It had been threatening to rain but it never rained; the blue hills were heavy with clouds; they were always changing, moving from one hill to another but there was a long white-grey cloud, stretching west over many hills to the horizon, which had its birth in one of the eastern hills; it seemed to begin from there, from the side of the hill, and went on to the western horizon in a rolling movement, alive with the light of the setting sun; it was white and grey but deep within it was violet, a fading purple; it seemed to be carrying on its way the hills it covered. In the western gap the sun was setting in a fury of clouds and the hills were getting darker and more grey and the trees were heavy with silence. There is a huge, unmolested banyan tree, many years old, by the side of the road; it is really magnificent, huge, vital, unconcerned and that evening it was the lord of the hills, the earth and the streams; it had majesty and the stars seemed very small. Along that road, a villager and his wife were walking, one behind the other, the husband led and the wife followed; they seemed a little more prosperous than the others that one met on the road. They passed us, she never looking at us and he looked at the far village. We caught up with her; she was a small woman, never taking her eyes off the ground; she wasn't too clean; she had a green soiled sari and her blouse was salmon coloured and sweat-stained. She had a flower in her oily hair and was walking bare-footed. Her face was dark and there was about her a great sadness. There was a certain firmness and gaiety in her walk which in no way touched her sadness; each was leading its own life, independent, vital and unrelated. But there was great sadness and you felt it immediately; it was an irremediable sadness; there was no way out, no way to soften it, no way to bring about a change. It was there and it would be there. She was across the road, a few feet away and nothing could touch her. We walked side by side for a while and presently she turned off and crossed the red riverbed of sand and went on to her village, the husband leading, never looking back and she following. Before she turned off, a curious thing was taking place. The few feet of road between us disappeared and with it also disappeared the two entities; there was only that woman walking in her impenetrable sadness. It was not an identification with her, nor overwhelming sympathy and affection; these were there but they were not because of the phenomenon. Identification with another, however deep, still maintains separation and division; there are still two entities, one identifying with the other, a conscious or an unconscious process, through affection or through hate; in it there is an endeavour of some kind, subtle or open. But here there was none at all. She was the only human being that existed on that road. She was and the other was not. It was not a fancy or an illusion; it was a simple fact and no amount of clever reasoning and subtle explanation could alter that fact. Even when she turned off the road and was going away, the other was not on that straight road that went on. It was some time before the other found himself walking beside a long heap of broken stones, ready for renewing the road.
一直有下雨的威胁，却从未下下来； 蓝色的山丘上乌云密布； 它们总是在变化，从一座山移动到另一座 但是有一朵长长的白灰色云，向西延伸，覆盖着许多山丘，一直到地平线， 它诞生于东部的一座山丘； 它似乎从那里开始，从这座山的一侧， 在翻滚的运动中继续向西，朝地平线走去，在夕阳的光芒中充满活力； 它是白色和灰色的，但它的深处是紫色的，一种渐淡的紫； 它似乎正在沿着它所覆盖的山丘前进。 在西边的夹缝中，太阳落在狂暴的云层中。 山丘越来越暗，越来越灰，树寂静而沉重。 路边有一棵巨大的、未受干扰的榕树，历经岁月； 它真的很壮观，巨大，充满生命力，毫不在意 那天晚上，它是山丘、大地和溪流的主宰； 它威严，星星看起来很小。 沿着那条路，一个村民和他的妻子走着， 一个接一个的，丈夫带头，妻子跟在后面； 他们似乎比在路上遇到的其他人更富裕一些。 他们从我们身边经过，她从不看我们，他看着远处的村庄。 我们追上了她；她是个小女人，眼睛从不离开地面； 她不太干净；她有一件绿色的脏纱丽 她的上衣是鲑鱼色的，沾满了汗水。 她油腻的头发上有一朵花，赤脚走着。 她的脸很黑，身上有一种巨大的悲伤。 她的行走中有一种坚定和欢乐，丝毫没有触动她的悲伤； 每个人都过着自己的生活，独立，重要和无关。 却具有巨大的悲伤，你立即感受到了； 那是一种无法弥补的悲伤； 没有出路，没有办法软化它，没有办法改变它。 它在那里，它将继续在那里。 她在马路对面，几英尺远，没有什么能碰到她。 我们并肩走了一会儿 不一会儿，她转身越过红沙河床，继续向她的村庄走去， 丈夫在前面，从不回头，她跟着。 在她转身之前，一件奇怪的事情正在发生。 我们之间的几英尺路消失了，两个实体也随之消失了； 只有那个女人走在她无法理解的悲伤中。 那不是对她的认同，也不是压倒性的同情和感情； 这些都在那里，但不是因为这种现象。 对另一个人的认同，无论多么深刻，依然维持着分裂和界限； 依然有两个实体， 一个人有意或无意的，通过感情或仇恨与另一个人相互认同； 其中有某种或微妙的或公开的努力。 但这里根本没有。 她是那条路上唯一存在的人。 她在，另一个人不在。 这不是幻想或幻觉； 这是一个简单的事实，再聪明的推理和微妙的解释也无法改变这一事实。 即使她转身离开，另一个人也不在那条笔直的路上。 过了好一会儿，另一个人发现他自己走在一堆长长的碎石旁边，准备更换这条路。
Along that road, over the gap in the southern hills, came that otherness with such intensity and power that it was with the greatest difficulty that one could stand up and continue the walk. It was like a furious storm but without the wind and the noise and its intensity was overwhelming. Strangely every time it comes, there is always something new; it is never the same and always unexpected. This otherness is not something extraordinary, some mysterious energy, but is mysterious in the sense that it is something beyond time and thought. A mind that is caught in time and thought can never comprehend it. It is not a thing to be understood, any more than love can be analysed and understood, but without this immensity, strength and energy, life, and all existence, at any level, becomes trivial and sorrowful. There is an absoluteness about it, not a finality; it is absolute energy; it is self-existent without cause; it is not the ultimate, final energy for it is all energy. Every form of energy and action must cease for it to be. But in it all action is. Love and do what you will. There must be death and total destruction for it to be; not the revolution of outward things but the total destruction of the known in which all shelter and existence is cultivated. There must be total emptiness and only then that otherness, the timeless, comes. But this emptiness is not to be cultivated, it is not the result whose cause can be bought and sold; nor is it the outcome of time and evolutionary process; time can only give birth to more time. Destruction of time is not a process; all methods and processes prolong time. Ending of time is the ending of total thought and feeling.
沿着那条路，越过南部山丘的缺口， 异类来了，带着如此的强度和力量 那是一个人最困难地站立，并继续走着。 它就像一场风暴，却没有风和噪音，它的强度是压倒性的。 奇怪的是，每次它来的时候，总有某些新的； 它永远不相同，总是出乎意料。 这种异类不是什么特别的东西，某些神秘的能量， 但它有某种神秘感，因为它超越了时间和思想。 一个被时间和思想所困的头脑永远无法理解它。 它不是一个需要被理解的动，如同爱一样，不能被分析和理解， 但是，如果没有这种浩瀚，这种力量和能量， 生命，以及所有的存在，在任何层面上，都会变得琐碎和悲伤。 它有一种绝对，而不是一个最终；它是绝对的能源； 它是无缘无故的独自存在；它不是最终的、最后的能源，因为它是所一切能源。 要它呈现，每一种形式的能量和行动都必须消逝。 但它的里面，所有行动都在。爱，做你想做的事。 必须有死亡和彻底的毁灭，它才能呈现； 不是外在的革命 而是毁灭已知，毁灭里面的所有庇护所以及被培育出的一切东西。 必须有完全的虚无，只有那时，异类，那非时间的，才会来。 但这种虚无是不是要去培养的， 它不是可以通过买卖而获取的结果； 它也不是时间和进化过程的产物；时间只能催生更多的时间。 毁灭时间，不需要过程； 所有方法和过程都会延长时间。 时间的结束是整个思想和感觉的结束。
Beauty is never personal. The hills were dark blue and carried the light of the evening. It had been raining and now great spaces of blue appeared; the blue was ablaze with white clouds surrounding it; it was the blue that made the eyes sparkle with forgotten tears; it was the blue of infancy and innocence. And that blue became a pale nile-green of early leaves of spring and beyond it was the fire-red of a cloud that was gathering speed to cross the hills. And over the hills were the rain clouds, dark, heavy and immovable; these clouds were piling up against the hills in the west and the sun was caught between the hills and the clouds. The ground was soaked, red and clear, and every tree and bush had deep moisture; there were already new leaves; the mango had long russet tender leaves, the tamarind had bright yellow small leaves, the rain-tree had a few shoots of fresh light green; after a long wait of many months of baking sun, the rains brought comfort to the earth; the valley was smiling. The poverty-ridden village was filthy, smelly and so many children were playing, shouting and laughing; they didn't seem to care for anything except the games they were playing. Their parents seemed so weary, haggard and forgotten; they would never know one day of rest, cleanliness and comfort; hunger, labour and more hunger; they were sad, though they smiled readily enough, their eyes forlorn, beyond recalling. Everywhere there was beauty, the grass, the hills and the crowded sky; the birds were calling and high in the air an eagle was circling. There were lean goats on the hills, devouring everything that grew; they were insatiably hungry and their little ones pranced from rock to rock. They were so soft to touch, their skin sparkling, clean and healthy. The boy who was looking after them was singing away, sitting on a rock and occasionally calling to them.
美从来都不是私人的。 山丘是深蓝色的，带着傍晚的光芒。 一直在下雨，现在出现了大片的蓝色空间； 蓝色被白云包围； 是蓝色使眼睛闪耀着被遗忘的泪水； 那是婴儿和纯真的蓝。 那蓝色变成了春天的嫩叶的淡尼罗绿 在它之外，是一朵火红的云，它正在加速汇聚，越过这座山。 山顶上是雨云，黑暗，沉重，无法移动； 这些云堆积着，在天的西方，映衬着山丘 太阳夹在山丘和云层之间。 地面湿透了，红色，清澈，每一棵树和灌木丛都湿透了； 已经有新叶了； 芒果有长长的赤褐色嫩叶，罗望子有亮黄色的小叶， 雨树上有几缕新鲜的浅绿色嫩芽； 经历了数月烈日的漫长等待，雨水给大地带来了安慰； 山谷在微笑。 贫穷的村庄肮脏，臭气熏天 那么多的孩子们在玩耍、喊叫和欢笑； 除了他们在玩的游戏，他们似乎什么都不关心。 他们的父母显得如此疲惫、憔悴和被遗忘； 他们永远不会知道什么是休息、清洁和舒适的日子； 饥饿、劳动和更多的饥饿； 他们很伤心，虽然他们笑得很爽快，眼神惆怅，无法想象。 到处都是美，这草，这山，有拥挤的天空； 鸟儿们在叫，一只老鹰在空中盘旋。 山上有瘦山羊，吞噬着一切生长的东西； 他们贪得无厌，他们的小家伙们从一块岩石跳到另一块岩石。 他们摸起来很柔软，皮肤闪闪发光，干净健康。 照顾他们的男孩正在唱歌， 坐在岩石上，偶尔呼唤他们。
The personal cultivation of the pleasure of beauty is self-centred activity; it leads to insensitivity.
