请选择 进入手机版 | 继续访问电脑版
设为首页收藏本站

 找回密码
 注册

QQ登录

只需一步,快速开始

扫一扫,访问微社区

查看: 786|回复: 69

灌酒(《生命清供》落花时节赏唐寅) [复制链接]

发表于 2016-5-3 21:44 |显示全部楼层
《秋风纨扇图》
今藏上海博物馆,纸本,墨笔,这是唐寅生平人物画的杰作。坡地上画湖石,有一女子,容貌姣好,风鬟雾鬓,绰约如仙,衣带干净利落,随风飘动。眼神颇生动,凄婉之情,宛然在目。手执一纨扇,眺望远方。女子被置于一个山坡,画面大部空阔,只有隐约由山间伸出的丛竹,迎风披靡,突出人物心理无所之之的感觉。其上唐寅题有一诗,诗云:“秋来纨扇合收藏,何事佳人重感伤。请把世人详细看,大都谁不逐炎凉。”

诗中意和画中情相互映发,使这幅画成为广为流传、也广受喜爱的著名作品。唐寅在这幅画中,借这位女子表达自己的感受。可以说世态炎凉、人世风烟都入女子神情中。秋来了,风起了,夏天使用的纨扇要收起了。炎热的夏季,这纨扇日日不离主人手,垂爱的时分,这女子时时都为那个没有在画面出现的人心相爱乐。而今,这一切都随凄凉的秋风吹走了,往日的温情烟消云散,一切的缱绻都付之东流。孤独的女子徘徊在深山,徘徊在萧瑟的秋风中。真是昨日里红绡帐中度鸳鸯,今日里荒寂山坡苦流连。有道是花开必有花落日,飞鸟尽了良弓藏。偌大的乾坤,天天都在上演着这样的人间喜剧,说不尽的恩恩爱爱,道不完的怨恨情仇。
   
唐寅这幅画的构思显然受到汉代班婕妤之事的影响,班婕妤是汉代的一位美貌女子,极有文才,为汉成帝所宠幸。后来,宫中来了赵飞燕,汉成帝为这位身材姣好的绝代佳人所迷恋,于是,班婕妤便遭冷落。多才的班婕妤作了一首《怨诗》,诗云:“新制齐纨素,鲜洁如霜雪。裁为合欢扇,团团似明月。出入君怀袖,动摇微风发。常恐秋节至,凉飙夺炎热。弃捐箧笥中,恩情中道绝。”后人又称此为《团扇诗》,诗中借一把扇子的行藏,看人世的炎凉。诗中道尽了恩情中道绝给这位女子带来的悲伤体验。唐寅曾有《班姬团扇图》传世,这幅《秋风纨扇图》,是对这一主题的深化。
   
唐寅,在中国艺术史上,几乎是风流的代名词,这位才性超群的艺术家,少负不羁之才,十六岁时“童髫中科第一”,高中秀才第一名,二十多岁时又高中乡试举人第一,由于乡试第一的举人被称为“解元”,所以唐寅又有“唐解元”之号,并有“龙虎榜中名第一”的印章。他的才名曾经引起朝廷的轰动,甚至有人将他和曹七步、温八叉之类的捷悟之士相提并论。唐寅是个性格外向的人,恃才傲物,放荡不羁,沉湎于酒,耽溺于色,于诗于画并有高才,与文徵明、祝枝山、徐祯卿并称为“吴中四才子”。唐寅一生有风流的一面,又有深沉的一面。他因才华出众,而“妆成每被秋娘妒”;又因流年不利,命运坎坷,家庭遭到一次又一次打击。上苍给了这位风流才子太多的磨难。也许太聪颖的人性情本来就脆弱,何况像唐寅这样伴着那么多苦难的人,他那根敏感而又脆弱的心弦更容易拨响。俗话说,文章憎命达,魑魅喜人过。对于唐寅来说,这是难以忍受的灾难,但对于后人来说,他的脆弱的心灵所传出的天才逸响,则给人们带来极大的满足。
   
唐寅一生只度过短暂的五十多年时光,在他落泊的晚年,身居桃花庵,常常一人独处。桃花庵是一个花海,每到春来,群花绽放,他就在这一片天地中将息性灵。暮春时分,落花如雨,秋风萧瑟,落叶缤纷,这些都拨动着他的心弦。“忍看马卒车轮下,一片西飞一片东”,他无法平静。他一生很多艺术创造都与落花、秋风有关。惜花、伤秋是他艺术中的主题。他有《和沈石田落花诗》三十首,表现的是对生命的思考,在如雨的落花之中,把玩性灵的隐微。所谓“绿杨影里苍苔上,为惜残红手自拈”,他拈取生命的残花剩蕊来赏吟。一天夜里,他独饮花下,对着幽冷的明月,他吟咏道:九十春光一掷梭,花前酌酒唱高歌。枝上花开能几日,世上人生能几何。昨朝花胜今朝好,今朝花落成秋草。花前人是去年身,去年人比今年老。今日花前又一枝,明日来看知是谁。明年今日花开否,今日明年谁得知。天比不测多风雨,人事难量多龃龉。天时人事两不齐,莫把春光付流水。好花难种不长开,少年易老不重来。人生不向花前醉,花笑人生也是呆。  


唐寅的这首《花下酌酒歌》,和《红楼梦》中《葬花辞》惊人的相似,《葬花辞》道:“花谢花飞花满天,红消香断有谁怜?……明媚鲜妍能几时,一朝飘泊难寻觅。……尔今死去侬收葬,未卜侬身何日丧?侬今葬花人笑痴,他年葬侬知是谁?试看春残花渐落,便是红颜老死时。一朝春尽红颜老,花落人亡两不知!”《葬花辞》与唐寅的这首诗显然有精神气质上的共通。如果要说《葬花辞》受到唐寅的影响也未为不可。
   
沈周曾有《落花图》长卷,图画暮春季节,一人静坐水边花下,花儿扑簌簌地落,水潺潺地流,正所谓落花流水。桥那边有一仆人携琴而至,那画中的主人正要借琴而吐露衷肠。我们不知道,这花下客是对落花的留恋,还是对生命的哀婉?是要和着花开花落的节奏,唱着云卷云舒的悠然,还是面对繁华不再,袒露深心的忧伤?唐寅落花诗云:“万点落花都是恨,一杯明月即忘贫。”正可与沈周此图同参。
   
