梭羅《瓦爾登湖》（中英文互譯）

亨利·戴維·梭羅（HenryDavidThoreau），美國作家、哲學家，超驗主義代表人物，也是一位廢奴主義及自然主義者。梭羅最著名的散文集《瓦爾登湖》記載了他在瓦爾登湖的隱逸生活。

ByHenryDavidThoreau文/亨利?戴維?梭羅

Ihavefrequentlyseenapoetwithdraw,havingenjoyedthemostvaluablepartofafarm,whilethecrustyfarmersupposedthathehadgotafewwildapplesonly.Why,theownerdoesnotknowitformanyyearswhenapoethasputhisfarminrhyme,themostadmirablekindofinvisiblefence,hasfairlyimpoundedit,milkedit,skimmedit,andgotallthecream,andleftthefarmeronlytheskimmedmilk.我經常看到一個詩人，欣賞了農場里令人叫絕的風景就離去了，而脾氣急躁的農場主還以為他拿走的只是幾個野蘋果罷了。殊不知詩人已寫了詩吟詠他的農場，而農場主多少年來都還蒙在鼓里呢；這么一道令人艷羨的無形柵籬，已經把農場圈了起來，把它的牛奶擠了出來，取其精華——奶油，然后通通拿走，留給農場主的是撇去了奶油的奶水。

TherealattractionsoftheHollowellfarm,tome,were:itscompleteretirement,being,abouttwomilesfromthevillage,halfamilefromthenearestneighbor,andseparatedfromthehighwaybyabroadfield;itsboundingontheriver,whichtheownersaidprotecteditbyitsfogsfromfrostsinthespring,thoughthatwasnothingtome;thegraycolorandruinousstateofthehouseandbarn,andthedilapidatedfences,whichputsuchanintervalbetweenmeandthelastoccupant;thehollowandlichen-coveredappletrees,gnawedbyrabbits,showingwhatkindofneighborsIshouldhave;butaboveall,therecollectionIhadofitfrommyearliestvoyagesuptheriver,whenthehousewasconcealedbehindadensegroveofredmaples,throughwhichIheardthehouse-dogbark.Iwasinhastetobuyit,beforetheproprietorfinishedgettingoutsomerocks,cuttingdownthehollowappletrees,andgrubbingupsomeyoungbircheswhichhadsprungupinthepasture,or,inshort,hadmadeanymoreofhisimprovements.ToenjoytheseadvantagesIwasreadytocarryiton;likeAtlas,totaketheworldonmyshoulders—Ineverheardwhatcompensationhereceivedforthat—anddoallthosethingswhichhadnoothermotiveorexcusebutthatImightpayforitandbeunmolestedinmypossessionofit;forIknewallthewhilethatitwouldyieldthemostabundantcropofthekindIwanted,ifIcouldonlyaffordtoletitalone.ButitturnedoutasIhavesaid.依我看，霍爾維爾鄉(xiāng)間住宅的真正魅力，在于它是全然遁世隱退之勝地，離村子有兩英里遠，最近的鄰居也在半英里開外，好大的一塊地把它和公路隔開；它以一條河劃界，據(jù)農場主說，春天里河面上升起了大霧，霜凍也就不見了影子，不過，這可跟我完全無關。農舍和谷倉都是灰不溜秋，破敗不堪；坍塌失修的柵籬，仿佛在我和早先的居民之間相隔了如此悠悠歲月；那些蘋果樹早已中空，長滿苔蘚，還被兔子啃咬過，由此可見與我比鄰而居的將是何許人也，不過，最主要的倒是我回憶起早歲溯河而上時，望見那華屋依稀掩映在茂密的紅楓樹叢里，還聽得到打從那兒傳過來的家犬的吠聲。我急吼吼地把它買了下來，等不及業(yè)主把那些石塊搬走，把樹身早已中空的蘋果樹砍掉，把牧場上長出來的小白樺樹連根鏟掉，總之，等不及業(yè)主進一步收拾停當了。為了享有上述那些優(yōu)點，我就索性一不做、二不休吧；如同阿特拉斯一樣，把整個世界扛到我肩膀上——我從沒聽說過他得到了什么回報——一切全由我自己操辦，自然沒有什么別的動機和借口，只等錢款付清，平安無事地擁有霍爾維爾鄉(xiāng)間別墅。因為我一直知道，只要我讓它自由發(fā)展，它就會帶來我預期得到的最豐美的收成。但結果呢，如同我在前文所說的一樣。

