Dinner with Danish Scholars, Aarhus
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
The Wanderer
Alternatives:
The Passing Stranger; The Wandering Stranger; The Dismal Guest
The Passing Stranger; The Wandering Stranger; The Dismal Guest
Lu Xun
Tr. Huiwen (Helen) Zhang
Time:
Some certain day at dusk.
Place:
Some certain place.
People:
Old Man—Around 70 years old, with white beard and hair, in a black robe.
Girl—Around 10 years old, with purple hair and beady, crow-black eyes, in a white gown with black squares.
Wanderer—Around 30 or 40 years old, exhausted yet unrelenting, with a gloomy gaze, black beard and ragged hair, in a tattered short black shirt and pants, bare feet in worn-out shoes, a sack slung over his shoulder, supporting himself with a bamboo stick as tall as he is.
To the east, a few trees and rubble; to the west, several desolate, dilapidated graves; between them is the trace of something like a road, but not a road. A small mud hut has a door open facing that trace; beside the door lies a withered tree root.
(The girl is about to help the old man up from the tree root on which he is resting.)
Old Man: Kid. Hey, kid! What’s stopping you?
Child (looks to the east): There is someone coming. Let me have a look.
Old Man: There’s no need to look at him. Help me back inside. The sun is setting.
Child: I, —want to have a look.
Old Man: Alas, you kid! Everyday seeing the sky, seeing the earth, seeing the wind, isn’t that enough to see? Nothing can be as nice looking. You nonetheless insist on looking at a person. Anything that appears at sunset won’t do you any good… We’d better go in.
Child: But he’s already come closer. Ah-ah, it’s a beggar.
Old Man: A beggar? I doubt.
(The wanderer limps out from the bushes to the east. After a moment’s hesitation he walks slowly up to the old man.)
Wanderer: Good evening, venerable old man.
Old Man: Ah, good evening! Thanks for your blessing. Are you well?
Wanderer: May I make so bold as to ask for a cup of water, venerable old man? I am parched with walking, and there is not a pool or puddle in this area.
Old Man: Well, fine, fine. Please sit down. (to the girl) Kid, fetch some water. Be sure to wash the cup clean.
(The girl walks silently into the mud hut.)
Old Man: Please sit down, guest Sir. How shall I address you?
Wanderer: Address?—I don’t know. As long as I can remember, I’ve only been on my own, and I don’t know what I was originally called. As I walk along, people sometimes call me different names as they please—of all kinds and sorts—and I don’t remember them clearly. Besides, I am never addressed the same way twice.
Old Man: Ah-ah. Well, where are you from?
Wanderer (hesitates for a moment): I don’t know. As long as I can remember, I’ve been walking so.
Old Man: Sure. Well, may I ask where you are going?
Wanderer: Of course you may. –But the thing is, I don’t know. As long as I can remember, I’ve been walking so, aiming for a certain place; this place is just ahead. I only remember that I’ve walked down many paths; now I’ve arrived here. I shall then go on that way, (pointing west) ahead!
(The girl carefully carries out a wooden cup of water, passes it to the wanderer.)
Wanderer (takes the cup): Many thanks, maiden. (drinks the water in two gulps, returns the cup) Many thanks, maiden. This is truly rare kindness. I really don’t know how to appreciate it!
Old Man: Don’t appreciate it so much. It won’t do you any good.
Wanderer: You’re right; it won’t do me any good. But I am now very much recovered. I am about to walk on. You probably have lived here for quite a long time, venerable old man. Would you know what kind of place that is ahead?
Old Man: Ahead? Ahead are graves.
Wanderer (astonished): Graves?
Child: No, no, no. In that place there are many, many wild lilies and wild roses. I often go there to play, and to look at them.
Wanderer (looks to the west, seems to smile) You’re right. That place does have many, many wild lilies and wild roses. I myself have often gone there to play, and to look at them. However, they are graves. (to the old man) Venerable old man, what if I walk beyond the graveyard?
Old Man: Beyond the graveyard? That I don’t know. I have never walked that way.
Wanderer: You don’t know?!
Child: I don’t know either.
Old Man: I only know the south, the north, and the east where you come from. They are the places I know best; and they may be the best places for you after all. Don’t take offence at what I say, but as far as I can see, you are already so exhausted that you’d better go back; because even if you go on, you may not be able to walk to the end.
Wanderer: I may not be able to walk to the end? ... (ponders, suddenly starts) That won’t do! I have no choice but to walk on. If I go back, there’s not a place without hypocrisy, not a place without exploiters, not a place without jail and exile, not a place without fake smiles, not a place without feigning tears. I hate them; I am not going back!