私人对美的乐趣的培养，是以自我为中心的活动； 它导致不敏感。
It was a lovely morning, clear, every star was ablaze and the valley was full of silence. The hills were dark, darker than the sky and cool air had a smell of rain, the scent of leaves and some strong-scented flowering jasmine. Everything was asleep and every leaf was still and the beauty of the morning was magic; it was the beauty of the earth, heavens and of man, of the sleeping birds and the fresh stream in a dry riverbed; it was incredible that it was not personal. There as a certain austerity about it, not the cultivated which is merely the activities of fear and denial but the austerity of completeness, so utterly complete that it knew no corruption. There on the verandah, with Orion in the western sky, the fury of beauty wiped away the defences of time. Meditating there, beyond the limits of time, seeing the sky ablaze with stars and the earth silent, beauty is not the personal pursuit of pleasure, of things put together, of things known, or unknown images and visions of the brain with its thoughts and feelings. Beauty has nothing whatsoever to do with thought or sentiment or with the pleasurable feeling aroused by a concert or a picture or seeing a game of football; the pleasures of concert, poems, are perhaps more refined than football but they are all in the same field as the Mass or some puja in a temple. It is the beauty beyond time and beyond the aches and pleasures of thought. Thought and feeling dissipate energy and so beauty is never seen. Energy, with its intensity, is needed to see beauty - beauty that is beyond the eye of the beholder. When there is a seer, an observer, then there is no beauty.
这是一个美好的早晨，晴朗，每一颗星星都在闪耀，山谷里充满了寂静。 山丘很黑，比天还黑 凉爽的空气中弥漫着雨水的味道，树叶的香味和一些浓郁的盛开的茉莉花。 一切都睡着了，每一片叶子都静止不动，早晨的美是神奇的； 它是大地、天堂和人的美，是沉睡的鸟儿和干涸河床中新鲜溪流的美； 令人难以置信的是，它不是私人的。 它有某种朴素， 不是被培养出的，培养是一种恐惧和抗拒而产生的活动 而是完整的朴素，如此的彻底，以至于它不知道腐败。 在阳台上，猎户座在西方的天空中，美的愤怒清除了时间的防御。 冥想在那儿，超越时间的限制， 看这片天，群星闪耀，大地寂然， 美不是私人的追求，追求快乐、拼凑出的、 已知或未知的图像和愿景，那些大脑中的视野、思想和感受。 美无关于思想或情感 或者被音乐会或图片或观看足球比赛所激起的快乐； 或许，音乐会、诗歌所带来的快乐比足球更精致 但是，它们与弥撒或寺庙中的一些法会一样，都在同一个领域。 美超越了时间，超越了思想的痛苦和快乐。 思想和感觉耗散着能源，因此从未见过美。 要有能源及其强度，才能看到美 —— 美超越了观看者的视野。 当有一个观看者，一個觀察者時，就沒有美。
There on the perfumed verandah, when dawn was still far away and the trees were still silent, what is essence is beauty. But this essence is not experienceable; experiencing must cease, for experience only strengthens the known. The known is never the essence. Meditation is never the further experiencing; it is not only the ending of experience, which is the response to challenge, great or small, but it is the opening of the door to essence, opening the door of a furnace whose fire utterly destroys, without leaving any ashes; there are no remains. We are the remains, the yes-sayers of many thousand yesterdays, a continuous series of endless memories. of choice and despair. The Big Self and the little self are the pattern of existence and existence is thought and thought is existence, with never ending sorrow. In the flame of meditation thought ends and with it feeling, for neither is love. Without love, there is no essence; without it there are only ashes on which is based our existence. Out of the emptiness love is.
在这芬芳的阳台上， 黎明还很远，树木依然安静，安静的本质是美。 但这本质是不可体验的； 体验必须消亡，因为体验只会加强已知。 那已知的，从来都不是本质。 冥想从来都不是进一步的体验； 它不仅终结体验 —— 对挑战的回应，无论大小， 而且开启本质之门，开启了彻底的毁灭性的熔炉之门， 不留任何灰烬；没有残余。 我们是这残余，是成千上万个昨天的‘是’者，携带着一系列的、延续下来的、无尽的记忆； 是做选择题而绝望的‘是’者。 大我和小我，是存在的模式，存在是思想 思想是存在，带着永无止境的悲伤。 在冥想的火焰中，思想結束了，感覺也隨之結束，因為两者不是愛。 没有爱，就没有本质；没有它，我们生存的地基全是灰烬。 虚无之中，爱出现。
The owls started, very early this morning, calling to each other. At first they were in different parts of the valley; one was in the west and the other north; their hoots were very clear in the still air and carried very far. At first they were quite a distance from each other and gradually they came nearer and as they came, their hoots became hoarse, very deep, not so long drawn out, shorter and more insistent. As they came nearer they kept calling to each other more frequently; they must have been large birds, one couldn't see them, it was too dark even when they were in the same tree quite close and the tone and quality of their hoots changed, They were talking to each other at so profound a depth that they could hardly be heard. They were there for considerable time, until dawn came. Then slowly a series of noises began, a dog barked, somebody called, a firecracker went off - for the last two days there was some kind of festival - a door opened and as it became lighter all the noises of the day began.
今天一大早，猫头鹰就开始互相叫唤。 起初，他们在山谷的不同地方； 一个在西，另一个在北； 在寂静的空气中，他们的叫声非常清晰，传得很远。 刚开始，他们彼此相距很远 渐渐地，他们越来越近，当他们来的时候， 他们的嘶哑，非常深沉，不长，更短，更坚持。 当他们走近时，他们越来越频繁地互相呼唤； 他们一定是大鸟，一个人看不到他们， 即使他们在同一棵树上，天也太黑了，他们叫唤的音调和质量都发生了变化， 他们彼此交谈的深度如此之深，以至于几乎听不到。 他们在那里待了相当长的时间，直到黎明到来。 然后慢慢地开始了一连串的声音，狗叫声，人的叫唤，鞭炮的响声。 —— 在最后的两天，有某种节日 —— 一扇门打开了，随着天色变亮，一天中所有的噪音都开始了。
To deny is essential. To deny today without knowing what tomorrow will bring is to keep awake. To deny the social, economic and religious pattern is to be alone, which is to be sensitive. Not to be able to deny totally is to be mediocre. Not to be able to deny ambition and all its ways is to accept the norm of existence which breeds conflict, confusion and sorrow. To deny the politician and so the politician in us, the response to the immediate, to live with short vision, is to be free from fear. Total denial is the negation of the positive, the imitative urge, conformity. But this denial itself is positive, for it is not a reaction. To deny the accepted standard of beauty, past or present, is to discover beauty which is beyond thought and feeling; but, to discover it, energy is necessary. This energy comes when there is no conflict, contradiction, and action is no longer partial.
否定，是必不可少的。 否定今天，却不知道明天会带来什么，就是清醒。 否定社会、经济和宗教模式，就是独立，也就是灵敏。 没有能力完全去否定，就是平庸。 不能否定雄心及其所有途径，就是接受现存的规范 这样就滋生出冲突、困惑和悲伤。 否定政治家，同样，否定我们心中的政治家、这种即刻、短视的生存反应， 就是从恐惧中解放。 完整的否定，就是对拒绝积极的、模仿性的冲动和顺从。 但这种否定本身是积极的，因为它不是一种反应。 否定公认的美的标准，无论是过去的，还是现在的， 就是发现美，那超越思想和感觉的； 但是，要发现它，能源是必要的。 当没有冲突、矛盾，这种能源就会出现，而行动不再是片面性的。
Humility is the essence of all virtue. Humility is not to be cultivated, nor is virtue. The respectable morality of any society is mere adjustment to the pattern set by social, economic, religious environment, but such morality of changing adjustment is not virtue. Conformity and the imitative self-concern of security, called morality, is the denial of virtue. Order is never permanent; it has to be maintained every day, as a room has to be cleaned every day. Order has to be maintained from moment to moment, every day. This order is not personal, individual adjustment to the pattern of conditioned responses of like and dislike, pleasure and pain,. This order is not a means of escape from sorrow; the understanding of sorrow and the ending of sorrow is virtue, which brings about order. Order is not an end in itself; order, as an end in itself leads to the dead end of respectability, which is deterioration and decay. Learning is the very essence of humility, learning from everything and from everybody. There is no hierarchy in learning. Authority denies learning and a follower will never learn.
谦卑是所有美德的本质。 谦卑不是被培养出的，美德也不是。 在任何社会，受人尊敬的道德都只是对模式的适应， 而模式受社会、经济、宗教环境的影响， 但是，这种对影响的适应性的道德，不是美德。 顺从和对安全的模仿性的自我关切，被称为道德，是对美德的拒绝。 秩序从来都不是永久的； 它必须每天维护，就像一个房间必须每天打扫一样。 秩序必须每时每刻、每时每刻都得到维护。 秩序不是私人的，不是一个人对模式的适应 这种适应，是局限性的回应：喜欢和不喜欢、快乐和痛苦等等。 这种秩序不是逃避悲伤的手段； 对悲伤的理解和对悲伤的结束是美德，它带来秩序。 秩序本身不是它的目的； 把秩序本身当作目的，导致这种死板的尊敬，也就是恶化和腐败。 学习是谦卑的本质，向一切事物和每个人学习。 在学习中，没有等级之分。 权威拒绝学习，追随者永远不会去学习。
There was a single cloud, aflame with the light of the setting sun, behind the eastern hills; no fantasy could build such a cloud. It was the form of all forms; no architect could have designed such structure. It was the result of many winds, of many suns and nights, of pressure and strains. Other clouds were dark without light; they had no depth or height but this one shattered space. The hill, beyond which the cloud was, appeared emptied of life and strength; it had lost its usual dignity and its purity of line. The cloud had absorbed all the quality of hills, their might and silence. Below the towering cloud lay the valley, green and rain-washed; there is something very beautiful in this ancient valley when it has rained; it becomes spectacularly bright and green, green of every shade and the earth becomes more red. The air is clear and the big rocks on the hills are polished red, blue, grey and pale violet.
