《先知》(The Prophet)居室

Then a mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses."

And he answered and said:

Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls.

For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.

Your house is your larger body.

It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream? And dreaming, leave the city for grove or hilltop?

Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.

Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.

But these things are not yet to be.

In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields.

And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors?

Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power?

Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?

Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?

Tell me, have you these in your houses?

Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and becomes a host, and then a master?

Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.

Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.

It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.

It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.

Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.

It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye.

You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.

You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.

And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.

For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

居室

一位泥瓦匠走上前說道：請給我們談談居室。

他答道：

在你們建房于城墻內之前，先用你們的想像在曠野建一所涼亭。

正如你們在暮色降臨時有家可歸，你們心中遙遠而孤單的漂泊者也應如此。

你們的房屋是你們更大的軀殼。

它在陽光下生長，在夜的寂靜中安眠，而那睡眠并非天夢。難道你們的居室無夢?它們不也想遠離城市，前往林中或山上?

我愿將你們的房舍收聚于手中，然后似播種般將它們撒向森林和草原。

我愿山谷成為你們的街道，綠徑是你們的小巷，如是你們可以穿過葡萄園彼此造訪，衣裳留著泥土的芳香。

然而這卻暫難實現(xiàn)。

出于恐懼，你們的祖先將你們聚得過近。這恐懼還會持續(xù)一些時日，你們的城墻在一段時間內也會繼續(xù)把你們的家庭和你們的土地隔開。

告訴我，奧法利斯城的人們，你們房屋中有些什么?你們用緊閉的門守護什么呢?

你們可有安寧，那顯示你們力量的平靜的沖動?

你們可有回憶，那連接心靈峰巒的隱約閃現(xiàn)的橋梁?

你們可有美，那將心靈從木石之所引向圣山的向導?

告訴我，你們的居室可擁有這些?

莫非其中只有安逸和追求安逸的欲望----這鬼祟之物入室做客，卻變?yōu)橹魅?，進而成為一家之長?

可嘆啊，它竟又化作馴師，以誘餌和皮鞭使你們更大的愿望變作玩偶。

盡管它的手如絲，但它的心如鐵。

它誘你們人睡，只為站在你們睡榻邊嘲弄你們肉體的尊嚴。

它嘲笑你們健全的意識，把它們像脆弱的器皿般置于薊絨下。

的確，貪圖安逸的欲望扼殺了靈魂的情感，而它還在葬禮上例嘴嬉笑。

但你們，宇宙之子，靜中之動，你們不應被捕陷，不應被馴服。

你們的居室不應是錨，而應是桅。

它不應是遮掩傷口的閃亮的薄膜，而應是保護眼睛的眼瞼。

你們不應為穿過房門而收斂翅膀，不應為防止撞到天花板而俯身低頭，也不應因擔心墻壁開裂坍塌而屏住呼吸。

你們不應居住在死者為生者建造的墳墓中。

縱然你們的宅邸金碧輝煌，它們也無法隱藏你們的秘密，掩蓋你們的愿望。

因為你們內在的無窮性居住在天宮里，它以晨霧為門，以夜的歌聲和寂靜為窗。