孟加拉掠影(節選 )Glimpses of Bengal(Excerpt)

SHAZADPUR. June 1891.

1891年6月，沙乍德

From the bank to which the boat is tied a kind of scent rises out of the grass, and the heat of the ground, given off in gasps, actually touches my body. I feel that the warm, living Earth is breathing upon me, and that she, also, must feel my breath.

我們停船的岸邊草地上散發着清香，地上的熱氣一陣一陣地向我襲來，是那麼地真切。我覺得那是大地溫暖而充滿生機的鼻息，而她也一定能感受到我的呼吸。

The young shoots of rice are waving in the breeze, and the ducks are in turn thrusting their heads beneath the water and preening their feathers. There is no sound save the faint, mournful creaking of the gangway against the boat, as she imperceptibly swings to and fro in the current.

稻苗在微風中搖曳，鴨子們時而把頭伸進水中，時而整理着羽毛。小船隨着水波微微盪漾，除了跳板搭在船弦上隱約發出哀傷的吱嘎聲外，萬籟俱寂。

Not far off there is a ferry. A motley crowd has assembled under the banyan tree awaiting the boat’s return; and as soon as it arrives, they eagerly scramble in. I enjoy watching this for hours together. It is market-day in the village on the other bank; that is why the ferry is so busy. Some carry bundles of hay, some baskets, some sacks; some are going to the market, others coming from it. Thus, in this silent noonday, the stream of human activity slowly flows across the river between two villages.

離此不遠的地方有一個渡口，只見人羣斑駁站在菩提樹下等着船返回。船一靠岸，他們就急忙擠了上去。這樣的情景我看上幾個小時都樂此不疲。今天是對岸小村子的集日，所以渡船纔會那麼繁忙。有些人扛着一捆捆的稻草，有的挎着籃子，有的揹着麻袋；有的人正趕往集市，有的則從集市歸來。就這樣，在這個寂靜無聲的中午，忙碌的人流在兩村之間的河流上緩慢穿行。

I sat wondering: Why is there always this deep shade of melancholy over the fields, river banks, the sky and the sunshine of our country? And I came to the conclusion that it is because with us Nature is obviously the more important thing. The sky is free, the fields limitless; and the sun merges them into one blazing whole. In the midst of this, man seems so trivial. He comes and goes, like the ferry-boat, from this shore to the other; the 1babbling hum of his talk, the fitful echo of his song, is heard; the slight movement of his pursuit of his own petty desires is seen in the world’s market-places: but how feeble, how temporary, how tragically meaningless it all seems amidst the immense aloofness of the Universe!

我坐在那裏，不禁想到：我們國家的田野、河岸、天空以及陽光爲什麼都籠罩着這種深沉的憂鬱之色？我的結論是，那是因爲對我們來說，大自然顯然是更重要的東西。天空是自由的，田野是無垠的，陽光把它們融合成一個輝煌的整體。在這個整體中，人類顯得如此微不足道。他就像一條渡船，在兩岸之間往來，雖然他嗡嗡的話語、迴盪的歌聲斷續可聞，他在這個凡世的集市上爲自己那些瑣碎願望奔走的情形依稀可見，可在這個廣漠超然的世界裏，那些是多麼軟弱無力、多麼轉瞬即逝、多麼可悲無聊啊！

The contrast between the beautiful, broad, unalloyed peace of Nature—calm, passive, silent, unfathomable—and our own everyday worries—paltry, sorrow-laden, strife-tormented—puts me beside myself as I keep staring at the hazy, distant, blue line of trees which fringe the fields across the river.

當我看着對岸田野邊緣那一線朦朧而遙遠的青色樹林時，大自然的美麗、遼闊和純淨平和，它的沉靜、消極、緘默和深邃與我們每天那些雞毛蒜皮、憂心忡忡和爾虞我詐的煩惱形成了鮮明對照，我整個人都看出神了。

Where Nature is ever hidden and cowers under mist and cloud, snow and darkness, there man feels himself master; he regards his desires, his works, as permanent; he wants to perpetuate them, he looks towards posterity, he raises monuments, he writes biographies; he even goes the length of erecting tombstones over the dead. So busy is he that he has not time to consider how many monuments crumble, how often names are forgotten!

大自然隱而不見，藏在雲霧、白雪和黑暗之中，人類覺得自己就是主人，他把自己的願望、工作當作永恆，要使其不朽，他寄望於子孫後代，他修碑立傳，甚至還不辭辛勞地替死人修建墓碑。他忙得都沒有時間去想一想，多少紀念碑早已崩塌無存，多少虛名亦長埋黃土！

SHELIDAH, 3rd July 1893.

1893年7月3日，謝麗達

All last night the wind howled like a stray dog, and the rain still pours on without a break. The water from the fields is rushing in numberless, purling streams to the river. The dripping ryots are crossing the river in the ferryboat, some with their bamboo hat, others with yam leaves held over their heads. Big cargo-boats are gliding along, the boatman sitting drenched at his helm, the crew straining at the tow ropes through the rain. The birds remain gloomily confined to their nests, but the sons of men fare forth, for in spite of the weather the world’s work must go on.

