Written in Exile. Liu Tsung-yuan. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Liu Tsung-yuan
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781619322073
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turning to look at the looming clouds

      南楚春候早,餘寒已滋榮。土膏釋原野,百蟄競所營。

      綴景未及郊,穡人先耦耕。園林幽鳥囀,渚澤新泉清。

      農事誠素務,羈囚阻平生。故池想蕪沒,遺畝當榛荆。

      慕隱既有繫,圖功遂無成。聊從田父言,歀曲陳此情。

      眷然撫耒耜,迴首煙雲橫。

      NOTE: Written in Yungchou in the spring of 806. Yungchou was located in the southernmost part of the ancient state of Ch’u, whose territory included the north and south sides of the middle reaches of the Yangtze. The home Liu refers to was not where he lived just outside the palace in Ch’ang-an but the place that belonged to his mother’s family. It was a few kilometers southwest of the city between the Feng River and the Shaoling Plateau 少陵 and was where he spent his childhood. After his death, Liu’s body was taken back to the capital and was buried on the plateau not far from where the poets Tu Mu 杜牧 and Wei Ying-wu 韋應物 were buried. This begins like a T’ao Yuanming poem, but it doesn’t end that way. Instead of expressing a desire to join the farmer, Liu remains a banished official wishing he could return to court. (1212)

      Gargling with well water makes my teeth chatter

      after purifying myself I brush off my clothes

      I happened to pick up a palm-leaf text

      leaving the east wing I kept reading

      “There’s nothing to find in the wellspring of truth”

      “What the world follows are the footprints of falsehood”

      I wish I could fathom those ancient words

      will I ever be done perfecting my nature

      the monastery courtyard is quiet

      it’s all green moss and bamboo

      sunny days the fog and dew linger

      the pine trees look just washed

      the peace I feel is hard to describe

      I’m happy just being awake

      汲井漱寒齒,清心拂塵服。閒持貝葉書,步出東齋讀。

      真源了無取,妄跡世所逐。遺言冀可冥,繕性何由熟。

      道人庭宇靜,苔色連深竹。日出霧露餘,青松如膏沐。

      澹然離言說,悟悦心自足。

      NOTE: Written in Yungchou in the summer of 806, when Liu would have been new to a monastic environment. Such was the insignificance of Liu’s post, it didn’t include government lodging, but Buddhist temples often provided rooms for visiting officials. Lunghsing Temple was a five-minute walk east of the Hsiao River and just below the west-facing slope of Chienchiuling 千秋嶺, which formed the southeast border of the city. The temple’s grounds are now home to the city’s tax bureau and a primary school. Liu renames the temple here in the abbot’s honor. The abbot’s name was Ch’ung-sun 重巽, whom Liu refers to as the “transcendent master.” Liu often joined the abbot in his quarters in the temple’s east wing reading texts—texts that would have been written on palm leaves in India but on paper or silk in China. I don’t know what text Liu is quoting (or paraphrasing). Most likely it was something the abbot gave him to read. Ch’ung-sun was a student of both Zen and Tientai Buddhism. Liu’s quarters were in the west wing. (1134)

      At the beginning of the Yungchen period [805], I was labeled a partisan and forced to leave the Department of State Affairs. I was banished to Shaochou, but on the way there I was degraded further to be the assistant magistrate of Yungchou. When I arrived, I had no place to live, so I settled in the west wing of Lunghsing Temple. I had long been familiar with the teachings of Sakyamuni, and this was actually something I had hoped for. However, the room where I took shelter was quite dark. It was set in the shade, and the windows faced north. But since the temple was located above the town, and the west wing faced the current of a mighty river, and beyond the river to the west were forested mountains and valleys, I cut through the west wall and made a door, and beyond the door a balcony, so I could see everything beyond the treetops. Without having to move my mat or my desk I suddenly had a grand view.

      That room is now a room of the past and that mat and desk are now a place of the past. When something that was dark becomes bright, does it not become a different thing? By realizing the Way of the Buddha, one can turn ignorant views into true knowledge and delusions into true awareness, thus exchanging darkness for light. Is this nature of ours any different? Anyone who can cut through my wall of ignorance, open up a door to spiritual light, and extend a balcony to welcome what lies beyond, I am their disciple. And so I am writing this down for two reasons: one is to record what is outside my door, the other is to have something to give Master Sun.

      永貞年,余名在黨人,不容於尚書省。出為邵州,道 貶永州司馬。至則無以為居,居龍興寺西序之下。余知釋氏之道且久,固所願也。然余所庇之屋甚隱蔽,其戶北向,居昧昧也。寺之居於是州為高。西序之西,屬當大江之流,江之外,山谷林麓甚眾。於是鑿西墉以為戶,戶之外為軒,以臨羣木之杪,無不矚焉。不徙席,不運几,而得大觀。

      夫室,嚮者之室也,席與几,嚮者之處也。嚮也昧而今也顯,豈異物耶。因悟夫佛之道,可以轉惑見為真智,即羣迷為正覺,捨大闇為光明。夫性豈異 物耶。孰能為余鑿大昏之墉,闢靈照之戶,廣應物之軒者,吾將與為徙。遂書為二,其一志諸戶外,其一以貽巽上人焉. (751)

      I felt depressed and sick from worry

      to ease my heart I needed lighter air

      I had been thinking of eminent monks

      looking at East Mountain night and day

      happily the sky finally cleared

      happily the green world was alive

      I was joined by my favorite cousin

      we were excited as we set out

      we followed a stream farther and farther

      then stone steps higher and higher

      past creepers and vines toward a storied structure

      lichen and moss half covered the name

      dense woods rose in front and back

      sheer walls on either side

      a fortress appeared out of the gloom

      its parapets looked out on the river

      we felt cut off from the world

      as if we had climbed to the sky

      the buildings were surrounded by cliffs

      wherever