Chapter 9 Title Six

The commandments of God have made my soul torment. Will there be ten or twenty commandments of God? How tight are the boundaries? Is it taught that taboos are increasing? And longing for what I think is good in the world, Will there be new punishments? God's commandment, which sickened my soul, And walled off the only source of water that quenched my thirst. ... But now, Nathaniel, My heart is filled with pity, The belief that human error is justifiable. Nathaniel, I will tell you: everything is strangely natural. Nathaniel, I want to tell you about all this. Little shepherd boy, I want to hand over the staff without metal inlays to your hands, and then we will lead the flock of sheep that have no owner, and walk slowly to every place.

Shepherd boy, I want to lead your desire to all the good things in the world. Nathanael, I will burn your lips with a new thirst, and bring to your lips a cup full of cool water.I have drunk it, and know where there is a clear spring to quench my thirst. Nathanael, I will tell you about the springs: There are springs gushing from among the rocks; There are springs gushing from under the glacier; Some springs are dark blue and dark blue, which looks extraordinarily deep. (That is why the Ciana fountain in Syracuse is so wonderful.) Blue springs, shaded springs; papyrus bushes splashing; we looked down from the small boat, and saw small green fish floating on the gravel like sapphires.

In Zagwan, the water gushing from the Fairy Cave also irrigated Carthage in those days. At Vaucluse, the water gushes out of the ground, as if it had flowed through the ages, and it has become a river; one can go up from the ground and see the water flow through the cave and sink into the darkness.The light of the torch was flickering and oppressive, and then, the section ahead was particularly dark, making one think: I am afraid I have reached the source, and I can no longer go upstream. Some springs contain iron, which dyes the rocks in colorful colors. Some springs contain sulfur, and the green hot springs seem poisonous at first glance.In fact, Nathanael, when you take a bath in the water, your skin will become soft and smooth, and it is even more wonderful to touch your body after bathing.

In some springs, mist rises at dusk, floats in the night, and dissipates slowly in the morning. Some springs trickled, lost in moss and rushes. Some springs are the world of Huansha girls and the driving force of the mill. Inexhaustible fountain!The water gushes.How plentiful is the spring beneath; the shaded aquifer, the open pool.The hard rocks will be cracked, the bare hillsides will be verdant, the barren land will be full of vitality, and the desert will become a sea of ​​flowers. The springs that gushed out of the ground far exceeded our thirst. The water is constantly renewed, and the clouds and mists in the sky descend again.

If the plains are short of water, let the plains go to the mountains to drink...or let the undercurrents lead the water from the mountains to the plains. - Grenada's huge irrigation network. — a reservoir; a spring. ——It goes without saying that the spring water has a unique beauty, and bathing in it is so beautiful.Swimming pool!swimming pool!When we come out of the bath, we are clean. Like the rising sun in the morning light, Like the moon in the night mist, We are in your clear waves, Will bathe weary limbs. The source has a strange beauty; the water filtered from the ground is as clear as a crystal, and it is like a fine nectar to drink.The spring water is as light as air, colorless, odorless, and almost non-existent. Only because of its incomparable clarity can one feel its existence, just like a hidden virtue.Nathanael, do you understand why people long to drink this water?

The greatest pleasure of my senses, It is a thirst that has been quenched. Now, Nathaniel, I chant to you: The waltz that quenches my thirst, the full cup, more than the temptation of kisses, attracts my lips, lifts it up and drank it down.The greatest pleasure of my senses is the thirst that has been quenched... Various drinks are made from squeezed orange juice or lemon juice, sour and sweet, so refreshing and mellow.I've had drinks from glasses that were worryingly thin: lips would break at the touch, let alone teeth.The nectar in the cup is particularly luscious, and there is almost no gap between the lips.I've also had drinks from soft cups where the juice rises to my lips with just a slight squeeze of my hand.I also used the thick cup from the inn to drink sweet and greasy sugar water. I walked in the hot sun for a day and threw it into the inn at dusk.The water in the pool is sometimes icy cold, which makes me feel the fragrance of the night.I've also drank the water from the leather bag, and it smelled like tarred goatskin.I almost lay down on the edge of the stream and drank it. I really wanted to jump in and take a good bath. I plunged my bare arms into the running water until the white pebbles rippling at the bottom of the stream... but I felt the coolness flowing from my arms to my whole body.The shepherds quench their thirst with their hands, and I advise them to drink from straws.In the hottest part of summer, sometimes I walk against the scorching sun, deliberately creating a strong thirst, and then quenching the thirst invisible.

