On Houses

Then a mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses."

And he answered and said:

Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls.

For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.

Your house is your larger body.

It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream? And dreaming, leave the city for grove or hilltop?

Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.

Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.

But these things are not yet to be.

In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields.

And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors?

Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power?

Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?

Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?

Tell me, have you these in your houses?

Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and becomes a host, and then a master?

Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.

Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.

It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.

It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.

Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.

It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye.

You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.

You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.

And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.

For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

居室

　　一位泥瓦匠走上前说道：请给我们谈谈居室。

　　他答道：

　　在你们建房于城墙内之前，先用你们的想像在旷野建一所凉亭。

　　正如你们在暮色降临时有家可归，你们心中遥远而孤单的漂泊者也应如此。

　　你们的房屋是你们更大的躯壳。

　　它在阳光下生长，在夜的寂静中安眠，而那睡眠并非天梦。难道你们的居室无梦？它们不也想远离城市，前往林中或山上？

　　我愿将你们的房舍收聚于手中，然后似播种般将它们撒向森林和草原。

　　我愿山谷成为你们的街道，绿径是你们的小巷，如是你们可以穿过葡萄园彼此造访，衣裳留着泥土的芳香。

　　然而这却暂难实现。

　　出于恐惧，你们的祖先将你们聚得过近。这恐惧还会持续一些时日，你们的城墙在一段时间内也会继续把你们的家庭和你们的土地隔开。

　　告诉我，奥法利斯城的人们，你们房屋中有些什么？你们用紧闭的门守护什么呢？

　　你们可有安宁，那显示你们力量的平静的冲动？

　　你们可有回忆，那连接心灵峰峦的隐约闪现的桥梁？

　　你们可有美，那将心灵从木石之所引向圣山的向导？

　　告诉我，你们的居室可拥有这些？

　　莫非其中只有安逸和追求安逸的欲望----这鬼祟之物入室做客，却变为主人，进而成为一家之长？

　　可叹啊，它竟又化作驯师，以诱饵和皮鞭使你们更大的愿望变作玩偶。

　　尽管它的手如丝，但它的心如铁。

　　它诱你们人睡，只为站在你们睡榻边嘲弄你们肉体的尊严。

　　它嘲笑你们健全的意识，把它们像脆弱的器皿般置于蓟绒下。

　　的确，贪图安逸的欲望扼杀了灵魂的情感，而它还在葬礼上例嘴嬉笑。

　　但你们，宇宙之子，静中之动，你们不应被捕陷，不应被驯服。

　　你们的居室不应是锚，而应是桅。

　　它不应是遮掩伤口的闪亮的薄膜，而应是保护眼睛的眼睑。

　　你们不应为穿过房门而收敛翅膀，不应为防止撞到天花板而俯身低头，也不应因担心墙壁开裂坍塌而屏住呼吸。

　　你们不应居住在死者为生者建造的坟墓中。

　　纵然你们的宅邸金碧辉煌，它们也无法隐藏你们的秘密，掩盖你们的愿望。

　　因为你们内在的无穷性居住在天宫里，它以晨雾为门，以夜的歌声和寂静为窗。
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