我与地坛（一）

我在好几篇小说中都提到过一座废弃的古园，实际上就是地坛。许多年前旅游业还没有开展，园子荒芜冷落得如同一片野地，很少被人记起。

I have mentioned an abandoned ancient garden in several novels, which is actually the Temple of Earth. Many years ago, before tourism developed, the garden was desolate and neglected, almost like a wild field, rarely remembered by anyone.

地坛离我家很近。或者说我家离地坛很近。总之，只好认为这是缘分。

The Temple of Earth is very close to my home. Or rather, my home is very close to the Temple of Earth. Either way, I have to consider this a fate.

地坛在我出生前四百多年就坐落在那儿了，而自从我的祖母年轻时带着我父亲来到北京，就一直住在离它不远的地方——五十多年间搬过几次家，可搬来搬去总是在它周围，而且是越搬离它越近了。

The Temple of Earth has been there for more than four hundred years before I was born, and since my grandmother brought my father to Beijing when he was young, we have always lived not far from it. Over the span of fifty years, we've moved a few times, but each move was always around it, and somehow, the farther we moved, the closer we got.

我常觉得这中间有着宿命的味道：仿佛这古园就是为了等我，而历尽沧桑在那儿等待了四百多年。

I often feel there is a sense of destiny in this: as if this ancient garden had been waiting for me, enduring the passage of time there for over four hundred years.

它等待我出生，然后又等待我活到最狂妄的年龄上忽地残废了双腿。

It waited for my birth, and then it waited for me to reach the most arrogant age only to suddenly become disabled.

四百多年里，它一面剥蚀了古殿檐头浮夸的琉璃，淡褪了门壁上炫耀的朱红，坍圮了一段段高墙又散落了玉砌雕栏，祭坛四周的老柏树愈见苍幽，到处的野草荒藤也都茂盛得自在坦荡。

Over the course of those four hundred years, it has eroded the extravagant glazed tiles of the ancient hall, faded the dazzling vermilion on the doors, collapsed sections of high walls, and scattered jade-carved balustrades. The old cedar trees surrounding the altar have grown more solemn, while the wilderness of grass and vines has flourished freely.

这时候想必我是该来了。十五年前的一个下午，我摇着轮椅进入园中，它为一个失魂落魄的人把一切都准备好了。

At this moment, I must have been meant to come. On an afternoon fifteen years ago, I wheeled my chair into the garden, and it had prepared everything for a lost and disheartened person like me.

那时，太阳循着亘古不变的路途正越来越大，也越红。在满园弥漫的沉静光芒中，一个人更容易看到时间，并看见自己的身影。

At that time, the sun, following its ageless trajectory, was getting larger and redder. In the tranquil glow that permeated the garden, it was easier for a person to see time and to catch a glimpse of their own shadow.

自从那个下午我无意中进了这园子，就再没长久地离开过它。

Since that afternoon when I accidentally entered this garden, I have never been away from it for long.

我一下子就理解了它的意图。

I instantly understood its intentions.

正如我在一篇小说中所说的：“在人口密聚的城市里，有这样一个宁静的去处，像是上帝的苦心安排。”

As I wrote in one of my novels: "In a densely populated city, there is such a peaceful place, as if it were a carefully arranged plan by God."

两条腿残废后的最初几年，我找不到工作，找不到去路，忽然间几乎什么都找不到了，我就摇了轮椅总是到它那儿去，仅为着那儿是可以逃避一个世界的另一个世界。

In the first few years after I became disabled, I couldn't find a job, couldn't find a way forward, and suddenly I almost couldn't find anything. I would wheel my chair to the garden, solely because it was another world where I could escape from the world outside.

我在那篇小说中写道：“没处可去我便一天到晚耗在这园子里。跟上班下班一样，别人去上班我就摇了轮椅到这儿来。”

I wrote in that novel: “With nowhere to go, I would spend all day in this garden. Just like going to work, while others went to their jobs, I would wheel my chair here.”

“园子无人看管，上下班时间有些抄近路的人们从园中穿过，园子里活跃一阵，过后便沉寂下来。”

“The garden is unguarded, and at commuting hours, some people took shortcuts through it; the garden would come alive for a while, then fall silent again.”

“园墙在金晃晃的空气中斜切下一溜阴凉，我把轮椅开进去，把椅背放倒，坐着或是躺着，看书或者想事，撅一杈树枝左右拍打，驱赶那些和我一样不明白为什么要来这世上的小昆虫。”

“The garden wall cast a streak of cool shade in the golden air, and I would wheel my chair in, recline the backrest, sitting or lying down, reading or thinking, poking a branch back and forth to shoo away the little insects that, like me, didn’t understand why they came to this world.”

“蜂儿如一朵小雾稳稳地停在半空；蚂蚁摇头晃脑捋着触须，猛然间想透了什么，转身疾行而去；瓢虫爬得不耐烦了，累了，祈祷一回便支开翅膀，忽悠一下升空了；树干上留着一只蝉蜕，寂寞如一间空屋；露水在草叶上滚动，聚集，压弯了草叶轰然坠地摔开万道金光。”

“Bees hovered like a small mist, firmly resting in the air; ants swayed their heads and twitched their antennae, suddenly realizing something, and hurried away; ladybugs, restless and weary, prayed once, then spread their wings and soared into the air; a cicada shell remained on a tree trunk, lonely like an empty room; dewdrops rolled on the grass blades, gathering and bending the leaves, then falling to the ground, bursting into thousands of golden lights.”