昨晚，風如喪家之犬般咆哮了一夜，雨也下個不停。田野裏無數的水流匯聚到河裏。渾身溼淋淋的農夫坐着渡船過河，有的人戴着斗笠，有的人拿着片山藥葉子遮在頭上。大貨船繼續滑行，坐在舵旁的水手被淋了個透溼，其他船員在雨中使勁地拽着拖繩。鳥兒們鬱鬱寡歡地呆在窩裏，但是人類的兒子們卻繼續前行，因爲不論天氣如何，活兒還是要繼續幹的。

Two cowherd lads are grazing their cattle just in front of my boat. The cows are munching away with great gusto, their noses plunged into the lush grass, their tails incessantly busy flicking off the flies. The raindrops and the sticks of the cowherd boys fall on their backs with the same unreasonable persistency, and they bear both with equally uncritical resignation, steadily going on with their munch, munch, munch. These cows have such mild, affectionate, mournful eyes.

兩位牧童正在我所乘船隻的前方放牧。牛羣把鼻子伸進青蔥的草叢中，興致盎然地吃着草，同時不停擺尾驅趕蠅蟲。雨滴和牧童的棍子不可理喻地持續落在它們的背上，而它們卻順從地聽之任之，只是埋頭吃草，吃草，吃草。這些牛的眼睛是那麼地溫柔、和藹而哀傷。

The river is rising daily. What I could see yesterday only from the upper deck, I can now see from my cabin windows. Every morning I awake to find my field of vision growing larger. Not long since, only the tree-tops near those distant villages used to appear, like dark green clouds. Today the whole of the wood is visible.

河水一天比一天漲高。昨天在上甲板才能看到的東西現在從船艙的窗口就能看到了。每天早上起來，我都發現自己的視野變得開闊了。不久以前還只能看到遠處村莊附近如綠雲一般的樹林頂部。今天整個樹林都能看見了。

Land and water are gradually approaching each other like two bashful lovers. The limit of their shyness has nearly been reached—their arms will soon be round each other’s necks. I shall enjoy my trip along this brimful river at the height of the rains. I am fidgeting to give the order to cast.

大地和水像是害羞的戀人們一般一天比一天靠近彼此。他們的羞怯即將褪去，他們的雙手很快就會摟住彼此的脖頸了。我應該在滂沱大雨中，在這條滿溢的河上享受我的旅程。我正猶豫着要不要下令靠岸拋錨呢。

PATISAR, 30th March 1894.

1894年3月30日，帕提薩

Sometimes when I realize that Life’s journey is long, and that the sorrows to be encountered are many and inevitable, a supreme effort is required to keep up my strength of mind. Some evenings, as I sit alone staring at the flame of the lamp on the table, I vow I will live as a brave man should—unmoved, silent, uncomplaining. The resolve puffs me up, and for the moment I mistake myself for a very, very brave person indeed. But as soon as the thorns on the road worry my feet, I writhe and begin to feel serious misgivings as to the future. The path of life again seems long, and my strength inadequate.

有時當我意識到人生的旅途漫長，憂愁很多而且不可避免時，就必須付出極大的努力來給自己打氣。有些夜晚獨坐在桌旁，我會盯着燈焰發誓要像勇士那樣活着——堅定、沉靜、不埋怨。這決心讓我自信滿滿，好像自己真的是一位勇者。可是在路上遇到滿途荊棘，我又苦惱不安，開始爲前途滿心擔憂起來。人生的道路似乎又變得漫長起來，我感到力有不逮。

But this last conclusion cannot be the true one, for it is these petty thorns which are the most difficult to bear. The household of the mind is a thrifty one, and only so much is spent as is necessary. There is no squandering on trifles, and its wealth of strength is saved up with miserly strictness to meet the really big calamities. So any amount of weeping and wailing over the lesser griefs fails to evoke a charitable response. But when sorrow is deepest there is no stint of effort. Then the surface crust is pierced, and consolation wells up, and all the forces of patience and courage are banded together to do their duty. Thus great suffering brings with it the power of great endurance.

但是這最後的結論不會是真的，因爲正是那些細小的荊棘最是難忍。打理思想的家園必須節儉，需要花多少才花多少，決不在小事上浪費。它的力量靠精打細算地積攢起來，用以應對真正的巨大災難。因此，爲小事哭泣流淚無法喚起同情。但當憂傷最深時，心力付出可以毫不吝嗇。那時候，外面的硬皮被戳穿了，安慰噴涌而出，所有的忍耐和勇氣都被釋放出來全力以赴去承擔它們的責任。就這樣，巨大的苦難孕育了強大的忍耐力。

One side of man’s nature has the desire for pleasure—there is another side which desires self-sacrifice. When the former meets with disappointment, the latter gains strength, and on its thus finding fuller scope a grand enthusiasm fills the soul. So while we are cowards before petty troubles, great sorrows make us brave by rousing our truer manhood. And in these, therefore, there is a joy.

人的本性有追求享樂的一面，又有嚮往自我犧牲的另一面。當前者遇到失望時，後者就得到力量；在尋覓到這樣一個更廣闊的領域後，靈魂充滿了一種崇高的熱情。因此我們在面對微小的困難時是個懦夫，而巨大的不幸卻能激起我們更真實的勇氣，使我們勇敢起來。所以，在這裏面有一種快樂。

It is not an empty paradox to say that there is joy in sorrow, just as, on the other hand, it is true that there is a dissatisfaction in pleasure. It is not difficult to understand why this should be so.

人們常說，悲傷之中有喜悅，這種說法並不是無謂的矛盾；反過來說，愉悅之中有缺憾，這同樣不假。爲什麼會這樣，這點不難理解。