作者：(印)泰戈尔
出版社：辽宁人民出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
泰戈尔精美诗选试读：
More classics to be soon published are:
The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
The Divine Comedy – Purgatory by Dante
The Christmas Carols by Charles Dickens
The Waste Land and Other Poems by T.S.Eliot
The Beautiful and the Damned by F.Scott Fitzgerald
The interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud
Dead Souls by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol
The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy
The Golden Bowl by Henry James
Kim by Rudyard Kipling
The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo
Dubliners by James Joyce
The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle
INTRODUCTION
A few days ago I said to a distinguished Bengali doctor of medicine,'I know no German,yet if a translation of a German poet had moved me,I would go to the British Museum and find books in English that would tell me something of his life,and of the history of his thought.But though these prose translations from Rabindranath Tagore have stirred my blood as nothing has for years,I shall not know anything of his life,and of the movements of thought that have made them possible,if some Indian traveller will not tell me.'It seemed to him natural that I should be moved,for he said,'I read Rabindranath every day,to read one line of his is to forget all the troubles of the world.'I said,'An Englishman living in London in the reign of Richard the Second had he been shown translations from Petrarch or from Dante,would have found no books to answer his questions,but would have questioned some Florentine banker or Lombard merchant as I question you.For all I know,so abundant and simple is this poetry,the new renaissance has been born in your country and I shall never know of it except by hearsay.'He answered,'We have other poets,but none that are his equal;we call this the epoch of Rabindranath.No poet seems to me as famous in Europe as he is among us.He is as great in music as in poetry,and his songs are sung from the west of India into Burma wherever Bengali is spoken.He was already famous at nineteen when he wrote his first novel and plays when he was but little older,are still played in Calcutta.I so much admire the completeness of his life;when he was very young he wrote much of natural objects,he would sit all day in his garden;from his twenty-fifth year or so to his thirty-fifth perhaps,when he had a great sorrow,he wrote the most beautiful love poetry in our language;'and then he said with deep emotion,'words can never express what I owed at seventeen to his love poetry.After that his art grew deeper,it became religious and philosophical;all the inspiration of mankind are in his hymns.He is the first among our saints who has not refused to live,but has spoken out of Life itself,and that is why we give him our love.'I may have changed his well-chosen words in my memory but not his thought.'A little while ago he was to read divine service in one of our churches—we of the Brahma Samaj use your word 'church'in English—it was the largest in Calcutta and not only was it crowded,but the streets were all but impassable because of the people.'
Other Indians came to see me and their reverence for this man sounded strange in our world,where we hide great and little things under the same veil of obvious comedy and half-serious depreciation.When we were making the cathedrals had we a like reverence for our great men?'Every morning at three—I know,for I have seen it'—one said to me,'he sits immovable in contemplation,and for two hours does not awake from his reverie upon the nature of God.His father,the Maha Rishi,would sometimes sit there all through the next day;once,upon a river,he fell into contemplation because of the beauty of the landscape,and the rowers waited for eight hours before they could continue their journey.'He then told me of Mr.Tagore's family and how for generations great men have come out of its cradles.'Today,'he said,'there are Gogonendranath and Abanindranath Tagore,who are artists;and Dwijendranath,Rabindranath's brother,who is a great philosopher.The squirrels come from the boughs and climb on to his knees and the birds alight upon his hands.'I notice in these men's thought a sense of visible beauty and meaning as though they held that doctrine of Nietzsche that we must not believe in the moral or intellectual beauty which does not sooner or later impress itself upon physical things.I said,'In the East you know how to keep a family illustrious.The other day the curator of a museum pointed out to me a little dark-skinned man who was arranging their Chinese prints and said,''That is the hereditary connoisseur of the Mikado,he is the fourteenth of his family to hold the post.'He answered,'When Rabindranath was a boy he had all round him in his home literature and music.'I thought of the abundance,of the simplicity of the poems,and said,'In your country is there much propagandist writing,much criticism?We have to do so much,especially in my own country,that our minds gradually cease to be creative,and yet we cannot help it.If our life was not a continual warfare,we would not have taste,we would not know what is good,we would not find hearers and readers.Four-fifths of our energy is spent in the quarrel with bad taste,whether in our own minds or in the minds of others.''I understand,'he replied,'we too have our propagandist writing.In the villages they recite long mythological poems adapted from the Sanskrit in the Middle Ages,and they often insert passages telling the people that they must do their duties.'
