致一位青年诗人的信Letters to a Young Poet(4)

原创 作者:adreep 2012-04-28

Worpswede, near Bremen July 16, 1903 About ten days ago I left Paris, tired and quite sick, and traveled to this great northern plain, whose vastness and silence and sky ought to make me well again. But I arrived during a long period of

Worpswede, near Bremen

July 16, 1903

About ten days ago I left Paris, tired and quite sick, and traveled to this great northern plain, whose vastness and silence and sky ought to make me well again. But I arrived during a long period of rain; this is the first day it has begun to let up over the restlessly blowing landscape, and I am taking advantage of this moment of brightness to greet you, dear Sir.

My dear Mr. Kappus: I have left a letter from you unanswered for a long time; not because I had forgotten it - on the contrary: it is the kind that one reads again when one finds it among other letters, and I recognize you in it as if you were very near. It is your letter of May second, and I am sure you remember it. As I read it now, in the great silence of these distances, I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life, even more than when I was in Paris, where everything echoes and fades away differently because of the excessive noise that makes Things tremble. Here, where I am surrounded by an enormous landscape, which the winds move across as they come from the seas, here I feel that there is no one anywhere who can answer for you those questions and feelings which, in their depths, have a life of their own; for even the most articulate people are unable to help, since what words point to is so very delicate, is almost unsayable. But even so, I think that you will not have to remain without a solution if you trust in Things that are like the ones my eyes are now resting upon. If you trust in Nature, in what is simple in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasurable; if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconciling, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge. You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming, as an especially blessed and pure way of living; train yourself for that but take whatever comes, with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will, out of some need of your innermost self, then take it upon yourself, and don't hate anything. Sex is difficult; yes. But those tasks that have been entrusted to us are difficult; almost everything serious is difficult; and everything is serious. If you just recognize this and manage, out of yourself, out of your own talent and nature, out of your own experience and childhood and strength, to achieve a wholly individual relation to sex (one that is not influenced by convention and custom), then you will no longer have to be afraid of losing yourself and becoming unworthy of your dearest possession.

Bodily delight is a sensory experience, not any different from pure looking or the pure feeling with , which a beautiful fruit fills the tongue; it is a great, an infinite learning that is given to us, a knowledge of the world, the fullness and the splendor of all knowledge. And it is not our acceptance of it that is bad; what is bad is that most people misuse this learning and squander it and apply it as a stimulant on the tired places of their lives and as a distraction rather than as a way of gathering themselves for their highest moments. People have even made eating into something else: necessity on the one hand, excess on the other; have muddied the clarity of this need, and all the deep, simple needs in which life renews itself have become just as muddy. But the individual can make them clear for himself and live them clearly (not the individual who is dependent, but the solitary man). He can remember that all beauty in animals and plants is a silent, enduring form of love and yearning, and he can see the animal, as he sees plants, patiently and willingly uniting and multiplying and growing, not out of physical pleasure, not out of physical pain, but bowing to necessities that are greater than pleasure and pain, and more powerful than will and withstanding. If only human beings could more humbly receive this mystery which the world is filled with, even in its smallest Things, could bear it, endure it, more solemnly, feel how terribly heavy it is, instead of taking it lightly. If only they could be more reverent to ward their own fruitfulness, which is essentially one, whether it is manifested as mental or physical; for mental creation too arises from the physical, is of one nature with it and only like a softer, more enraptured and more eternal repetition of bodily delight. "The thought of being a creator, of engendering, of shaping" is nothing without its continuous great confirmation and embodiment in the world, nothing without the thousand-fold assent from Things and animals - and our enjoyment of it is so indescribably beautiful and rich only because it is full of inherited memories of the engendering and birthing of millions. In one creative thought a thousand forgotten nights of love come to life again and fill it with majesty and exaltation. And those who come together in the nights and are entwined in rocking delight perform a solemn task and gather sweetness, depth, and strength for the song of some future poet, who will appear in order to say ecstasies that are unsayable. And they call forth the future; and even if they have made a mistake and embrace blindly, the future comes anyway, a new human being arises, and on the foundation of the accident that seems to be accomplished here, there awakens the law by which a strong, determined seed forces its way through to the egg cell that openly advances to meet it. Don't be confused by surfaces; in the depths everything becomes law. And those who live the mystery falsely and badly (and they are very many) lose it only for themselves and nevertheless pass it on like a sealed letter, without knowing it. And don't be puzzled by how many names there are and how complex each life seems. Perhaps above them all there is a great motherhood, in the form of a communal yearning. The beauty of the girl, a being who (as you so beautifully say) "has not yet achieved anything," is motherhood that has a presentiment of itself and begins to prepare, becomes anxious, yearns. And the mother's beauty is motherhood that serves, and in the old woman there is a great remembering. And in the man too there is motherhood, it seems to me, physical and mental; his engendering is also a kind of birthing, and it is birthing when he creates out of his innermost fullness. And perhaps the sexes are more akin than people think, and the great renewal of the world will perhaps consist in one phenomenon: that man and woman, freed from all mistaken feelings and aversions, will seek each other not a opposites but as brother and sister, as neighbors, and will unite as human beings, in order to bear in common, simply, earnestly, and patiently, the heavy sex that has been laid upon them.

