第三人称

发表于: Wed Mar 23, 2005 10:09 pm    发表主题: 欲辩已忘言

谢您对风花雪月坛的支持和眷顾。

有意思。文化可否交流，与可否向从未吃过米饭的人描述吃米饭的感受这个问题（这个议题是借来的）一样，我觉得第一个问题是这些是客观的还是主观的。如果是主观的体验和感受（虽然文化现象被描述为是客观的，但观察者是通过主观的滤镜来进行观察），是要知道梨子的滋味最好的办法当然是去吃一下。

爱抬杠的出题者说如果没有机会去吃这个梨子呢。我想首先要问的问题是“交流”或“描述”的定义和目的是什么。定义描述性质和特征，目的决定所借用的手段。

年轻时刚开始学英文常哀叹英文的意境不如中文，比如“无奈”这个词，译成"helpless"则太弱表现不出中国人对于”大“于自己的力量的一种接受和尊敬。后来会说几句歪瓜瘪枣的英文后也时时哀叹中文不能表达英文的意境，又如“surrendering"译成中文”投降“（与战争无关）则尽失其中的"with willingness and choice"的涵义。后来越学越知自己的无知，明白站在一个系统里企图用已有的一套去了解，判断另一个系统是行不通的，这也是祖国许多学者甚至留学生的练门。我私下认为禅的”只是不知“心态是了解任何一样东西（包括自己）的关键。

以open和”只是不知“心态去学习和欣赏英文的splendor，也去再学习中文的博大精深，也越来越看到不同语言文化中相通的地方和各自精妙的地方。再反思”可不可译“这个问题，翻译从来都是对原创的背叛，再进一步，虽若是用同种语言表述，即使是背景相似的人理解起来，我说的和君理解的又何曾是一回事？自古哀叹”知音少，弦断有谁听“是有其原因的。艺术（甚至日常沟通）是一个空筐结构，每个欣赏者/接受方根据自己的个人体验放进自己想放的东西。既然译（交流/描述/沟通）必定不会被理解为原创者最初的意图，要不要译（交流/描述/沟通）的问题就转化成译（交流/描述/沟通）的价值和目的。翻译/理解/诠释是个再创作的过程，这个过程本身从来都为人类碰撞出无尽灵感和火花，从效果上来讲，是否与原创意图或可否表达相同虽重要但也并不重要（取决于目的），再创作与原创同样起到扩展人类意识和理解的地平线的效用。

任何有形的沟通方式包括身体语言，表情，口头或书面语言，绘画雕塑，舞蹈甚至音乐都有其局限性，因其subject to abuse and misinterpretation based on the totality of the receipient's personal history. 故禅，据说起源于佛在灵鹫山大会拈花，众人不解，唯大迦叶尊者会心一笑，从那时起，教外别传，不立文字。但在我们都悟了之前，也只能退而求其次，利用可用的资源--也就是些有形的形式。然即不能谱曲，也不能绘画，好不容易学会说话，还经常对同类恶语相向，平时说的，99%都是废话。人啊（包括我老人家自己），真是有意思的利害。

发表于: Mon Mar 21, 2005 10:36 am    发表主题: Re: 惭愧+惊喜

我假设您是看破了世间一切自无始以来都是周而往复的老生长谈，而我们，包括叶窑主，叶莎莎，等等，也包括如此冷静睿智的您，沉溺其中，乐此不疲，浑然忘了原先是个故事。

当然也有可能您只是个”smart ass"， 自己在红尘中滚的不亦乐呼，却又受不了别人的迷恋或在迷恋中的fun(短暂也无妨）， 于是自作聪明地贴一贴“holier than thou"的屁话。 我当然希望是第一种可能了。

既然那么有见识， 当然让我无限倾慕，也当然想结识亲近。又何必顶了如今”风花雪月“上最流行的名字”LL“ （据不完全统计，已有至少四个不同的人在不同的时候用了”LL“ 这个名字）来传播您的智慧？