I have carried the manuscript of these translations about with me for days,reading it in railway trains,or on the top of omnibuses and in restaurants,and I have often had to close it lest some stranger would see how much it moved me.These lyrics—which are in the original,my Indians tell me,full of subtlety of rhythm,of untranslatable delicacies of colour,of metrical invention—display in their thought a world I have dreamed of all my live long.The work of a supreme culture,they yet appear as much the growth of the common soil as the grass and the rushes.A tradition,where poetry and religion are the same thing,has passed through the centuries,gathering from learned and unlearned metaphor and emotion,and carried back again to the multitude the thought of the scholar and of the noble.
If the civilization of Bengal remains unbroken,if that common mind which—as one divines—runs through all,is not,as with us,broken into a dozen minds that know nothing of each other,something even of what is most subtle in these verses will have come,in a few generations,to the beggar on the roads.When there was but one mind in England,Chaucer wrote his Troilus and Cressida,and thought he had written to be read,or to be read out—for our time was coming on apace—he was sung by minstrels for a while.Rabindranath Tagore,like Chaucer's forerunners,writes music for his words,and one understands at every moment that he is so abundant,so spontaneous,so daring in his passion,so full of surprise,because he is doing something which has never seemed strange,unnatural,or in need of defence.These verses will not lie in little well-printed books upon ladies'tables,who turn the pages with indolent hands that they may sigh over a life without meaning,which is yet all they can know of life,or be carried by students at the university to be laid aside when the work of life begins,but,as the generations pass,travellers will hum them on the highway and men rowing upon the rivers.Lovers,while they await one another,shall find,in murmuring them,this love of God a magic gulf wherein their own more bitter passion may bathe and renew its youth.At every moment the heart of this poet flows outward to these without derogation or condescension,for it has known that they will understand;and it has filled itself with the circumstance of their lives.The traveller in the read-brown clothes that he wears that dust may not show upon him,the girl searching in her bed for the petals fallen from the wreath of her royal lover,the servant or the bride awaiting the master's homecoming in the empty house,are images of the heart turning to God.Flowers and rivers,the blowing of conch shells,the heavy rain of the Indian July,or the moods of that heart in union or in separation;and a man sitting in a boat upon a river playing lute,like one of those figures full of mysterious meaning in a Chinese picture,is God Himself.A whole people,a whole civilization,immeasurably strange to us,seems to have been taken up into this imagination;and yet we are not moved because of its strangeness,but because we have met our own image,as though we had walked in Rossetti's willow wood,or heard,perhaps for the first time in literature,our voice as in a dream.
Since the Renaissance the writing of European saints—however familiar their metaphor and the general structure of their thought—has ceased to hold our attention.We know that we must at last forsake the world,and we are accustomed in moments of weariness or exaltation to consider a voluntary forsaking;but how can we,who have read so much poetry,seen so many paintings,listened to so much music,where the cry of the flesh and the cry of the soul seems one,forsake it harshly and rudely?What have we in common with St.Bernard covering his eyes that they may not dwell upon the beauty of the lakes of Switzerland,or with the violent rhetoric of the Book of Revelations?We would,if we might,find,as in this book,words full of courtesy.
'I have got my leave.
Bid me farewell,my brothers!
I bow to you all and take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door—and
I give up all claims to my house.
I only ask for last kind words from you.
We were neighbours for long,but
I received more than I could give.
Now the day has dawned and
The lamp that lit my dark corner is out.
A summons has come and
I am ready for my journey.'
And it is our own mood,when it is furthest from à Kempis or John of the Cross,that cries,
'And because I love this life,
I know I shall love death as well.'
