lawn. It was altogether a beautiful place - but man was gradually spoiling it.
有一条桉树大道，其后是一座被岩块剥落的石墙环绕着的玫瑰园。这座花园打理得很漂亮，盛放着华丽的玫瑰，草地始终翠绿，刚刚被修剪过。好像很少有人会来这座花园，所以你可以一个人围着它散步，观赏树丛后和墓穴圆顶后的日落。特别是傍晚时，地上拖着长长的影子，这里非常宁静，远离城镇的喧嚣，远离贫穷，远离富人们的丑陋。有些吉普赛人把野草从草坪上拔掉。这真是个美丽的地方——但人类正逐渐破坏着它。
There was a man sitting cross-legged in one of the remote corners of the lawn, his bicycle beside him. He had closed his eyes and his lips were moving. He was there for more than half an hour in that position, completely lost to the world, to the passers-by and to the screech of the parrots. His body was quite still. In his hands there was a rosary covered by a piece of cloth. His fingers were the only movement that one could see, apart from his lips. He came there daily towards the evening, and it must have been after his day's work. He was rather a poor man, fairly well fed, and he always came to that corner and lost himself. If you asked him he would tell you that he was meditating, repeating some prayer or some mantra - and to him that was good enough. He found in it solace from the everyday monotony of life. He was alone on the lawn. Behind him was a flowering jasmine; a great many flowers were on the ground, and the beauty of the moment lay around him. But he never saw that beauty for he was lost in the beauty of his own making.
有个人盘腿坐在草地那头的角落里，身旁是他的自行车。他闭着双眼，蠕动着双唇。他以那个姿势坐在那里有半个多小时了，把世界、把路人和鹦鹉们的尖叫完全遗忘了。他的身体静止不动，手里拿着一串盖在布片下面的念珠。除了嘴唇，他的手指是唯一能看到在动的部分。每天将近傍晚的时候他都来这里，这时他肯定刚刚结束了一天的工作。他是个很穷的人，营养很好，他总是去那个角落忘我地静坐。如果你问他，他会告诉你他在冥想，在重复某种祈祷或者曼陀罗 ——而这对他来说已经够好了。他从中找到了远离日常乏味生活的慰藉。他独自坐在草地上，身后是一朵盛放的茉莉，还有很多花开在地上，那一刻美就铺展在他周围。但是他从未看见那美，因为他迷失在自己构造的美之中。
Meditation is not the repetition of the word, nor the experiencing of a vision, nor the cultivating of silence. The bead and the word do quieten the chattering mind, but this is a form of self-hypnosis. You might as well take a pill.
冥想不是重复词句，不是体验到某种景象，也不是培养寂静。念珠和词句确实能让喋喋不休的心安静下来，但这只是一种自我催眠的形式。你还不如去吃颗药。
Meditation is not wrapping yourself in a pattern of thought, in the enchantment of pleasure. Meditation has no beginning, and therefore it has no end.
冥想不是把你自己包裹在一种思维模式里，包裹在令人陶醉的快乐里。冥想没有起点，因而也没有终点。
If you say: "I will begin today to control my thoughts, to sit quietly in the meditative posture, to breathe regularly" - then you are caught in the tricks with which one deceives oneself. Meditation is not a matter of being absorbed in some grandiose idea or image: that only quietens one for the moment, as a child absorbed by a toy is for the time being quiet. But as soon as the toy ceases to be of interest, the restlessness and the mischief begin again. Meditation is not the pursuit of an invisible path leading to some imagined bliss. The meditative mind is seeing - watching, listening, without the word, without comment, without opinion - attentive to the movement of life in all its relationships throughout the day. And at night, when the whole organism is at rest, the meditative mind has no dreams for it has been awake all day. It is only the indolent who have dreams; only the half-asleep who need the intimation of their own states. But as the mind watches, listens to the movement of life, the outer and the inner, to such a mind comes a silence that is not put together by thought.
如果你说：“我从今天开始控制我的思想，以冥想的姿势安静地坐着，均匀地呼吸”——那么你就陷入了自欺的把戏中。冥想不是专心致志于某种宏伟的想法或形象：那只能让人暂时安静下来，就像一个孩子被玩具吸引着暂时安静一会儿。但是一旦对玩具失去了兴趣，就又开始坐立不安和调皮捣蛋了。冥想不是寻找一条可见的通向想象中的某种至福的道路。冥想的心是看到——是没有语言、没有评价、没有观点地观察、聆听——一整天都全神贯注于身处各种关系中的生命的运动。那么到了晚上，当整个有机体休息时，冥想的心不会有梦，因为它整天都是清醒的。只有怠惰的心才会做梦；只有半睡半醒的心才需要暗示它们自己的状态。但是当心灵观察、倾听了生命内在和外在的运动，一种并非由思想拼凑出的寂静就会降临这样的一颗心。
It is not a silence which the observer can experience. If he does experience it and recognise it, it is no longer silence. The silence of the meditative mind is not within the borders of recognition, for this silence has no frontier. There is only silence - in which the space of division ceases.
