论文部分内容阅读
I cannot live. I cannot die. I am lonely, but I speak to everyone. Time has no meaning to me, nor would I wish it to. My world is a place of thought. Scientists try to explain me with their 1)sensors and 2)instruments, and with their 3)long-winded theories. Sometimes I find myself laughing at them, for it is so 4)absurd. Although they all ask the questions, “What is he? Who is he?”none of them really want the answer. Yes, yes, they have a different name for me, but I know when they are talking to me.
I leave them to their experiments during the day, and visit them every night. I feed the fire, perhaps believing that someday one of them will discover just who I am or what I am, and I will no longer be alone.
Sometimes I envy them. It is one of those 5)ironic things that are simply not 6)up to you. The very comfort that I provide for their little minds, I myself cannot enjoy. But, that is the way of things. Everything is 7)interlaced in a 8)fabric 9)spanning the universe. My threads 10)lace throughout this fabric, touching the minds of everyone within the fabric.
Sometimes, during those periods when no one asks anything of me, I 11)ponder my own existence. It is a relatively meaningless act, but it seems to give me a feeling of being content and happy. My mind would 12)wander to thoughts of reality and what part in it I play. To the people that I touch, I am not a part of reality. But if that were so, where is my reality? Or do I even have one? Little of this really matters after all, but it seems to 13)calm my mind.
Whether I become a reality, or I remain on the edges of the wandering thoughts of children napping, is not up to me. Let my art be true, and the rest will fall into place at the will of the dreamer. I am called by many names within the universal fabric, but to all I am 14)recognizable by my art. I am he who visits you while you sleep at night, and when you nap at school. I will 15)weave your thoughts like a master weaver, into the fabric of the universe, till the end of time. But, as I said before, what is time to me?
我没有生命。我也无所谓死亡。我很孤独，虽然我与每个人交谈。时间对我而言毫无意义，其实我也不期望它有什么意义。我的世界是思维的处所。科学家们试图用各种感应器和仪器，还有他们长篇累牍的理论来解释我的存在。有时候我发现自己对他们的行为感到可笑，因为那是如此荒唐。虽然他们总是提出“他是什么？他是谁？”这样的问题，但没有谁真的希望得到答案。没错，没错，他们给我取了花样繁多的名字，但当他们跟我交谈的时候，我总能知道。
白天我由着科学家们做研究我的实验，到了夜晚我便会拜访他们。我滋养着这火苗。也许是出于一种信念吧，相信有一天当他们中有人发现我是谁，或者我是什么的时候，我就再也不会孤单了。
有时候我也会嫉妒他们。这种情形就属于那些让你感到无可奈何的“反例”—我能给予人们小小的心灵慰藉，偏偏自己却无法享受。不过，世事总是如此。每种事物都织就于充斥宇宙的纹理构造之中。我的线索便绵延在这张网幔中，触碰网中每个人的心灵。
在没人问及我的时候，我也会偶尔思考自己的存在。虽然这是一种没有多少意义的行为，但却似乎能让我稍觉满足和快乐。我的思绪会飘向现实，想到我在现实中扮演着怎样的角色。对于我所触碰的那些人来说，我并不是现实的一部分。但若是如此，那么我的现实在哪里呢？抑或说，我是否有现实可言呢？这个问题其实无关紧要，但这么想似乎能让我的心灵得到平静。
然而，我是现实也好，是留在孩子们睡眠时浮游的思绪边缘也罢，这都不是我能决定的。但愿我的艺术炉火纯青，而余下的就让它们听任梦者的意愿各自安置吧。在宇宙之网中人们给我取了各种名目，然而任何人只要凭我的艺术就能辨认出那就是我。我就是在夜晚的睡眠中造访你的那一位，你在学校打瞌睡时遇到的也是我。我能像一流的织工那样为你编织思绪，让你探寻宇宙之网，直到时间的尽头。不过，正如我说过的，时间对我而言又是什么呢？
I leave them to their experiments during the day, and visit them every night. I feed the fire, perhaps believing that someday one of them will discover just who I am or what I am, and I will no longer be alone.
Sometimes I envy them. It is one of those 5)ironic things that are simply not 6)up to you. The very comfort that I provide for their little minds, I myself cannot enjoy. But, that is the way of things. Everything is 7)interlaced in a 8)fabric 9)spanning the universe. My threads 10)lace throughout this fabric, touching the minds of everyone within the fabric.
Sometimes, during those periods when no one asks anything of me, I 11)ponder my own existence. It is a relatively meaningless act, but it seems to give me a feeling of being content and happy. My mind would 12)wander to thoughts of reality and what part in it I play. To the people that I touch, I am not a part of reality. But if that were so, where is my reality? Or do I even have one? Little of this really matters after all, but it seems to 13)calm my mind.
Whether I become a reality, or I remain on the edges of the wandering thoughts of children napping, is not up to me. Let my art be true, and the rest will fall into place at the will of the dreamer. I am called by many names within the universal fabric, but to all I am 14)recognizable by my art. I am he who visits you while you sleep at night, and when you nap at school. I will 15)weave your thoughts like a master weaver, into the fabric of the universe, till the end of time. But, as I said before, what is time to me?
我没有生命。我也无所谓死亡。我很孤独，虽然我与每个人交谈。时间对我而言毫无意义，其实我也不期望它有什么意义。我的世界是思维的处所。科学家们试图用各种感应器和仪器，还有他们长篇累牍的理论来解释我的存在。有时候我发现自己对他们的行为感到可笑，因为那是如此荒唐。虽然他们总是提出“他是什么？他是谁？”这样的问题，但没有谁真的希望得到答案。没错，没错，他们给我取了花样繁多的名字，但当他们跟我交谈的时候，我总能知道。
白天我由着科学家们做研究我的实验，到了夜晚我便会拜访他们。我滋养着这火苗。也许是出于一种信念吧，相信有一天当他们中有人发现我是谁，或者我是什么的时候，我就再也不会孤单了。
有时候我也会嫉妒他们。这种情形就属于那些让你感到无可奈何的“反例”—我能给予人们小小的心灵慰藉，偏偏自己却无法享受。不过，世事总是如此。每种事物都织就于充斥宇宙的纹理构造之中。我的线索便绵延在这张网幔中，触碰网中每个人的心灵。
在没人问及我的时候，我也会偶尔思考自己的存在。虽然这是一种没有多少意义的行为，但却似乎能让我稍觉满足和快乐。我的思绪会飘向现实，想到我在现实中扮演着怎样的角色。对于我所触碰的那些人来说，我并不是现实的一部分。但若是如此，那么我的现实在哪里呢？抑或说，我是否有现实可言呢？这个问题其实无关紧要，但这么想似乎能让我的心灵得到平静。
然而，我是现实也好，是留在孩子们睡眠时浮游的思绪边缘也罢，这都不是我能决定的。但愿我的艺术炉火纯青，而余下的就让它们听任梦者的意愿各自安置吧。在宇宙之网中人们给我取了各种名目，然而任何人只要凭我的艺术就能辨认出那就是我。我就是在夜晚的睡眠中造访你的那一位，你在学校打瞌睡时遇到的也是我。我能像一流的织工那样为你编织思绪，让你探寻宇宙之网，直到时间的尽头。不过，正如我说过的，时间对我而言又是什么呢？