Yet it is not only in our thoughts of the parting that this book fathoms all.We had not known that we loved God,hardly it may be that we believed in Him;yet looking backward upon our life we discover,in our exploration of the pathways of woods,in our delight in the lonely places of hills,in that mysterious claim that we have made,unavailingly on the woman that we have loved,the emotion that created this insidious sweetness.
'Entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd,
unknown to me,my king,thou didst press the signet of eternity
upon many a fleeting moment.'
This is no longer the sanctity of the cell and of the scourge;being but a lifting up,as it were,into a greater intensity of the mood of the painter,painting the dust and the sunlight,and we go for a like voice to St.Francis and to William Blake who have seemed so alien in our violent history.
We write long books where no page perhaps has any quality to make writing a pleasure,being confident in some general design,just as we fight and make money and fill our heads with politics—all dull things in the doing—while Mr.Tagore,like the Indian civilization itself,has been content to discover the soul and surrender himself to its spontaneity.He often seems to contrast life with that of those who have loved more after our fashion,and have more seeming weight in the world,and always humbly as though he were only sure his way is best for him:'Men going home glance at me and smile and fill me with shame.I sit like a beggar maid,drawing my skirt over my face,and when they ask me,what it is I want,I drop my eyes and answer them not.'
At another time,remembering how his life had once a different shape,he will say,'Many an hour I have spent in the strife of the good and the evil,but now it is the pleasure of my playmate of the empty days to draw my heart on to him;and I know not why this sudden call to what useless inconsequence.'An innocence,a simplicity that one does not find elsewhere in literature makes the birds and the leaves seem as near to him as they are near to children,and the changes of the seasons great events as before our thoughts had arisen between them and us.At times I wonder if he has it from the literature of Bengal or from religion,and at other times,remembering the birds alighting on his brother's hands,I find pleasure in thinking it hereditary,a mystery that was growing through the centuries like the courtesy of a Tristan or a Pelanore.
Indeed,when he is speaking of children,so much a part of himself this quality seems,one is not certain that he is not also speaking of the saints,'They build their houses with sand and they play with empty shells.With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep.Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.They know not how to swim,they know not how to cast nets.Pearl fishers dive for pearls,merchants sail in their ships,while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.They seek not for hidden treasures,they know not how to cast nets.'William Butler YEATSSeptember 1912
General Preface
Millions of Chinese are learning English to acquire knowledge and skills for communication in a world where English has become the primary language for international discourse.Yet not many learners have come to realize that the command of the English language also enables them to have an easy access to the world literary classics such as Shakespeare’s plays,Shelley’s poems,mark Twain’s novels and Nietzsche’s works which are an important part of liberal-arts education.The most important goals of universities are not vocational,that is,not merely the giving of knowledge and the training of skills.
In a broad sense,education aims at broadening young people’s mental horizon,cultivating virtues and shaping their character.Lincoln,Mao Zedong and many other great leaders and personages of distinction declared how they drew immense inspiration and strength from literary works.As a matter of fact,many of them had aspired to become writers in their young age.Alexander the Great (356-323 B.C.) is said to take along with him two things,waking or sleeping:a book and a dagger,and the book is Iliad,a literary classic,by Homer.He would put these two much treasured things under his pillow when he went to bed.
Today,we face an unprecedented complex and changing world.To cope with this rapid changing world requires not only communication skills,but also adequate knowledge of cultures other than our own home culture.Among the most important developments in present-day global culture is the ever increasing cultural exchanges and understanding between different nations and peoples.And one of the best ways to know foreign cultures is to read their literary works,particularly their literary classics,the soul of a country’s culture.They also give you the best language and the feeling of sublimity.
Liaoning People’s Publishing House is to be congratulated for its foresight and courage in making a new series of world literary classics available to the reading public.It is hoped that people with an adequate command of the English language will read them,like them and keep them as their lifetime companions.