别浪费时间了， 分秒必争，千万别让俺倾慕无托啊

发表于: Fri Mar 18, 2005 3:23 am    发表主题: 思念

思念
如雨后
苏醒的野藤
在寂静黑漆夜
灵蛇般
疯狂地
蔓延

游客:  发表于: Fri Mar 8, 2005 8:29 am    发表主题: 

难道
一
句话
分着写，
就
成了
湿
么？

发表于: Fri Mar 18, 2005 11:32 am    发表主题: 

反正
您
与
明白
之间
隔着
永远
和
亙古
万万水
与
千千山

无明中
织梦
也是
作茧自缚
何不
含笑
静观
千帆过尽

LJ:发表于: Fri Mar 18, 2005 3:51 pm    发表主题: 
I,

can't

help

laugh

ing.......

and

I

sense

some

humor

here

in

deed,

actually

there

is

chemistry

between

发表于: Fri Mar 18, 2005 9:57 pm    发表主题: 你笑了

时间停了
空间寂了
宇宙
在
你
无羁的
愉悦中
震荡成
一朵
芙蓉 

ＬＪ：发表于: Wed Mar 30, 2005 10:35 am    发表主题: 

我
不得不
纠正
你
的说法：

坛主
是
永远的
即使
这个坛子
不在

她，
如果不是
不得已

何尝不会
象往夜
一样
在这里
流连.......

此刻
她的NOTEBOOK
已经
PACKED UP

她的能量
也在
PILED UP.......

谁敢想象
什么
会
发生？
一旦
她的
行李
打开

发表于: Wed Mar 30, 2005 3:31 pm    发表主题: sentiments

There is no Pinyin input on this Pacific Coffee computer, so I have to write in English.

My notebook is packed, together with everything else. What is being packed is not only the accumulated junk from the past 7 years in my absent minded greed and lack of mindfulness, it is also a piece of my past 7 years' of life--ecstacy and agony, laughter and tears, a life not necessarily well lived, but richly lived.

Emotions and sentiments are too complex to share in a comprehensible way. Contrary to my appearance as a tough cookie (that's how an "ordinary" person usually perceives me from his/her expectation), there is an aspect of me that is mushy, sentimental and softer than almond tofu :), an aspect of me that is this wishful child that hopes to drown forever in the nectar of the joy we shared together.

I "invented" many years ago to comfort myself in the agony of lovesickness that whatever was shared was impermanent and yet permanent as it exists forever somewhere in time/space--later I realise that it is true...not to mention that my love affair with "Feng Hua Xue Yue" is expected to continue.

I expect continued laughters, joy and bloody fights with you, and will continue to cheer myself up and piss some youke off with my "poem of broken sentences".

ＨＬ：发表于: Wed Mar 30, 2005 7:50 pm    发表主题: 
QMM,

To follow the flow, let's put it as:-

Meet with you,
I will,
in Beijing,
soon.



I don't know
how to write poems
but
let's sound like
doing
one,
good
or
bad 

发表于: Thu Mar 31, 2005 3:18 pm    发表主题: 欣慰
由无知
无畏
而
无所挂碍
随心所欲的
断句
大白话
造就了
一批
风起云涌
的
断句
湿人

AP:发表于: Sat Apr 02, 2005 9:38 pm    发表主题: Ah!
如果
我
是男的
我肯定
甘愿
為
你做牛
做馬
只求
時時
與你
看
花開花謝
听
潮起潮落

发表于: Sun Apr 03, 2005 6:41 am    发表主题: Re: Ah!