感时伤逝,伤春悲秋,是中国艺术的重要内容,也是中国诗人最喜欢讴歌的。诗人也许是我们这个星球上最脆弱的一群,遵四时以叹逝,瞻万物而思纷,大自然的一点变化,都能触动着诗人的隐微。辛弃疾一首《摸鱼儿》表露了他面对暮春的感受:“更能消几番风雨,匆匆春又归去。惜春常怕花开早,何况落红无数。春且住,见说道,天涯芳草无归路。怨春不语,算只有殷勤,画檐珠网,尽日惹飞絮。”诗人是爱春,意欲拥有她,但是落红径自飘零,春光倏忽而过,诗人油然伤怀,为这似水流年而伤心。诗人几乎是喝令“春且住”,但“春自往”,落花飘零随水流,时间无情掷人去。这种强烈的冲突将人的哀婉推向极至。欧阳修《蝶恋花》的下阕写道:“雨横风狂三月暮,帘卷西风,无计留春驻。泪眼问花花不语,乱红飞过秋千去。”一春之暮,又遇一日之暮,在春之暮、日之暮中,又有连绵不断的迷朦春雨,落红点点,漂流水中。那红色点点,使人不忍卒看。正所谓“人心花意待留春,春色无情容易去”。我不认为这种绝望的意绪回旋,是灰蒙蒙的人生格调,相反,我认为,只有珍惜生命的人才有这份敏感。落红点点,在解人看来,毋宁可以当作一道生命的亮景。   

我们都熟悉那首“人面桃花”的叹息:“去年今日此门中,人面桃花相映红。人面不知何处去,桃花依旧笑东风。”越是美好的东西,我们越想永远地拥有它,但美好几乎肯定无法永伴,所以我们总有美好的东西瞬间即逝的感觉。时光不复重来,那个由舞台和演员、观众所构成的情境转瞬即逝。但舞台可以长存,而演员注定要缺场。既然演员注定要缺场,那么人们为什么还甘于做这样的演员,留一些碎片去折磨未来岁月中的我?“想前欢,尽成陈迹”,为何人们还在不断上演这种“悲欣剧”?原来人生是这样:注定要演出,也注定要缺场。

其实,我们常常有这样的感觉,人们似乎是被强行拉上急速行驶的时间列车之上,目送着窗外节节逝去的影像,伸手去抓,两手空空,无从把握。人似乎总与黑暗中一种不明力量在斗争。存在的总是残破,美好的总伴着幻灭,握有的又似乎没有。满目山河空念远,落花风雨更伤春,像唐寅、沈周这些旷世才子,面对着落红点点,面对着空荡荡的宇宙,他们又如何能保持内心的平静呢?

唐寅说:“今日花前又一枝,明日来看知是谁。明年今日花开否,今日明年谁得知。”曹雪芹说:“侬今葬花人笑痴,他年葬侬知是谁?”他们都看到人是未来宴席的永远缺席者。时光转瞬即逝,人不能两次踏入同一河流,存在,就意味不在。人就是这世界的匆匆过客,我在桥下看风景,别人在桥上看我。自己是一个观照者,又是一个被观照的对象,此刻我是一个追忆者,又将是一个被追忆的对象。正所谓此情可待成追忆,只是当时已惘然。
   
“一曲新词酒一杯,去年天气旧亭台,夕阳西下几时回。无可奈何花落去,似曾相识燕归来,小园香径独徘徊。”晏殊的这首《浣溪沙》真可谓生命的绝唱,梦一般的格调,水一样的情怀。填一曲新词演唱,斟一杯美酒品尝,眼前是和去年一样的天气、一样的亭台。那正在西下的夕阳不知几时能再回?无可奈何地看着花儿纷纷落下,又有似曾相识的燕子飞回来。诗人就在过去、现在、未来的时间隧道盘旋。
   
摘自《生命清供——国画背后的世界》朱良志

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-3 22:06 |显示全部楼层

本帖子中包含更多资源

您需要 登录 才可以下载或查看,没有帐号?注册

x

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-5 10:45 |显示全部楼层
来清欢家讨杯酒喝。。。

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-8 19:25 |显示全部楼层
蝶洛 发表于 2016-5-5 10:45
来清欢家讨杯酒喝。。。

蝶姑娘快快请坐 、、、

(按注歉意:这都咋待客哒!茶都吃了N巡啦!后厨的机灵点,小心伺候着。今儿雅座来的可是娇客,赶紧烫酒上菜走手巾板呀!)


使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-8 19:40 |显示全部楼层
话说,鲜花又开到五月这一季 转选《尼尔斯骑鹅旅行记》第31章——五朔节之夜

欧洲传统节日之一,时间在4月30日,也可以称为迎春节。有那么一个节日,达拉那省的孩子几乎像盼望圣诞节一样盼望它来临。那就是五朔节,因为在那一天他们可以在露天野外点火烧东西。

节日前的几个星期里,无论是男孩子还是女孩子心里想的全是为五朔节烧篝火收集木柴。他们到森林里去拣拾枯树枝和松果,到木匠家里去收集刨花,到砍柴人家里去收集树皮、木头疙瘩和枝条。他们每天都去向商人乞讨装货的旧箱子,要是有人弄到一个空沥青桶,就把它当做宝贝藏起来,直到点篝火的时候才肯拿出来。那些搭豌豆架和青豆架的细竿子转眼间就会不翼而飞。那些被风刮倒的篱笆和用坏的农具,还有忘记在田野里的晒干草木棒,也同样随时都会被孩子们拿走。当那个欢乐的夜晚来临之际,每个村里的孩子们把树枝荆条和所有能够燃烧的东西统统拿来,在小丘上或者湖岸上堆起一个大堆。有些村庄不但堆一个堆,而且还堆两大堆、三大堆。那往往是因为男孩子和女孩子在收集篝火燃料时大家意见不一致。也有时因为住在村南端的孩子想要在自己这一端堆起一堆篝火,而住在村北端的孩子却想要自己在北端堆起一堆篝火。

篝火堆往往在下午很早的时候就安排就绪了。然后大大小小的孩子们一个个口袋里装着火柴,围在篝火堆周围转来转去,眼巴巴地等待着夜幕降临。这个季节里,达拉那省白天很长,直到晚上八点钟,天色还没有昏暗下来。由于春寒料峭,在空旷的野外转来转去叫人等待得既寒冷又心焦。在没有树木的开阔地上积雪早已融化完,中午时分太阳当顶的时候,还有一丝暖意。可是在森林里仍旧有深深的积雪未化,湖面上还盖着厚厚的冰层。到了夜里,气温会陡然降低好几度。所以天还没有黑下来,往往一堆堆篝火就已经点燃起来。但是,那只是最幼小的和没有耐心的孩子才这么做。稍为大一点的孩子都宁可等到天色完全黑下来,熊熊的篝火会明亮好看的时候才点起火来。大家盼望的时刻终于来到了。哪怕是拣拾细木棍的人都来了。那些大孩子点燃一把干草,塞到木柴堆底下。篝火立即熊熊燃烧起来,枯枝发出劈啪的爆裂声,细枝条烧得通红,一团团浓烟冉冉升起,烟雾黑沉沉的颇有咄咄逼人之势。过了一会儿,火苗终于从柴堆顶上窜了出来,火势烧得旺盛,火光十分明亮,火头可以达几米高,整个地区都能够看得见。