Do you remember, my friend, that one night during our arduous journey, we fell asleep and woke up, sweating profusely, to drink the cold water from the crock? Cisterns, dark wells, women have to go down to draw water.Water that has never seen the sun, with a cool smell.The water quality is very fresh. The water is exceptionally clear, and I wish it were blue, preferably green, to make me feel even more cool and aniseed. The greatest pleasure of my senses, It is a thirst that has been quenched. No!I haven't counted the stars in the sky, the pearls in the sea, and the white feathers on the bay.

There are also the whispers of the leaves, the smiles of the morning sun, and the joyful faces of summer.Now, what can I say?Just because I keep silent, do you think my heart is at peace? what!Fields bathed in blue! what!Fields soaked in honey! The bees will fly back laden with beeswax... I have seen the bay in the dark: the dawn is still hidden behind the forest of sails.In the morning light, the small boat quietly rowed out from between the big boats; the people on the boat bowed their heads to pass under the stretched cables. At night, I have seen countless Hongges set sail, one after another disappearing in the night, sailing back to the day.

The pebbles on the path are not as bright as pearls, nor as clear as spring water, but they shine.On the tree-lined path I walked, the pebbles quietly received the sunlight. As for phosphorescence, however, alas!Nathanael, what can I say?The phosphorous body has countless pores, can absorb spiritual light, and accepts and obeys all laws, with a transparent body.Have you ever seen that the walls of the Muslim city are red at sunset and glow slightly at night.During the day, the sun pours into the secluded city wall; at noon (sunlight is stored), the city wall is white, like metal, and then slowly released at night, telling the story of the sun. ——The city!You look like a transparent body to me!Looking from the hill, you are shining under the darkness of night, like a white jade glazed lamp symbolizing a pious heart, the light is full, like a milky white halo through the pores.

White pebbles on the road in the gloom, storehouses of light.Clumps of white heather on the wasteland in the dusk, marble floors in mosques, sea anemones blooming in caves in the sea...all the whiteness is stored light. I have mastered the ability to judge various objects by their ability to absorb light.Some objects can receive sunlight during the day and act like light cells at night.I have seen the torrent in the field at noon, pouring down from the dark rocks in the distance, splashing and shining with thousands of golden lights. But, Nathanael, I only want to talk to you here about "tangible things" and never about intangible things-because... just like those seaweeds in various forms, once they are taken out of the sea, they lose their color... …

