秋阳赋
苏轼
越王之孙，有贤公子，宅于不土之里，而咏无言之诗。以告东坡居士曰：“吾心皎然，如秋阳之明;吾气肃然，如秋阳之清;吾好善而欲成之，如秋阳之坚百谷;吾恶恶而欲刑之，如秋阳之陨群木。夫是以乐而赋之，子以为何如?”
居士笑曰：“公子何自知秋阳哉?生于华屋之下，而长游于朝廷之上，出拥大盖，入侍帷幄，暑至于温，寒至于凉而已矣。何自知秋阳哉!若予者，乃真知之。方夏潦之淫也，云蒸雨泄，雷电发越，江湖为一，后土冒没，舟行城郭，鱼龙入室。菌衣生于用器，蛙蚓行于几席。夜违湿而五迁，昼燎衣而三易。是犹未足病也。畊于三吴，有田一廛。禾已实而生耳，稻方秀而泥蟠。沟塍交通，墙壁颓穿。面垢落曁之涂，目泣湿薪之烟。釜甑其空，四邻悄然。鹳鹤鸣于户庭，妇宵兴而永叹。计有食其几何，矧无衣于穷年。忽釜星之杂出，又灯花之双悬。清风西来，鼓钟其镗。奴婢喜而告余，此雨止之祥也。蚤作而占之，则长庚澹其不芒矣。浴于旸谷，升于扶桑。曾未转盼，而倒景飞于屋梁矣。方是时也，如醉如醒，如而鸣。如痿而行，如还故乡初见父兄。公子亦有此乐乎?”公子曰：“善哉!吾虽不身履，而可以意知也。”
居士曰：“日行于天，南北异宜。赫然而炎非其虐，穆然而温非其慈。且今之温者，昔人炎者也。云何以夏为盾而以冬为衰乎?吾侪小人，轻愠易喜。彼冬夏之畏爱，乃群狙之三四。自今知之，可以无惑。居不墐户，出不仰笠，暑不言病，以无忘秋阳之德。”公子拊掌，一笑而作。
Autumn Sun
Su Shih
A descendant of Yüeh Wang, a worthy gentleman, dwells in a village without soil and croons verses without words. He once told Tung-p’o, the Retired Scholar, that his mind was as pure as the rays of the Autumn Sun, his emotions as peaceful as its tranquility. “I love virtue,” he said, “and am determined to fulfil it, even as the Autumn Sun strengthens the crops. I hate evil, and desire to chastise it even as the Autumn Sun strikes that group of trees. So I am anxious to write a fu upon it. What does the Master think?”
The Retired Scholar smiled. “How,” he replied, “can a gentleman like yourself appreciate the Autumn Sun? Born into a luxurious mansion, when older, you roamed through the Emperor’s Courts. Outside, you were sheltered by a large umbrella; at home, you were waited upon behind curtain and veil. You could stand the hot weather up to the point of warmth, and the winter to the point of coolness – that is all! What then can you know about the Autumn Sun?
Now, a man like myself really appreciates it. When the summer floods become excessive, when the clouds become vapour and the rains fall, when the thunder rolls and the lightning flashes, when rivers and lakes merge together and the god of the soil is in danger of drowning, then do boats sail on the city-walls, fish and dragon enter the house, mildew covers the utensils, frogs and earth-worms crawl about the tables. At night, one must move five times to avoid the damp; in day-time, one must dry the clothes in the sun for three changes. But still there is nothing in all this to worry about!
In San Wu, there is a plot of ploughed land. There, ripened grain becomes covered with fungi, matured rice curls up into the mud. Drains and dykes overflow. Walls, undermined by water, collapse in ruins in the mud. One’s eyes glisten with tears as the smoke from the fuel in boiler and cauldron fills the room. All around, the neighbourhood is silent. The crane cries in the doorway. The wife rises in the night and heaves a deep sigh, as she reckons up the number of foodless days and wonders whether the clothing will last to the end of the year.
Suddenly, the cauldron sends out sparks in myriad confusion, and the lamp-wick hangs down in double blossom. Clear blows the west wind; drums and bells resound. The slaves joyously tell me that this is the sign of no more rain. So I rise early to divine it, and I find that Hesperus, the evening star, is placid and no longer flashes as it bathes in the Valley of Sunshine and rise over Fu-sang. Ere one has winked, the whole prospect has changed with winged flight to the crossbeams of the house. In that moment, I feel as though I am awakening from a drunken slumber. I am like a dumb man who can speak, a paralytic who can rise and walk. I am like a wanderer returning to his ancestral village who gets his first glimpse of the Elders! Have you, Sire, also tasted joy like this?”
“That’s fine!” he laughed. “Although I cannot say that I have personally experienced this, yet I can well appreciate it.”
“The Sun,” continued the Retired Scholar, “moves through the Southern and the Northern Heavens in different ways. Its fierce and fiery heat is not the result of tyranny, nor is its soothing warmth due to tenderness, for the warmth of today is the heat of yesterday. Why then consider Summer as Tun and Winter as Ts’ui? We little men are easily vexed or glad, so that the dread of summer or the love of winter is of no greater import to us than the numbers ‘3’ and ‘4’ to a crowd of monkeys!
Henceforth, understand this and be not in doubt. Live without plastering the door; go out without putting on a labourer’s hat; and do not complain of the summer heat if you would not forget the virtues of the Autumn Sun.”
Whereat my nobleman clapped his hands and laughed as he wrote this down.
(Cyril Drummond Le Gros Clark 译)
