介绍:
Walden [ˈwɔldən] (Issue 141)
11. Higher Laws (9) 结束篇
[14] Every man is the builder of a temple, called his body, to the god he worships, after a style purely his own, nor can he get off by hammering marble instead. We are all sculptors and painters, and our material is our own flesh and blood and bones. Any nobleness begins at once to refine a man's features, any meanness or sensuality to imbrute[ɪm'bruːt] them.
[15] John Farmer sat at his door one September evening, after a hard day's work, his mind still running on his labor more or less. Having bathed, he sat down to recreate his intellectual man. It was a rather cool evening, and some of his neighbors were apprehending[ˌæprɪˈhend] a frost. He had not attended to the train of his thoughts long when he heard some one playing on a flute[fluːt], and that sound harmonized with his mood. Still he thought of his work; but the burden of his thought was, that though this kept running in his head, and he found himself planning and contriving it against his will, yet it concerned him very little. It was no more than the scurf of his skin, which was constantly shuffled off. But the notes of the flute came home to his ears out of a different sphere from that he worked in, and suggested work for certain faculties which slumbered in him. They gently did away with the street, and the village, and the state in which he lived. A voice said to him - Why do you stay here and live this mean moiling[mɔɪl] life, when a glorious existence is possible for you? Those same stars twinkle over other fields than these. - But how to come out of this condition and actually migrate[maɪˈɡreɪt] thither? All that he could think of was to practise some new austerity[ɔːˈsterɪtɪ], to let his mind descend into his body and redeem it, and treat himself with ever increasing respect[rɪˈspekt].
每一个人都是一座寺庙的建筑师，那寺庙就是他的身体，对那神他崇拜，纯粹用自己的风格，他也不能靠敲一些大理石来替换。我们都是这样的雕塑家和画家，使用的材料就是我们的血、肉和骨。任何高贵都开始于马上提炼这一人的特征；而任何卑鄙或***都开始于立刻把它们变得堕落和野蛮。
一个九月的傍晚，农夫约翰坐在自己的门边，一天的紧张之后，他的心思还或多或少在他的劳作上。沐浴完，他坐下来开始再造自己那知性人。这是难得的一个凉爽的夜晚，他的一些邻居都在忧虑要结霜了。他已经好久没有任自己的思绪飞扬了，就在这时，他听见有人在弄笛，那笛声正合了他的心情。尽管他仍在想着他的工作；但是思想的重荷是，虽然工作依然在他头脑里转，他发现自己在违心地规划和图谋它，然而还是很少介意。那不过是他皮肤上的皮屑，正在持续脱落。但是笛子的音符清晰地传入他的耳鼓，来自另一个和他劳作完全不同的领域，暗示他去激活某些体内沉睡的感官。它们温和地为他消隐了街道、村庄和他生活其中的国家。一个声音对他说——为什么你待在这里活得这样卑微和辛苦，而当一种辉煌的存在对你能成为可能？这些同样的星星也闪烁在另一些田地之上。——可是如何摆脱这境况切实移居到那里？他所有想到的就是练习某种新的简朴，让他的心灵沉入他的肉体获得救赎[shú]，而且以日益增长的敬意对待自己。
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