So, wait. —The infinite variety of landscapes keeps showing us that we have not yet known all the forms of happiness, contemplation, and melancholy that they contain.I know that there were days in my childhood when I was often sad, but as soon as I came to the moors of Brittany, my sadness disappeared suddenly, as if absorbed and merged by the scenery; so I could face myself and enjoy own melancholy. Endless new things. He did a very ordinary thing, and said: "I see: no one has ever done this, and no one has ever thought about it or said it."—Suddenly, everything seemed innocent to me. (The entire history of the world is contained in the here and now.) July 20 at 2:00 a.m. get up. —“Don’t keep God waiting!” I shouted as I got up.No matter how early you get up, you can always see life going on; life goes to bed early and doesn't make people wait like we do. Dawn, you are our closest joy. Spring is the dawn of summer! Dawn is the daily spring! We haven't woken up yet, Caixia has appeared... However, for the moon, Caixia is never too early, Or maybe it's not too late... to sleep I've experienced summer siestas—the midday sleep—the sleep weary and exhausted after working in the wee hours. two o'clock in the afternoon. —The child fell asleep.A dull silence.Could play some music, but no hands.The smell of calico curtains.The scent of hyacinths and tulips.Underwear. five o'clock in the afternoon. —Wake up, sweating all over, heart beating rapidly, shivering again and again, head fluttering, and everything is smooth; the pores of the skin are open, and everything seems to be able to invade freely.The sun was setting.The meadows are golden; the eyes only open at dusk.what!Xiang Wan's thoughts flowed like water!Flowers unfurl at night.Wash your forehead with warm water; go out... a row of fruit trees against the wall.The walled garden at sunset.The road; the sheep and cattle returning from the pasture; no need to watch the sunset—enough is enough. back indoors.Work again under the light. Nathanael, what can I say to you about the bed? I have slept on haystacks, in the furrows of wheat fields, on grass bathed in sunlight, and at night in hay sheds; On the deck or in the narrow berth of the cabin, facing the dull one-eyed porthole.There are beautiful girls waiting for me in some beds; in other beds, I have been waiting for molesters.Some of the beds were so soft they seemed as dedicated to making love as my body.I also slept on a hard bed in the barracks, which was like hell.I have also slept on a running train, feeling that I am moving all the time. Nathaniel, there is a wonderful rejuvenation before falling asleep, and a wonderful awakening after a full sleep, but there is no wonderful sleep.I only like dreams that I think are real.Know that the sweetest sleep is not worth the hour of waking. I'm used to sleeping facing the wide open windows, and I feel like I'm sleeping in the open.Lying naked in the moonlight on a hot July night, I was awakened at dawn by the crowing of crows;In the Jura, my windows looked down on the valley; soon the valley was filled with snow.I could see the edge of the woods from my bed; crows and rooks were circling over there.In the morning, the sound of sheep bells wakes me up.There is a mountain spring near where I live, where the shepherd drives his flock to drink water.These scenes are still vivid. In a hotel in Brittany, my body loves the contact of coarse linens with a pleasant, starched smell.On Belle Isle, I was awakened by the singing of the sailors, and ran to the window, where I saw small boats rowing away.Then, I ran to the beach. Some dwellings are very beautiful, but I don't want to stay long in any place.Worried that once the doors and windows are closed, it will become a trap.It was a prison of the spirit.A vagabond life is a pastoral life. —(Natanael, I put the staff into your hands, it is your turn to tend my flock, I am tired. Now you go, everywhere is open, and the insatiable The sheep are always bleating and rushing to new pastures.) Nathanael, there are also some novel dwellings that I miss, some are in the woods, some are by the water, and some are very spacious.However, based on my habit, once I stopped paying attention to the residence, I lost the sense of novelty; I was attracted by the scenery outside the window again, and began to reverie.So I left. (Natanael, this desire for novelty, I cannot explain to you. I do not seem to touch at all, I do not destroy the novelty of anything. However, the momentary feeling of seeing a thing for the first time is very strong, Even seeing old things later can hardly enhance the original impression. The reason why I often revisit the old city is that I want to experience the changes of time and seasons more carefully, which is easier to feel in familiar places. I stayed in Algiers During this period, I went to a small cafe opened by a Moor every evening, and I also wanted to observe the subtle changes of everyone from one dusk to another, and to observe how time slowly changes in such a small space.) In Rome, I lived in a room near Pinzio, level with the street, with iron bars on the windows, like a cell.Flower girls came to sell me roses, and the air was filled with fragrance.In Florence, sitting at my desk, I could see the murky waters of the rising Arno.In the stillness of the night on the terrace at Biskra, Merry Emma appeared in the moonlight.She was wrapped in a torn white burqa, came to the glass door, and shook off the burqa with a smile.I have a snack set for her in my bedroom.In Grenada, instead of candlesticks, I put two watermelons on my bedroom fireplace.In Seville, there are some deep courtyards paved with light-colored marble, covered with green shade, full of water vapor, very refreshing; the water trickles and gurgles in the small pool in the center of the courtyard. A thick wall that can block the north wind and absorb the light from the south, a mobile house that can move and receive all the blessings of the south... Nathanael, what should our room look like?A sanctuary in a beautiful setting. I will also tell you about windows: in Naples, at night on the balcony, chatting and dreaming with some women in light dresses; half-drawn curtains separate us from the noisy people at the ball.The conversation was so embarrassingly pretentious that it led to an embarrassing silence.From the garden came the strong scent of orange blossoms, and the song of birds on summer nights.Between the singing of the birds, the beating of the waves can be faintly heard. Balcony; flower baskets with wisteria and roses; night rest; warmth. (Tonight, a terrible storm whimpers outside my window, and the rain runs down the panes; I try to love the storm more than anything else.) Nathanael, let me tell you about the city again: I looked at Smyrna like a sleeping maiden, and Naples like a bathing slut, and Zagvan like a Cabirian shepherd whose cheeks were reddened by the dawn.Algiers trembles in love by day, and loses itself in love