有一朵孤云， 在山丘的东侧，伴随着夕阳而燃烧； 没有幻想可以建造这样的云。 它是所有形式的形式；没有建筑师可以设计这样的结构。 它是许多风、许多阳光和黑夜、压力和张力的结果。 其他云是暗淡的，没有光； 它们没有深度或高度，但这一朵粉碎了空间。 云朵之外的山丘，似乎空荡荡的，毫无生机和力气； 它失去了一贯的尊严和纯洁的轮廓。 这朵云吸收了山丘的所有品质，它们的力量和寂静。 在这朵高耸的云下面，是山谷，绿色的，被雨水冲洗过； 下雨的时候，这个古老的山谷里有某些非常美丽的东西； 它变得非常明亮和绿色，各种阴影都是绿色的，大地变得更加红色。 空气清新，山上的大岩石被抛光成红色，蓝色，灰色和淡紫色。
There were several people in the room, some sitting on the floor and some on chairs; there was the quietness of appreciation and enjoyment. A man was playing on an eight-stringed instrument. He was playing with his eyes closed, delighted as the little audience. It was pure sound and on that sound one rode, far and very deep; each sound carried one deeper. The quality of sound that instrument produced made the journey infinite; from the moment he touched it till the moment he stopped, it was the sound that mattered not the instrument, not the man, not the audience. It had the effect of shutting out all other sound, even the fireworks that the boys were setting off; you heard them crash and crack but it was part of the sound and the sound was everything - the cicadas that were singing, the boys laughing, the call of a small girl and the sound of silence. He must have played for over half an hour and during that entire period the journey, far and deep, continued; it was not a journey that is taken in imagination, on the wings of thought or in the frenzy of emotion. Such journeys are short, with some meaning or pleasure; this had no meaning and no pleasure. There was only sound and nothing else, no thought, no feeling. That sound carried one through and beyond the confines of time, and quietly it went on into great immense emptiness from which there was no return. What is returning always is memory, a thing that has been, but here there was no memory, no experience. Fact has no shadow, memory.
这间屋子里有几个人，有的坐在地板上，有的在椅子上。 有这种理解和享受的宁静。 一个人正在演奏八弦乐。 他演奏时闭着眼睛，像这位小观众一样高兴。 它是纯粹的声音，一个人骑在那个声音上，很远很深；每个声音都载着更深沉的声音。 乐器产生的音质使旅程无限； 从他触摸它的那一刻到他停下来的那一刻， 重要的是声音，不是乐器，不是人，不是观众。 它的作用是关闭所有其他声音，甚至孩子们燃放烟花的爆破声； 你听到它们崩溃和破裂，但它是这声音的一部分，这声音就是一切 —— 唱歌的蝉，孩子们的笑声，小女孩的叫声和寂静之声。 他一定玩了半个多小时，在整个期间，旅程，远而深，仍在继续； 它不是想象中的旅程， 在思想的翅膀上或在情感的狂热中。 那样的旅程很短，但有一些意义或乐趣；这没有任何意义，也没有乐趣。 只有声音，没有别的，没有思想，没有感觉。 那声音载着一个人穿越了时间的界限， 它悄悄地进入了巨大的空虚，没有回头路。 返回的，永远是记忆，一种曾经是， 但这里没有记忆，没有体验。事实没有影子、记忆。
There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the sun went down behind the hills; the air was still and not a leaf moved. Everything seemed held tight, in the light of a cloudless sky. The reflection of the evening light on a little stretch of water by the roadside was full of ecstatic energy and a little wildflower, by the wayside, was all life. There is a hill that looks like one of those ancient and ageless temples; it was purple, darker than violet, intense and vastly unconcerned; it was alive with an inward light, without shadow, and every rock and bush was shouting with joy. A bullock cart with two oxen came along the road, carrying some hay; a boy was sitting on the hay and a man was driving the cart which made a lot of noise. They stood out clearly against the sky, especially the outlines of the boy's face; his nose and forehead were clean cut, gentle; it was the face that had no education and probably would never have; it was an unspoiled face, not yet used to hard work nor to any responsibility; it was a smiling face. The clear sky was reflected on it. Walking along that road, meditation seemed a most natural thing; there was a fervour and a clarity and the occasion suited the state. Thought is a waste of energy as also is feeling. Thought and feeling invite distraction and concentration becomes defensive self-absorption, like a child absorbed in his toy. The toy is fascinating and he is lost in it; remove it and he becomes restless. The same with the grown-ups; their toys are the many escapes. There on the road, thought, with its feeling had no power of absorption; it had no self-generating energy and so it came to an end. The brain became quiet, as the waters become quiet when there is no breeze. It was the stillness before creation takes place. And there on that hill, just close by, an owl started gently hooting but suddenly stopped and high up in the sky one of those brown eagles was crossing the valley. It is the quality of stillness that has significance; an induced stillness is stagnation; a stillness that is bought is a merchandise which has hardly any value; a stillness that is the outcome of control, discipline, suppression is clamorous with despair. There was not a sound in the valley nor in the mind, but the mind went beyond the valley and time. And there was no returning for it had not gone. Silence is the depth of emptiness.
当太阳落山时，天上一朵云也没有； 空气静止不动，没有一片叶子摆动。 一切似乎都被紧紧地握住，在这万里无云的天空的照耀下。 傍晚的光线反射在路边的一小片水面上 充满了至乐的能量，路边的一朵小野花，就是整个生命。 有一座小山看起来像那些古老而永恒的寺庙之一； 它是紫色的，比紫色还深，强烈而无所谓； 它鲜活，里面有光，没有阴影， 每一块岩石和灌木丛都在欢呼雀跃。 一辆被两头牛拉着的牛车沿路而行，载着一些干草； 一个男孩坐在干草上，一个男人正在驾驶这辆车，引起了很大的噪音。 它们在天空中清晰地突出，尤其是男孩脸部的轮廓； 他的鼻子和额头干净利落，温柔； 它是一张没有受过教育的脸，可能永远不会受教育； 它是一张未受污染的脸，尚未习惯辛勤地工作，也不习惯任何责任； 它是一张笑脸。晴朗的天空倒映在上面。 走在这条路上，冥想似乎是一件最自然的事情； 有一种热情和清晰，这种场合适合这种状态。 思想是一种能量的浪费，感觉也是。 思想和感觉邀请分心 而专注变成了防御性的自我沉溺，就像一个孩子沉迷于他的玩具一样。 玩具很迷人，他迷失在其中；拿走它，他变得焦躁不安。 大人也一样；他们的玩具是各种的逃跑路线。 在这条路上，思想和它的感觉并没有吸引力； 它不是自我产生的能量，所以，它结束了。 大脑变得安静，就像没有微风时，水变得安静一样。 它是创造发生之前的静止。 在那座山上，就在附近，一只猫头鹰开始轻轻地叫唤。 却突然停了下来，在高空中，一只棕色的鹰正在穿越山谷。 具有意义的是静止的品质；诱导的静止是停滞； 买来的静止是一种几乎没有任何价值的商品； 一种源于控制、纪律的静止， 压抑是绝望的喧嚣。 山谷里和脑海里都没有声音， 但头脑超越了山谷和时间。 而且没有回头，因为它没有离开。安静是虚无的深邃。
At the bend of the road, the road gently goes down across a couple of bridges over dry red riverbeds, to the other side of the valley. The bullock cart had gone down that road; some villagers were coming up it, shy and noiseless; there were children playing in the riverbed and a bird kept on calling. Just as the road turned east, that otherness came. It came pouring down in great waves of benediction, splendid and immense. It seemed as though the heavens opened and out of this immensity came the unnameable; it had been there all day, one realized suddenly and only now, walking alone, with the others a little way off, did one realize the fact, and what made it extraordinary was this thing that was happening; it was the culmination of what had been going on and not an isolated incident. There was light, not of the setting sun nor powerful artificial light; this makes shadows but there was light without shadow and it was light.
在这条路的拐弯处， 平缓地穿过了干涸的红色河床上的几座桥， 到达山谷的另一边。 这辆牛车已经沿着那条路走了。 一些村民走上来，害羞而无声； 有孩子在河床上玩耍，一只鸟不停地叫。 就在路转向东方时，那个异类来了。 它带着巨大的祝福，如同洪水倾泻而下，壮观而浩瀚。 如同天开了，从这浩瀚中，出现了不可名状的东西； 它在那里待了一整天， 一个人突然意识到，直到现在，独自走着，其他的人离得远一点， 一个人意识到这个事实， 使它变得非凡的是正在发生的这件事； 它是正在发生的事情的高潮，而不是一个孤立的事件。 那里有光，不是夕阳，也不是强大的人造光； 这会产生阴影，而那是有没有阴影的光，它就是光。
A deep-throated owl was hooting in the hills; its deep voice penetrated the room and quickened hearing. Except for these hoots everything was still; there was not even the croak of a frog or the rustle of some passing animal. The silence intensified between the hoots which came from the southern hills; they filled the valley and the hills and the air throbbed with the call. It wasn't answered for a very long time and when it came, it was way down the valley to the west; between them, they held the silence and the beauty of the night. Dawn would come presently but now it was dark; you could see the outlines of the hill and that huge banyan tree. The Pleiades and Orion were setting in a clear, cloudless sky; the air was fresh by a short shower of rain; it had a perfume that comes of old trees, rain, flowers and very ancient hills. It was really a marvellous morning. What was outside was taking place inside and meditation is really a movement of both, undivided. The many systems of meditation merely trap the mind in a pattern offering marvellous escapes and sensations; it is only the immature that play with them, getting a great deal of satisfaction from them. Without self-knowing all meditation leads to delusion and to varying forms of self-deception, factual and fancied. It was a movement of intense energy, that energy which conflict will never know. Conflict perverts and dissipates energy, as ideals and conformity do. Thought was gone and with it feeling but the brain was alive and fully sensitive. Every movement, action with a motive is inaction; it is this inaction that corrupts energy. Love with motive ceases to be love; there is love without motive. The body was completely motionless and the brain utterly still and both were actually aware of everything but there was neither thought nor motion. It was not a form of hypnosis, an induced state because there was nothing to be gained by it, no visions, sensations, all that silly business. It was a fact and a fact has no pleasure or pain. And the movement was lost to all recognition, to the known.