一个村庄的孩子烧旺了自己的篝火之后,就走到附近的地方去瞧瞧。嗯,那边有一堆在烧,那边还有一堆。小土丘上有一堆点着了,嘿,连山顶上也有一堆篝火在烧!他们人人都希望自己的那堆篝火火势最旺盛,火头最大,惟恐自己的火堆盖不住别人家的。就在这最后时刻,他们还一溜烟奔跑回农庄,向爸爸妈妈央求要几块木疙瘩或者木柴来添点火势。

篝火烧了一会儿以后,成年人和老年人都出来看热闹了。篝火熊熊映亮了四周,还散发出一股温馨暖意,吸引着人们在石头和草丛上坐下来。他们围在篝火旁边,双眼盯住明亮的火焰,于是有人想到火势这么旺盛,他们应该煮点咖啡喝才不辜负这良宵美景。在咖啡壶咕嘟咕嘟熬着的时候,有人开始讲故事了。一个故事刚讲完,另一个就马上接下去讲。

成年人一心想的是喝咖啡和讲故事,而孩子们则一心扑在火堆上,千方百计想让火的火头窜得更高,烧的时间更长。春天解冻时间实在太长了,严冰和积雪迟迟不肯融化。他们想把篝火烧得旺旺的来助春天一臂之力。否则的话就很难想像,草木花卉能够在合适的季节抽芽长叶。

大雁们露宿在锡利延湖的冰层上。北面吹袭过来一阵阵的凛冽寒风,冻得男孩子只好钻到白雄鹅的翅膀底下去睡。但是他没有睡多久就被砰砰枪响惊醒了。他马上从翅膀底下溜出来,颤栗不已,想看个究竟。冰层上大雁四周静谧一片,不论他怎样眯起眼睛来侦察,也未能发现有猎人的踪迹。但是他朝湖岸上一看,却看到奇妙的景致,他觉得仿佛见到了神奇仙境,就像那个海底城市维耐特或者闹鬼的大尤尔屿林园一样。那天下午,大雁们在决定栖息在这里之前曾经绕着大湖来回盘旋过几次。他们一面飞一面让男孩子看看湖岸的教堂和村庄,教堂四周村庄不少,有雷克桑德、雷特维克、莫拉、苏莱乐岛等等,有的村庄就像小城市那样大,男孩子感到很吃惊,不到在这么靠北的地方竟然会有这样密集的村庄。

这一带地方天光明亮,地上青翠,生机蓬勃,一派欣欣向荣的农家乐景象,这真是出乎他的意料之外。他连一点叫人恐惧可怕的东西都没有见到。夜幕降临以后,湖岸上忽然出现了一个火焰窜得很高的长长的火圈。他看到在湖的北端的莫拉村、苏莱乐岛周围、魏卡宾村。徐尔堡村的高处、雷特维克湾边上那个有教堂的小岬上、莱尔达尔山上和别的岬角和土丘上,一直到雷克桑德村,都有大堆大堆的火在燃烧,他可以数出一百多个火堆。他真弄得摸不着头脑,不知道这些火是哪里来的,倘若不是妖术蛊惑或者魔鬼作祟的话。

大雁们听到劈啪声响,也惊醒过来。阿卡朝向岸上瞅了一眼,就说道:“哦,那是人类的孩子们在玩游戏哪。”她和其他的大雁马上又把脑袋缩到翅膀底下睡起觉来。可是男孩子却站在那里痴呆呆地看着那些火堆,湖岸像是被璀璨闪光的金项链打扮得珠光宝气一样,那些明亮的篝火委实迷人。他就像一只小蚊蚋一被那巨大的光和热强烈地吸引过去。他满心想走近一些去瞧瞧,但是又不敢离开大雁们。他又听到了一声又一声清脆的枪声。他现在知道这些枪声已经没有什么危险,倒被吸引得好奇心大发,心痒痒地想去看个究竟。这一切似乎是,篝火旁边的人们玩兴太高,单单是欢笑和喊叫还嫌发泄得不够,所以务必要拿出猎枪来放几下才觉得满足。他们还在山顶的篝火旁往空中放了烟火。虽然那堆在高处的篝火已经非常大而且火势十分旺盛了,但是他们却想更让它增光添色,让那晴朗的夜空也分享一下他们的欢乐。

男孩子慢慢地朝着湖岸走去。一阵阵的歌声随风飘来,传进了他的耳朵里。他身不由己地飞奔起来,他说什么也要去听听人们唱的歌。在雷特维克湾最里边有一个供蒸汽船停泊用的很长很长的码头,顺着湖岸伸展向前。有几个歌手站在码头的最边沿,他们悠扬的歌声传到了深夜宁静的湖面上。他们大概以为春之神也像大雁们那样在锡利延湖的严冰上呼呼大睡,所以他们引吭高歌,想用歌声把她唤醒过来。

那几个歌手先唱了一曲《我知道北部高原有一个地方》,接着又唱到“在达拉那省有两条宽阔的河,到了夏天这里是多么美丽,土地和河流都乐呵呵”。接着又唱《图纳进行曲》、《勇敢坚强的男子汉》,最后还唱了一支《世世代代都住在达拉那》。这些都是歌咏达拉那省本地风光和风土人情的乡土歌曲。

码头上没有篝火,歌手们看不见远处的景物。但是他们乡土气息浓郁的歌声却把本省的湖光山色一一展现在他们面前,展示在所有听见他们歌声的听众眼前,比白天的景色更加明媚、更加可爱。

他们似乎要以真诚来打动春之神的心:“你看,这么广阔的土地都在盼望你早点来到!难道你不想快点来帮帮我们?难道你还忍心让冬天继续对这样美丽的土地肆虐吗?”他们高声唱歌的时候,尼尔斯·豪格尔森便停住脚步,屏息凝神地站在那儿侧耳细听。歌声一停下来,他就赶紧往湖岸边走。

港湾最靠里面的冰层已经解冻了,但是泥沙淤积得几乎同湖岸相连,这样他还是可以走过去,朝向湖堤上的一堆篝火悄悄靠拢。他蹑手蹑脚非常小心地走到近处,连坐在篝火旁边的人都能够看得清楚了,还能听清楚他们的讲话。起初他又犯了疑心病,不大信自己的眼睛,总是觉得自己看花了眼。他以前从来没有见到过有人是这样打扮的。女人们头上戴着黑色尖顶帽,身穿白色皮夹克,脖子上系着绣有玫瑰花的围巾,腰间系着绿色绸腰带,黑色长裙前襟打褶,还镶有白色、红色、绿色和黑色的滚边。男人们头戴扁平的圆形帽,蓝色的上衣镶有红色的滚边,下身是齐膝的黄色皮裤,裤腿塞在系着红色小绒球的袜带里。他不晓得是因为穿着打扮还是什么别的缘故,反正他觉得这里的人模样儿同其他地方不一样,看上去要鲜艳整齐得多。