I am convinced that the series will make an important contribution to the literary education of the young people in china.At a time when the whole country is emphasizing “spiritual civilization”,it is certainly a very timely venture to put out the series of literary classics for literary and cultural education.Zhang ZhongzaiProfessorBeijing Foreign Studies UniversityJuly,2013 Beijing
总序
经典名著的语言无疑是最凝练、最优美、最有审美价值的。雪莱的那句“如冬已来临，春天还会远吗？”让多少陷于绝望的人重新燃起希望之火，鼓起勇气，迎接严冬过后的春天。徐志摩一句“悄悄的我走了，正如我悄悄的来；我挥一挥衣袖，不带走一片云彩”又让多少人陶醉。尼采的那句“上帝死了”，又给多少人以振聋发聩的启迪作用。
读经典名著，尤其阅读原汁原味作品，可以怡情养性，增长知识，加添才干，丰富情感，开阔视野。所谓“经典”，其实就是作者所属的那个民族的文化积淀，是那个民族的灵魂缩影。英国戏剧泰斗莎士比亚的《哈姆雷特》和《麦克白》等、“意大利语言之父”的但丁的《神曲》之《地狱篇》《炼狱篇》及《天堂篇》、爱尔兰世界一流作家詹姆斯·乔伊斯的《尤利西斯》及《一个艺术家的肖像》等、美国风趣而笔法超一流的著名小说家马克·吐温的《哈克历险记》以及《汤姆索亚历险记》等，德国著名哲学家尼采的《查拉图斯特拉如是说》及《快乐的科学》等等，都为塑造自己民族的文化积淀，做出了永恒的贡献，也同时向世界展示了他们所属的民族的优美剪影。
很多著名领袖如林肯、毛泽东等伟大人物，也都曾从经典名著中汲取力量，甚至获得治国理念。耶鲁大学教授查尔斯·希尔曾在题为《经典与治国理念》的文章，阐述了读书与治国之间的绝妙关系。他这样写道：“在几乎所有经典名著中，都可以找到让人叹为观止、深藏其中的治国艺术原则。”
经典名著，不仅仅有治国理念，更具提升读者审美情趣的功能。世界上不同时代、不同地域的优秀经典作品，都存在一个共同属性：歌颂赞美人间的真善美，揭露抨击世间的假恶丑。
读欧美自但丁以来的经典名著，你会看到，西方无论是在漫长的黑暗时期，抑或进入现代进程时期，总有经典作品问世，对世间的负面，进行冷峻的批判。与此同时，也有更多的大家作品问世，热情讴歌人间的真诚与善良，使读者不由自主地沉浸于经典作品的审美情感之中。
英语经典名著，显然是除了汉语经典名著以外，人类整个进程中至关重要的文化遗产的一部分。从历史上看，英语是全世界经典阅读作品中，使用得最广泛的国际性语言。这一事实，没有产生根本性变化。本世纪相当长一段时间，这一事实也似乎不会发生任何变化。而要更深入地了解并切身感受英语经典名著的风采，阅读原汁原味的英语经典作品的过程，显然是必不可少的。
辽宁人民出版社及时并隆重推出“最经典英语文库”系列丛书，是具有远见与卓识的出版行为。我相信，这套既可供阅读，同时也具收藏价值的英语原版经典作品系列丛书，在帮助人们了解什么才是经典作品的同时，也一定会成为广大英语爱好者、大中学生以及学生家长们挚爱的“最经典英语文库”。北京外国语大学英语学院北外公共外交研究中心欧美文学研究中心主任全国英国文学学会名誉会长张中载 教授2013年7月于北京
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Is this book for you?品读大师 品味生活
