THE COMING OF THE SHIP
Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was
a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in
the city of
and bear him back to the isle of his birth.
And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of
Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill
without the city walls and looked seaward; and he
beheld his ship coming with the mist.
Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and
his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes
and prayed in the silences of his soul.
But as he descended the hill, a sadness came
upon him, and he thought in his heart:
How shall I go in peace and without sorrow?
Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave
this city.
Long were the days of pain I have spent within
its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and
who can depart from his pain and his aloneness
without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered
in these streets, and too many are the children of my
longing that walk naked among these hills, and I
cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an
ache.
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin
that I tear with my own hands.
Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart
made sweet with hunger and with thirst.
Yet I cannot tarry longer.
The sea that calls all things unto her calls me,
and I must embark.
For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is
to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.
Fain would I take with me all that is here. But
how shall I?
A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that
give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.
And alone and without his nest shall the eagle
fly across the sun.
Now when he reached the foot of the hill,he
turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship
approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the
mariners, the men of his own land.
And his soul cried out to them, and he said:
Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the
tides, How often have you sailed in my dreams.
And now you come in my awakening, which is
my deeper dream.
Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails
full set awaits the wind.
Only another breath will I breathe in this still air,
only another loving look cast backward,
And then I shall stand among you, a seafarer
among seafarers.
And you, vast sea, sleepless mother, Who alone
are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,
Only another winding will this stream make, only
another murmur in this glade, And then shall I come
to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.
And as he walked he saw from afar men and
women leaving their fields and their vineyards and
hastenin
g towards the city gates.
And he heard their voices calling his name, and
shouting from field to field telling one another of the
coming of his ship.
And he said to himself:
Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?
And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my
dawn?
And what shall I give unto him who has left his
plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the
wheel of his winepress?
Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with
fruit that I may gather and give unto them?
And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I
may fill their cups?
Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may
touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through
me?
A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure
have I found in silences that I may dispense with
confidence?
If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I
sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?
If this indeed be the hour in which I lift up my
lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.
Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,
And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil
and he shall light it also.
These things he said in words. But much in his
heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not
speak his deeper secret.
And when he entered into the city all the people
came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as
with one voice.
And the elders of the city stood forth and said:
Go not yet away from us.
A noontide have you been in our twilight, and
your youth has given us dreams to dream.
No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but
our son and our dearly beloved.
Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.
And the priests and the priestesses said unto
him: Let not the waves of the sea separate us now,
and the years you have spent in our midst become a
memory.
You have walked among us a spirit, and your
shadw has been a light upon our faces.
Much have we loved you. But speechless was
our love, and with veils has it been veiled.
Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand
revealed before you.
And ever has it been that love knows not its own
depth until the hour of separation.
And others came also entreated him. But he
answered them not, He only bent his head; and those
who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.
And he and the people proceeded towards the
great square before the temple.
And there came out of the sanctuary a woman
whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.
And he looked upon her with exceeding
tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and
believed in him when he had been but a day in their
city.
And she hailed him, saying:
Prophet of God, in quest of the uttermost, long
have you searched the distances for your ship.
And now your ship has come, and you must
needs go.
Deep is your longing for the land of your
memories and the dwelling place of your greater
desires; and our love would not bind you nor our
needs hold you.
Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak
to us and give us of your truth.
And we will give it unto our children, and they
unto their children, and it shall not perish.
In your aloneness you have watched with our
days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to
the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.
Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell
us all that has been shown you of that which is
between birth and death.
And he answered,
People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of
that which is even now moving within your souls?