他听到他们在彼此交谈,他谛听了良久,可是连一句话都听不太懂。他忽然想起了妈妈在箱子里收藏着的那几身古色古香的、如今谁也不穿的衣服。说不定他碰巧见到了某个古老的种族,因为这类古老的种族里有的是在好几百年前活在这个世上的。可是这只是他脑海中的一闪念,很快就消失了。因为在他的眼前,的确是活生生的真人。他有这种想法也不奇怪,在锡利延湖居住的人无论在语言、服装和气质上都要比别的地方更多地保留了古老的传统。

男孩子很快就注意到,他们是在追忆往昔。他们谈到自己在年轻的时候不得不走很远的路,到别的市镇上去干活,这才能挣回全家吃的面包。男孩子听了好几个人讲的亲身经历,但是深深印在他脑海里的是一个老年妇女的回忆。


尼尔斯骑鹅旅行记
世界文学史上第一部也是唯一一部获诺贝尔文学奖的童话作品。作者是瑞典作家塞尔玛·拉格洛芙

五朔节
原是春末祭祀“花果女神”的日子。是欧洲春天里最古老最重要的节日。意为"明亮的圣洁的火"

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-8 19:49 |显示全部楼层
仲夏节
在芬兰有着非常悠久历史,古时基督教未传入芬兰前,已是根深蒂固的异教风俗。英国一些石器时代遗留下来的巨石建筑据信与这种庆祝活动有关。位于伦敦西南的巨石阵(Stonehenge),及附近的比巨石阵更大的埃夫伯利(AveburyStoneCircle)据称就是例子。

不少所谓的“新时代信仰”人士每年会长途跋涉,赶在夏至日破晓前齐集在巨石阵,举行庆祝活动。由于人数太多,英国警方需要出动,甚或实施限制进场措施,以维持秩序。虽然现场情况可能看似混乱,但是,不少人说,亲眼看到夏至日的太阳从巨石之间升起的景象,是毕生难忘的经验。

虽然每年夏至,即每年日最长夜最短的日子是阳历6月21日,但英国庆祝仲夏夜(Midsummer’sEve)都在6月22日晚上。6月23日就是仲夏日(Midsummer’sDay)。传说,人们会在这个晚上有奇异经历,进入魔幻世界。可能为这原因,莎士比亚写了《仲夏夜之梦》(AMidsummerNight’sDream)。

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-8 19:59 |显示全部楼层
葫芦科(拉丁学名:Cucurbitaceae)
植物界中一科,包括葫芦,瓢瓜,黄瓜、冬瓜,南瓜、丝瓜、西瓜,甜瓜等常见的蔬菜和瓜果

葫芦科是世界上最重要的食用植物科之一,其重要性仅次于禾本科、豆科和茄科

分布区域
世界:110属/700种;中国:30属/143种

黄瓜(学名:Cucumis sativus L. var. sativus)
葫芦科甜瓜属植物。也称胡瓜、青瓜。果实颜色呈油绿或翠绿,表面有柔软的小刺。黄瓜是西汉时期张骞出使西域带回中原的,称为胡瓜。

五胡十六国时,后赵皇帝石勒忌讳“胡”字,汉臣襄国郡守樊坦将其改为“黄瓜”。

石勒本是入塞的羯族人。他在襄国(今河北邢台)登基做皇帝后,对自己国家的人称呼羯族人为胡人大为恼火。石勒制定了一条法令:无论说话写文章,一律严禁出现“胡”字,违者问斩不赦。

一天,石勒在单于庭召见地方官员,当他看到襄国郡守樊坦穿着打了补丁的破衣服来见他时,很不满意。他劈头就问:“樊坦,你为何衣冠不整就来朝见?”樊坦慌乱之中不知如何回答是好,随口答道:“这都怪胡人没道义,把衣物都抢掠去了,害得我只好褴褛来朝。”他刚说完,就意识到自己犯了禁,急忙叩头请罪;石勒见他知罪,也就不再指责。

等到召见后例行“御赐午膳”时,石勒又指着一盘胡瓜问樊坦:“卿知此物何名?”樊坦看出这是石勒故意在考问他,便恭恭敬敬地回答道:“紫案佳肴,银杯绿茶,金樽甘露,玉盘黄瓜。”石勒听后,满意地笑了。


黄瓜是蔬菜还是水果
它既不是蔬菜也不是水果。黄瓜是浆果,与香瓜同类。香瓜在发黄时成熟采摘,黄瓜发黄就会不好吃,因此,应在未成熟时食用。俄语黄瓜一词来自古希腊单词“未成熟”






使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-8 20:11 |显示全部楼层
俄式酸黄瓜很有名,非常好吃。查了网上也没有正宗做法,就从俄网上找了下,自己翻译的,有翻译的不当处请大家多指点
Ингредиенты: 配料
3 кг огурцов, 黄瓜 3公斤
50 г сахара, 糖 50g
100 г соли, 盐100g
5-6 зубчиков чеснока, 蒜 5-6 瓣
3 лавровых листа, 月桂叶 3个
10 горошин черного перца, 黑胡椒10粒
10 горошин душистого перца, 花椒10粒
3 литра воды, 水3升
Веточки семени укропа, 茴香花枝
150 мл 9% уксуса, 醋150毫升9% (这里没整明白,150毫升醋后面还有9% )

Приготовление: 做法
Огурцы переберите и замочите в воде на 2-3 часа.
黄瓜浸泡水中2-3小时

У огурцов удалите кончики и утрамбуйте в банки.
黄瓜去掉两段头上部位,并将黄瓜紧凑的放入罐中,要紧实

Сверху положите соцветия укропа
上面撒上茴香花

Воду вскипятите, добавьте соль, сахар. Доведите до кипения. Снимите с огня, добавьте уксус.
放上盐、糖,烧水,直到水沸腾。关火,倒醋

Залейте в банки. Прикройте крышками. Поместите банки в кастрюлю с горячей водой и стерилизуйте 10 минут.
倒入罐中。将盖子盖上。将罐放入盛有热水,消毒10分钟

Огурчики поменяются в цвете и станут оливковыми. Достаньте банки и закрутите. Дождитесь полного остывания и уберите в холод.
直到黄瓜变为橄榄色,取出罐并拧紧盖子。等完全冷却后放入冷藏


转自豆瓣,仅供参考

本帖子中包含更多资源

您需要 登录 才可以下载或查看,没有帐号?注册

x

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-10 13:20 |显示全部楼层
《荒原》是现代英美诗歌的里程碑,是象征主义文学中最有代表性的作品,是托马斯·艾略特(1888-1965)的成名作和影响最深远的作品,表达了西方一代人精神上的幻灭,被认为是西方现代文学中具有划时代意义的作品。