一只深喉猫头鹰在山上嘶吼； 它低沉的声音穿透这房间，被迅速地听见。 除了这嘶吼，一切都静止了。 甚至没有青蛙的呱呱叫声，或者一些路过的动物的沙沙声。 来自南部山丘的嘶吼声加剧了这寂静。 它们充满了山谷和山丘，空气随着呼唤而悸动。 很久没有回答，当它回应的时候，它已经沿着山谷向西走去。 在它们之间，它们保持着夜晚的寂静和美丽。 黎明会来临，但现在天是黑的； 你可以看到山丘和那棵巨大的榕树的轮廓。 昴星团和猎户座在晴朗无云的天空中下降； 一阵短雨让空气清新； 它有一种来自老树、雨水、鲜花和非常古老的山丘的香味。 它真的是一个奇妙的早晨。 外面的事情发生在里面，冥想实际上是两者的运动，不可分割。 许多冥想系统只是将这颗头脑困在一种模式中，提供奇妙的逃避和感觉； 只有不成熟的人才和他们一起玩，从他们那里得到很大的满足感。 没有自我认识，所有的冥想都会导致妄想和各种形式的自我欺骗，无论是在事实上，还是在幻想中。 它是剧烈能量的一种移动，這種能量是衝突永遠不會知道的。 冲突会歪曲和消耗能量，就像理想和顺从一样。 思想消失了，随它而离去的是感觉，大脑却是活泼的，完全灵敏的。 每一个动作，带有一个动机的行为都是无所作为；正是这种无所作为污染了能量。 有动机的爱不再是爱；没有动机，有爱。 这具身体完全一动不动，大脑完全静止。 两者实际上都觉察到这一切，但既没有思想也没有移动。 它不是一种催眠形式，一种诱导状态 因为没有什么可以从中获得，没有愿景，感觉，所有那些愚蠢的把戏。 它是一个事实，一个事实没有快乐或痛苦。 这场运动失去了所有的辨识和已知。
Dawn was coming and with it came the otherness which is essentially part of meditation. A dog barked and the day had begun.
黎明来临了，随之而来的是异类，这是冥想最基本的一部分。 一只狗叫声，这一天开始了。
There are only facts, not greater or lesser facts. The fact, the what is, cannot be understood when approached with opinions or judgments; opinions, judgments, then become the fact and not the fact that you wish to understand. In pursuing the fact, in watching the fact, the what is, the fact teaches and its teaching is never mechanical, and to follow its teachings, the listening, the observation must be acute; this attention is denied if there is motive for listening. Motive dissipates energy, distorts it; action with a motive is inaction, leading to confusion and sorrow. Sorrow has been put together by thought and thought feeding upon itself forms the I and the me. As a machine has life, so does the I and the me, a life which is fed by thought and feeling. Fact destroys this machinery.
只有事实，没有更多或更少的事实。 这个事实，这个‘什么是’，无法被理解，当抱持着意见或判断而接近它时； 意见，判断，那么，变成了这个事实，而不是你想去理解的那个事实。 在追逐这个事实中，在观察这个事实、这个‘什么是’的时候， 这个事实教导，它的教导从来不是机械性的， 为了遵循它的教导，这种听，这种观察必须是敏锐的； 如果有去听的动机，这种注意就会被拒。 动机耗散能量，扭曲了它； 有动机的行为是不作为，导致困惑和悲伤。 悲伤被思想拼凑出来 思想以它自身为食，形成了这位‘我’和这个‘自我’。 正如一台机器有生命一样，这位我和自我也有生命，一种由思想和感觉喂养的生命。 事实摧毁这台机器。
Belief is so unnecessary, as are ideals. Both dissipate energy which is needed to follow the unfolding of the fact, the what is. Beliefs like ideals are escapes from the fact and in escape there is no end to sorrow. The ending of sorrow is the understanding of the fact from moment to moment. There is no system or method which will give understanding but only a choiceless awareness of a fact. Meditation according to a system is the avoidance of the fact of what you are; it is far more important to understand yourself, the constant changing of the facts about yourself, than to meditate in order to find god, have visions, sensations and other forms of entertainment.
信仰是如此的没有必要，理想也是如此。 两者都消耗能量，而追逐这个事实、这个‘什么是’的展开，需要能量。 信仰，如同理想，是对这个事实的逃避，在逃避中，悲伤永无止境。 悲伤的终结是每时每刻对这个事实的理解。 没有任何系统或方法可以提供理解，只有对这个事实的无选择地觉察。 根据一个系统而进行冥想，就是逃避这个事实，这个‘你是什么’； 更重要的是理解你自己， 关于你自己的这个事实，它在不断的变化， 而不是为了找到上帝，拥有异象、感觉和其他形式的娱乐而去冥想。
A crow was cawing its head off; it was sitting on the branch with thick foliage. It wasn't visible; other crows came and went but it went on hardly stopping its sharp, penetrating croak; it was angry with something or complaining about something. The leaves shook around it and even the few drops of rain didn't stop it. It was so completely absorbed in whatever it was that was disturbing it. It came out, shook itself and flew away, only to resume its biting complaint; presently, it got tired and rested. And from the same crow, in the same place came a different caw, subdued, somewhat friendly and inviting. There were other birds on the tree, the Indian cuckoo, a bright yellow bird with black wings, a silvery grey fat bird, one of many who was scratching at the foot of the tree. One of those small striped squirrels came along and went up the tree. They were all there in that tree but the crow's call was the loudest and most persistent. The sun came out of the clouds and the tree cast a heavy shadow and across the small, narrow dip in the land came the sounds of a flute, strangely moving.
一只乌鸦在歪着头叫。 它坐在树枝上，树叶茂密。 它不可见； 其他乌鸦来来去去，但它几乎没有停止尖锐的、穿透力强的叫声； 它对某事生气或抱怨某事。 树叶在它周围摇晃，即使是几滴雨水也没有阻止它。 它完全沉浸在其中，而不受那些打扰。 它出来了，摇晃着它自己，飞走了，只是怀着它苦涩的抱怨； 现在，它累了，消停了。 从同一只乌鸦那里，在同一个地方传来了不同的叫声，柔和，有些友好和诱人。 树上还有其他鸟，印度杜鹃， 一只长着黑色翅膀的亮黄色鸟，一只银灰色的肥鸟， 在树脚下抓挠，它是众多之一。 其中一只条纹小松鼠走过来，上了树。 他们都在那棵树上，但乌鸦的叫声是最响亮的，也是最持久的。 太阳从云层中出来，树投下沉重的阴影 穿过狭小的地沟，传来了笛子的声音，奇怪地移动着。
It had been cloudy all day, heavy dark clouds but they brought no rain and if it didn't rain heavily and for many hours, the people would suffer, the land would be empty and there would be no voices in the riverbed; the sun would bake the land, the green of these few weeks would disappear, the earth would be bare. It would be a disaster and all the villages around here would suffer; they were used to suffering, to deprivation, to go with little food. Rain was a blessing and if it didn't rain now there would be no rain for the next six months and the soil was poor, sandy, rocky. The rice fields would be watered from the wells and there would be the danger that they too might go dry. Existence was hard, brutal, with little pleasure. The hills were indifferent; they had seen sorrow from generation to generation; they had seen all the varieties of misery, the coming and the going for they were some of the most ancient hills in the world, and they knew and they couldn't do much. People cut down their forests, their trees for firewood and the goats destroyed their bushes and the people had to live. And they were indifferent; sorrow would never touch them; they were aloof, and though they were so close, they were far away. They were blue that morning and some were violet and grey in their greenness. They could offer no help though they were strong and beautiful with the sense of peace that comes, so naturally and easily, without deep inward intensity, complete and without roots, But there would be neither peace nor plenty if the rains didn't come. It is a terrible thing to depend for one's happiness on rain, and the rivers and irrigation canals were far away and government was busy with its politics and schemes. Water that is so alive with light and that dances tirelessly was needed, not words and hope.
整天都是多云的，乌云密布 但是他们没有带来雨，如果不下大雨，并持续数小时， 人们将受苦，土地将空虚，河床中将没有声音； 太阳会烘烤大地，这几周的绿色会消失，大地会光秃秃的。 这将是一场灾难，这里周围的所有村庄都将遭受损失； 他们习惯了痛苦，匮乏，吃不到食物。 下雨是一种祝福，如果现在不下雨 接下来的六个月不会下雨，土壤贫瘠，沙质化，岩石化。 稻田将从井中浇灌 而且它们也有可能干涸的危险。 生存是艰难的，残酷的，几乎没有快乐。 山丘无动于衷； 他们代代相传，悲哀； 他们见过各种各样的痛苦，来来去去 因为它们是世界上最古老的山丘之一， 它们知道，它们无能为力。 人们砍伐它们的森林，砍伐它们的树木作为柴火 山羊摧毁了它们的灌木丛，人们不得不生活。 它们无动于衷；悲伤永远不会触动它们； 它们很冷漠，虽然它们那么近，却离得很远。 那天早上它们是蓝色的，有些是紫色和灰色的绿色。 它们无法提供帮助 虽然它们坚强而美丽，但有和平的感觉 来得如此自然而容易， 没有深厚的内在强度，完整，没有根， 但是，如果没有雨水，就不会有和平或富足。 依靠雨水来维持幸福是一件可怕的事情， 河流和灌溉渠很远 政府忙于政治和计划。 需要的是充满光和不知疲倦地跳舞的水，而不是言语和希望。
It was drizzling and low on the hill was a rainbow, so delicate and fanciful; it circled just over the trees and across the northern hills. It didn't stay long for the drizzle was a passing thing but it had left so many drops on the mimosa-like leaves of the spreading tree close by. On these leaves, three crows were taking a bath, fluttering their black-grey wings to get the drops on the underpart of their wings and their bodies; they called to each other and there was pleasure in their caw; when there were no more drops, they moved to another part of the tree. Their bright eyes looked at you and their really black beaks were sharp; there is a little water running in one of the river beds close by and there is a leaky tap which forms a decent pool for birds; they were there often but these three crows must have taken a fancy to having their morning bath among the cool, refreshing leaves. It is a wide-spreading tree, beautiful in shape and many birds come to take shelter at noonday. There is always some bird in it, calling or chattering away or scolding. The trees are beautiful in life and in death; they live and have never thought of death; they are always renewing themselves.