But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away, then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust. Avoid providing material for the drama, that is always stretched tight between parent and children; it uses up much of the children's strength and wastes the love of the elders, which acts and warms even if it doesn't comprehend Don't ask for any advice from them and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

It is good that you will soon be entering a profession that will make you independent and will put you completely on your own, in every sense. Wait patiently to see whether your innermost life feels hemmed in by the form this profession imposes. I myself consider it a very difficult and very exacting one, since it is burdened with enormous conventions and leaves very little room for a personal interpretation of its duties. But your solitude will be a support and a home for you, even in the midst of very unfamiliar circumstances, and from it you will find all your paths. All my good wishes are ready to accompany you, and my faith is with you.

 

Yours,

Rainer Maria Rilke


大概在十天前我离开了巴黎,又累又虚弱,旅行到这个伟大的北方平原,这平原的广阔、寂静和它的天空应该让我恢复健康吧。我是在长长的雨季里到的,今天是那无休止的风吹之后的第一个爽朗的天,我便趁此明亮的时刻向您致以问候,亲爱的先生。

我亲爱的开普斯先生:我已经好长时间没有给您回信了;不是因为我忘记了它--正好相反:它是那种您能够从众多的信中拿起来再读第二遍的,它让我感觉您离我非常近。那是您5月2日的信,我知道您一定记得它。当我现在读它的时候,在这远方的无边的寂静里,您那对生活的美丽的渴望让我感动,比我在巴黎时感到的要强烈得多,在巴黎时所有的一切都随那些扰乱事物的噪音而褪了色。而在这儿,当我沉浸在一幅巨大的风景画里的时候,风从海边吹来,我感到,没有人能够回答您的那些问题和响应您的感觉,在它们深处,它们有自己的生命;即使头脑最清晰的人也无法帮助您,因为言语所到之处皆是微妙的,几乎是不可言喻的。但即便如此,如果您相信事情正如您所目睹的,我想或许您将得到答案。如果您相信自然,相信自然的单纯,那么渺小的东西将会突然变得无边无际;如果您有这种谦卑的爱并单纯地去尝试,如过来人那样去迎取看起来可怜的信心:那么每一件事都将变得轻而易举,变得更加有条理,变得更加一致,或许不在您有意识的头脑里,而是在潜意识中,奇妙地停在那里,在您的意识、悟性和知识深处。您还这么年轻,有这样多的期待,我请求您,亲爱的先生,还有尽我所能,对您心中没有得到答案的问题报以耐心,并试着去爱那些问题本身,把它们当作是锁着的房间或用极陌生的语言所写的书本。不要找寻答案,那些答案现在不能给您,因为您将没有能力使它们活下来。而重要的是,让每一样东西都活下来。现在就让问题们活下来吧。那么或许,在未知的某个日子里,您将逐渐地,甚至没有注意到它,您已经活在您的答案里了。或许在您体内的确持有创造和构成答案的可能性,那种特别愉快而纯洁的生存方式;那么就训练自己--顺其自然,带着极大的信任,只要它来自您的愿望,出于您内在自我的需要,那么就发掘它,不要厌恨什么。性是难的;是的。但是所有那些赋予我们的工作都是难的;几乎所有严肃的事情都是难的;而每件事都是严肃的。如果您恰恰认识到了并控制它,超越自己,超越自己的才智和本性,超越自己的经验、童年和力量,从而来达到和性的完整的统一(一个不受习俗和惯例影响的人),那么您将不再害怕丢失您自己,不再害怕您最亲密的感情变得无价值。