女儿家也可，一来我不挑剔，二来我比绝大多数男的要怜香惜玉得多。但“做牛做马”了，你就不能挑只“看/花開花謝/听/潮起潮落”了。考虑清楚了。

LJ: 发表于: Sun Apr 03, 2005 5:02 pm    发表主题:

看样子你还是居无定所，这样很累啊，不如一次把找房子的事办完，虽然辛苦些(你自己的事，赖也赖不掉)，然后就省心了。北京不是实行6死6活吗？对租客很方便。你又不是不知道掩耳盗铃的后果
前天在一起吃饭 ，提到你31号发来的incompatible format 短信, 我们都在惋惜是不是错过了一段艳舞，憧憬你脱，你脱，你脱脱脱的场景...... 酒至酣处想到你这样一个热爱生活和充满魅力的人，X帅哥直嚷着要给北京打电话，接通你的直线。遗憾的是，你那头牌摸遍全身，上下求索，不得其手，最后告诉我们把你的电话号码落在办公室了，扫了我们的兴致。
香港依旧，二十三度；我们依旧，酒肉笙歌。 小我一直在思索着你说的带檀香味的茶，不得禅门而入。

本来
是想
练点儿
湿

可惜
今天的
废话
太多
摆不起
那个
排场

那时那么逼人?一头汗.

发表于: Thu Mar 10, 2005 6:18 pm    发表主题: 复夜杀杀

叶兄

感激您给我一个修行机会。近来一路上有几位坛友考验我修行向善的决心，虽然那些"考验"对我而言是，窃用Xin Hai的话,“nobody gives a dime"。还是谢了。

感激您直言的风格，用词的品味虽实在值得商榷，也想说一下我的想法和观察：

1。想请教一下，依您的高见，这名字用什么好？您也姓叶，我也姓叶，我们改叫“夜叉阵”可好？可供大家披头散发，撕破了脸皮，攻扞谩骂，大战三百回合，意下如何？

2。有话慢慢说，这个坛，我和johnny X 和您都没仇，用您以为是侮辱性的字眼，虽然我猜测您是想引起注意，或许是想funny (品味真真值得商榷），但只让本人看到您最近票卖得不好，生活中乏善可陈，心里不太平和。骂我无所谓，但johnny X 是我死乞白赖请回来为大家服务的，他受连累，我自责陷朋友于不义。

3。从您的简介，名字和贴子，一路上杀气腾腾。可贵的是你有"warrior"的一面。但君不知真正的warrior是杀自己的“贪，嗔，痴”，而不是对外--将自己未驯服的那部分能量随意撒在别人身上。

4。您说您好赌。我生平不赌（除了我的生命之外），但不反对别人赌，更不会跑去人家赌场责令人家改弦易辙，以满足我个人的喜好，兼而把自己气得哆索。建议您为了自己的心身健康，也采取类似处理方法：此坛不入您法眼，您也不必自寻烦恼，让别人的愚蠢来惩罚您，好不好？

5。您用的那种语言和行径，在这儿不受欢迎。张口之前，请检点一下自己的意图。我给您24小时，请您自己将自己侮辱谩骂的贴子删了。否则我会帮你删。如您愿意用基本平和的方式说话，欢迎您回来，否则就不必了。

您如果对我个人有意见，咱们可以“月上柳梢头，人约黄昏后”，以武（舞）会友，您把我打一顿，我跳个舞给你看，给你消消气？但A。我在修行中也常常是“一念天堂，一念地狱”，什么时候是天堂，什么时候是地狱，有时我也把握不好；B。在迷上跳舞之前，我也受过小小职业拳击训练，加之小时也练过一点武术。是舞是武，我也不知。我宁愿您打我一顿（或被我打一顿），省得您张口满地污秽，象在客厅里杀鸡一样（我不明白的是您那么眉清目秀的人怎么张口那么污秽？）。

您抱怨大家自我介绍不够多，我一直觉得一些表面的信息并不重要，重要的是这个人选择作什么样的人。和您一样，我的生命中也有许多自寻的痛苦和悲哀，我选择将那些痛苦和悲哀转为使我能够理解别人痛苦的慈悲，这些苦痛让我更珍惜人间的些许温情和美，让我注意不要因自己的痛而给别人造成痛苦。

