广陵集 2020 Diligent Studies in Guangling 2020 第 05 篇 Section 05
四月 陶渊明的解脱 April: The Deliverance of Tao Yuanming
返回 广陵集 2020 Back to Diligent Studies in Guangling 2020归隐是中国文人的一大快事，千百年来士大夫们大都吟诵着陶渊明的诗句遁入深林，但奇怪的是，从无一人在深林中得以取得与陶渊明相当的解脱。中国文人们大多都只能领会陶渊明年少时“舟遥遥以轻颺，风飘飘而吹衣”的这层境界，时间一长，因闲适而欢悦的心灵便会为清苦乏闷的生活所取代。以陶渊明家乡的庐山为例子，历朝历代有无数文人墨客来此隐居，周敦颐、朱熹也曾在此投入哲学的沉思。但他们的目光看得太远，一直远到宫门内的皇帝处。正如范仲淹所言：“居庙堂之高则忧其民，处江湖之远则忧其君。”
Retiring into hermitage is a supreme pleasure for Chinese literati; across millennia, scholar-officials have chanted Tao Yuanming’s verses while retreating into deep forests. Yet curiously, not a single one among them ever attained a deliverance comparable to Tao Yuanming’s within those woods. Most Chinese scholars could only grasp the realm of Tao Yuanming’s youth, where “the skiff sways light and far, the breeze flutters softly against my robes”; as time wore on, a heart once joyful in leisure was inevitably overtaken by the austere, dreary grind of reclusion. Taking Mount Lu in Tao Yuanming’s native land as an example, countless men of letters across dynasties retreated here; Zhou Dunyi and Zhu Xi also immersed themselves in philosophical contemplation upon its peaks. Yet their gaze stretched far too distant—all the way into the palace gates where the emperor sat. Just as Fan Zhongyan declared: “Dwelling high in the temple of state, one worries for the people; wandering far by rivers and lakes, one worries for the sovereign.”
在儒家士大夫处，归隐只是为了更好地出山。像陶渊明看透名利，得到解脱的人，太少太少。
Among Confucian scholar-officials, retreating into seclusion was merely a way to return to public life more effectively. Those who, like Tao Yuanming, saw clean through fame and wealth to attain true deliverance were far, far too few.
陶渊明的归隐是深层的，超越肉体的。他自云：“忘怀得失，以此为终。”堪称他性格的写照。他自叹一番无人得知，唯有从古圣先贤高山流水处寻找他心灵的同道。“善万物之得时，感吾生之行休。”诗人的感伤自适之态跃然纸上。可以说，从《归去来兮辞》中，我们既可以读出纵浪大化、琴书相伴的自在淡泊，也有世乏知音、心曲难诉的郁闷孤寂。年少轻狂的人啊，谁道他没念过“雄发指危冠，猛气冲长缨”呢！我相信，当陶渊明自信地念出“聊乘化以归尽，乐夫天命复奚疑？”
Tao Yuanming’s retirement was profound, transcending the physical flesh. He proclaimed of himself: “Forgetting gain and loss, in this manner I meet my end”—a vivid portrait of his inner nature. He sighed that no mortal understood him, finding kindred souls only among ancient sages and in the melody of lofty mountains and flowing waters. “Rejoicing that all creation finds its season, I lament that my own life draws near its close.” The poet’s poignant melancholy and tranquil self-possession leap vividly off the page. In Return Home!, one reads both the serene detachment of drifting upon the great cosmos accompanied by zither and books, as well as the stifled solitude of lacking kindred spirits in a world where inner songs find no listener. Ah, the reckless ardor of youth—who can say he never chanted: “Bristling hair points up to the tall cap; fierce vigor surges against long tassels”! I firmly believe that when Tao Yuanming confidently recited: “Let me drift upon change until all is spent; delighting in Heaven’s mandate, what doubt remains?”
时，他就完成了从儒家思想到道家思想的转变，领悟了老庄哲学的至高奥义。
At that moment, he completed the transformation from Confucian thought to Daoist philosophy, attaining the supreme mysteries of Laozi and Zhuangzi.
因此，无怪乎当高官们请陶渊明出山时他会一口回绝，我猜想他那时的双眼一定是洞透一切的，甚至于有些怜悯与自伤。他清楚地明白，大解脱并不意味着大喜。千年后，但有士大夫高吟“久在樊笼里，复得返自然”，纪念着一个熟悉而陌生的陶渊明。
Hence, it is no wonder that when high officials invited Tao Yuanming to take office, he declined outright. I imagine his eyes at that moment must have seen through all worldly vanity, tinged even with pity and self-compassion. He understood with crystal clarity that supreme deliverance does not imply supreme ecstacy. A thousand years later, scholar-officials still chant aloud: “Long kept inside a cage, at last I return to nature,” commemorating a Tao Yuanming both intimate and enigmatic.