身体的愉悦是感官的体验,和纯净的长相或纯洁的感觉没有什么不同,在那里边美丽的果实填满了语言;它能给我们带来伟大的、无限的认知,它是有关世界的知识,是所有知识中最丰富和灿烂的那部分。并不是因为我们接受了它就变得不好;不好的是大多数人滥用这种知识,挥霍它并用它来刺激无聊的生活,而不是通过那些情绪高涨的时刻整合自己。人们总是吃着碗里的看着锅里的:一只手已满,另一只手还丰余;他们把这种需求搅和得一塌糊涂,所有用来更新生活本身的深刻、简单的需要都浑浊起来。但是个性能使它们为自己而清澈并这样存活下来(不是那些没有独立性的个性,而是孤独的人。)他知道所有动植物的美丽都是一种沉默、爱和渴望的永久形式,他看见动物,还有植物耐心而欣然地结合、繁殖、成长,没有身体的欢乐,没有生理的疼痛,但是必要的服从却比快乐和疼痛要伟大得多,这力量比意志和忍耐还要巨大。假如人们能够乖吝地接受这神秘--它充斥着世界,即使最微小的事物--更庄严地忍受它,忍耐它,感受它的重要,而不是轻视它。假如人们能够对自己的收获稍微尊重一些,即那些本质的东西,无论它们是以精神还是肉体的形式来表现;因为精神创作也来自肉体,是其本质的一部分,只是比肉体的快乐更温柔,更狂喜,更永恒。"成为创造者的那种思想,还有正在酝酿和形成的思想"如果没有来自世界的持续而伟大的肯定以及具体化的表现,它将毫无意义,如果没有来自事物和动物的成千上万的赞扬,它将毫无意义--它给我们的快乐是那样美丽而丰富,仅仅因为它拥有无数有关妊娠和分娩的记忆。在一个富有创造力的思想里,一千个遗忘了的爱之夜晚重又回到生命里并赋予它肃穆和狂喜。那些随夜晚而来的东西交错在摇荡的欢喜中担当着神圣的使命,为未来的诗歌汇集着甜美、浓厚和意志,并将那难以名状的欣喜呈现出来。它们呼唤着未来;即使犯了错误,盲目地拥抱,未来还是来了,一个新的人产生了,在此之上那偶然事件似乎胜利了,一颗强壮的具有决定作用的种子探索着破壳而出,并将规律唤醒,坦然地向前去迎合它。不要被表面现象所迷惑,在其深处,每一样东西都有规律。而那些错误地愚蠢地对待这神秘的人(有许多这样的人)为了自己而丢失了它,就象从一封未开封的信身边走过,却一无所知。不要被它的许多名字和每个生命的复杂性所困惑。或许在这些形式上边只有一种伟大的母爱,以一种人所共知的渴望存在着。女孩的美丽,一个"一无所成"(如您这样美丽地称呼她)的人,在于其对母性的预知并为其准备、焦虑和渴望。母亲的美丽是母性本身赋予的,老妇人的美丽是无限的回忆。男人也是有母性的,对我来说,是肉体和精神的;他的妊娠也是一种诞生,当他创造了丰富的内在世界,他就得以新生。或许性比人们认为的还要更加类似,世界的伟大复兴或许只包含一个现象:男人和女人,当他们从所有错误的感觉和厌恶中解放出来,发现彼此不是对立的而是兄弟姐妹和邻居,是一个完整的人类,他们将简单地、认真地,耐心地共同忍受那置于他们身上的沉重的性。