这个coin的另一面是一个人有多强向善的意愿，就有多大向恶的力量，我这么说，也是撒泼，只不过用词比您文雅一点而已。您要做朋友，欢迎，您不要做朋友，也无所谓。但别在这儿撒泼。

另外一个观察就是您的中文语法还可以再复习一下，而英文真的需要好好学一学。举个例子，“communication"没有复数，这在初中就学过了。挑衅别人时犯语法错误是件很没面子的事，就跟找碴跟别人吵架时犯结巴一样。我还会在香港两个星期，你要有兴趣，我可以帮你补补英文。

 Sat Mar 12, 2005 12:45 am  

这个坛子欢迎所有的人，也没限过任何人（也没限夜杀杀的贴，您再查一下您的贴子去了那，另外也没人谩骂您，您骂完了就作脆弱状，一点儿“杀”气都没了 :lol: 。昨晚见您羞答答的样儿，我们几个笑到肾都虚了 :D ）。

基本的初衷是以文会友， 只有一个原则，那就是大家基本上文明说话，尊重别人，说什么都行，风花雪月可作各种解释，仁者见仁，智者见智（夜杀杀提到风花雪月对他来说象是“逛窑子”的代称--窃以为窑子也有不同的逛法，是否风花雪月，不是窑子或非窑子决定的，而是逛者的意图决定的）。我个人的观点（不代表中央观点）是欢迎署名的和不署名的大鸣大放，大家百花齐放，百家争鸣，生命本身是丰富多彩的，故而对生命的表达也应是多层次多样化的（除了对别人的基本尊重是必要的--因对别人尊重也是对自己尊重）。

虚心接受游客的批评，一直自知自己不是省油的灯，故而主修接受和宽容，只有想要说明一些观点时才会回应，回应时虽也是尽量客气，有时免不了杀气会渗出来（俗话说狗改不了吃屎，讲的就是类似的行为模式），但意图是善的，唯一可自慰的是从不主动找别人茬，记得的也都是别人的优点和好玩的事儿。当然自知修的差得太远，须悬梁刺股，非刺刀见红不罢休 :evil: 。

其实实话是真的没那么严重，我也在以我的方式玩儿--记得那个“黄粱美梦”的故事吗？我看人生也是如此。

夜杀杀骂人的贴我会删了--既然玩儿，还是有一点游戏规则，对不住了。大家都是朋友，别的我就不说了，说了都是多余，更何况常说错 :roll: 。

欢迎回来，不须作烈士状哦。 :lol:

发表于: Sat Mar 12, 2005 1:51 am  

您老人家也作认真状，惭愧的我只好解释一下。我只是假装威胁要以武（舞）会友，并没说要打赢他。我有关那个”不男不女“的不三不四的回答，和我最近考虑/探索的问题有关：简而言之是或男或女都有阴阳两种能量，而万物之母是阴性能量，一个人外表是男是女和他/她/它的能量不一定在所有的时候对应，而且是不断变化的，这其中的规律我还糊涂着呢，但这个探索对我来说有趣的利害。

一个人不三不四的回应和她的心态有关，和您无关，您别理她，爱说啥说啥。游客吗，不是游完了就走了吗？跟人生一样，您怕谁？

发表于: Mon Mar 14, 2005 3:37 pm
弹劾？杀鸡焉用牛刀。此版版猪是人民公仆，为人民义务看后花园的，顺便搞搞清洁。不需要犯男女关系方面的错误并对人民代表撒谎方可被踢下台，随时让贤（闲）。

这个后花园是大伙儿的，感激大伙儿爱护自己后花园的心意：有空勤来溜溜，有心情有空种点花啊草啊的，养个鱼儿鸟儿的，吊个嗓子，练两趟花拳绣腿，下棋，打牌打盹，有心情没空欣赏一下花草，逗个鸟，看看鱼戏或小乌龟叠罗汉；实在没心情也可进来散散心，抒发一下”举世皆浊，唯我独清“的自怜，或放放厥词，指手划脚都好，只是别随地扔自己的垃圾，妨碍了别人。