船来了
被挚爱的特选的子民阿尔姆斯塔法是他时代的曙光
他已在奥菲利斯城中等待了十二年，期待他的船
他载会他出生的岛屿。
在第十二年，“收割月”的第七天，他爬上了没有城墙的山丘，向大海张望，他看见他的船架雾而来。
他的心门豁然大开，他的欢乐飞越海洋。他闭上眼睛，在他灵魂的寂静中祈祷。
但当他下山是，一种悲哀却笼罩了他，他心中想道：
我怎么能平和的离去而不待悲愁呢？
不，我不会灵魂无损地离开这座城市。
我在这城中饱受痛苦时日的煎熬，忍受无数长夜的孤独；然而，谁会毫无撼意地与他的痛苦与孤独告别？
我把我太多的灵魂的碎片洒在了这些街道上，
有太多我梦想的孩子赤足走在这些山冈上，我不能毫无负重和痛苦地离开他们。
今天我扔掉的不是一件罩袍，而是从我自己手上撕下的一块皮肤。
这也不是我留在身后的一种思想，而是由饥渴酿成甘甜的心灵。
但我不能再长久逗留。
那召唤万物归向她的大海正在召唤我，所以我必须起航。
因为如果留下，虽然那时光在夜中燃烧，但却很快冷却凝固封锁在固定的模子里。
我多么愿意将我在这里的一切带走。但我却如何能够？
声音不能带着赋予它翅膀的舌头和嘴唇一起飞翔，它得自己探索追寻苍穹。
苍鹰也得不带巢穴独自飞越太阳。
现在，当他到达山脚时，他再次转身面向海洋，他看见他的船正在接近港口，在船首站立着水手和他故乡的人们。
他的灵魂在向他们呐喊，他说：
我古老母亲的儿子们啊，浪潮的骑士，你们曾多少次驶入我的梦中。
现在你们进入了我更深沉的清醒的梦中。
我已准备好离开，我对航行的渴望已经涨满，只等着海风。
我只要想在这凝滞的空气中再呼一口气，再向身后投去最后深情的一瞥。
然后，我将站在你们中间，水手中的水手啊。
而你，大海，无眠的母亲，河流与小溪平和自由的终点。
我这小溪只需在转个弯，在林间低吟一句，然后我将奔向你，就象一个自由的水滴融入一个无限的海洋。
当他举步是，他看见远处的男人和女人正离开他们的田野和他们的葡萄园，匆忙涌向城门。
他听见他们在呼唤他的名字，田野中传扬着船来了的消息。
他对自己说：
告别的日子该是聚会的日子吗？
应该说我的夜晚实际上是我的黎明？
我能给那些中途停下耕田的农具和酿酒的转轮的人说什么呢？
我的心应该变成结满果实的树，而我将收集果实送给他们吗？
我的欲望应象喷泉流动，注满他们的杯子吗？
我应该是一只竖琴，有力的手会触摸我，或是一只风笛，他的气息会流过我？
我是一个沉默的探索者吗？我在沉默之中找到了什么使我可以信心十足地与他们分享？
如果这是我的丰收之日，我在什么样的被遗忘的季节里播种过？
如果这真是我提起我的灯的时刻，那灯中燃烧的却不是我的火焰。
我将空洞地，黑暗地提起它
然后黑暗的守护者将为它注入油，并将它燃亮。
他把这些讲了出来，但他心中还有很多没有说。因为他自己也不能说出他自己的秘密。
当他进入城市时，所有的人都来见他，他们呼喊着他，就象一个声音。
城中的长者站出来说：
现在不要离开我们。
你是我们星光中的满月，你的青春给了我们无限的梦想。
你不是我们中的陌生人，也不是客人，你是我们的儿子，我们亲密的挚爱。
难道我们要用饥饿的眼睛寻找你的面庞？
男祭司和女祭司都对他说：不要让大海的波涛现在就把我们分开，让你在我们中度过的岁月成为一个记忆。
你的精神与我们同行，你的身影象明灯照亮我们的脸庞。
我们多么爱你。但我们的爱却无言，被重重面纱遮掩。
但现在它就在大声向你呼喊，并将在你的面前显现。
这爱从不知道自己的深浅，直至这离别的时间。
其他人也都求他。但他没有回答他们。他只是低着头；那些靠近他的人看见他的泪水洒在胸前。
他和人们走向神殿前最大的广场。
神殿中走出一位名叫阿尔米特拉的妇人，她是一个预言家。
他用超越温柔的眼光看着她，因为在他来的首日，她第一的追随信仰了他。
她向他致敬，说：
上帝的先知，在追求终极真理的过程中，你已寻找你的船多时，
现在你的船已经来到，你必然要走了。
你如此深切地渴望你记忆中的土地和居所，
我们的爱和需要都不能将你挽留。
但这将是我们在你离开前要问的，请你和我们说话，将你的真理赐予我们。
我们将把它传给我们的孩子，他们也会传给他们的孩子，永世不渝。
你在孤独中观察我们的生活，你在醒时听我们睡梦中的抽泣与欢笑。
那么现在想我们揭示我们自己吧，告诉我们已向你展示的从生到死的一切。
于是他回答道，
奥菲利斯的人们啊，除了那些正在你们灵魂中流动的东西，我还能想你们讲什么呢？
Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.
And he raised his head and looked upon the
people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with
a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you, follow him, Though
his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may
wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the
north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify
you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your
pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses
your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So
shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their
clinging to the earth.
Linke sheaves of corn he gathers you unto
himself. He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that
you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you
may know the secrets of your heart, and in that
knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's
peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your
nakedness and pass out of love's threshing -floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but
not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your
tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but
from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in
my heart,' but rather, "I am in the heart of God.'
