西川·《题王希孟青绿山水长卷《千里江山图》》英译

绿色和蓝色汇集成空山。有人行走其间，但依然是空山，就像行走的人没有面孔，但依然是人。谁也别想从这些小人儿身上认出自己，就像世间的真山真水，别想从王希孟那里得到敷衍了事的赞扬。王希孟认识这些画面上的小人儿，但没有一个是他自己。这些不是他自己的小人儿，没有一个他能叫出名字。小人儿们得到山，得到水，就像山得到绿松石和青金石，水得到浩淼和船只，就像宋徽宗得到十八岁的王希孟，只是不知道他将在画完《千里江山图》之后不久便会死去。山水无名。王希孟明白，无名的人物，更只是山水的点缀，就像飞鸟明白，自己在人类的游戏中可有可无。鸟儿在空中相见。与此同时，行走在山间的人各有各的方向，各有各的打算。这些小人儿穿着白衣，行走，闲坐，打鱼，贩运，四周是绿色和蓝色，就像今天的人们穿着黑衣，出现在宴会、音乐会和葬礼之上，四周是金色和金色。这些白衣小人儿从未出生，当然也就从未死去，就像王希孟这免于污染和侵略的山水乌托邦，经得起细细的品读。远离桎梏的人呵谈不上对自由的向往，未遭经验损毁的人呵谈不上遗忘。王希孟让打鱼的人有打不尽的鱼，让山坳里流出流不尽的水。在他看来，幸福，就是财富的多寡恰到好处，让人们得以在山水之间静悄悄地架桥，架水车，修路，盖房屋，然后静悄悄地居住，就像树木恰到好处地生长在山岗、水畔，或环绕着村落，环绕着人。远景中，树木像花儿一样。它们轻轻摇晃，就是清风送爽的时候。清风送爽，就是有人歌唱的时候。有人歌唱，就是空山成其为空山的时候。

After Wang Ximeng’s Blue and Green Horizontal Landscape Scroll, A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains

Xi Chuan

Green colors and blue colors flow together and form empty mountains. Some people are walking in them, but they’re still empty mountains, as if the people walking there have no faces, but they are still people. No one should try to recognize themselves in these figures, or try to see the real mountains and waters of this world, nor should anyone think of trying to gain casual praise from Wang Ximeng. Wang Ximeng knows these small figures, and that on one is he himself. These are not his figures, and he cannot call out a single one by name. The figures acquire the mountains and waters, just as the mountains acquire the emerald land lapis, just as the waters acquire vastness and boats, just as Emperor Huizong got Wang Ximeng at eighteen years old, not knowing that Wang would die soon after he finished this thousand miles of rivers and mountains. The mountains and waters are nameless. Wang Ximeng realizes that people without names are just decorations in mountains and waters, just as flying birds know they are insignificant to men’s games. And the birds meet in the sky. Meanwhile, people walking in the mountains have their own directions to travel and their own plans. These small figures, in white, walk, sit at leisure, go fishing, trade, surrounded by green colors and blue colors, just like, today, people, in black, go to banquets, concerts, and funerals, surrounded by golden colors and more golden colors. These small figures in white have never been born and so have never died; just like Wang Ximeng’s landscape utopia, they are immune to pollution and invasion, and that is worth careful consideration. So people who are far away from social controls have no need to long for freedom, and people who haven’t been destroyed by experience aren’t concerned about forgetting. Wang Ximeng let the fishermen have infinite numbers of fishes to go fishing; he allowed limitless waters to run out of the mountains. According to him, happiness means the exact amount of blessing so that, immersed in the silence between mountains and waters, people can build bridges, waterwheels, roads, houses, and live quietly, just like the trees growing appropriately in the mountains, along the margins of water, or surrounding a village, and surrounding people. In the distance, the trees are like flowers. When they sway, it’s the time when the clear wind is rising. When the clear wind is rising, it’s time for people to sing. When people sing, it’s time for an empty mountain to become an empty mountain.

（Arthur Sze and Xi Chuan 译）

On Wang Ximeng’s Landscape Scroll in Blue and Green, A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains

Xi Chuan

Greens and blues compile into empty mountains. There are people walking in them, yet they remain empty mountains, as people are faceless when walking yet still remain people. Don’t bother looking for yourself in these figures, any more than the real mountains and waters of this world should look to Wang Ximeng for perfunctory tokens of praise. Though Wang Ximeng knows the figures in his painting, he is not one of them, nor can he call a single one by name. The figures have acquired these mountains and waters, just as these mountains have acquired turquoise and lapis, these waters acquired vast expanses and vessels, and Emperor Huizong of the Song acquired an eighteen year-old named Wang Ximeng, unaware that the boy would pass away soon after painting A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains. The mountains and waters are nameless. Wang Ximeng knows that the nameless figures are but embellishments to the landscape, just as the birds of the air know that their presence or absence is immaterial to the comédie humaine. Birds see each other in flight. At the same time, people walking through the mountains have their own directions, have their own plans. Tiny figures dressed in white, they walk, rest, fish, and trade amongst themselves, all the while surrounded by green and blue, just as people today dress in black to show up at banquets, concerts, and funerals, surrounded by gold and yet more gold. These figures clothed in white were never born, and so of course will never die, just as Wang Ximeng’s landscape utopia, mountains and waters immune to pollution or infiltration, lends itself to eternal appreciation. Unfettered, they yearn not for freedom; untainted, they need not forget. Wang Ximeng gives the fishermen more fish than they can fish for and fills the cols with water flowing without end. In his eyes, happiness is having just the right amount of wealth, enabling everyone to build bridges and watermills, roads and homes, and dwell in peace in the mountains and waters, just as the right amount of trees grow on hillocks and along riverbanks, or encircle hamlets, encircle everyone. In the distance, the trees are like flowers. They sway, which is when the clear breeze refreshes. The clear breeze refreshes, which is when the people sing. The people sing, which is when the empty mountains become empty mountains.

（Lucas Klein 译）