咱们的后花园有点啥，就看咱自己带点啥进来，是不是？

发表于: Thu Mar 03, 2005 3:26 am    发表主题: 日出中的北京

晨6时许，浑钝疲惫中如游尸般拿了文件给可怜而耐心的秘书小姐改，无意中眼角瞥见走廊尽头一片鲜艳，跌跌撞撞奔去落地玻璃前，窗外漫天是震憾的橙红，似乎有人从天际抖开了一匹巨大的绸缎，壮观地荡漾着。浓的化不开的橙红中是高楼大厦黑色的轮廓，远处一架飞机缓缓地滑入，是笼罩一切的亙古不变中处子般的动感；近处一只鹰兀展开了翅矫健地翔舞，反衬万物的沉静。俯视脚下长安街上车灯已是川流不息，引入匆忙的一日。

原本不太睁得开的眼睛亮了，即使是极度疲倦低落的灰暗中，太阳依旧一日日升起，美同样会震撼开一颗心，使其再次感受生命汩汩的源流。人生，即使有其无尽的哀伤，仍然美得让人心碎，不忍瞬目。

活着，真好。

被追骂的断句湿

发表于: Mon Jan 31, 2005 1:05 am    发表主题: 相看

审视的目光/

是摇摇欲坠的最后一道防线/

我将火山/

紧紧锁住/

不愿/

它的喷发/

灼伤了/

心爱的/

你。

发表于: Fri Jan 28, 2005 1:44 pm    发表主题: Introducing Sarojini Naidu

I would like to introduce Sarojini Naidu, a female Indian poet, to you by starting with the following excerpt and a number of her poems.

The excerpt is from the "Introduction" to her "The Golden Threshold" by Arthur Symons quoting from time to time letters from her, which allows us to catch a glimpse of the exquisit beauty, passion and gracefulness flowing in and embodying her writing.

"...in a letter from Hyderabad, bidding one "share a March morning" with
her, there is, at the mere contact of the sun, this outburst:

'Come and share my exquisite March morning with me: this sumptuous blaze of gold and sapphire sky; these scarlet lilies that adorn the sunshine; the voluptuous scents of neem and champak and serisha that beat upon the languid air with their implacable sweetness; the thousand little gold and blue and silver breasted birds bursting with the shrill ecstasy of life in nesting time. All is hot and fierce and passionate, ardent and unashamed in its exulting and importunate desire for life and love. And, do you know that the scarlet lilies are woven petal by petal from my heart's blood, these little quivering birds are my soul made incarnate music, these heavy perfumes are my emotions dissolved into aerial essence, this flaming blue and gold sky is the 'very me,' that part of me that incessantly and insolently, yes, and a little deliberately, triumphs over that other part--a thing of nerves and tissues that suffers and cries out, and that must die tomorrow perhaps, or twenty years hence'.

Then there was her humour, which was part of her strange wisdom,
and was always awake and on the watch. In all her letters, written in exquisite English prose, but with an ardent imagery and a vehement sincerity of emotion which make them, like the poems, indeed almost more directly, un-English, Oriental, there was always this intellectual, critical sense of humour, which could laugh at one's own enthusiasm as frankly as that enthusiasm had been set down. And partly the humour, like the delicate reserve of her manner, was a mask or a shelter. "I have taught myself," she writes to me from India, "to be commonplace and like
everybody else superficially. Every one thinks I am so nice and cheerful, so 'brave,' all the banal things that are so comfortable to be. My mother knows me only as 'such a tranquil child, but so strong-willed.' A tranquil child!" And she writes again, with deeper significance: "I too have learnt the subtle philosophy of living from moment to moment. Yes, it is a subtle
philosophy, though it appears merely an epicurean doctrine: 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.' I have gone through so many yesterdays when I strove with Death that I have realised to its full the wisdom of that sentence; and it is to me not merely a figure of speech, but a literal fact. Any to-morrow I might die. It is scarcely two months since I came back from the grave: is it worth while to be anything but radiantly glad? Of all things that life or perhaps my temperament has given me I prize the gift of laughter as beyond price.'

