岩讲录

岩讲录

作者: 轩辕十四Rex
最近更新: 2016/10/21
崔“岩”“讲”述的东东,把它“录”下来,就成了“岩讲录”。天南海北,中外古今,有趣的、有料的、有意思的,文艺的、经典的、大白话的。讲要讲出点门道,扯要扯出点故事。我就是这么任性!

Recent Episodes

岩读|正气歌

岩读|正气歌

正气歌(并序)文天祥余囚北庭,坐一土室。室广八尺,深可四寻。单扉低小,白间短窄,污下而幽暗。当此夏日,诸气萃然:雨潦四集,浮动床几,时则为水气;涂泥半朝,蒸沤历澜,时则为土气;乍晴暴热,风道四塞,时则为日气;檐阴薪爨,助长炎虐,时则为火气;仓腐寄顿,陈陈逼人,时则为米气;骈肩杂遝,腥臊汗垢,时则为人气;或圊溷、或毁尸、或腐鼠,恶气杂出,时则为秽气。叠是数气,当之者鲜不为厉。而予以孱弱,俯仰其间,於兹二年矣,幸而无恙,是殆有养致然尔。然亦安知所养何哉?孟子曰:「吾善养吾浩然之气。」彼气有七,吾气有一,以一敌七,吾何患焉!况浩然者,乃天地之正气也,作正气歌一首。天地有正气,杂然赋流形。下则为河岳,上则为日星。于人曰浩然,沛乎塞苍冥。皇路当清夷,含和吐明庭。时穷节乃见,一一垂丹青。在齐太史简,在晋董狐笔。在秦张良椎,在汉苏武节。为严将军头,为嵇侍中血。为张睢阳齿,为颜常山舌。或为辽东帽,清操厉冰雪。或为出师表,鬼神泣壮烈。或为渡江楫,慷慨吞胡羯。或为击贼笏,逆竖头破裂。是气所磅礴,凛烈万古存。当其贯日月,生死安足论。地维赖以立,天柱赖以尊。三纲实系命,道义为之根。嗟予遘阳九,隶也实不力。楚囚缨其冠,传车送穷北。鼎镬甘如饴,求之不可得。阴房阗鬼火,春院閟天黑。牛骥同一皂,鸡栖凤凰食。一朝蒙雾露,分作沟中瘠。如此再寒暑,百沴自辟易。嗟哉沮洳场,为我安乐国。岂有他缪巧,阴阳不能贼。顾此耿耿在,仰视浮云白。悠悠我心悲,苍天曷有极。哲人日已远,典刑在夙昔。风檐展书读,古道照颜色。

2016/5/29
207
岩读|情书

岩读|情书

我最亲爱的泰丽莎:我在你的花园里读完了这本书:──我的爱人,你不在家,否则我是不可能把它读完的。这是你最喜欢的一本书,作者是我的朋友。你是看不懂这封英文信的,别人也不会懂──这正是我没有用意大利文写的原因。但是你会认识你那炽热的爱人的笔迹,而且你会猜到,他在读一本属于你的书时,心中想的只能是爱情。这个词在所有的语言中都很美,但尤其是在你的语言中──Amor-mio;它包含着我现在和今后的生存的意义。我感觉到我现在生存着,同时也感觉到我今后还会生存下去,──为什么目的呢?这将由你来决定;我的命运维系在你身上,而你是个十八岁的女人,从修道院出来才两年。我真希望你如今还在修道院中,──或者至少,我能在你未嫁之时和你相逢。然而这一切为时已晚。我爱你,你也爱我,──至少你是这样说的,而且从你的行动来看好象也是如此。这一点至少是一大安慰。可是,我对你的爱太深了,而且是永无休止。万一阿尔卑斯山和大海把我们隔离开来,愿你时常想念我,──不过,我们永远不会分离的,除非你有这种意愿。  拜伦  1819年8月25日于波洛那Lord Byron Love Letter to Teresa GuiccioliMy dearest Teresa, I have read this book in your garden;--my love, you were absent, or else I could not have read it. It is a favourite book of yours, and the writer was a friend of mine. You will not understand these English words, and others will not understand them,--which is the reason I have not scrawled them in Italian. But you will recognize the handwriting of him who passionately loved you, and you will divine that, over a book which was yours, he could only think of love. In that word, beautiful in all languages, but most so in yours--Amor mio--is comprised my existence here and hereafter. I feel I exist here, and I feel I shall exist hereafter,--to what purpose you will decide; my destiny rests with you, and you are a woman, eighteen years of age, and two out of a convent. I wish that you had staid there, with all my heart,--or, at least, that I had never met you in your married state. But all this is too late. I love you, and you love me,--at least, you say so, and act as if you did so, which last is a great consolation in all events. But I more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. Think of me, sometimes, when the Alps and ocean divide us,--but they never will, unless you wish it.

2016/5/9
222