这不是观察者能体验的一种寂静。如果他确实体验到了并且认了出来，那就不再是寂静了。冥想的心的寂静不在认知的领域内，因为这种寂静没有边界。只有寂静——其中分别的空间止息了。
The hills were being carried by the clouds and the rain was polishing the rocks, big boulders that were scattered over the hills. There was a streak of black in the grey granite, and that morning this dark basalt rock was being washed by the rain and was becoming blacker.
群山被云层覆盖着，大雨正打磨着山石，那些散布在山间的圆形巨石。灰色的花岗岩中流淌着一条黑色的水流，而那天早晨这块黑色的玄武岩被雨水冲涮着，变得更黑了。
The ponds were filling up and the frogs were making deep-throated noises. A whole group of parrots was coming in from the fields for shelter and the monkeys were scrambling up the trees, and the red earth became darker.
池塘的水涨满了，青蛙发出低沉的鸣叫声。一大群鹦鹉从田地里飞过来寻找庇护，猴子们争相爬到树上，土地的红色变得更深了。
There is a peculiar silence when it rains, and that morning in the valley all the noises seemed to have stopped - the noises of the farm, the tractor and the chopping of wood. There was only the dripping from the roof, and the gutters were gurgling.
下雨的时候有种特别的寂静，那天早晨山谷里所有的喧嚣——农场、拖拉机和伐木的声音似乎都停了下来。只有雨水从屋檐落下的滴答声和天沟里汩汩的排水声。
It was quite extraordinary to feel the rain on one, to get wet to the skin, and to feel the earth and the trees receive the rain with great delight; for it hadn't rained for some time, and now the little cracks in the earth were closing up. The noises of the many birds were made still by the rain; the clouds were coming in from the east, dark, heavily laden, and were being drawn towards the west; the hills were being carried by them, and the smell of the earth was spreading into every corner. All day it rained.
感受雨点打在身上，浸透到肌肤，感受着土地和树木无比欣喜地迎接着雨水，这感觉非常奇妙；因为有些时间没下雨了，现在土地上的小裂缝正合拢起来。鸟儿们嘈杂的叫声在雨中变得寂静；云层从东方而来，乌黑厚重，正涌向西方；群山被它们覆盖，泥土的气味弥漫在每个角落。雨下了一整天。
And in the stillness of the night the owls hooted to each other across the valley.
在夜晚的寂静中，猫头鹰穿越山谷彼此呼唤着。
He was a school teacher, a Brahmin, with a clean dhoti. He was bare footed and wore a western shirt. He was clean, sharp-eyed, apparently gentle in manner, and his salutation was a show of this humility. He was not too tall, and spoke English quite well, for he was an English teacher in town. He said he didn't earn much, and like all teachers throughout the world he found it very difficult to make both ends meet. Of course he was married, and had children, but he seemed to brush all that aside as though it did not matter at all. He was a proud man, with that peculiar pride, not of achievement, not the pride of the well-born or of the rich, but that pride of an ancient race, of the representative of an ancient tradition and system of thought and morality which, actually, had nothing whatever to do with what he really was. His pride was in the past which he represented, and his brushing aside of the present complications of life was the gesture of a man who considers it all inevitable-but-so-unnecessary. His diction was of the south, hard and loud. He said he had listened to the talks, here under the trees, for many years. In fact his father had brought him when he was a young man, still at college. Later, when he got his present miserable job, he came every year.