对许多人来说,什么事都可能发生。孤独的人现在已能开始营造,用自己的手,而且犯极少的错误。因此,亲爱的先生,热爱您的孤独并且试着去歌颂那创造了您的痛苦。为了那些曾经与您如此亲密的东西的远离,您写作,这表明您周围的空间已经开始长大了。如果曾经与您亲密过的东西远离了您,那么您广阔的空间就已延伸到了星际,它太大了。为您自己的成长而感到高兴吧。在这成长过程中别人是无法和您一起分享的,但您要温柔地对待落后于您的人;在他们面前要自信和镇定,不要让他们因您的怀疑而感到苦恼,不要让您的信念和快乐吓坏他们,他们无法理解。找一些您能够和他们分享的简单而真实的感觉,那些不随着您的变化一遍一遍地转化的感觉;当您看着他们,要爱那不是以您自己的形式而存在的生活,对那些逐渐变老的要保持宽容,他们害怕您所信赖的孤独。避免为戏剧提供材料,它们总是在父母和孩子之间制造紧张气氛,它耗干了孩子们的力量,浪费了长辈的爱,但是,即使他们不能达成理解,这力量和爱依旧在起着作用,在温暖着人们。不要征询他们的意见,不要期待任何理解;但是相信有一种爱会象遗传一样聚集起来,相信这种爱的力量和祝福是如此强烈以至于您可以携带它旅行到天涯海角。

您要有一份职业了,这很好,您将独立起来并成为完整的自己,从各个方面来说。耐心点等待,您将会知道那职业是否在多方面压抑您的生活。我自己认为这是个艰难但非常兴奋的过程,因为它负载着太多的惯例,个人拥有的自由发挥的空间实在是微乎其微。但是您的孤独将支持您,将成为您的家,甚至在那不甚熟悉的环境里,在那儿您将发现自己的道路。我所有良好的祝愿都时刻伴随着您,还有我的信念。

 

您的,

瑞那.玛里亚.李尔克

柏林附近的沃普斯维德


拓展阅读

致一位青年诗人的信 Letters to a Young Poet(10)

Yes: I am glad you have that firm, sayable existence with you, that title, that uniform, that service, all that tangible and limited world.

致一位青年诗人的信Letters to a Young Poet(9)

All feelings that concentrate you and lift you up are pure; only that feeling is impure which grasps just one side of your being and thus distorts you.

致一位青年诗人的信Letters to a Young Poet(8)

I want to talk to you again for a little while, dear Mr. Kappus, although there is almost nothing I can say that will help you, and I can hardly find one useful word.

致一位青年诗人的信 Letters to a Young Poet(7)

It is the best poem of yours that you have let me read. And now I am giving you this copy because I know that it is important and full of new experience to rediscover a work of one's own in someone else's handwriting.

致一位青年诗人的信 Letters to a Young Poet(6)

Rome December 23, 1903 My dear Mr. Kappus, I don't want you to be without a greeting from me when Christmas comes and when you, in the midst of the holiday, are bearing your solitude more heavily than usual. But when you notice that it is vast, you should be happy;

致一位青年诗人的信 Letters to a Young Poet(5)

Rome October 29, 1903 Dear Sir, I received your letter of August 29 in Florence, and it has taken me this long two months to answer. Please forgive this tardiness, but I don't like to write letters while I am traveling because for letter-w

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