雙語(yǔ)散文|季羨林——黎明前的北京
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黎明前的北京
前后加起來，我在北京已經(jīng)住了四十多年，算是一個(gè)老北京了。北京的名勝古跡，北京的妙處，我應(yīng)該說是了解的；其他老北京當(dāng)然也了解。但是有一點(diǎn)，我相信絕大多數(shù)的老北京并不了解，這就是黎明時(shí)分以前的北京。多少年來，我養(yǎng)成了一個(gè)習(xí)慣：每天早晨四點(diǎn)在黎明以前起床工作。我不出去跑步或散步，而是一下床就干活兒。因此我對(duì)黎明前的北京的了解是在屋子里感覺到的。我從前在什么報(bào)上讀過一篇文章，講黎明時(shí)分天安門廣場(chǎng)上的清潔工人。那情景必然是非常動(dòng)人的，可惜我從未能見到，只是心向往之而已。
四十年前，我住在城里在明朝曾經(jīng)是特務(wù)機(jī)關(guān)的東廠里面。幾座深深的大院子，在最里面三個(gè)院子里只住著我一個(gè)人。朋友們都說這地方陰森可怕，晚上很少有人敢來找我，我則怡然自得。每當(dāng)夏夜，我起床以后，立刻就聞到院子里那些高大的馬纓花樹散發(fā)出來的陣陣幽香，這些香氣破窗而入，我于此時(shí)神清氣爽，樂不可支，連手中那一支笨拙的筆也仿佛生了花。
幾年以后，我搬到西郊來住，照例四點(diǎn)起床，坐在窗前工作。白天透過窗子能夠看到北京展覽館那金光閃閃的高塔的尖頂，此時(shí)當(dāng)然看不到了。但是，我知道，即使我看不見它，它仍然在那里挺然聳入天空，仿佛想帶給人以希望，以上進(jìn)的勁頭。我仍然是樂不可支，心也仿佛飛上了高空。
過了十年，我又搬了家。這新居既沒有馬纓花，也看不到金色的塔頂。但是門前卻有一片清碧的荷塘。剛搬來的幾年，池塘里還有荷花。夏天早晨四點(diǎn)已經(jīng)算是黎明時(shí)分。在薄暗中透過窗子可以看到接天蓮葉，而荷花的香氣也幽然襲來，我顧而樂之，大有超出馬纓花和金色塔頂之上的意味了。
難道我欣賞黎明前的北京僅僅由于上述的原因嗎？不是的。三十幾年以來，我成了一個(gè)“開會(huì)迷”。說老實(shí)話，積三十年之經(jīng)驗(yàn)，我真有點(diǎn)怕開會(huì)了。在白天，一整天說不定什么時(shí)候就會(huì)接到開會(huì)的通知。說一句過火的話，我簡(jiǎn)直是提心吊膽，心里不得安寧。即使不開會(huì)，這種惴惴不安的心情總擺脫不掉。只有在黎明以前，根據(jù)我的經(jīng)驗(yàn)，沒有哪里會(huì)來找你開會(huì)的。因此，我起床往桌子旁邊一坐，仿佛有什么近似條件反射的東西立刻就起了作用，我心里安安靜靜，一下子進(jìn)入角色，拿起筆來，“文思”（如果也算是文思的話）如泉水噴涌，記憶力也像剛磨過的刀子，銳不可當(dāng)。此時(shí)，我真是樂不可支，如果給我機(jī)會(huì)的話，我簡(jiǎn)直想手舞足蹈了。
因此，我愛北京，特別愛黎明前的北京。
Predawn Beijing
I've been in Beijing altogether for over 40 years. So I can well call myself a long-timer of Beijing. Like all other long-timers of the city, I'm supposed to be very familiar with its scenic spots and historical sites, nay, its superb attractions. But I believe there is one thing lying unknown to most of the long-time residents — the predawn hours of Beijing.For many years, I have been in the habit of getting up before daybreak to start work at four. Instead of going out for a jog or walk, I'll set about my work as soon as I'm out of bed. As a result, it is from inside my study that I've got the feel of predawn Beijing. Years ago, I hit upon a newspaper article about street cleaners in Tian'anmen Square at daybreak. It must have been a very moving scene, but what a pity I haven't seen it with my own eyes. I can only picture it in my mind longingly.
Forty years ago, I lived downtown in Dongchang, a compound which had housed the secret service of the Ming Dynasty. There were inside it several deep spacious courtyards one leading into another. I was the sole dweller of the three innermost courtyards. My friends, calling this place too ghastly, seldom dared to come to see me in the evening whereas I myself found it quite agreeable. In summer, the moment I got out of bed before daybreak, I would smell the delicate fragrance of the giant silk trees coming from outside my window. Thereupon, I would feel refreshed and joyful, and the clumsy pen in my hand would seem to have become as agile as it could.
Several years later when I moved to the western suburbs, I kept my habit of rising at four to begin work at the window. The glittering spire atop the tower of the Beijing Exhibition Center, which I could see in the daytime through my window, would no longer be visible now in the early morning haze. Nevertheless I knew that, though invisible, it remained there intact, towering to the skies to inspire people with hope and the urge for moving ahead. At this, I would be beside myself with joy and feel as if my heart were also flying high up into the skies.
Ten years after, I moved again. In the new home of mine, I had no silk trees, nor could I get sight of the glittering spire from afar. There was, however, a lotus pond of limpid blue in front of my door. In the first few years after I moved there, lotus flowers continued to blossom on the surface of the pond. In the summertime, when day broke early at four, a vast stretch of lotus leaves looking skywards outside my window came dimly into sight while the quiet fragrance of the lotus flowers assailed my nose. All that delighted me even more than the silk trees and the glittering spire.
Is it exclusively due to the above-mentioned that I've developed a liking for predawn Beijing? No. For 30 years, I've been bogged down in the mire of meetings. To tell you the truth, with the experience accumulated over the 30 years, I'm now scared of meetings. In the daytime, there is no telling when I may be served a notice for attending a meeting. To exaggerate it a bit, that keeps me in constant suspense and makes me fidgety. Even when no meeting is to take place, I feel restless all the same. However, my experience tells that it is only during the predawn hours that I can be truly havened from any involvement in meetings. As soon as I sit at my desk before dawn, something similar to the conditioned reflex will begin to function within me: Instantly I'll pick up my pen to play my proper part with perfect peace of mind. Then inspiration comes gushing to my mind and my memory becomes as quick as a newly-sharpened knife. I'll feel overjoyed, almost to the point of waving my arms and stamping my feet.
In short, I love Beijing, especially predawn Beijing.
季羨林（1911—?。?，著名教育家、印度學(xué)家、梵文文學(xué)翻譯家、散文家，自1948年起任北京大家東方語(yǔ)言文學(xué)系教授兼系主任?！独杳髑暗谋本肥撬麑懹?985年2月11日的一篇小品文。文章敘述他喜愛黎明前的北京有諸多原因，其中主要的一條是在黎明以前他可免除種種會(huì)議的困擾，“安安靜靜”從事腦力勞動(dòng)。作者現(xiàn)身說法，對(duì)建國(guó)以來長(zhǎng)期流行的“文山會(huì)海”提出含蓄的批評(píng)。
