发信人: mem()
整理人: yvonneh(1999-02-19 13:04:19), 站内信件
|
31
Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?'
`It was my master,' said the prisoner. `I thought I could outdo everybody in the world in wealth
and power, and I amassed in my own treasure-hose the money due to my king. When sleep
overcame me I lay upon the bad that was for my lord, and on waking up I found I was a prisoner
in my own treasure-house.'
`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable chain?'
`It was I,' said the prisoner, `who forged this chain very carefully. I thought my invincible power
would hold the world captive leaving me in a freedom undisturbed. Thus night and day I worked
at the chain with huge fires and cruel hard strokes. When at last the work was done and the links
were complete and unbreakable, I found that it held me in its grip.'
32
By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world. But it is otherwise with thy
love which is greater than theirs, and thou keepest me free.
Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But day passes by after day and thou
art not seen.
If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart, thy love for me still waits for my
love.
33
When it was day they came into my house and said, `We shall only take the smallest room here.'
They said, `We shall help you in the worship of your God and humbly accept only our own share
in his grace'; and then they took their seat in a corner and they sat quiet and meek.
But in the darkness of night I find they break into my sacred shrine, strong and turbulent, and
snatch with unholy greed the offerings from God's altar.
34
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may name thee my all.
Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel thee on every side, and come to thee in
everything, and offer to thee my love every moment.
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide thee.
Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound with thy will, and thy purpose is
carried out in my life---and that is the fetter of thy love.
35
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action---
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
36
This is my prayer to thee, my lord---strike, strike at the root of penury in my heart.
Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.
Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.
Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.
Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.
And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.
37
I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of my power,---that the path before
me was closed, that provisions were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in a silent
obscurity.
But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old words die out on the tongue, new
melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed
with its wonders.
38
That I want thee, only thee---let my heart repeat without end. All desires that distract me, day
and night, are false and empty to the core.
As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light, even thus in the depth of my
unconsciousness rings the cry---`I want thee, only thee'.
As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against peace with all its might, even thus
my rebellion strikes against thy love and still its cry is---`I want thee, only thee'.
39
When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower of mercy.
When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond, come to me, my
lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break open the door, my king, and
come with the ceremony of a king.
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one, thou wakeful, come with
thy light and thy thunder.
40
The rain has held back for days and days, my God, in my arid heart. The horizon is fiercely
naked---not the thinnest cover of a soft cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower.
Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and with lashes of lightning startle the sky
from end to end.
But call back, my lord, call back this pervading silent heat, still and keen and cruel, burning the
heart with dire despair.
Let the cloud of grace bend low from above like the tearful look of the mother on the day of the
father's wrath.
41
Where dost thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding thyself in the shadows? They push thee
and pass thee by on the dusty road, taking thee for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my
offerings for thee, while passers-by come and take my flowers, one by one, and my basket is
nearly empty.
The morning time is past, and the noon. In the shade of evening my eyes are drowsy with sleep.
Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing
my skirt over my face, and when they ask me, what it is I want, I drop my eyes and answer them
not.
Oh, how, indeed, could I tell them that for thee I wait, and that thou hast promised to come. How
could I utter for shame that I keep for my dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the secret of
my heart.
I sit on the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden splendour of thy coming---all
the lights ablaze, golden pennons flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape,
when they see thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust, and set at thy side this
ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy chariot. Many a procession passes by
with noise and shouts and glamour of glory. Is it only thou who wouldst stand in the shadow silent
and behind them all? And only I who would wait and weep and wear out my heart in vain
longing?
42
Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat, only thou and I, and never a soul
in the world would know of this our pilgrimage to no country and to no end.
In that shoreless ocean, at thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies, free as
waves, free from all bondage of words.
Is the time not come yet? Are there works still to do? Lo, the evening has come down upon the
shore and in the fading light the seabirds come flying to their nests.
Who knows when the chains will be off, and the boat, like the last glimmer of sunset, vanish into
the night?
43
The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee; and entering my heart unbidden
even as one of the common crowd, unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of
eternity upon many a fleeting moment of my life.
And today when by chance I light upon them and see thy signature, I find they have lain
scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.
Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust, and the steps that I heard in
my playroom are the same that are echoing from star to star. 44
This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the wayside where shadow chases light and the rain
comes in the wake of the summer.
Messengers, with tidings from unknown skies, greet me and speed along the road. My heart is
glad within, and the breath of the passing breeze is sweet.
From dawn till dusk I sit here before my door, and I know that of a sudden the happy moment
will arrive when I shall see.