下着毛毛雨，山丘的低处有一道彩虹，如此美妙而奇特； 它就在树上和北部的山丘上盘旋。 它没有持续多久，因为毛毛雨是一种易逝的东西； 但它留下了那么多的水滴，在附近蔓延的、如含羞草般的叶子上。 在这些树叶上，三只乌鸦正在洗澡， 扑腾着黑灰色的翅膀，让水滴落在它们的翅膀下部和身体上； 他们互相呼唤，他们的呐喊声中充满了快乐； 当不再有水滴时，他们移动到树的另一侧。 他们明亮的眼睛看着你，他们真正的黑色喙很锋利； 附近有一张河床有一点水流 还有一个漏水的水龙头，形成了一个像样的水池，提供给鸟类； 他们经常在那里 但是这三只乌鸦一定喜欢在凉爽清爽的树叶中洗澡。 它是一棵宽阔的树，形状优美，在中午，有许多鸟过来乘凉。 里面总有一些鸟儿在叫，或叽叽喳喳，或责骂。 树木在生与死中都是美丽的；它们活着，从未想过死亡； 它们总是在更新它们自己。
How easy it is to degenerate, in every way, to let the body waste, become sluggish, fat; to allow feelings to wither away; the mind allowing itself to become shallow, petty and dull. A clever mind is a shallow mind and it cannot renew itself and so withers away in its own bitterness; it decays by the exercise of its own brittle sharpness, by its own thought. Every thought shapes the mind in the mould of the known; every feeling, every emotion, however refined becomes wasteful and empty and the body fed on thought and feeling loses its sensibility. It is not physical energy, though it is necessary, that breaks through the wearying dullness; it is not enthusiasm or sentiment which bring about sensitivity of one's whole being; enthusiasm and sentiment corrupt. It is thought which is the disintegrating factor; for thought has its roots in the known. A life based on thought and its activities, becomes mechanical; however smoothly it may run, it is still mechanical action. Action with motive dissipates energy and so disintegration sets in. All motives, conscious or unconscious, generate from the known, life of the known, though projected into the future as the known, is decay; in that life there is no renewal. Thought can never bring about innocency and humility and yet it is innocency and humility that keep the mind young, sensitive, incorruptible. Freedom from the known is the ending of thought; to die to thought, from moment to moment, is to be free from the known. it is this death that puts an end to decay.
堕落，是多么容易， 在各个方面，让身体耗费，变得迟钝，肥胖； 允许感情去枯萎； 这颗头脑允许它自己变得肤浅、琐碎和迟钝。 一颗聪明的头脑是肤浅的，它无法更新它自己 这样一来，它在自己的苦涩中枯萎了； 通过它自己易碎的锋利，它自己的思想，使自己腐蚀。 每一个思想都在塑造这颗头脑，把它扔进已知事物的模子里； 每一种感觉，每一种情感，无论多么精美，都变得浪费和空虚 以思想和感觉为食的这具身体，失去了它的灵敏。 它不是身体的能量，尽管它是必要的，以打破因疲惫而产生的迟钝； 它不是热情或情感，那种带来一个人整个存在的敏感性； 热情和情感是腐败。 思想是瓦解的因子； 因为思想植根于已知。 基于思想及其活动的生命，变得机械化； 无论它运行得多么平稳，它仍然是机械化的行为。 有动机的行为耗散能量，因此瓦解开始。 所有的动机，无论是有意识的还是无意识的，都源于已知， 已知的生命，尽管用知识投射出这个未来，是腐朽的； 在那种生命中，没有更新。 思想永远不能带来纯真和谦卑 然而，正是纯真和谦卑，使这颗头脑保持年轻、敏感、不朽。 摆脱已知，就是思想的终结； 朝着思想而死，从这一刻到下一刻，就是从已知中解放。 正是这种死亡，结束了腐朽。
There is a huge boulder which projects itself from the southern hills; it changes its colour from hour to hour, it is red, highly polished marble of deep rose, a dull brick red, a rain-washed, sunburnt terra cotta, a grey of mossy green, a flower of many hues and sometimes it seems just a block of rock without any life. It is all these things, and this morning, just as dawn was making the clouds grey, this rock was a fire, a flame among the green bushes; it is moody as a spoiled person but its moods are never dark, threatening; it has always colour, flamboyant or quiet, shouting or smiling, welcoming or withdrawn. It might be one of the gods that is worshipped but it is still a rock of colour and dignity. All these hills seem to have something special to each one of them, none of them is too high, they are hard in a hard climate, they seem to be sculptured and exploding. They seem to go with the valley, not too large, far away from towns and traffic, green when it rains and arid; the beauty of the valley is the trees in the green rice fields. Some of the trees are massive, big of trunk and branch and they are splendid in their shape; others are waiting, expectantly, for the rain, stunted but slowly growing; others are full of leaves and shade. There are not too many of them but these that survive are really quite beautiful. The earth is red and the trees are green and the bushes very close to the red earth. They all survive in the rainless, harsh sunny days of many months and when it does rain, their rejoicings shatter the quietness of the valley; every tree and every bush is shouting with life and the green leaf is quite incredible; the hills too join and the whole earth becomes the glory that is.
这里有一块巨大的圆石，从南部的山丘上，把它自己的影子投射出来； 每一小时，它都会改变颜色， 它是红色，高度光滑的大理石，深玫瑰的、暗淡的砖红色， 被雨水冲刷，有晒裂的红岩片，有苔绿色的灰， 一朵多种色调的花，有时，它似乎只是一块没有任何生命的岩石。 它就是这一切，这天早上，就在黎明使乌云变灰的时候， 这块岩石是一团火，是绿色灌木丛中的火焰； 它喜怒无常，像一个被宠坏的人一样，但它的情绪从不黑暗的、威慑性的； 它总是色彩缤纷的，华丽的，或安静的，大喊大叫或微笑，欢迎或退缩的。 它可能是被崇拜的神之一 但它仍然是一块有着色彩和尊严的岩石。 似乎，所有这些山丘都有特别之处， 它们都不是太高，它们在恶劣的气候中很坚强， 它们似乎是被雕刻和爆炸的。 它们似乎与山谷同行，不算太大，远离城镇和交通，下雨则绿，干旱； 山谷的美，在于绿色稻田中的树木。 有些树很大，树干和树枝很粗，形态壮丽； 其他则满怀期待地等待着雨水，发育不良但缓慢生长； 其他则充满了树叶和阴影。 它们的数量不多，但幸存下来的它们，真的非常漂亮。 大地是红色的，树木是绿色的，灌木丛接近红土的颜色。 它们都在无雨的、炎热的岁月里存活下来了 当下雨时，它们的欢呼打破了山谷的宁静； 每一棵树，每一丛灌木都在呼喊着生命，绿叶相当不可思议； 山峦也加入了，整个大地球变成了这荣光。
There was not a sound in the valley; it was dark and there wasn't a leaf moving; dawn would come in an hour or so. meditation is not self-hypnosis, by words or thought, by repetition or image; all imagination of every kind must be put aside for they lead to delusion. The understanding of facts and not theories, not the pursuits of conclusions and adjustments to them and the ambitions of visions. All these must be set aside and meditation is the understanding of these facts and so going beyond them. Self-knowing is the beginning of meditation; otherwise so-called meditation leads to every form of immaturity and silliness. It was early and the valley was asleep. On waking, meditation was the continuation of what had been going on; the body was without a movement; it was not made to be quiet but it was quiet; there was no thought but the brain was watchful, without any sensation; neither feeling nor thought existed. And a timeless movement began. Word is time, indicating space; word is of the past or the future but the active present has no word. The dead can be put into words but the living cannot. Every word used to communicate about the living is the denial of the living. It was a movement that passed through and between the walls of the brain but the brain had no contact with it; it was incapable of pursuit or of recognition. This movement was something that was not born out of the known; the brain could follow the known as it could recognize it but here no recognition, of any kind, was possible. A movement has direction but this had no direction; it was not static. Because it was without direction, it was the essence of action. All direction is of influence or of reaction. But action which is not the outcome of reaction, push, or pull, is total energy. This energy, love, has its own movement. But the word love, the known, is not love. There is only the fact, the freedom from the known. Meditation was the explosion of the fact.
这个山谷里，没有声音。 天黑了，没有一片树叶在动；黎明将在一小时左右到来。 冥想不是自我催眠，通过语言或思想，通过重复或图像； 所有各种想象都必须放在一边，因为它们会导致妄想。 理解事实，而不是理论， 而不是追逐结论，调整结论，适应愿景的雄心。 所有这一切都必须放在一旁，冥想就是对这些事实的理解，因而超越它们。 自我认识是冥想的开始； 否则，所谓的冥想导致各种形式的不成熟和愚蠢。 时间还早，山谷在睡觉。 醒来时，冥想在继续，这正在发生的事情； 这具身体没有动静； 它不是被安静，而是安静； 没有思想，但大脑是警惕的，没有一丝感觉； 既不存在感觉，也不存在思想。 一场非时间的运动开始了。 言词是时间，指示出空间； 言词是过去或未来，但活跃的现在没有言词。 死物可以用言词表达，但活的则不能。 用来传达关于活物的每一个言词，都是对活物的拒绝。 它是一个运动，穿过了这颗大脑的墙壁； 但这颗大脑没有与它接触；它无法追求或辨识。 这场运动并非源于已知； 大脑可以遵循已知，因为它可以识别它 但在这里，任何形式的识别都是不可能的。 运动有方向，但它没有方向；它不是静态的。 因为它没有方向，所以它是行为的本质。 一切方向都是影响或反应。 但是，这个行为不是反应，不是推或拉，它是完整的能源。 这种能源，爱，有它自己的运动。但‘爱’这个词，是已知的，不是爱。 只有这个事实，从已知中解脱的自由。 冥想是这个事实的这种爆发。
Our problems multiply and continue; the continuation of a problem perverts and corrupts the mind. A problem is a conflict, an issue which has not been understood; such problems become scars and innocency is destroyed. Every conflict has to be understood and so ended. One of the factors of deterioration is the continued life of a problem; every problem breeds another problem, and a mind burnt with problems, personal or collective, social or economic, is in a state of deterioration.
我们的问题成倍增加，并延续着； 问题的延续，扭曲和腐蚀着这颗头脑。 一个问题就是一个冲突，一个尚未被理解的事情； 这些问题成为伤疤，纯真被摧毁。 每一个冲突都必须被理解并因此结束。 恶化的因素之一，就带着问题的延续下来的生命； 每个问题都滋生出另一个问题， 一个被私人或集体的、社会或经济的问题灼伤的头脑， 就处于一种恶化的状态。
Sensitivity and sensation are two different things. Sensations, emotions, feelings always leave a residue, whose accumulation dulls and distorts. Sensations are always contradictory and so conflicting; conflict always dulls the mind, perverts perception. The appreciation of beauty in terms of sensation, of like and dislike, is not to perceive beauty; sensation can only divide as beauty and ugliness but division is not beauty. Because sensations, feelings, breed conflict, to avoid conflict, discipline, control, suppression, have been advocated but this only builds resistance and so increases conflict and brings about greater dullness and insensitivity. The saintly control and suppression is the saintly insensitivity and brutal dullness which is so highly regarded. To make the mind more stupid and dull, ideals and conclusions are invented and spread around. All forms of sensations, however refined or gross, cultivate resistance and a withering away. Sensitivity is the dying to every residue of sensation; to be sensitive, utterly and intensely, to a flower, to a person, to a smile, is to have no scar of memory, for every scar destroys sensitivity. To be aware of every sensation, feeling, thought as it arises, from moment to moment, choicelessly, is to be free from scars, never allowing a scar to be formed. Sensations, feelings, thoughts are always partial, fragmentary and destructive. Sensitivity is a total of body, mind and heart.