Old Man: That may not be true. You may also encounter some tears from the heart, some laments for you.
Wanderer: No. I am unwilling to see the tears from their heart; neither do I want their laments for me.
Old Man: If so, you, (shakes his head) you have no choice but to walk on.
Wanderer: Yes, I have no choice but to walk on. Furthermore, there is also a voice always ahead urging me on and calling to me, so that I cannot rest. The really hateful part is, my feet are long torn up and covered in gashes from walking, and a great deal of blood has flowed out from these wounds. (lifts one foot to show the old man) Therefore, I no longer have enough blood; I need to drink some blood. But where would this blood be? Besides, I am unwilling to drink anyone’s blood, no matter whose. I hence have no choice but to drink some water to replenish my blood. Along the road there is always water, and I have never felt any lack of it. It’s just that my strength is too diluted, because there is too much water inside my blood. Today I have not encountered even a small puddle, so if I have walked less far today, that is the reason.
Old Man: Not necessarily. The sun has set; I think you’d better rest a while, like me.
Wanderer: But the voice ahead is urging me on.
Old Man: I know.
Wanderer: You know? You know that voice?
Old Man: Yes. He seems to have called to me before as well.
Wanderer: Was he the same voice that is calling to me now?
Old Man: That I don’t know. He called me but a couple of times; I ignored him, he thus ceased calling. I thus do not remember.
Wanderer: Ah-ah, ignoring him… (ponders, suddenly starts, listening) No way! I’d better walk on. I am not able to rest. It is hateful that my feet are long torn up. (ready to depart)
Child: This is for you! (passes him a piece of cloth) Wrap your wounds.
Wanderer: Many thanks, (takes the cloth), maiden. This is truly… This is truly rare kindness. This will enable me to walk further. (sits down on the rubble, about to bind the cloth round his ankle) But, no way! (struggles to his feet) Take it back, maiden; it’s still not enough to wrap my wounds. Moreover, such excessive kindness I am not able to appreciate.
Old Man: Don’t appreciate it so much. It won’t do you any good.
Wanderer: You’re right; it won’t do me any good. But to me this dana[1] is the greatest of all. Look at me, is there anything else on me as great?
Old Man: You do not need to take it so seriously.
Wanderer: You’re right. But I cannot. I’m afraid this is the way if I were to receive dāna from someone: I would react like a vulture spotting a corpse and hovering nearby, wishing for her to be destroyed, and for myself to see it. Or perhaps I would curse absolutely everything except her with destruction, including myself, because I deserve to be cursed. But I do not have this sort of power yet; even if I had such power, I would not wish such circumstances upon her, because they probably do not usually wish for such circumstances. I think this is safest. (to the girl) Maiden, this piece of cloth of yours is very good, but a bit too small; I’ll give it back to you.
Child (scared, shrinks back): I don’t want it any more! Take it with you!
Wanderer (seems to smile): Ah-ah … because I’ve touched it?
Child (nods and points at his sack): Keep it in there, for fun.
Wanderer (shrinks back in depression): But with this on my back, how am I to walk?
Old Man: You can’t rest, hence you can’t carry it. –Rest a while, then you’ll feel nothing.
Wanderer: Indeed, a rest… (ponders in silence, then starts, listening) No, I cannot! I’d better walk on.
Old Man: Are you still unwilling to rest?
Wanderer: I am.
Old Man: Well, rest a while then.
Wanderer: But, I cannot…
Old Man: Do you still consider it better to walk on?
Wanderer: Yes. I’d better walk on.
Old Man: Well, you’d better walk on then.
Wanderer (stretches the waist): All right, I’ll say farewell then. I am very thankful to you both. (to the girl) Maiden, this I shall return to you. Please take it back.
(Scared, the girl draws back her hands and wants to escape into the hut.)
Old Man: You’d better take it with you. If it turned out too heavy, you could throw it away anytime in the graveyard.
Child (steps forward): Ah-ah, that won’t do!
Wanderer: Ah-ah, that won’t do.
Old Man: Well, hang it on those wild lilies and wild roses then.
Child (claps her hands): Ha-ha! Fine!
Wanderer: Ah-ah…
(For the most fleeting moment there is silence.)
Old Man: Well, farewell then. We wish you safety. (stands up, turns to the girl) Kid, help me back inside. Look, the sun has long set. (turns to the door)
Wanderer: Many thanks to you both. I wish you both safety. (hesitates, ponders, then starts) But I cannot! I have no choice but to walk. I’d better walk on … (Instantly lifting his head high, he exerts himself to walk towards the west.)
(The girl helps the old man back into the hut and immediately closes the door. The wanderer limps stoically into the wilderness; the dark of the night follows after him.)
March 2, 1925
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