他是个学校老师，一个婆罗门人，裹着干净的腰布。他赤着脚，穿着一件西式衬衫。他干净整洁，目光敏锐，显然也彬彬有礼，他行礼的方式表露出了这种谦逊。他个子不太高，英语说的非常好，因为他是城里的一位英语老师。他说他赚钱不多，就像世界上所有的老师一样，他发现保持收支平衡很困难。当然他结婚了，有孩子，但是他似乎把那一切都弃之不顾，就好像那些根本就不重要。他是个骄傲的男人，有种特别的自豪感，并非来自成功的自豪感，也不是出身良好或富裕的自豪感，而是来自一个古老家族，代表着一种古老思想和道德的传统和体系的自豪感，而那些东西实际上与他确实如何毫无关系。他的骄傲在于他所代表的过去，而他把目前复杂的生活弃之不顾，则是一个认为这种生活完全不可避免但实在毫无必要的人具有的一种姿态。他说话带着南方口音，生硬又响亮。他说他在这里的树下听了很多年的讲话。事实上在他还是个年轻人，还在上大学的时候，他的父亲就把他带到了这里。后来，当他找到了现在这份可怜的工作，他每年都来这里。
"I have listened to you for many years. Perhaps I understand intellectually what you are saying but it doesn't seem to penetrate very deeply. I like the setting of the trees under which you talk, and I look at the sunset when you point it out - as you so often do in your talks - but I cannot feel it, I cannot touch the leaf and feel the joy of the dancing shadows on the ground. I have no feelings at all, in fact. I have read a great deal, naturally, both English literature and the literature of this country. I can recite poems, but the beauty which lies beyond the word has escaped me. I am becoming harder, not only with my wife and children but with everybody. In the school I shout more. I wonder why I have lost the delight in the evening sun - if I ever had it! I wonder why I no longer feel strongly about any of the evils that exist in the world. I seem to see everything intellectually and can reason quite well - at least I think I can - with almost anybody. So why is there this gap between the intellect and the heart? Why have I lost love, and the feeling of genuine pity and concern?"
“你的讲话我听了很多年。也许从智力上我理解了你所说的话，但是似乎并没有非常透彻地领悟它们。我喜欢你在树下讲话的这个环境，当你指向落日的时候我也会观看——正如你在讲话中经常做的那样——但是我感觉不到它，我无法触及树叶，感受不到地面上舞动的树影的欢欣。事实上，我完全没有感觉。当然，我读过很多书，包括英文文学和这个国家的文学。我能背诵诗篇，但是那词语背后的美总是从我身边溜走。我正变得冷酷，不只对我的妻子和孩子们而且对每个人都如此。在学校里我吼叫得更多。我想知道我为什么失去了对夕阳的喜悦感——如果我曾经感受过的话！我想知道我为什么不再对世界上存在着的任何罪恶感触强烈。我似乎能理智地看待一切并能相当理性地与几乎所有人理论——至少我认为我可以。那么为什么会存在智力与心灵之间的这鸿沟？我为什么失去了爱和真诚的怜悯和关怀感？
Look at that bougainvillaea out of the window. Do you see it at all? Do you see the light on it, its transparency, the colour, the shape and the quality of it? "I look at it, but it means absolutely nothing to me. And there are millions like me. So I come back to this question - why is there this gap between the intellect and the feelings?"
看看窗外的九重葛。你真的看到它了吗？你是否看到它上面的光，它的透明，它的色彩、姿态和质地？“我看着它，但是它对我来说毫无意义。还有数以百万计的人像我一样。所以我回到这个问题——智力与感受之间为什么会存在这个鸿沟？
Is it because we have been badly educated, cultivating only memory and, from earliest childhood, have never been shown a tree, a flower, a bird, or a stretch of water? Is it because we have made life mechanical? Is it because of this overpopulation? For every job there are thousands who want it. Or is it because of pride, pride in efficiency, pride of race, the pride of cunning thought? Do you think that's it?
是不是因为我们受过糟糕的教育，从幼小的童年开始就只培养记忆，却从未被带到一棵树、一朵花或一泓水面前？是不是因为我们已把生命变得机械？是不是因为这样的人口过剩？每份工作都有成千上万人想要得到。或者是不是因为骄傲，对效率的骄傲、种族的骄傲、狡猾的思想的骄傲？你认为是这样吗？
"If you're asking me if I'm proud - yes I am."
“如果你问我是否骄傲——是的，我骄傲。”
But that is only one of the reasons why the so-called intellect dominates. Is it because words have become so extraordinarily important and not what is above and beyond the word? Or is it because you are thwarted, blocked in various ways, of which you may not be conscious at all? In the modern world the intellect is worshipped and the more clever and cunning you are the more you get on.
但那只是为什么所谓的智力统治着世界的原因之一。是不是因为语言变得如此重要，而不是语言之上和语言背后的东西？或者是不是因为你在许多方面都受挫、受阻，而对此你可能完全毫无知觉？在现代世界里，智力备受尊崇，你越是聪明越是狡猾就越能应付自如。
"Perhaps it may be all these things, but do they matter much? Of course we can go on endlessly analysing, describing the cause, but will that bridge the gap between the mind and the heart? That's what I want to know. I have read some of the psychological books and our own ancient literature but it doesn't set me on fire, so now I have come to you, though perhaps it may be too late for me."