灵敏和感受是两个不同的东西。 感受，情感，情绪，感觉总是留下一种残余，这些积累物迟钝和扭曲。 感受总是矛盾的，所以有冲突； 冲突总是使头脑迟钝，扭曲感知。 用感受上的喜欢和不喜欢来领悟美，就不是在感知美； 感受只能去划分，划分美和丑，但划分不是美。 因为，感受、感觉，在滋生出冲突， 为了避免冲突，纪律、控制、镇压，一直被提倡 但这只会建立抵抗， 进而增强冲突，带来了更大的沉闷和不灵敏。 神圣的控制和压抑，是神圣的不灵敏和残酷的迟钝，却受到如此高的尊重。 为了使这颗头脑更加愚蠢和迟钝，理想和结论被发明，并传播开来。 所有形式的感受，无论多么精巧或粗暴，都在培养抵抗，并枯萎。 灵敏是这种死亡，对每一种感受的残余物； 对一朵花，对一个人，对一个微笑，完全而强烈地敏感， 就是没有记忆的伤疤，因为每一个伤疤都毁灭敏感。 意识到每一种感受、感觉、思想，当它升起时，每时每刻地，无选择地， 就是解散伤疤，绝不允许一个疤痕成形。 感受、感觉、思想总是片面的、零碎的和破坏性的。 敏感，是身体、头脑和心灵的完整。
Knowledge is mechanical and functional; knowledge, capacity, used to acquire status, breeds conflict, antagonism, envy. The cook and the ruler are functions and when status is stolen by either, then begin the quarrels, snobbery and the worship of position, function and power. Power is always evil and it is this evil that corrupts society. The psychological importance of function breeds the hierarchy of status. To deny hierarchy is to deny status; there is hierarchy of function but not of status. Words are of little importance but fact is of immense significance. Fact never brings sorrow but words covering the fact and escapes from it, do breed untold conflict and misery.
知识是机械性的和职能化的； 知识，能力，被用来获取地位，滋生出冲突，对抗，嫉妒。 厨师和统治者是职能，当地位被任何一方窃取时， 那么，开始了争吵，趋炎附势，崇拜地位、职能和权力。 权力总是邪恶的，正是这种邪恶，在腐蚀社会。 职能在心理上的重要性孕育出地位的等级制度。 拒绝等级制度，就是否定地位； 有职能上的等级，却没有地位上的等级。 言词不重要，但事实具有巨大的意义。 事实永远不会带来悲伤，但掩盖事实并逃避事实的言词，确实会滋生无尽的冲突和痛苦。
A whole group of cattle were feeding on the green land; they were all brown of different shades and when they moved together it was as though the earth moved. They are quite big, indolent and pestered by flies; these are specially cared for, well fed, unlike the village cattle; those are bone-thin small, yielding very little, rather smelly and seem to be everlastingly hungry. There is always some boy or a little girl with them, shouting at them, talking to them, calling them. Everywhere life is hard, there is disease and death. There is an old woman who goes by every day, carrying a little pot of milk or food of some kind; she seems to be shy, without teeth; her clothes are dirty and there is misery on her face; occasionally she smiles but it is rather forced. She is from the village nearby and always barefooted; they are surprisingly small feet and hard but there is fire in her; she is a wiry old lady. Her gentle walk is not at all gentle. Everywhere there is misery and a forced smile. The gods have gone except in the temples and the powerful of the land never have eyes for that woman. But it rained, a long and heavy shower and the clouds hold the hills. The trees follow the clouds and the hills were pursuing them and man is left behind.
在这片绿色的土地上，整个牛群都在找吃的； 它们都是不同色调的棕色 当它们一起移动时，就好像地球在移动一样。 它们很大，懒惰，被苍蝇纠缠； 这些是特别关照的，吃得饱，不像村里的牛； 它们瘦如骨头，产量很小，相当臭，似乎永远饿着肚子。 总有一些男孩或小女孩和它们在一起，对它们大喊大叫，和它们说话，叫喊着它们。 在生活艰苦的地方，到处都是疾病和死亡。 有一个老妇人每天都路过， 携带一小壶牛奶或某种食物；她似乎很害羞，没有牙齿； 她的衣服脏兮兮的，脸上带着痛苦； 偶尔她会微笑，但那是强迫的。 她来自附近的村庄，总是赤脚； 他们的脚出奇地小，很硬，但她身上有火；她是个瘦弱的老太太。 她温柔的步子一点也不温柔。到处都是痛苦和强迫的微笑。 众神已经走了，除了在寺庙中的 而这片土地上的强者，从来不会盯着那个女人。 但是下雨了，一场漫长而沉重的阵雨，云层笼罩着山丘。 树木跟随着云朵，山丘在追逐它们，人被抛在后面。
It was dawn; the hills were in clouds and every bird was singing, calling, screeching, a cow was bellowing and a dog howled. It was a pleasant morning, the light was soft and the sun was behind the hills and clouds. And a flute was being played under the old, big banyan tree; it was accompanied by a small drum. The flute dominated the drum and filled the air; by its very soft, gentle notes, it seemed to penetrate into your very being; you listened to it though other sounds were coming to you; the varying throbs of the little drum came to you on the waves of the flute and the harsh call of the crow came with the drum. Every sound penetrates, some you resist and others you welcome, the unpleasant and the pleasant and so you lose. The voice of the crow came with the drum and the drum rode on the delicate note of the flute and so the whole sound was able to go deeply beyond all resistance and pleasure. And in that there was great beauty, not the beauty which thought and feeling know. And on that sound rode the exploding meditation; and in that meditation, the flute, the throbbing drum, the harsh caw of the crow and all the things of the earth joined in and thereby gave depth and vastness to the explosion. Explosion is destructive and destruction is the earth and life, as love is. That note of the flute is explosive, if you let it be, but you won't for you want a safe, secure life and so life becomes a dull affair; having made it dull, then you try to give significance, purpose to the ugliness, with its trivial beauty. And so music is something to be enjoyed, arousing a lot of feeling, as football or some religious ritual does. Feeling, emotion, is wasteful and so easily turned to hate. But love is not sensation, a thing captured by feeling. Listening completely, without resistance, without any barrier is the miracle of explosion, shattering the known, and to listen to that explosion, without motive, without direction is to enter where thought, time, cannot pursue.
天亮了。山丘被云雾笼罩 每只鸟都在唱歌，回应着，尖叫着，一头牛在咆哮，一只狗在嚎叫。 它是一个宜人的早晨，光线柔和，阳光在山丘和云层后面。 在老大榕树下有人吹笛子； 伴随着一个小鼓。 笛子主宰着鼓，弥漫在空气中； 通过它非常柔和、温柔的音符，它似乎渗透到你的存在中； 你听着它，尽管其他声音正在向你袭来； 在笛子的波浪中，小鼓的各种悸动来到你身边 乌鸦刺耳的叫声，随着鼓声传来。 每一个声音都穿透，有些是你抗拒的，有些是你欢迎的， 不愉快的和愉快的，所以你遗失了。 乌鸦的声音随着鼓声传来，鼓骑在笛子的精致音符上 因此，整个声音能够深入，超越所有的抵抗和快乐。 其中，有巨大的美，而不是思想和感觉所知道的美。 在那声音上，骑上爆炸性的冥想； 在那冥想中，笛子，悸动的鼓声， 乌鸦和地上万物的刺耳叫声加入了 从而赋予了爆炸的深度和广阔。 爆炸是毁灭性的，毁灭就是这大地和生命，如同爱。 笛子的那个音符是爆炸性的，如果你让它生出，但你不会 因为你想要一个安全的、有保障的生命，所以生命变成了一个沉闷的东西； 使得它沉闷，然后，你试图给这种丑陋和它琐碎的美以意义和目的。 因此，音乐成为某个可以被享受的，能唤起很多感觉的东西， 就像足球或某些宗教仪式一样。 感觉，情感，是耗散性的，很容易转变成仇恨。 但爱不是感受，不是一种能被感觉捕捉到的东西。 完全地听，没有阻力，没有任何的障碍 是爆炸的奇迹，粉碎已知， 听那个爆炸，没有动机，没有方向，就是进入那思想和时间无法追求的地方。
The valley is probably about a mile wide at its narrowest point, where the hills come together and they run east and west, though one or two hills prevent the others from running freely; they are to the west; where the sun comes from is open, hill after hill. These hills fade into the horizon with precision and height; they seem to have that strange quality of blue-violet that comes with vast age and hot sun. In the evening these hills catch the light of the setting sun and then they become utterly unreal, marvellous in their colour; then the eastern sky has all the colour of the setting sun, you might think that the sun went down there. It was an evening of light pink and dark clouds. The moment one stepped out of the house, talking with another of quite different things, that otherness, that unknowable, was there. It was so unexpected, for one was in the midst of a serious conversation and it was there with such urgency. All talk came to an end, very easily and naturally. The other did not notice the change in the quality of the atmosphere and went on saying something which needed no reply. We walked that whole mile almost without a word and we walked with it, under it, in it. It is wholly the unknown, though it comes and goes; all recognition has stopped for recognition is still the way of the known. Each time there is "greater" beauty and intensity and impenetrable strength. This is the nature of love too.