by night. In the north, I have seen villages sleeping in the moonlight, with blue and yellow walls mixed with houses.A field stretched out around the village, and the fields were piled high with haystacks.I went out into the deserted fields, and when I came back the village was asleep. Cities are different from cities.Sometimes you really don't know why it was built.what!The city of the east, the city of the south; the city of flat-roofed houses, whose roofs are white terraces, where prodigal girls dream sweet dreams at night.Pleasure, love's carnival; the lamps in the square, seen from the nearby hills, are like phosphorous fires at night. Eastern city!A fiery festival.Some streets, known locally as "Holy Streets," are filled with cafés filled with prostitutes dancing to blaring music.Arabs in white robes came and went, and there were even teenagers, who seemed to me too young to know how to make love (some with lips hotter than hatchlings).Northern city!Train platforms, factories, cities shrouded in smog.Monumental buildings, various bell towers, magnificent arches.The horse team on the boulevard, the crowd in a hurry.The asphalt road shining after the rain, the listless chestnut trees on both sides of the street, the woman who is always waiting for you.The night, the extremely gentle night, I will feel soft all over if I am attracted to it. eleven o 'clock. —the fence, the harsh sound of iron shutters.urban area.In the middle of the night, the streets were deserted, and when I passed by, the rats scurried back into the gutter.Looking through the transom in the basement, you can see half-naked men making bread. --Hey!coffee shop! —We were there till late at night.Drunkenness and chatter drive away the drowsiness.coffee shop!Some are full of paintings and mirrors, looking magnificent, and all the people who come and go are well-dressed elegant guests.In other small cafés, dancers sang funny bawdy ditties, lifting up their skirts as they danced. In Italy, on summer nights, cafes open up to the piazza and serve delicious lemon ice cream.In Algeria, I was nearly murdered at a café where the patrons used to smoke weed; the following year the police closed down the shop because the people who went there looked suspicious. Still talking about cafes... ah!A café run by the Moors!Sometimes a storyteller comes and tells a long story.How many nights, even though I couldn't understand, I still went to listen to his stories!The small coffee shop in Delbmen, no doubt, I like you the most, a quiet place in the evening: a mud house, located on the edge of the oasis, not far away is a desert.From there I saw that the hotter the day, the quieter the night.Near me, the piper played a monotonous tune with a focused expression. —and then I think of you, the little café in Shiraz, the café that the poet Hafiz sang.Hafiz, intoxicated by love and the cupbearer's wine, sits quietly on the terrace with a few roses reaching out to him; Hafiz, next to the sleeping cupbearer, writes poetry all night, waiting for the dawn. (I wish I had lived in a time when poets had only to sing about everything in the world in a simple enumeration. Thus, I admired each thing one by one, and this praise showed the value of the thing, which is its existence sufficient reason.) Nathanael, we haven't looked at the leaves together yet.The various curves of the leaves... The leaves of the trees; the green caves, the gaps between the leaves; the breeze, the whirling and changing of the branches and leaves; the swirls of shapes; the cracked green walls; the elastic frames; the round swaying; thin leaves and hives... The swaying of the branches... Because of the different elasticity of the twigs, the different ability to resist the wind, the strength of the impact of the wind is also different...——Let's change the subject... What are we talking about?Since it is not an article, there is no need to select materials... then come at your fingertips!Nathaniel, at your fingertips! ——All the sense organs in the body can be concentrated to one point at the same time, which can (it is difficult to say) completely transform the consciousness of life into the feeling of contacting the outside world... (and vice versa).When I reached this realm and occupied this cave, I only felt that what came into my ears was: The sound of gurgling water, the whistling of pines and waves, the intermittent chirping of grasshoppers, and so on. What caught my eye was: The sparkle of the stream in the sun, the heaving of the pines... (Look, a squirrel)... My foot is grinding, grinding a hole in this moss, etc. What invaded my skin was: This damp feeling, this moss-soft feeling (oh! what branch pricked me? . . . ) the feeling of my brow buried in the palm of my hand, the palm of my hand against my brow, and so on. What got into my nostrils was: ... (Hush! The squirrel approaches), and so on. It all comes together in one small package. - This is life. —Is that all? — No, of course there are other things. Do you think I'm just a collection of feelings?My life is always: this, plus myself. — Next time I will tell you about myself.I won't sing to you today: Spiritual waltzes in different forms don't sing best friend waltz don't even sing ballad of various encounters There is a verse in the ballad: In Como, in Leyte, the grapes are ripe.I ascended a great hill with the ruins of an ancient castle on it.The taste of the grapes was too sweet and greasy, and it smelled uncomfortable, as if it had been choked deep into my nostrils; but after eating it, there was no special taste. —However, I am hungry and thirsty, and a few bunches of grapes are enough to make me drunk. ... Actually, in this ballad I am mainly talking about men and women.Now I don't want to tell you about it, because I don't want to denigrate anyone in this book.I'm afraid you also know that there are no characters in this book, and even myself is just a phantom.Nathanael, I am Lyncus of the Watchtower.The night is long.Dawn, I am calling for you from the city tower!No matter how gorgeous it is, it is not too much dawn! I yearn for a new light until the end of the night.Now I don't expect it, but I still hope, I know from which direction the dawn will break. There is no doubt that the whole people is preparing; I can hear the noise in the streets from the tower.It will be dawn!The jubilant people have marched toward the rising sun. "What do you think of the night? Sentinel, what do you think of the night?" "I see a new generation rise and an old generation fall. I see this mighty generation rise, so rejoicing, to a new life." "What did you see on the top of the tower? What did you see, Lyncus, my brother?" "Alas! Alas! Let another prophet weep and wail! The night has come, and the day has come." "Their night has come, and our day has come. Whoever wants to sleep, sleep, Lyncus! Now, come down from the tower. It is day. Come out into the field. Look carefully at everything. Lin Kos, come, come! It's dawn, we believe it's dawn."