In the meanwhile I smile and I sing all alone. In the meanwhile the air is filling with the perfume
of promise.
45
Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever comes.
Every moment and every age, every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their notes have always proclaimed,
`He comes, comes, ever comes.'
In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he comes, comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of clouds he comes, comes, ever
comes.
In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart, and it is the golden touch of his
feet that makes my joy to shine.
46
I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to meet me. Thy sun and stars
can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.
In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard and thy messenger has come within
my heart and called me in secret.
I know not only why today my life is all astir, and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my
heart.
It is as if the time were come to wind up my work, and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet
presence.
47
The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear lest in the morning he suddenly come to
my door when I have fallen asleep wearied out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him---forbid
him not.
If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse me, I pray. I wish not to be
called from my sleep by the clamorous choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of
morning light. Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of a sudden to my door.
Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to vanish. Ah, my closed eyes that
would open their lids only to the light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream
emerging from darkness of sleep.
Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all forms. The first thrill of joy to my
awakened soul let it come from his glance. And let my return to myself be immediate return to
him.
48
The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs; and the flowers were all merry by the
roadside; and the wealth of gold was scattered through the rift of the clouds while we busily went
on our way and paid no heed.
We sang no glad songs nor played; we went not to the village for barter; we spoke not a word
nor smiled; we lingered not on the way. We quickened our pave more and more as the time sped
by.
The sun rose to the mid sky and doves cooed in the shade. Withered leaves danced and whirled
in the hot air of noon. The shepherd boy drowsed and dreamed in the shadow of the banyan tree,
and I laid myself down by the water and stretched my tired limbs on the grass.
My companions laughed at me in scorn; they held their heads high and hurried on; they never
looked back nor rested; they vanished in the distant blue haze. They crossed many meadows and
hills, and passed through strange, far-away countries. All honour to you, heroic host of the
interminable path! Mockery and reproach pricked me to rise, but found no response in me. I gave
myself up for lost in the depth of a glad humiliation---in the shadow of a dim delight.
The repose of the sun-embroidered green gloom slowly spread over my heart. I forgot for what I
had travelled, and I surrendered my mind without struggle to the maze of shadows and songs.
At last, when I woke from my slumber and opened my eyes, I saw thee standing by me, flooding
my sleep with thy smile. How I had feared that the path was long and wearisome, and the
struggle to reach thee was hard!
49
You came down from your throne and stood at my cottage door.
I was singing all alone in a corner, and the melody caught your ear. You came down and stood at
my cottage door.
Masters are many in your hall, and songs are sung there at all hours. But the simple carol of this
novice struck at your love. One plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the world,
and with a flower for a prize you came down and stopped at my cottage door.
50
I had gone a-begging from door to door in the village path, when thy golden chariot appeared in
the distance like a gorgeous dream and I wondered who was this King of all kings!
My hopes rose high and methought my evil days were at an end, and I stood waiting for alms to
be given unasked and for wealth scattered on all sides in the dust.
The chariot stopped where I stood. Thy glance fell on me and thou camest down with a smile. I
felt that the luck of my life had come at last. Then of a sudden thou didst hold out thy right hand
and say `What hast thou to give to me?'
Ah, what a kingly jest was it to open thy palm to a beggar to beg! I was confused and stood
undecided, and then from my wallet I slowly took out the least little grain of corn and gave it to
thee.
But how great my surprise when at the day's end I emptied my bag on the floor to find a least
little gram of gold among the poor heap. I bitterly wept and wished that I had had the heart to
give thee my all.
51
The night darkened. Our day's works had been done. We thought that the last guest had arrived
for the night and the doors in the village were all shut. Only some said the king was to come. We
laughed and said `No, it cannot be!'
It seemed there were knocks at the door and we said it was nothing but the wind. We put out the
lamps and lay down to sleep. Only some said, `It is the messenger!' We laughed and said `No, it
must be the wind!'
There came a sound in the dead of the night. We sleepily thought it was the distant thunder. The
earth shook, the walls rocked, and it troubled us in our sleep. Only some said it was the sound of
wheels. We said in a drowsy murmur, `No, it must be the rumbling of clouds!'
The night was still dark when the drum sounded. The voice came `Wake up! delay not!' We
pressed our hands on our hearts and shuddered with fear. Some said, `Lo, there is the king's
flag!' We stood up on our feet and cried `There is no time for delay!'
The king has come---but where are lights, where are wreaths? Where is the throne to seat him?