And think not you can direct the course of love, for
love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let
these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its
melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of
love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give
thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's
ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved
in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
关于爱
于是，阿尔米特拉说，跟我们说说爱吧。
他抬起头看着人们，于是他们感到了凝滞。他用洪亮的声音说：
当爱向你示意时，跟随他。虽然他的道路艰难险陡。
当他的羽翼拥抱你时，顺从他，虽然藏在他羽翼中的利剑会伤害你。
当他和你说话时，相信他，虽然他的声音会驱走你的梦想，就象北风荒芜了花园。
因为即使爱能为你加冕，他也能将你钉死在十字架上。他能是你成长，也使你受管束。
他能将你送至顶峰，呵护你在阳光中颤抖的最嫩的枝桠，他也能将你打落到树根，摇动它们脱离大地。
他象收获玉米一样把你们聚在身边。他敲打你们使你们赤裸。
他将你们从你们的壳中解放。
他挤压你们至洁白
他揉捏你们至柔顺。
然后他把你们投入他神圣的火焰中，你们将成为上帝神圣宴席上神圣的面包。
这些就是爱将为你们做的，你们也将知道自己心灵的秘密，那些知识将成为生命真谛的一快碎片。
但如果你们在恐惧中只寻求爱的和平与快乐，
那你们最好掩上裸体，避开爱的筛场，进入你们不知季节的欢笑世界，但却不能尽情地笑，尽情地哭。
爱除了自己外别无赠予，也别无所求。
爱不拥有什么，也不被拥有。
当你爱时，你不应说：“上帝在我心中。”而是应说：“我在上帝心中。”
别想你能引领爱的道路，因为如果爱发现了你的价值，他会引领你的道路。
爱别无所求只要充实他自己。
但如果你想爱，并且必须有欲望，那让它们只是你的欲望。
融化它们，让它们象奔流的小溪，唱着自己的歌融入夜晚。
去感知过多的温柔带来的痛苦。
让你为自己对爱的理解而受伤
让血自愿地快乐地流淌
去以带翼的心在黎明苏醒，感谢另一个爱的日子的开始
在月上中天时休息，冥想爱的狂喜
带着感恩的心回家；
然后带着为心中的爱人的祈祷而眠，嘴唇上洒满赞美的歌。
ON MARRIAGE
Then Almitra spoke again and said, And what of
Marriage, master?
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall
be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of
death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent
memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between
you,
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores
of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from
the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let
each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though
~ they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's
keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your
hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in
each other's shadow.
关于婚姻
阿尔米特拉又问道，关于婚姻呢？
他回答说：
你们生在一起，也将一起步入永恒
当死亡的白翼驱散了你们的白昼时你们将在一起
唉，甚至在上帝沉默的记忆里，你们也在一起
但让你们之间留出距离
让天空的风在你们之间起舞
爱彼此，但别让爱成为一种束缚
宁可让它成为在你们灵魂的海岸间流动的大海
倾满对方的杯，但别只从一只杯中啜引
将面包为给对方，但别同吃一只
一起歌唱，舞蹈，快快乐乐，但让各人有独处的时间
就象虽然琴弦同为一首乐曲而振动，但它们的音符却各自不同
交出你的心，但别困在对方手中，
因为只有生命的手能留下你的心
并肩而站，但别靠得太近
就象神殿的柱子只能分开站立
就象橡树和柏书绝不能在对方的阴影中生长。
ON CHILDREN
And a woman who held a babe against her
bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's
longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you, And
though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your
thoughts. For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which
you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to
make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with
yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as
living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the
infinite, and He bends you with His might that His
arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for
gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that files, so He
loves also the bow that is stable.
关于孩子
一个怀抱孩子的妇人说，跟我们说说孩子吧
他说：
你的孩子不是你的孩子
他们是生命自我渴望的结晶
他们经你而来却非由你而来，虽然他们在你身边，却不属于你
你可以给他们爱，但却不是你的思想，因为他们有自己的思想
你能象房屋一样圈住他们的身体，但却不是他们的灵魂
因为他们的灵魂居住在明天的寓所里，那里你无法去访，甚至在梦里也不能
你会努力象他们一样，但别试图把他们变得和你一样
因为生活不会倒退，也不会流连在昨天
你是弓，你的孩子们是弓上生机勃勃的离弦之箭
射手看见了通往无限之路上的标记，他的力量使你满弦，这样他的箭可以飞得又快又远
让你在射手手中的弯曲充满了喜悦
因为他虽喜爱飞出的箭，也爱那平稳的弓。
ON GIVING
Then said a rich man, Speak to us of Giving.
And he answered:
You give but little when you give of your
possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly
give.
For what are your possessions but things you
keep and guard for fear you may need them
tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the
over-prudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand
as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself？
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the
thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much
which they have and they give it for recognition
and their hidden desire makes their gifts
unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it
all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of
life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy
is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that