AllthatIcouldsay,then,withrespecttofarmingonalargescale—Ihavealwayscultivatedagarden—was,thatIhadhadmyseedsready.Manythinkthatseedsimprovewithage.Ihavenodoubtthattimediscriminatesbetweenthegoodandthebad;andwhenatlastIshallplant,Ishallbelesslikelytobedisappointed.ButIwouldsaytomyfellows,onceforall,Aslongaspossiblelivefreeanduncommitted.Itmakesbutlittledifferencewhetheryouarecommittedtoafarmorthecountyjail.因此，有關大規(guī)模耕作一事（至今我一直在侍弄著一個園子），我所能說說的僅僅是種子，我早已準備好了。很多人以為種子也會與時俱進。我并不懷疑時間是能分得出好與壞的，到了最后我真的要下種時，我想大概總不至于讓我大失所望吧。但是，我要一勞永逸地告訴我的伙伴們：你們要盡可能長時間地生活得自由自在，無牽無掛。你們把自己捆在農場上，無異于將自己投進大牢里。

(Credit:

ScottBerkun)

OldCato,whose“DeReRustic”ismy“Cultivator,”says—andtheonlytranslationIhaveseenmakessheernonsenseofthepassage—“Whenyouthinkofgettingafarmturnitthusinyourmind,nottobuygreedily;norspareyourpainstolookatit,anddonotthinkitenoughtogorounditonce.Theofteneryougotherethemoreitwillpleaseyou,ifitisgood.”IthinkIshallnotbuygreedily,butgoroundandrounditaslongasIlive,andbeburiedinitfirst,thatitmaypleasemethemoreatlast.老卡托——他的《鄉(xiāng)村篇》乃是我的“栽培者”——我見到他的唯一譯本把以下這段話簡直譯得不知所云，其實，他是這樣說的：“你想要購置一座農場，腦子里務必多想想，切莫急吼吼地就買下；也不要怕累、怕麻煩，不去多看看，更不要以為繞著它轉了一圈兒就夠了。如果說農場真的不錯的話，那里你去得越是勤，你就會越是喜歡它?！蔽蚁?，我是不會急吼吼地買下來的，反正我能活多久，就繞著它轉多久，即使一瞑不視了，也要先掩埋在那兒，說不定最終它會使我獲得更多樂趣哩。

Thepresentwasmynextexperimentofthiskind,whichIpurposetodescribemoreatlength,forconvenienceputtingtheexperienceoftwoyearsintoone.AsIhavesaid,Idonotproposetowriteanodetodejection,buttobragaslustilyaschanticleerinthemorning,standingonhisroost，ifonlytowakemyneighborsup.現(xiàn)在談的是我又一個這類實驗，我打算描述得更加詳盡；為了方便起見，我把這兩年的經驗合二為一地來寫。我已說過，我無意寫一首悶悶不樂的頌歌，我要像破曉晨雞在棲木上引吭啼唱那樣，只要能喚醒我的左鄰右舍就好。

WhenfirstItookupmyabodeinthewoods,thatis,begantospendmynightsaswellasdaysthere,which,byaccident,wasonIndependenceDay,ortheFourthofJuly,1845,myhousewasnotfinishedforwinter,butwasmerelyadefenceagainsttherain,withoutplasteringorchimney,thewallsbeingofrough,weather-stainedboards,withwidechinks,whichmadeitcoolatnight.Theuprightwhitehewnstudsandfreshlyplaneddoorandwindowcasingsgaveitacleanandairylook,especiallyinthemorning,whenitstimbersweresaturatedwithdew,sothatIfanciedthatbynoonsomesweetgumwouldexudefromthem.Tomyimaginationitretainedthroughoutthedaymoreorlessofthisauroralcharacter,remindingmeofacertainhouseonamountainwhichIhadvisitedayearbefore.Thiswasanairyandunplasteredcabin,fittoentertainatravellinggod,andwhereagoddessmighttrailhergarments.Thewindswhichpassedovermydwellingweresuchassweepovertheridgesofmountains,bearingthebrokenstrains,orcelestialpartsonl