Oh, shame! Oh utter shame! Where is the hall, the decorations? Someone has said, `Vain is this
cry! Greet him with empty hands, lead him into thy rooms all bare!'
Open the doors, let the conch-shells be sounded! in the depth of the night has come the king of
our dark, dreary house. The thunder roars in the sky. The darkness shudders with lightning. Bring
out thy tattered piece of mat and spread it in the courtyard. With the storm has come of a sudden
our king of the fearful night.
52
I thought I should ask of thee---but I dared not---the rose wreath thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I
waited for the morning, when thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a
beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.
Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of
perfumed water. It is thy mighty sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The
young light of morning comes through the window and spread itself upon thy bed. The morning
bird twitters and asks, `Woman, what hast thou got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of
perfumed water---it is thy dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no place to hide it. I am ashamed to
wear it, frail as I am, and it hurts me when press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my heart this
honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou shalt be victorious in all my
strife. Thou hast left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy sword is
with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in the world.
From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no more shall there be for me
waiting and weeping in corners, no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given
me thy sword for adornment. No more doll's decorations for me!
53
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with stars and cunningly wrought in myriad-coloured jewels. But
more beautiful to me thy sword with its curve of lightning like the outspread wings of the divine
bird of Vishnu, perfectly poised in the angry red light of the sunset.
It quivers like the one last response of life in ecstasy of pain at the final stroke of death; it shines
like the pure flame of being burning up earthly sense with one fierce flash.
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with starry gems; but thy sword, O lord of thunder, is wrought
with uttermost beauty, terrible to behold or think of.
54
I asked nothing from thee; I uttered not my name to thine ear. When thou took'st thy leave I
stood silent. I was alone by the well where the shadow of the tree fell aslant, and the women had
gone home with their brown earthen pitchers full to the brim. They called me and shouted, `Come
with us, the morning is wearing on to noon.' But I languidly lingered awhile lost in the midst of
vague musings.
I heard not thy steps as thou camest. Thine eyes were sad when they fell on me; thy voice was
tired as thou spokest low---`Ah, I am a thirsty traveller.' I started up from my day-dreams and
poured water from my jar on thy joined palms. The leaves rustled overhead; the cuckoo sang
from the unseen dark, and perfume of babla flowers came from the bend of the road.
I stood speechless with shame when my name thou didst ask. Indeed, what had I done for thee
to keep me in remembrance? But the memory that I could give water to thee to allay thy thirst
will cling to my heart and enfold it in sweetness. The morning hour is late, the bird sings in weary
notes, neem leaves rustle overhead and I sit and think and think.
55
Languor is upon your heart and the slumber is still on your eyes.
Has not the word come to you that the flower is reigning in splendour among thorns? Wake, oh
awaken! let not the time pass in vain!
At the end of the stony path, in the country of virgin solitude, my friend is sitting all alone.
Deceive him not. Wake, oh awaken!
What if the sky pants and trembles with the heat of the midday sun---what if the burning sand
spreads its mantle of thirst---
Is there no joy in the deep of your heart? At every footfall of yours, will not the harp of the road
break out in sweet music of pain?
56
Thus it is that thy joy in me is so full. Thus it is that thou hast come down to me. O thou lord of all
heavens, where would be thy love if I were not?
Thou hast taken me as thy partner of all this wealth. In my heart is the endless play of thy
delight. In my life thy will is ever taking shape.
And for this, thou who art the King of kings hast decked thyself in beauty to captivate my heart.
And for this thy love loses itself in the love of thy lover, and there art thou seen in the perfect
union of two.
57
Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords
of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of
the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river
has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.
58
Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song---the joy that makes the earth flow over in the
riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the
wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the
joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws everything it
has upon the dust, and knows not a word.
59
Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances
upon the leaves, these idle clouds sailing across the sky, this passing breeze leaving its coolness
upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart. Thy face is bent from
above, thy eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.
60
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the
restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and
dances.
They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they
weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the
seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl fishers dive for pearls,
merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. they seek not
for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach. Death-dealing
waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's
cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships get
wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless
worlds is the great meeting of children.
--
蓝色的天空下
蓝色的大海边
有着蓝色的回忆
※ 来源:．The unknown SPACE bbs.mit.edu．[FROM: 147.9.201.177]
--
※ 转寄:．The unknown SPACE bbs.mit.edu．[FROM: 147.9.201.177]
※ 修改:．mem 于 Oct 3 07:10:15 修改本文．[FROM: nash.acc-lab.am]
※ 转载:．广州网易 BBS bbs.nease.net．[FROM: nash.acc-lab.am]
|
|