Her desire, always, was to be "a wild free thing of the air like the birds, with a song in my heart." A spirit of too much fire in too frail a body, it was rarely that her desire was fully granted. But in Italy she found what she could not find in England, and from Italy her letters are radiant. "This Italy is made of gold," she writes from Florence, "the gold of dawn and
daylight, the gold of the stars, and, now dancing in weird enchanting rhythms through this magic month of May, the gold of fireflies in the perfumed darkness--'aerial gold.' I long to catch the subtle music of their fairy dances and make a poem with a rhythm like the quick irregular wild flash of their sudden movements. Would it not be wonderful? One black night I stood in a garden with fireflies in my hair like darting restless stars
caught in a mesh of darkness. It gave me a strange sensation, as
if I were not human at all, but an elfin spirit. I wonder why these little things move me so deeply? It is because I have a most 'unbalanced intellect,' I suppose." Then, looking out on Florence, she cries, "God! how beautiful it is, and how glad I am that I am alive to-day!" And she tells me that she is drinking in the beauty like wine, "wine, golden and scented, and shining, fit for the gods; and the gods have drunk it, the dead gods of
Etruria, two thousand years ago. Did I say dead? No, for the gods are immortal, and one might still find them loitering in some solitary dell on the grey hillsides of Fiesole. Have I seen them? Yes, looking with dreaming eyes, I have found them sitting under the olives, in their grave, strong, antique beauty--Etruscan gods!"


Exquisite--an exquisite feast on all levels--eyes, mind, body, emotions, [psychic] and the soul--I cannot help feeling the regret and disppointment that the delight in and luxury of experiencing her writings, like everything else, will not last forever.

Now some of her poems:

TO THE GOD OF PAIN

Unwilling priestess in thy cruel fane,
Long hast thou held me, pitiless god of Pain,
Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows,
My tired breast girt with suffering, and my brows
Anointed with perpetual weariness.
Long have I borne thy service, through the stress
Of rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,
Performing thine inexorable rites.

For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,
But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:
All the rich honey of my youth's desire,
And all the sweet oils from my crushed life drawn,
And all my flower-like dreams and gem-like fire
Of hopes up-leaping like the light of dawn.

I have no more to give, all that was mine
Is laid, a wrested tribute, at thy shrine;
Let me depart, for my whole soul is wrung,
And all my cheerless orisons are sung;
Let me depart, with faint limbs let me creep
To some dim shade and sink me down to sleep.


ECSTASY

Cover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!

Shelter my soul, O my love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain:
O shelter my soul from thy face!


THE POET'S LOVE-SONG

In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong,
I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind
The world to my desire, and hold the wind
A voiceless captive to my conquering song.
I need thee not, I am content with these:
Keep silence in thy soul, beyond the seas!

But in the desolate hour of midnight, when
An ecstasy of starry silence sleeps
On the still mountains and the soundless deeps,
And my soul hungers for thy voice, O then,
Love, like the magic of wild melodies,
Let thy soul answer mine across the seas.


by Sarojini Naidu
from
"The Golden Threshold"

发表于: Thu Jan 27, 2005 3:15 pm    发表主题: David Whyte--Self Portrait

Would like to share this David Whyte's poem with you all....

It doesn's interest me if there is one God
or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel
abandoned.
If you know despair or can see it in others.
I want to know
if you are prepared to live in the world
with its harsh need
to change you. If you can hold back
with firm eyes
saying this is where I stand. I want to know
if you know
how to melt into that fierce heat of living
falling toward
the centre of your longing. I want to know
if you are willing
to live, day by day, with the consequence of love
and the bitter
unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

I have been told, in that fierce embrace, even
the gods speak of God.

---David Whyte
from "Fire in the Earth"