在山谷最窄处，大概有一英里宽， 山丘在那里汇聚，并向东和向西延伸， 虽然一两个山丘阻止了其他山丘的自由奔跑； 他们往西； 太阳升起的地方是开阔的，一山又一山。 这些山丘带着精确和高度，消失于地平线； 它们似乎具有蓝紫色的奇怪品质，伴随着巨大的岁月和炎热的阳光。 傍晚时分，这些山丘捕捉到落日的光芒 然后，它们变得完全的不真实，它们的光色很是奇妙； 接着，东方的天空有夕阳的所有色彩，你可能会认为太阳从那里下山。 那是一个浅粉色和乌云密布的夜晚。 当一个人走出家门，与另一个人谈论完全不同的东西时， 那个异类，那种不可知的，就在那里。 它太出乎意料了，因为一个人正在进行一场严肃的谈话，而且它是如此紧迫。 所有的谈话都结束了，非常轻松和自然。 另一个没有注意到气氛中品质的变化 然后继续说一些不需要回答的话。 我们几乎一言不发地走了整整一英里，我们与它一起走着，在它的下面，在它的里面。 它完全是未知的，尽管它来来去去； 所有的认知都停止了，因为认知仍然是已知的方式。 每一次，都有‘更大’的美和强度，以及坚不可摧的力量。 这也是爱的本质。
It was a very quiet evening, the clouds had gone and were gathering around the setting sun. The trees made restless by the breeze were settling down for the night; they too had become quiet; the birds were coming in, taking shelter for the night among the trees that had thick foliage. There were two small owls, sitting high up on the wires, with their unblinking eyes, staring. And as usual, the hills stood alone and aloof far away from every kind of disturbance; during the day they had to put up with the noises of the valley but now they withdrew from all communication, and darkness was closing in upon them, though there was the feeble light of the moon. The moon had a halo of vaporous clouds round it; everything was preparing to go to sleep save the hills. They never slept; they were always watching, waiting, looking and communing amongst themselves, endlessly. Those two little owls on the wire made rattling noises, stones in a metal box; their rattling was far louder than their little bodies, like large fists; you would hear them in the night, going from tree to tree, their flight as silent as the big ones. They flew off the wire flying low, just above the bushes, rising again to the lower branches of the tree, and from a safe distance they would watch and soon lose interest. On the crooked pole further down was a large owl; it was brown with enormous eyes and with a sharp beak that seemed to come out between those staring eyes. It flew off with a few beats of its wings, with such a quietness and deliberation that it made you wonder at the structure and the strength of those graceful wings; it flew off into the hills and lost itself in darkness. This must be the owl, with its mate that has the deep hoot, calling to the other in the night; last night they must have gone into the other valleys beyond the hills; they would come back, for their home was in one of those northern hills where you could hear their early evening calls if you happened to pass by quietly. Beyond these hills were more fertile lands, with green, luscious rice fields.
这是一个非常安静的夜晚，乌云已经消失，并开始在夕阳周围聚集。 被微风吹得焦躁不安的树木正在安顿下来过夜； 他们也变得安静了。 鸟儿进来了，在树叶茂密的树林中庇护过夜。 有两只小猫头鹰，高高地坐在电线上，眼睛一眨不眨，盯着。 像往常一样，山丘孤零零地矗立着，远离各种干扰； 白天，他们不得不忍受山谷的噪音 但现在他们退出了所有交流， 黑暗正在向他们逼近，尽管有微弱的月光。 月亮周围有一圈蒸汽云；一切都在准备睡觉，除了山丘。 他们从不睡觉； 他们总是在观察、等待、观看，无休止地交流。 电线上的那两只小猫头鹰发出嘎嘎作响的声音，如同金属盒中的石头在响； 它们的嘎嘎声远远超过他们小小的身体，像大拳头； 你会在夜里听到它们，从一棵树到另一棵树，它们的飞行像大树一样无声。 他们离开电线往低处飞，刚好比灌木丛高一点，再次升到这棵树较低的枝桠上， 在一个安全距离内，他们会观察，不久就失去了兴趣。 在更远处的弯曲杆子上，有一只大猫头鹰； 它是棕色的，有一双巨大的眼睛，尖锐的喙似乎从那双凝视的眼睛之间伸出来。 它拍打几下翅膀，飞走了，带着如此的安静和深思熟虑 它使你惊叹于那些优雅的翅膀的结构和力量； 它飞到山上，迷失在黑夜中。 肯定是这只猫头鹰与它的同伴，有深沉的叫声，在昨夜呼唤着对方； 昨晚，他们一定进入了山丘以外的其他山谷； 他们会回来， 因为他们的家在北部的一座山丘上 如果你碰巧安静地经过，你可以听到他们傍晚的呼叫。 在这些山丘之外，是更肥沃的土地，有绿色的、甜美的稻田。
Questioning has become merely a revolt, a reaction to what is and all reactions have little meaning. The communists revolt against the capitalists, the son against the father; the refusal to accept the social norm, to break through the economic and class bondage. Perhaps, these revolts are necessary but yet they are not very deep; instead of the old, a new pattern is repeated and in the very breaking of the old a new one is, closing in the mind and so destroying it, The endless revolt within the prison is the questioning reaction of the immediate, and remodelling and redecorating the prison walls seems to give us such intense satisfaction that we never break through the walls. The questioning discontent is within the walls, which doesn't get us very far; it would take you to the moon and to the neutron bombs but all this is still within the call of sorrow. But the questioning of the structure of sorrow and going beyond it is not the escape of reaction. This questioning is far more urgent than going to the moon or to the temple; it is this questioning that tears down the structure and not the building of a new and more expensive prison, with its gods and saviours, with its economists and leaders. This questioning destroys the machinery of thought and not the substitution of one by another thought, conclusion, theory. This questioning shatters authority, the authority of experience, word and the most respected evil power. This questioning, which is not born of reaction, of choice and motive, explodes the moral, respectable self-centred activity; it is this activity that is always being reformed and never smashed. This endless reformation is the endless sorrow. What has cause and motive inevitably breeds agony and despair.
质疑已经变成了一种反抗，一种对‘什么是’的反应。 而所有反应，都没什么意义。 共产党人反抗资本家，儿子反抗父亲； 拒绝接受社会规范，拒绝以打破经济和阶级束缚。 也许，这些反抗是必要的，但它们是不深刻的； 这个旧的，被新的模式所替代 在打破旧的那一刻，一个新的出现了，并封闭了这颗头脑，从而毁灭了它， 在这个监狱内，这种无休止的反抗是争对眼前事物的、带有质疑性质的反应， 并改造和重新装修这个监狱的围墙 这似乎给我们带来如此强烈的满意感，以至于我们从未打破这些围墙。 质疑性的不满，是在墙内，并没有使我们走得很远； 它会带你去月球和中子弹 但这一切，依然在悲伤的呼唤之内。 但是，去质疑悲伤的结构，并超越它，不是对反应性的逃避。 这种质疑远比去月球或寺庙更紧迫； 正是这种质疑撕毁了这种结构， 而没有去建造一个新的、更昂贵的监狱， 并给它配置它的神灵和救世主们，配置它的财务专家和领导团队。 这种质疑，摧毁了思想的机制 而不是用别的思想、结论、理论去替代。 这种质疑粉碎权威、体验、言词和最受尊敬的邪恶的权力。 这种质疑， 不是出于反应、选择和动机，它炸毁这种道德的、受人尊敬的、以自我为中心的活动； 正是这种活动一直在改革，却没被粉碎。 这种无休止的改革，是无尽的悲伤。 那种有原因和动机的东西，不可避免地滋生出痛苦和绝望。
We are afraid of this total destruction of the known, the ground of the self, the me and the mine; the known is better than the unknown, the known with its confusion, conflict and misery; freedom from this known may destroy what we call love, relationship, joy and so on. Freedom from the known, the explosive questioning, not of reaction, ends sorrow, and so love then is something that thought and feeling cannot measure.
我们害怕这种对已知的彻底破坏，这种对自我、这位‘我’和‘我的’的地基的炸毁； 已知比未知更好，已知以及它的困惑、冲突和痛苦； 从这已知中解放，可能会毁灭我们所谓的爱、关系、快乐等等。 从这已知中解放，这种爆炸性的质疑，而不属于反应，终结了悲伤， 因此，爱是某种东西，那种思想和感觉无法衡量的。
Our life is so shallow and empty, petty thoughts and petty activities, woven in conflict and misery and always journeying from the known to the known, psychologically demanding security. There is no security in the known however much one may want it. Security is time and there is no psychological time; it is a myth and an illusion, breeding fear. There is nothing permanent now or in the hereafter, in the future. By right questioning and listening, the pattern moulded by thought and feeling, the pattern of the known, is shattered. Self-knowing, knowing the ways of thought and feeling, listening to every movement of thought and feeling, ends the known. The known breeds sorrow, and love is the freedom from the known.
我们的生命是那么的浅薄和空虚， 琐碎的思想和琐碎的活动，在冲突和悲伤中交织； 并且总是从已知到已知，在心理上，要求着安全。 在已知中，没有安全，无论一个人多么地想要它。 安全是时间，然而，没有心理上的时间； 它是一个神话，一种幻觉，滋生出恐惧。 现在或在将来，都没有什么是永恒的。 通过正确的质疑和听， 这种由思想和感觉塑造的模式，这种已知的模式，被粉碎了。 自我认识，意识到思想和感觉的方式， 听见思想和感觉的每一个动作，终结这已知。 这个已知，滋生出悲伤，而爱，是解放已知的自由。
The earth was the colour of the sky; the hills, the green, ripening rice fields, the trees and the dry, sandy riverbed were the colour of the sky; every rock on the hills, the big boulders, were the clouds and they were the rocks. Heaven was the earth and the earth heaven; the setting sun had transformed everything. The sky was blazing fire, bursting in every streak of cloud, in every stone, in every blade of grass, in every grain of sand. The sky was ablaze with green, purple, violet, indigo, with the fury of flame. Over that hill it was a vast sweep of purple and gold; over the southern hills a burning delicate green and fading blues; to the east there was a counter sunset as splendid in cardinal red and burnt ochre, magenta and fading violet. The counter sunset was exploding in splendour as in the west; a few clouds had gathered themselves around the setting sun and they were pure, smokeless fire which would never die. The vastness of this fire and its intensity penetrated everything and entered the earth. The earth was the heavens and the heavens the earth. And everything was alive and bursting with colour and colour was god, not the god of man. The hills became transparent, every rock and boulder was without weight, floating in colour and the distant hills were blue, the blue of all the seas and the sky of every clime. The ripening rice fields were intense pink and green, a stretch of immediate attention. And the road that crossed the valley was purple and white, so alive that it was one of the rays that raced across the sky. You were of that light, burning, furious, exploding, without shadow, without root and word. And as the sun went further down, every colour became more violent, more intense and you were completely lost, past all recalling. It was an evening that had no memory.
