主题：关于出家修行的可行性讨论 -- 沉静的悲哀
- 复 呵呵有个人说
家园 恩，我一直认为死亡是生命形态的一种转换 家园 我觉得这么想挺好的 我原先是比较“讲科学”的，但是后来发现自己对科学和科学以外的东西了解得都很肤浅。我觉得尽可能了解这个世界"是什么样“是一方面，但是“怎样看待这个世界和自己”是另一方面，而后一方面则并非科学所能回答。说到底我现在也还是比较浅，还在寻找。
家园 能说说您现在找到了的吗？ 家园 没有找到 还没有找到，估计等我找到了我也要玩完了:-)
家园 才发现九霄兄说得是T.S. Eliot little gidding
...........
Attachment to self and to things and to persons, detachment
From self and from things and from persons; and, growing between them, indifference
Which resembles the others as death resembles life,
Being between two lives—unflowering, between
The live and the dead nettle. This is the use of memory:
For liberation—not less of love but expanding
Of love beyond desire, and so liberation
From the future as well as the past.
.............
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
...............
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
九霄兄有时间来翻一下吧，想看到你的翻译。
家园 用另外我喜欢的一首小诗来和九霄兄这段： I strove with none,
for none was worth my strife.
Nature I loved, and
next to Nature, Art.
I warmed both hands before the fire of life,
It sinks and I am
ready to depart.
家园 刚刚译完草稿 《荒原》《四个四重奏》最近刚译完草稿，但是需要再改改，同时加一些注释，也在考虑要不要索性把艾略特的诗译完（他所有的诗似乎可以看作一个整体）。等最后完工了，一定要请嘉木鉴定一下。
- 复 刚刚译完草稿
家园 是，热烈期待中。 - 复 刚刚译完草稿
家园 啊，太好了！ 最早读到他的诗是大二的时候在某一个教室上自习，发现抽屉里扔着一本被人遗落的《外国文学》，里头登了他的《圣灰星期三》（刚百度了一下，发现是1995年第3期，张剑翻译的），里头有一句到现在都记得：
对风预言吧
因为只有风愿意听
- 复 啊，太好了！
家园 说到诗，请教一下嘉木mm 看到九霄发的TS.Eloit的诗，忽然记起原来曾经喜欢的一个女诗人关于坟墓的一首诗。短小活泼的，跟死气沉沉的坟墓完全没有关系。
好像诗人的名字也是Elloit，诗的名字我忘掉了。惭愧。。。
刚才在Google上找了一圈，找到一位笔名为George Eliot的女诗人。但是翻遍了她的诗，都没有我记忆中那首。
mm是否有印象？也许名字记错了，但是我记得这位女诗人好像早亡。
家园 昨天也想过艾米丽勃朗特， 不过当时的直觉更偏向艾米丽·狄金斯（Emily Dickinson），不过Dickinson有活到50左右，应该不算早亡。
之所以会有这种直觉是大学的时候，英语老师讲过这位女诗人，提到她对死亡或曰坟墓的某种归宿感，甚至期待感，而且她的诗大都是短诗，所以
你说短小活泼的，跟死气沉沉的坟墓完全没有关系。我立即想起她来。刚检索了一些她关于坟墓的诗歌，你可以看一下，确实和其他人很不一样，我读了之后，不禁想起提姆·波顿的电影，比如《鬼娃的新娘》，呵呵：
The Color of the Grave is Green
The Color of the Grave is Green—
The Outer Grave—I mean—
You would not know it from the Field—
Except it own a Stone—
To help the fond—to find it—
Too infinite asleep
To stop and tell them where it is—
But just a Daisy—deep—
The Color of the Grave is white—
The outer Grave—I mean—
You would not know it from the Drifts—
In Winter—till the Sun—
Has furrowed out the Aisles—
Then—higher than the Land
The little Dwelling Houses rise
Where each—has left a friend—
The Color of the Grave within—
The Duplicate—I mean—
Not all the Snows could make it white—
Not all the Summers—Green—
You’ve seen the Color—maybe—
Upon a Bonnet bound—
When that you met it with before—
The Ferret—cannot find—
More than the Grave is closed to me
More than the Grave is closed to me—
The Grave and that Eternity
To which the Grave adheres—
I cling to nowhere till I fall—
The Crash of nothing, yet of all—
How similar appears—
The grave my little cottage is
The grave my little cottage is,
Where “Keeping house” for thee
I make my parlor orderly
And lay the marble tea.
For two divided, briefly,
A cycle, it may be,
Till everlasting life unite
In strong society.
Those who have been in the Grave the longest
Those who have been in the Grave the longest—
Those who begin Today—
Equally perish from our Practise—
Death is the other way—
Foot of the Bold did least attempt it—
It—is the White Exploit—
Once to achieve, annuls the power
Once to communicate—
How fortunate the Grave
How fortunate the Grave—
All Prizes to obtain—
Successful certain, if at last,
First Suitor not in vain.
I know of people in the Grave
I know of people in the Grave
Who would be very glad
To know the news I know tonight
If they the chance had had.
’Tis this expands the least event
And swells the scantest deed—
My right to walk upon the Earth
If they this moment had.
The Stimulus, beyond the Grave
The Stimulus, beyond the Grave
His Countenance to see
Supports me like imperial Drams
Afforded Day by Day.
I see thee clearer for the Grave
I see thee clearer for the Grave
That took thy face between
No Mirror could illumine thee
Like that impassive stone—
I know thee better for the Act
That made thee first unknown
The stature of the empty nest
Attests the Bird that’s gone.
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
Enclosed ’twas not of Rail
A Consciousness its Acre, and
It held a Human Soul.
Entombed by whom, for what offence
If Home or Foreign born—
Had I the curiosity
’Twere not appeased of men
Till Resurrection, I must guess
Denied the small desire
A Rose upon its Ridge to sow
Or take away a Briar.
Within thy Grave!
Within thy Grave!
Oh no, but on some other flight—
Thou only camest to mankind
To rend it with Good night—
Back from the cordial Grave I drag thee
Back from the cordial Grave I drag thee
He shall not take thy Hand
Nor put his spacious arm around thee
That none can understand
Not any higher stands the Grave
Not any higher stands the Grave
For Heroes than for Men—
Not any nearer for the Child
Than numb Three Score and Ten—
This latest Leisure equal lulls
The Beggar and his Queen
Propitiate this Democrat
A Summer’s Afternoon—
家园 又找了一圈，更倾向于是这位女诗人的诗 女诗人的描述基本符合我的记忆，但是诗的感觉不大一样：
Warning and Reply by Emily Bronte
In the earth--the earth--thou shalt be laid,
A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread,
And black mould to cover thee.
"Well--there is rest there,
So fast come thy prophecy;
The time when my sunny hair
Shall with grass roots entwined be."
But cold--cold is that resting-place,
Shut out from joy and liberty,
And all who loved thy living face
Will shrink from it shudderingly,
"Not so. HERE the world is chill,
And sworn friends fall from me:
But THERE--they will own me still,
And prize my memory."
Farewell, then, all that love,
All that deep sympathy:
Sleep on: Heaven laughs above,
Earth never misses thee.
Turf-sod and tombstone drear
Part human company;
One heart breaks only--here,
But that heart was worthy thee!
- 复 谢谢高mm.
家园 嗯，这种状态基本不太适合修行，呵呵 基本上想要的都得到了，最大的苦恼在于自己不知道还想要什么，呵呵
这个，应该来说，好像不太适合修行，呵呵
不过我从来也没体验到这种状态，其实，我的目标也就是这种状态，呵呵，所以在没有爬到那个高度之前，也不太适合去说别人啥的。