“满园子都是草木竞相生长弄出的响动，窸窸窣窣窸窸窣窣片刻不息。”

“The whole garden was filled with the sounds of grass and trees growing, rustling tirelessly.”

这都是真实的记录，园子荒芜但并不衰败。

This is all a true record; the garden is wild but not in decline.

除去几座殿堂我无法进去，除去那座祭坛我不能上去而只能从各个角度张望它，地坛的每一棵树下我都去过，差不多它的每一米草地上都有过我的车轮印。

Except for a few halls that I couldn't enter and the altar which I could only gaze at from various angles, I have been under every tree in the Temple of Earth and almost every patch of grass bears the imprint of my wheels.

无论是什么季节，什么天气，什么时间，我都在这园子里待过。

No matter the season, the weather, or the time, I have spent time in this garden.

有时候待一会儿就回家，有时候就待到满地上都亮起月光。

Sometimes I would stay for a while and go home, other times until the ground sparkled with moonlight.

记不清都是在它的哪些角落里了，我一连几小时专心致志地想关于死的事，也以同样的耐心和方式想过我为什么要出生。

I can't remember in which corners I spent hours absorbed in thoughts about death, and I have pondered just as patiently and in the same manner about why I was born.

这样想了好几年，最后事情终于弄明白了：一个人，出生了，这就不再是一个可以辩论的问题，而只是上帝交给他的一个事实；上帝在交给我们这件事实的时候，已经顺便保证了它的结果，所以死是一件不必急于求成的事，死是一个必然会降临的节日。

After years of such contemplation, I finally understood: A person is born, and this is no longer a debatable issue but merely a fact handed down by God; when God bestows this fact upon us, He has also guaranteed its outcome, so death is an event that doesn't need to be rushed, a festival that will inevitably arrive.

这样想过之后我安心多了，眼前的一切不再那么可怕。

After thinking this way, I felt much more at ease, everything before me no longer seemed so terrifying.

比如你起早熬夜准备考试的时候，忽然想起有一个长长的假期在前面等待你，你会不会觉得轻松一点儿？并且庆幸并且感激这样的安排？

For instance, when you wake early and stay up late preparing for an exam, and suddenly remember that a long holiday awaits you, don’t you feel a little lighter? And wouldn't you feel grateful for such an arrangement?

剩下的就是怎样活的问题了。这却不是在某一个瞬间就能完全想透的，不是能够一次性解决的事，怕是活多久就要想它多久了，就像是伴你终生的魔鬼或恋人。

What remains is the question of how to live. This is not something that can be completely understood in a single moment, nor is it something that can be resolved all at once; you will probably ponder it as long as you live, just like a devil or lover who accompanies you for a lifetime.

所以，十五年了，我还是总得到那古园里去，去它的老树下或荒草边或颓墙旁，去默坐，去呆想，去推开耳边的嘈杂理一理纷乱的思绪，去窥看自己的心魂。

So, for fifteen years, I have continually gone back to that ancient garden, beneath its old trees or by the overgrown grass or beside crumbling walls, to sit in silence, to daydream, to push away the noise around me and untangle my chaotic thoughts, to peer into my soul.

十五年中，这古园的形体被不能理解它的人肆意雕琢，幸好有些东西是任谁也不能改变它的。

Over these fifteen years, the physical form of the garden has been wantonly sculpted by those who cannot understand it, but fortunately, some things remain unchanged.

譬如祭坛石门中的落日，寂静的光辉平铺的一刻，地上的每一个坎坷都被映照得灿烂；

For example, the sunset in the altar's stone gate; at the moment when the tranquil light spreads, every bump on the ground is illuminated gloriously;

譬如在园中最为落寞的时间，一群雨燕便出来高歌，把天地都叫喊得苍凉；

For example, during the loneliest time in the garden, a flock of swallows would come out to sing, filling the air with desolation;

譬如冬天雪地上孩子的脚印，总让人猜想他们是谁，曾在哪儿做过些什么，然后又都到哪儿去了；

For example, children’s footprints in the snow during winter, always leading us to wonder who they were, what they did there, and where they went afterward;

譬如那些苍黑的古柏，你忧郁的时候它们镇静地站在那儿，你欣喜的时候它们依然镇静地站在那儿，它们没日没夜地站在那儿从你没有出生一直站到这个世界上又没了你的时候；

For example, those dark ancient cypress trees; when you feel melancholic, they stand there calmly; when you're joyful, they still stand there calmly, standing there day and night from the time you were not born until the time they are no more in this world alongside you;

譬如暴雨骤临园中，激起一阵阵灼烈而清纯的草木和泥土的气味，让人想起无数个夏天的事件；

For example, when a sudden torrential rain hits the garden, it stirs up a wave of fiery and pure scents of grass, wood, and soil, reminding one of countless summer events;

譬如秋风忽至，再有一场早霜，落叶或飘摇歌舞或坦然安卧，满园中播散着熨帖而微苦的味道。

For example, when autumn winds blow in suddenly, followed by an early frost, leaves either dance gracefully or lie peacefully, spreading a soothing yet slightly bitter aroma throughout the garden.

味道是最说不清楚的，味道不能写只能闻，要你身临其境去闻才能明了。

Flavors are the most difficult to articulate; they cannot be written but only smelled, and you need to be there in person to understand them.

味道甚至是难于记忆的，只有你又闻到它你才能记起它的全部情感和意蕴。所以我常常要到那园子里去。

Flavors can even be hard to remember; only when you encounter them again can you recall all their feelings and connotations. That's why I often find myself going to that garden.