第一章 死者葬仪
将西方社会描绘为万物萧瑟,生机寂灭的荒原。起首几句便流露出诗人深深的痛苦和无尽的失望和悲哀。春天原本该万物复苏,生意盎然,而在诗人的笔下,现代文明的象征——伦敦却是一片枯萎的荒原。在这没有生气的栖息之所,人不生不死,虽生犹死,心中唯有幻灭和绝望,眼前的世界只泛滥着海一样的情欲。在这令人窒息的现实中充斥着庸俗卑下的人欲,死亡的阴云浓浓地罩在了西方世界的上空,人们在浑浑噩噩之中走向死亡。诗人把现实社会比作地狱,现代人视为没有灵魂的幽灵。

第二章 对弈
用维吉尔的《伊尼特》、奥维德的《变形记》和莎士比亚的《安东尼与克里奥佩特拉》这些作品中描写的上流社会男女的淫欲和罪恶与现实低层社会卑鄙龌龊的肉体交易叠映,突出表现精神枯萎,道德堕落的现代生活。物别是《变形记》中翡绿眉拉被国王铁卢欧斯强奸杀死后变为夜莺的典故的引用,自然有力地表达了诗歌深刻的主题。对弈即争斗,象征现代人的勾心斗角,用古代的暴行和现代的罪恶相比较。艾略特认为,现代人重复着古代的人罪恶,世界放纵兽欲,人们成了丧失人性的行尸走肉,说他们“是在老鼠窝里,在那里死人连自己的骨头都丢得精光。”

第三章 火的布道
表现伦敦这现代荒原上庸俗、肮脏、罪恶的生活:圣洁的教堂赞歌中,世界重复着铁卢的兽行;明亮的月光下,母女登俩干着卖淫行径;昏黄的浓雾中,商人为金钱而奔走;精神空虚的青年男女在苟合中打发光阴;人们寻欢作乐后留下的浊物漂浮在昔日诗意盎然的泰晤士河。在诗人看来,情欲之火毁灭了人性也毁灭了大自然,造成了这个“乌有和乌有联结在一起的现实”。他向佛陀吁请,要让焚烧物的火来扫尽情欲,拯救人类:“烧啊烧啊烧啊烧啊/主啊你把我拯拔出来/主啊你拯拔/烧啊”。

第四章 水中的死亡
通共只有10行,行行都是含义深刻的象征,有人说它象征的内容抵得过但丁的一部《炼狱》。人在欲海中死去,死去后忘掉生前的一切,让他静静地在死亡的欲海中反思。艾略特笔下的海既是情欲的象征,它夺去了人的生命,又是炼狱,它让人认清自己生前的罪恶。实际上艾略特是要现代人正视自己的罪恶,洗涮自己的灵魂。

第五章 雷霆的话
重新回到欧洲是一片干旱的荒原这一主题。诗的起首用耶稣被钉死在十字架上来象征信仰、理想、崇高的精神追求在欧洲大地上消失,诗人认为,从此欧洲便成了一片可怖的荒原。人们渴望着活命的水,盼望着救世主的出现,盼望着世界的复苏,灵魂的再造。他用《圣经》的典故写了耶稣复活后的身影。然而基督并未重临,却听见了惊天动地的声巨响——革命的象征。艾略特把社会主义革命视为人类的一场灾难。最后,诗人借雷霆的话告诫人们:要施舍、同情、克制、皈依宗教,这样大地才会复苏,人们才能摆脱不死不活的处境获得永久的宁静。

使用道具 举报

发表于 2016-5-10 13:35 |显示全部楼层
不朽的声音:十位“朗读者”与他们的作品

【朗读者】
弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙(Virginia Woolf,或译弗吉尼亚·伍尔夫,1882年1月25日-1941年3月28日)
英国女作家,被誉为二十世纪现代主义与女性主义的先锋。两次世界大战期间,她是伦敦文学界的核心人物,同时也是布卢姆茨伯里派(Bloomsbury Group)的成员之一。最知名的小说包括《戴洛维夫人》(Mrs. Dalloway)、《灯塔行》(To the Lighthouse)、《雅各的房间》(Jakob's Room)。

此片段为伍尔芙生前所留的唯一一段录音是她于1937年4月在英国BBC电台做了一个题为“工匠”(Craftsmanship)的演讲,后来这次演讲被收录于她的随笔集《The Death of the Moth and Other Essays》之中。

【作品】
《飞蛾之死》
是英国女作家弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙的一篇只有一千一百多字的散文,它不仅蕴涵着深刻的人生哲理,而且是一篇具有比较高的美学价值的散文。多少年来,《飞蛾之死》因其中的优美的语言、丰富的修辞手法,如比喻、象征、意象等,吸引着无数的读者。如果我们从审美的视角来阅读这篇散文,会发现伍尔芙在这篇散文里还运用了多层次的美学表现手法。作者借用小小飞蛾在与死亡的抗争中所表现出的勇敢和无畏,来表现人对于生存和死亡的复杂思考,表现生命的崇高美。众所周知,英国美学家艾德蒙·博克在他的美学著作中把人类的基本情欲分成“自体保护”和“社会生活”两类。前者指维持个体生命的本能,后者则指维持种族生命的生殖欲以及一般社交愿望或群居的本能。博克认为,崇高感所涉及的是“自体保护”类情感。他说:“凡是能以某种方式适宜于引起痛苦或危险观念的事物,即凡是能以某种令人恐怖的,涉及可恐怖的对象的,或是类似恐怖那样发挥作用的事物,就是崇高的一个来源。”!分析伍尔芙在《飞蛾之死》中的创作思路,可以看出,作者正是要在读者的内心首先创造出一种死亡的恐怖感和威胁感,从而为更高的审美体验的发生做好准备。