“也许所有这些事情都是原因，但是它们很重要吗？当然我们可以没完没了地继续分析、描述原因，但是那么做能弥合头脑和心灵之间的鸿沟吗？这就是我想知道的事情。我读过一些心理学书籍和我们自己的古老文学，但是这并没有将我点燃，所以现在我来问你，尽管可能对我来说已经太晚了。”
Do you really care that the mind and heart should come together? Aren't you really satisfied with your intellectual capacities? Perhaps the question of how to unite the mind and the heart is only academic? Why do you bother about bringing the two together? This concern is still of the intellect and doesn't spring, does it, from a real concern at the decay of your feeling, which is part of you? You have divided life into the intellect and the heart and you intellectually observe the heart withering away and you are verbally concerned about it. Let it wither away! Live only in the intellect. Is that possible?
你真的关心头脑和心灵的合一吗？你难道真的对你的智力能力不满意吗？或许如何联结头脑和心灵只是个理论性的问题？你为什么费心想要把两者结合在一起？这种关注依然是智力上的，而不是源于对你衰退的感受的真正关心，而你的感受正是你的一部分，不是吗？你把生活划分为智力和心灵，从智力上你观察到心灵在枯萎，而你只是口头上对此关注。就让它枯萎吧！就活在智力里吧！这可能吗？
"I do have feelings."
“我确实也有感情。”
But aren't those feelings really sentimentality, emotional self-indulgence? We are not talking about that, surely. We are saying: Be dead to love; it doesn't matter. Live entirely in your intellect and in your verbal manipulations, your cunning arguments. And when you do actually live there - what takes place? What you are objecting to is the destructiveness of that intellect which you so worship. The destructiveness brings a multitude of problems. You probably see the effect of the intellectual activities in the world - the wars, the competition, the arrogance of power - and perhaps you are frightened of what is going to happen, frightened of the hopelessness and despair of man. So long as there is this division between the feelings and the intellect, one dominating the other, the one must destroy the other; there is no bridging the two. You may have listened for many years to the talks, and perhaps you have been making great efforts to bring the mind and the heart together, but this effort is of the mind and so dominates the heart. Love doesn't belong to either, because it has no quality of domination in it. It is not a thing put together by thought or by sentiment. It is not a word of the intellect or a sensuous response. You say, "I must have love, and to have it I must cultivate the heart". But this cultivation is of the mind and so you keep the two always separate; they cannot be bridged or brought together for any utilitarian purpose. Love is at the beginning, not at the end of an endeavour. "Then what am I to do?"
但是那些感情难道不就是多愁善感和情绪化的自我放纵吗？我们当然说的不是那些。我们说的是：对爱死心吧；那不重要。完全活在你的智力中和你熟练运用的语言、你机巧的争论中。而当你真的那么生活时——会发生什么？你所反对的是你如此崇拜的那智力的破坏性。这破坏性带来了多重问题。你可能看到了智力活动在世界上的影响——战争、竞争、强权的傲慢——或许你害怕将要发生的事情，害怕人类的无能和绝望。只要有感情和智力之间的这种划分，一方控制着另一方，这一方必然会摧毁另一方；这两者之间无法弥合。你可能听这些讲话听了很多年，或许你也付出了巨大的努力想要将头脑与心灵合一，但是这种努力来自头脑，所以控制着心灵。爱不属于其中任何一方，因为它之中没有控制的品质。这不是一件由思想或感情拼凑出来的东西，也不是一个智力上的词语或者一种愉悦的感官反应。你说：“我必须有爱，而要有爱我必须培育心灵。” 但是这种培养来自头脑，于是你让两者始终分离着；它们无法因任何实用主义的目的弥合或统一。爱在最初，而不是在努力的结尾。“那么我该怎么办？”
Now his eyes were becoming brighter; there was a movement in his body. He looked out of the window, and he was slowly beginning to catch fire.
现在他的眼睛变得明亮起来；他的身体里有一种颤动。他望向窗外，他正慢慢开始点燃。
You can't do anything. Keep out of it! And listen; and see the beauty of that flower.
你什么也做不了。置身于外！去聆听；还有看到那花儿的美。 |
发表于 2010-12-5 22:59
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发表于 2010-12-8 09:33
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