泰戈尔（1861-1941）是诗人，他在印度被称为“诗圣”，在世界范围内也是最伟大的诗人之一。他在诗歌方面的成就最大，共著有五十多部诗集。他因《吉檀迦利》获1913年诺贝尔文学奖，是第一位荣获该奖的亚洲人。他所写的诗歌影响了郭沫若、谢冰心等一代中国诗人，促进了中国新诗的成长和发展。作家冰心曾经说过：“泰戈尔的诗名远远超过了他的国界。”
泰戈尔还是小说家。他的优秀小说在当时的印度乃至全世界都达到了小说的最高水平，著有短篇小说84篇，长篇小说8部，中篇小说5篇。
泰戈尔还是戏剧家，共著有43个剧本，形成了自己的喜剧风格。
他还是散文家，一生写了大量形式多样、内容广泛的散文，收集在《泰戈尔全集》最后6卷，占全集篇幅的四分之一。
泰戈尔还是作曲家和画家，一生谱了一千多首曲子，画了二千多幅画，并且都达到了相当高的艺术水准，完全称得起是合格的作曲家和画家。
此外在文艺理论、宗教思想上，他还均有论述。
泰戈尔对中国有着深厚的感情，是中国人民的挚友。早在1881年，年仅20岁的泰戈尔就在孟加拉文杂志《婆罗蒂》上，发表有关中国的文章《鸦片——运往中国的死亡》，痛斥英国人为牟取暴利，强迫整个中华民族吸毒的残忍强盗行径，声讨他们不讲道义、责任和良知，玷污基督教文明！他曾于1924年访问过中国。在中国的演讲中，他怀着深厚的感情，回顾了印中两国长达一千多年的友好交往历史，盛赞中华民族的对世界的伟大贡献和中国文化的光辉成就，呼吁印中两国人民做朋友；他对侵略和压迫东方国家的西方帝国主义国家感到失望，对他们扩军备战、剥削掠夺的行径表示忧虑，认为这种罪恶的根源在于过分偏重科学技术的物质主义，因而号召印度、中国以及亚洲其他国家发扬东方固有的精神文明，用来对抗西方的物质主义。
泰戈尔还在他所主办的国际大学里，设立研究中国文化的专门机构——中国学院。1937年，中国学院宣告成立时，他亲自主持开幕典礼，并且发表了以“中国和印度”为题的热情而友好的讲演。最难能可贵的是，泰戈尔在致日本诗人的信中，愤慨地抨击日本侵略中国的野蛮行径，坚决支持中国人民的抗日战争（参阅何乃英的《全面认识泰戈尔，深入理解泰戈尔》）。
本诗选收录了《吉檀迦利》和《新月集》两本诗集。让泰戈尔摘取诺贝尔文学奖桂冠,也使他在世界文坛上从此享有崇高声誉的最主要作品，就是《吉檀迦利》。该诗集在泰戈尔的众多文学作品中,最能代表其哲学思想、宗教观念和艺术风格。它是泰戈尔有感于古老印度文学陌生于世界，而从孟加拉文宗教格律诗集《祭品集》、《献歌集》、《渡口集》中选出来译成英文散文诗的。这部来自神秘古国伟大诗人的深邃迷人的诗集，如何让无数西方人为之惊叹、折服，还需要读者自己慢慢体会。《新月集》是以儿童生活情趣为主旨的英文散文诗集，1886年刚刚发表，就成为印度大中小学必选的文学教材。郑振铎曾说：“没有一本诗集比他这个《新月集》描写儿童更好而且更美丽、真切的了。”它依照儿童的逻辑，以朴素的语言、明快的格调和瑰丽的譬喻，以其轻灵的诗句，描绘了一个和谐的世界，谱写了一曲爱的颂歌，表现了诗人对和谐生活、祖国和民族的热爱，体现了诗人渴望世界和平和人类幸福的强烈愿望。诗篇美丽动人，略带神秘，充满诗情画意和人间至爱，具有非凡的魅力。
如果您是英文爱好者中的一员，希望您通过阅读英语原文，来欣赏这部作品，这无疑是种无法替代的精神享受。
如果您是学生家长，建议您给上中学或大学的孩子准备一套“最经典英语文库”，放在书架上。它们是永远不会过时的精神食粮。
如果您是正在学习的大中学生，也建议您抽空读读这些经时间检验的人类精神食粮文库里最经典的精品。一时读不懂不要紧，先收藏起来，放进您的书架里，等您长大到某个时候，您会忽然发现，自己开始能读，而且读懂了作品的字里行间意义时，那种喜悦感，是无法言述的，也是无与伦比的。您可能也会因此对走过的人生，有更深刻的感悟与理解。
关于这套图书的装帧设计与性价比：完全按欧美出版规则操作，从图书开本，到封面设计，从体例版式，到字体选取，但价钱却比欧美原版图书便宜三分之二，甚至更多。因此，从性价比看，它们也是最值得收藏的。——王维强
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