文章的开篇描写了九月中旬的英格兰一片繁荣和祥、万物欢畅的景象,以至于“我”也禁不住从书本上抬起头来,观看窗外富于生机的世界。这时候,那只在文章开头提到的飞蛾也在尽情地享受着自己渺小而又微不足道的生,在玻璃窗四角之间来回地飞舞。作者不禁决意把自然形体全都抛掉,换上希腊匠人千锤百炼的黄金铸造起来的辉煌的形貌,让昏昏欲睡的帝王终日长醒;或者做一只放在金枝上的鸣鸟,向拜占廷的绅士淑女唱起古往今来的一切。对它产生了怜悯之情。在如此纷繁美丽的世界里,仅仅拥有一只飞蛾的生命,而且是生命极其短暂的白日里的飞蛾,实在有些可悲。然而,“它是渺小的,或者什么也算不上,但是,它却代表着生命”!到了文章的第四段,热烈、祥和的气氛转为低沉,作者一连用了多个灰色调的单词,直到这段的末尾,“死亡”终于降临。可以看出,文中死亡的威胁和对死亡的恐惧是在作者的安排下逐步逼近的。到了第五段,作者对死亡、对自然的能量的威胁作了更强的渲染:“那股能量依然在那儿聚积着,漠然而无情,对任何事情都不关心。”它“如果愿意,可以吞没整个城市,不仅是整个城市,甚至吞没全人类”。作者于是发出感叹:“我知道,在死神面前,一切都无能为力。”康德说:“我们努力去抵抗的东西是一种灾难,如果我们感到我们的能力经受不住这一灾难,它就是一个恐惧的对象。”显然,伍尔芙所描写的对死亡的恐惧感不仅在飞蛾,也在作者和读者作为审美主体的内心。但是,按照康德对崇高所下的定义,恐惧还不是崇高,只有在审美主体与危险或恐惧的对象有一定的距离时,崇高感才可以发生。康德指出,大自然会给人类造成威胁,使人产生恐惧感,“使我们与之对抗的能力在和它们的强力相比较时成了毫无意义的渺小。但只要我们处于完全地带,那么这些力量越是可怕,就只会越是吸引人;而我们愿意把这些对象称之为崇高,因为它们把心灵的力量提高到超出惯常的平庸,使我们显示出另一种抵抗力,它使我们有勇气能与自然界的这种表面的万能相较量”。伍尔芙在《飞蛾之死》的最后一段正是描写了飞蛾“与自然界的这种表面的万能相较量”的勇气。在这一段里,作者对飞蛾与死亡的抗争有一些细节的描写:“那细小的腿做出巨大的努力与即将到来的厄运抗争”、“这只微不足道的小飞蛾,与这般巨大的能量做殊死的抗争,以保全除自己以外谁也不会珍惜和看重的东西所做出的非凡的努力”,等等。这些强烈对比的描写,英文读起来也非常拗口,但是,它们正暗示了飞蛾艰难的抗争过程。当死亡向它袭来,它仰面掉到了窗台上时,它还是做出了最后的挣扎。“这最后一次抗争”是那样的壮丽,那样的出色,它“终于成功地使自己翻过身来”。飞蛾最终没能战胜死亡,“这场抗争收场了”。但是,作者对飞蛾死后的描述非常地耐人寻味:它“体面”地、“毫无怨言”地、“安详”地躺在那儿”。“它似乎在说,哦,死亡比我强大。”我们从这些描述中能看出什么?康德对人类抗击自然的描述也许是最好的说明:“人类在这里,哪怕这人不得不屈服于那种强制力,仍然没有在我们的人格中被贬低。”朱光潜先生在解释康德所指的与自然抗争中人的抵抗力时说:“它就是人的理性方面使自然的威力对人不能成为支配力的那种更大的威力,也就是人的勇气和自我尊严感。”’飞蛾在临死前还挣扎着“翻过身来”“体面”地死去,这多少暗示了一种“自我尊严感”;它“毫无怨言地”、平静地躺在那儿,是因为它作出了最勇敢的抗争。飞蛾不可能战胜死亡和自然,但是,它却表现出一种胜过死亡和自然的优越感。伍尔芙在文章的最后一段对飞蛾这样巧妙的拟人化描写是非常发人深思的。英国美学家、艺术批评家约翰·罗斯金在讨论崇高时这样说:“不是对死亡的恐惧,而是对死亡的沉思引发崇高感;不是因自体保护所表现出来的本能的颤抖和挣扎,而是对于那巨大的厄运的有意识的沉思才是情感中真正伟大的和崇高的。”(如果说《飞蛾之死》只是在简单的层面上描写了死亡,那显然忽略了伍尔芙的真正用意。不是飞蛾的死以及飞蛾在与死亡抗争中的失败,而是这种死亡和失败引发的“沉思”使这篇散文达到了更高的审美境界。因为正是这种“沉思”使作者和读者产生了“真正伟大的和崇高的”情感。在这种崇高之情中,有对飞蛾的同情,有对飞蛾与死亡抗争的欣羡和崇敬,更有对人的生命之真正意义的思考。罗斯金不仅强调崇高来自对恐惧的“沉思”,而且强调审美主体由此而产生的审美体验和精神的升华。他认为,在“对恐惧的痛苦中没有崇高”,因为“痛苦在本质上并不崇高,对痛苦、恐惧的思考才是崇高的,因为它可以激发同情、刚毅,可以净化心灵,使一切卑俗的思想成为不可能”!。罗斯金此处的论述与康德对崇高的论述很相似。康德说:“对自然的美我们必须寻求一个我们之外的根据,对于崇高我们却只须在我们心中,在把崇高性带入自然的表象里去的那种思想境界中寻求根据。”这篇散文的可贵之处正在于,它虽然描写的是与人类毫无关系的一只飞蛾的死亡,但是它给读者带来的“沉思”,以及这种“沉思”后的更高层次的审美体验才是飞蛾之死的真正意义所在。

《飞蛾之死》最早发表于一九四二年。我们可以推断在伍尔芙创作这篇散文时,她和她的同时代人所处的处境。在伍尔芙的许多作品中,读者都能感到其中隐含的战争的阴影。在《飞蛾之死》中,作者没有提到战争,但是对死亡的思考也许正是那个动荡不安的年代人们必然产生的。“在二十世纪初,战争和萧条更加剧了这种古老的痛苦和恐惧感。人们对万能的上帝又开始失去了信仰,全身心地陷入了冲突和分裂的苦难之中。”不过,伍尔芙的高明之处在于,她没有直接写战争,也没有直接描写人对自己所遭受的冲突和分裂的痛苦感和恐惧感,而是借用了一只谁也不会在意的飞蛾之死,间接地反映和揭示了这种恐惧和痛苦。当然,这篇散文,正如上文所说,带给读者的不能只是恐惧感和痛苦感。康德说,崇高的情感是“间接产生的愉快,因而它是通过对生命力的瞬间阻碍、及紧跟而来的生命力的更加强烈的涌流之感而产生的”飞蛾在与死亡的抗争过程中,首先在审美主体的内心激起恐惧感和痛苦感,它们不仅是由飞蛾的死产生的,更是由它的死而引发的对人的生命的联想而产生的。在审美主体观看,阅读飞蛾在与死亡的殊死抗争过程中,审美主体正经历了康德所说的从“对生命力的瞬间阻碍”到生命力“更加强烈的涌流之感”,这种对生命力的崇高感也是从恐惧感转变为快感的过程,从而使崇高的情感———对生命的热爱和崇敬得以在审美主体的内心发生。这也正体现了康德的定论:“真正的崇高必须只在判断者的心中,而不是在自然客体中去寻找。换句话说,所谓崇高感,是“人能凭理性胜过自然的意识。所以崇高不在自然,而在人的心境”在与大自然的抗争中,飞蛾之所以能引起同情和欣羡,是因为飞蛾的勇气与它的渺小的体积形成了强烈的反差。伍尔芙要证明的是,体积的大小并不重要,重要的是飞蛾所表现出来的勇气、力量和气魄。一只小小的飞蛾能成为审美的对象,在于它和它的行为“引起了人的自我尊严感”,使人有了与自然和死亡抗争的勇气和信心。