大地，是天空的颜色； 山丘、绿色的、成熟的稻田、树木和干涸的沙质河床，是天空的颜色； 山上的每一块岩石，巨大的圆石，都是云，是这岩石。 天是地，地是天；夕阳转变这一切。 天空是炽热的火焰，在每一缕云彩中迸发， 在每一块石头上，在每一片草叶里，在每一粒沙中。 天空被绿色、紫色、紫色、靛蓝所燃烧，带着火焰的愤怒。 那山的头顶，是一抹巨大的紫色和金色。 在南部的山丘上，燃烧着精致的绿色和渐渐消失的蓝； 在东边，是一个反方向的日落，是朱红和烧焦的赭，洋红色和褪色的紫，灿烂。 如同反向的落日，在西天爆炸； 几朵云聚集在落日的周围 它们是纯净的，无烟的火，永远不会熄灭。 这火的浩瀚和强度穿透了一切，进入了大地。 大地是天，天是地。 一切都是活生生的，色彩缤纷，色彩是神，而不是人的神。 山丘变得透明， 每一块岩石和巨大的圆石都没有了重量，漂浮在色彩中 远处的山丘是蓝色的，是所有海洋的蓝，也是每一种气候的天。 成熟的稻田是浓郁的粉红和绿，是一瞬间倾注的延展。 穿过山谷的这条路，是紫色和白色， 如此鲜活，以至于它是一条划过天际的光。 你是那光，燃烧着，愤怒着，爆炸着，没有阴影，没有根和言词。 随着太阳越来越沉，每一种色彩变得更加暴动，更加强烈。 你完全地遗失了，穿过了所有的回响。 它是一个没有记忆的夜晚。
Every thought and feeling must flower for them to live and die; flowering of everything in you, the ambition, the greed, the hate, the joy, the passion; in the flowering there is their death and freedom. It is only in freedom that anything can flourish, not in suppression, in control and discipline; these only pervert, corrupt. Flowering and freedom is goodness and all virtue. To allow envy to flower is not easy; it is condemned or cherished but never given freedom. It is only in freedom the fact of envy reveals its colour, its shape, its depth, its peculiarities; if suppressed it will not reveal itself fully and freely. When it has shown itself completely, there is an ending of it only to reveal another fact, emptiness, loneliness, fear, and as each fact is allowed to flower, in freedom, in its entirety, the conflict between the observer and the observed ceases; there is no longer the censor but only observation, only seeing. Freedom can only be in completion not in repetition, suppression, obedience to a pattern of thought. There is completion only in flowering and dying; there is no flowering if there is no ending. What has continuity is thought in time. The flowering of thought is the ending of thought; for only in death is there the new. The new cannot be if there is no freedom from the known. Thought, the old, cannot bring into being the new; it must die for the new to be. What flowers must come to an end.
每一种思想和感觉都必须绽放，让他们成长并死亡； 绽放你的一切，你的雄心、你的贪婪、你的仇恨、欢乐、激情； 在这绽放中，有他们的死亡和自由。 只有在这自由中，每一个事物才能繁荣， 而不是在压压抑，在控制与纪律中；这些只能导致堕落、腐败。 绽放和自由，是善良和一切美德。 让嫉妒绽放，并不容易； 它受到谴责或珍藏，但从未给予自由。 只有在自由中，这个嫉妒的事实才会揭示它的色彩、它的形状、它的深度和特质； 如果被压制，它将不会完全和自由地暴露它自己。 当它完全展现它自己时， 它就有一个了结，只是揭示出另一个事实：空虚、孤独、恐惧， 当每个事实都被允许自由地、完整地绽放， 那么，观察者和被观察者之间的冲突消亡； 不再有审判长，只有观察，只有看。 自由只能是完整的，而不是在重复中，在压抑、服从某种思维模式中。 只有在绽放和死亡中，才有完整； 不结束，就无法绽放。 那延续下来的，是时间领域的思想。 思想的绽放，是思想的尽头；因为，只有在死亡中才有新的。 如果没有摆脱已知事物的自由，新的就不可能存在。 思想，这旧东西，不能带来新的；新的要出现，它必须死。 那绽放的，必定走到尽头。
It was very dark; the stars were brilliant in a cloudless sky and the mountain air was cool and fresh. The headlights caught the tall cacti and they were polished silver; the morning dew was upon them and they shone; the little plants were bright with the dew and the headlights made the green sparkle and flash with a green that was not of the day. Every tree was silent, mysterious and dreaming and unapproachable. Orion and the Pleiades were setting among the dark hills; even the owls were far away and silent; except for the noise of the car, the country was asleep; only the nightjars, with red sparkling eyes, caught by the headlights, sitting on the road, stared at us and flutteringly flew away. So early in the morning, the villages were asleep and the few people on the road had wrapped themselves up just showing their face; and were walking wearily from one village to another; they looked as though they had been walking all night; a few were huddled around a blaze, throwing long shadows across the road. A dog was scratching itself in the middle of the road; it wouldn't move and the car had to go around it. Then suddenly, the morning star showed itself; it was easily as large as a saucer, astonishingly bright and seemed to hold the east in sway. As it climbed, Mercury appeared, just below her, pale and overpowering. There was a slight glow and far away was the beginning of dawn. The road curved in and out, hardly ever straight and trees on either side of the road held it from wandering off into the fields. There were large stretches of water, to be used for irrigation purposes in the summer when water would be scarce. The birds were still asleep, except for one or two and as dawn came closer, they began to wake up, crows, vultures, pigeons and the innumerable small birds. We were climbing and went over a long wooded range; no wild animals crossed the road. And there were monkeys on the road now, a huge fellow, sitting under the large trunk of the tamarind; it never moved as we passed by though the others scampered off in every direction. There was a little one, it must have been a few days old, clinging to the belly of her mother who looked rather displeased with things. Dawn was yielding to day and the lorries that crashed by had turned off their lights. And now the villages were awake, people sweeping their front steps and throwing dirt in the middle of the road; many dogs still fast asleep right in the middle of the road; they seemed to prefer the very centre of the road; lorries went around them, cars and people. Women were carrying water from the well, with little children following them. The sun was getting hot and glary and the hills were harsh and there were fewer trees and we were leaving the mountains and going towards the sea in a flat, open country; the air was moist and hot and we were coming nearer the big, crowded, dirty city*** and the hills were far behind. [*** Madras. He went to stay in a house in seven acres of ground on the north bank of the Adyar River. This river flows into the Bay of Bengal, south of Madras. ]
漆黑一片； 无云的天空中，星星璀璨，这大山的空气凉爽而清新。 这辆车的大灯捕捉到高大的仙人掌，它们是抛光的银色； 晨露在他们身上，他们闪闪发光； 小小植物们带着露水而闪亮 大灯使绿色闪光，闪烁着不属于白天的绿色。 每一棵树都是寂静的，神秘的，梦幻的，无法接近的。 猎户座和昴星团在黑暗的山丘之间落下；就连猫头鹰也离得很远，沉默不语； 除了这辆汽车的噪音，乡村睡着了； 只有欧夜鹰们，红色的、闪光的眼睛， 被车灯捕获，坐在路上，盯着我们，飘飘然地飞走了。 离黎明还很早，村子里都睡着。 而路上的几个人，把自身裹起来，只是露出了脸； 疲惫地从一个村庄走到另一个村庄； 他们看起来好像走了一整夜； 有几个人挤在大火周围，在马路上投下长长的阴影。 一条狗在路中间抓挠自己； 它不会移动，汽车必须绕过它。 然后突然，晨星出现了。 它很轻松，像碟子一样大，明亮得惊人，似乎可以控制东方。 当它爬升时，水星出现在她下方，苍白而霸道。 有微微的光芒，远处是黎明的开始。 道路蜿蜒曲折，几乎从不笔直 道路两旁的树木阻止了它徘徊到田野里。 那里有大片的水， 在缺水的夏季用于灌溉。 鸟儿还在睡觉，除了一两只 随着黎明的临近，他们开始醒来，乌鸦，秃鹫，鸽子和无数的小鸟。 我们攀爬着，越过了一条长长的树林；没有过马路的野生动物。 现在，路上有猴子，一个巨大的家伙， 坐在罗望子的大树干下； 当我们经过时，它从未移动过，尽管其他猴子向各个方向飞奔而去。 有一个小家伙， 它一定只有几天大，紧紧抱着她母亲的肚子，她看起来对事情很不满意。 黎明渐渐降临，撞车的卡车已经关掉了灯。 现在村庄都醒了， 人们打扫门口的台阶，在路中间扔泥土； 许多狗仍然在路中间睡着了； 他们似乎更喜欢道路的正中心；卡车，汽车和人绕过他们。 妇女们从井里提水，小孩子跟在后面。 太阳越来越热，越来越刺眼，山丘很严酷。 而且树木少了 我们离开高山，从一个平坦、开阔的乡村朝向大海； 空气湿热 我们越来越接近那个庞大、拥挤、肮脏的城市*，山丘远远甩在后面。 [* 马德拉斯。他住在阿迪亚尔河北岸七英亩土地上的一所房子里。 这条河流入马德拉斯以南的孟加拉湾。]
The car was going fairly fast and it was a good place to meditate. To be free of the word and not to give too much importance to it; to see that the word is not the thing and the thing is never the word; not to get caught in the overtones of the word and yet use words with care and understanding; to be sensitive to words and not to be weighed down by them; to break through the verbal barrier and to consider the fact; to avoid the poison of words and feel the beauty of them; to put away all identification with words and to examine them, for words are a trap and a snare. They are the symbols and not the real. The screen of words acts as a shelter for the lazy, the thoughtless and the deceiving mind. Slavery to words is the beginning of inaction which may appear to be action and a mind caught in symbols cannot go far. Every word, thought, shapes the mind and without understanding every thought, mind becomes a slave to words and sorrow begins. Conclusions and explanations do not end sorrow.
车子开得相当快，是个冥想的好地方。 摆脱这个词，不要太重视它； 看，这个词不是这个东西，东西从来都不是这些文字； 不要陷入言词的泛音中，但要谨慎和理解地使用言词； 对言词敏感，不被言词压垮； 突破言词的障碍，考虑这个事实； 避免言词的毒害，感受文字的美； 放下所有对言词的认同并检查它们，因为文字是一个陷阱、一个圈套。 它们是符号，而不是这真实。 文字之屏，充当了懒惰、无知和欺诈的头脑的庇护所。 言语的奴役，是无所作为的开始 它看起来是行动，一个被符号困住的头脑走不远。 每一个词，每一个思想，塑造着这颗头脑 如果不理解每一个想法，这颗头脑就会成为文字的奴隶，那么，悲伤开始了。 结论和解释并不能结束悲伤。
Meditation is not a means to an end; there is no end, no arrival; it is a movement in time and out of time. Every system, method, binds thought to time but choiceless awareness of every thought and feeling, understanding their motives, their mechanism, allowing them to blossom is the beginning of meditation. When thought and feeling flourish and die, meditation is the movement beyond time. In this movement there is ecstasy; in complete emptiness there is love, and with love there is destruction and creation.
冥想不是一种抵达到终点的手段；没有终点，没有彼岸； 它是一个运动，在时间之内，并走出时间。 每个系统，方法，都把思想绑在时间之上 但是，无选择地觉察每一个想法和感觉， 理解它们的动机，它们的机理， 允许它们绽放，就是冥想的开始。 当思想和感觉繁茂和死亡，冥想就是超越时间的运动。 在这场运动中，有至乐； 在完全的虚无中，有爱，伴随着爱，就有毁灭和创造。