柳宗元·《种树郭橐驼传》英译

The Tree-Planter, Kuo the Camel

Liu Tsung-yuan

Kuo the Camel, whose real name is unknown, is hunchbacked and walks like a camel with his head drooping. For this reason, he was nicknamed the Camel by his townspeople. When Kuo learned of this, he said, “Very well, this is just the right name for me,” and, discarding his own name, he called himself the Camel too.

His native town was in Fenglo, which is west of Ch’angan. Kuo the Camel was a planter of trees. All the powerful families and wealthy people in Ch’angan, who planted trees for their pleasure or who engaged in the fruit trade, vied with one another in welcoming and hiring Kuo. They saw the trees planted or even transplanted by him all lived and flourished, and bore fruit early and could be propagated easily. Although others spied on him and imitated him, none could equal his skill.

When questioned on the point, he replied, “I am by no means capable of making trees live long and flourish, but what I can do is to enable them to follow their natural propensities and evolve as nature wishes. In the planting of trees, roots must have plenty of room to breathe, the fillings be level, the soil old and packed dense. When they are left behind, there is no looking back. At the time of planting, they should be treated like one’s favorite children; once they are left alone, they should be regarded as one’s unfilial sons. Thus their nature can be kept intact and their potentials fully developed. What I do is not to harm their growth, but I have no way of making them flourish; I take care not to damage their fruits, but I have no way of causing their early fruition and profuse propagation.

“Not so the other tree-planters. In their case, the roots are crooked, new soil is used and the cultivation is either excessive or insufficient. Those who can avoid these practices, however, love the trees too dearly and worry about them too much. They inspect them in the morning and pamper them in the evening. Everything they leave the trees behind, they would come back and look over them some more. They even scratch their barks to see whether the trees are alive and shake their roots to find out if they are firm. Thus, they depart farther and farther from the nature of trees. They love them in name but harm them in fact; they worry about them in name but are hostile to them in fact. That is why they cannot be like me. What else is there that I can claim to do?”

“Can your method be applied to the art of government?”asked the inquirer. “I know only how to plant trees,” Kuo replied, “and government is not my line. But, when I am in the countryside, I see officials come and shout at us, ‘Official order: Get started with your ploughing and planting! Tend to your harvest! Spin your silk yarn and weave your cloth early! Take care of your children! Feed your chickens and pigs!’ These officials beat their drums to assemble the people and knock on their wooden instruments to call them out. We, the humble people, cannot find the leisure to receive these officials even if we give up our morning and evening meals. How can we find time to increase our production and follow our nature? This is why we become exhausted and lethargic. Can there be anything in this similar to my trade?”

“Wonderful!” said the inquirer smilingly, “I asked about tree-planting and learned about the cultivation of men. Let this story be passed on as a lesson to officials!”