所以,《飞蛾之死》的魅力在于它不仅以清新优美的文笔讲述了一个动人的故事,而且给读者提供了丰富的思考空间。这种对生与死的思考不仅对于作者本人,而且对于读者都是一次冲击灵魂的审美体验。作者以小见大,从飞蛾的小生命看到人类的大生命;以拙见美,从飞蛾维护生命、抗击死亡的殊死斗争得出生存之美和生命之美。全文虽然带有一种悲壮的灰色调的描写,但其深层的创作动机是昂扬向上的。阅读《飞蛾之死》,读者会感到,杰出的作家不仅拥有使心灵崇高的感觉,还有能力把这种感觉传达给她的读者,使他们的心灵也得到一次净化和提升。而这大概就是人们常说的审美体验了。



【朗读原文】
Craftsmanship, 1937

The title of this series is “Words Fail Me,” and this particular talk is called “Craftsmanship.” We must suppose, therefore, that the talker is meant to discuss the craft of words-the craftsmanship of the writer. But there is something incongruous, unfitting, about the term “craftsmanship” when applied to words. The English dictionary, to which we always turn in moments of dilemma, confirms us in our doubts. It says that the word “craft” has two meanings; it means in the first place making useful objects out of solid matter-for example, a pot, a chair, a table. In the second place, the word “craft” means cajolery, cunning, deceit. Now we know little that is certain about words, but this we do know-words never make anything that is useful; and words are the only things that tell the truth and nothing but the truth. Therefore, to talk of craft in connection with words is to bring together two incongruous ideas, which if they mate can only give birth to some monster fit for a glass case in a museum. Instantly, therefore, the title of the talk must be changed, and for it substituted another-A Ramble round Words, perhaps. For when you cut off the head of a talk it behaves like a hen that has been decapitated. It runs round in a circle till it drops dead-so people say who have killed hens. And that must be the course, or circle, of this decapitated talk. Let us then take for our starting point the statement that words are not useful. This happily needs little proving, for we are all aware of it. When we travel on the Tube, for example, when we wait on the platform for a train, there, hung up in front of us, on an illuminated signboard, are the words “Passing Russell Square.” We look at those words; we repeat them; we try to impress that useful fact upon our minds; the next train will pass Russell Square. We say over and over again as we pace, “Passing Russell Square, passing Russell Square.” And then as we say them, the words shuffle and change, and we find ourselves saying, “Passing away saith the world, passing away. . . . The leaves decay and fall, the vapours weep their burthen to the ground. Man comes. . . .” And then we wake up and find ourselves at King‘s Cross.

Take another example. Written up opposite us in the railway carriage are the words: “Do not lean out of the window.” At the first reading the useful meaning, the surface meaning, is conveyed; but soon, as we sit looking at the words, they shuffle, they change; and we begin saying, “Windows, yes windows-casements opening on the foam of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn.” And before we know what we are doing, we have leant out of the window; we are looking for Ruth in tears amid the alien corn. The penalty for that is twenty pounds or a broken neck.

This proves, if it needs proving, how very little natural gift words have for being useful. If we insist on forcing them against their nature to be useful, we see to our cost how they mislead us, how they fool us, how they land us a crack on the head. We have been so often fooled in this way by words, they have so often proved that they hate being useful, that it is their nature not to express one simple statement but a thousand possibilities-they have done this so often that at last, happily, we are beginning to face the fact. We are beginning to invent another language -a language perfectly and beautifully adapted to express useful statements, a language of signs. There is one great living master of this language to whom we are all indebted, that anonymous writer-whether man, woman or disembodied spirit nobody knows-who describes hotels in the Michelin Guide. He wants to tell us that one hotel is moderate, another good, and a third the best in the place. How does he do it? Not with words; words would at once bring into being shrubberies and billiard tables, men and women, the moon rising and the long splash of the summer sea-all good things, but all here beside the point. He sticks to signs; one gable; two gables; three gables. That is all he says and all he needs to say. Baedeker carries the sign language still further into the sublime realms of art. When he wishes to say that a picture is good, he uses one star; if very good, two stars; when, in his opinion, it is a work of transcendent genius, three black stars shine on the page, and that is all. So with a handful of stars and daggers the whole of art criticism, the whole of literary criticism could be reduced to the size of a sixpenny bit-there are moments when one could wish it. But this suggests that in time to come writers will have two languages at their service; one for fact, one for fiction. When the biographer has to convey a useful and necessary fact, as, for example, that Oliver Smith went to college and took a third in the year 1892, he will say so with a hollow 0 on top of the figure five. When the novelist is forced to inform us that John rang the bell after a pause the door was opened by a parlourmaid who said, “Mrs. Jones is not at home,” he will to our great gain and his own comfort convey that repulsive statement not in words, but in signs-say, a capital H on top of the figure three. Thus we may look forward to the day when our biographies and novels will be slim and muscular; and a railway company that says: “Do not lean out of the window” in words will be fined a penalty not exceeding five pounds for the improper use of language.

Words, then, are not useful. Let us now enquire into their other quality, their positive quality, that is, their power to tell the truth. According once more to the dictionary there are at least three kinds of truth God’s or gospel truth; literary truth; and home truth (generally. unflattering). But to consider each separately would take too long. Let us then simplify and assert that since the only test of truth is length of life, and since words survive the chops and changes of time longer than any other substance, therefore they are the truest. Buildings fall; even the earth perishes. What was yesterday a cornfield is to-day a bungalow. But words, if properly used, seem able to live for ever. What, then, we may ask next, is the proper use of words? Not, so we have said, to make a useful statement; for a useful statement is a statement that can mean only one thing. And it is the nature of words to mean many things. Take the simple sentence “Passing Russell Square.” That proved useless because besides the surface meaning it contained so many sunken meanings. The word “passing” suggested the transiency of things, the passing of time and the changes of human life. Then the word “Russell” suggested the rustling of leaves and the skirt on a polished floor also the ducal house of Bedford and half the history of England. Finally the word “Square” brings in the sight, the shape of an actual square combined with some visual suggestion of the stark angularity of stucco. Thus one sentence of the simplest kind rouses the imagination, the memory, the eye and the ear-all combine in reading it.

But they combine-they combine unconsciously together. The moment we single out and emphasize the suggestions as we have done here they become unreal; and we, too, become unreal-specialists, word mongers, phrase finders, not readers. In reading we have to allow the sunken meanings to remain sunken, suggested, not stated; lapsing and flowing into each other like reeds on the bed of a river. But the words in that sentence Passing Russell Square-are of course very rudimentary words. They show no trace of the strange, of the diabolical power which words possess when they are not tapped out by a typewriter but come fresh from a human brain-the power that is to suggest the writer; his character, his appearance, his wife, his family, his house-even the cat on the hearthrug. Why words do this, how they do it, how to prevent them from doing it nobody knows. They do it without the writer‘s will; often against his will. No writer presumably wishes to impose his own miserable character, his own private secrets and vices upon the reader. But has any writer, who is not a typewriter, succeeded in being wholly impersonal? Always, inevitably, we know them as well as their books. Such is the suggestive power of words that they will often make a bad book into a very lovable human being, and a good book into a man whom we can hardly tolerate in the room. Even words that are hundreds of years old have this power; when they are new they have it so strongly that they deafen us to the writer’s meaning-it is them we see, them we hear. That is one reason why our judgments of living writers are so wildly erratic. Only after the writer is dead do his words to some extent become disinfected, purified of the accidents of the living body.

Now, this power of suggestion is one of the most mysterious properties of words. Everyone who has ever written a sentence must be conscious or half-conscious of it. Words, English words, are full of echoes, of memories, of associations-naturally. They have been out and about, on people‘s lips, in their houses, in the streets, in the fields, for so many centuries. And that is one of the chief difficulties in writing them today-that they are so stored with meanings, with memories, that they have contracted so many famous marriages. The splendid word “incarnadine,” for example-who can use it without remembering also “multitudinous seas”? In the old days, of course, when English was a new language, writers could invent new words and use them. Nowadays it is easy enough to invent new words-they spring to the lips whenever we see a new sight or feel a new sensation-but we cannot use them because the language is old. You cannot use a brand new word in an old language because of the very obvious yet mysterious fact that a word is not a single and separate entity, but part of other words. It is not a word indeed until it is part of a sentence. Words belong to each other, although, of course, only a great writer knows that the word “incarnadine” belongs to “multitudinous seas.” To combine new words with old words is fatal to the constitution of the sentence. In order to use new words properly you would have to invent a new language; and that, though no doubt we shall come to it, is not at the moment our business. Our business is to see what we can do with the English language as it is. How can we combine the old words in new orders so that they survive, so that they create beauty, so that they tell the truth? That is the question.

And the person who could answer that question would deserve whatever crown of glory the world has to offer. Think what it would mean if you could teach, if you could learn, the art of writing. Why, every book, every newspaper would tell the truth, would create beauty. But there is, it would appear, some obstacle in the way, some hindrance to the teaching of words. For though at this moment at least a hundred professors are lecturing upon the literature of the past, at least a thousand critics are reviewing the literature of the present, and hundreds upon hundreds of young men and women are passing examinations in English literature with the utmost credit, still-do we write better, do we read better than we read and wrote four hundred years ago when we were unlectured, uncriticized, untaught? Is our Georgian literature a patch on the Elizabethan? Where then are we to lay the blame? Not on our professors; not on our reviewers; not on our writers; but on words. It is words that are to blame. They are the wildest, freest, most irresponsible, most unteachable of all things. Of course, you can catch them and sort them and place them in alphabetical order in dictionaries. But words do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind. If you want proof of this, consider how often in moments of emotion when we most need words we find none. Yet there is the dictionary; there at our disposal are some half-a-million words all in alphabetical order. But can we use them? No, because words do not live in dictionaries, they live in the mind. Look again at the dictionary. There beyond a doubt lie plays more splendid than ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA; poems more lovely than the ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE; novels beside which PRIDE AND PREJUDICE or DAVID COPPERFIELD are the crude bunglings of amateurs. It is only a question of finding the right words and putting them in the right order. But we cannot do it because they do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind. And how do they live in the mind? Variously and strangely, much as human beings live, by ranging hither and thither, by falling in love, and mating together. It is true that they are much less bound by ceremony and convention than we are. Royal words mate with commoners. English words marry French words, German words, Indian words, Negro words, if they have a fancy. Indeed, the less we enquire into the past of our dear Mother English the better it will be for that lady’s reputation. For she has gone a-roving, a-roving fair maid.

Thus to lay down any laws for such irreclaimable vagabonds is worse than useless. A few trifling rules of grammar and spelling are all the constraint we can put on them. All we can say about them, as we peer at them over the edge of that deep, dark and only fitfully illuminated cavern in which they live-the mind-all we can say about them is that they seem to like people to think and to feel before they use them, but to think and to feel not about them, but about something different. They are highly sensitive, easily made self-conscious. They do not like to have their purity or their impurity discussed. If you start a Society for Pure English, they will show their resentment by starting another for impure English-hence the unnatural violence of much modern speech; it is a protest against the puritans. They are highly democratic, too; they believe that one word is as good as another; uneducated words are as good as educated words, uncultivated words as cultivated words, there are no ranks or titles in their society. Nor do they like being lifted out on the point of a pen and examined separately. They hang together, in sentences, in paragraphs, sometimes for whole pages at a time. They hate being useful; they hate making money; they hate being lectured about in public. In short, they hate anything that stamps them with one meaning or confines them to one attitude, for it is their nature to change.

Perhaps that is their most striking peculiarity-their need of change. It is because the truth they try to catch is many-sided, and they convey it by being themselves many-sided, flashing this way, then that. Thus they mean one thing to one person, another thing to another person; they are unintelligible to one generation, plain as a pikestaff to the next. And it is because of this complexity that they survive. Perhaps then one reason why we have no great poet, novelist or critic writing to-day is that we refuse words their liberty. We pin them down to one meaning, their useful meaning, the meaning which makes us catch the train, the meaning which makes us pass the examination. And when words are pinned down they fold their wings and die. Finally, and most emphatically, words, like ourselves, in order to live at their ease, need privacy. Undoubtedly they like us to think, and they like us to feel, before we use them; but they also like us to pause; to become unconscious. Our unconsciousness is their privacy; our darkness is their light. . . . That pause was made, that veil of darkness was dropped, to tempt words to come together in one of those swift marriages which are perfect images and create everlasting beauty. But no-nothing of that sort is going to happen to-night. The little wretches are out of temper; disobliging; disobedient; dumb. What is it that they are muttering? “Time‘s up! Silence!”


本帖子中包含更多资源

您需要 登录 才可以下载或查看,没有帐号?注册

x

使用道具 举报

您需要登录后才可以回帖 登录 | 注册

本版积分规则

手机版|古曲网 ( 粤ICP备17071138号  

GMT+8, 2017-9-24 13:09

Powered by Discuz! X3.2

© 2001-2011 Comsenz Inc.

返回顶部