葉嘉瑩教授講於萬佛聖城
Lectures by Professor Yeh Jiaying at the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas
在接下來的這一首詩裡，陶淵明談到了自己以前的理想和願望：
In the following poem, Tao Yuanming reflects upon his earlier aspirations and hopes:
少年罕人事，游好在六經。
行行向不惑，淹留遂無成。
竟抱固窮節，饑寒飽所更。
敝盧交悲風，荒草沒前庭。
披褐守長夜，晨雞不肯鳴。
孟公不在茲，終以翳吾情。
Hardly involved in worldly affairs in my youth,
I delighted in studying the Six Classics.
Now, as I near the age of forty,
Long immersed in learning, I have achieved nothing.
Though poor, I still hold fast to my principles;
As a result, I suffer from hunger and cold.
My shabby hut endures the bitter wind,
And the front yard lies overgrown with grass.
Thinly clad, I wait through the long night:
“When will the sun rise? Why do the roosters not crow?”
Hermit Meng Gong is no longer here—
To whom can I confide my heartfelt thoughts?
前邊一首不是說「若不委窮達，素抱深可惜」嗎？可見他以前是有過「窮達」的觀念，所以現在就追想自己的少年時代。
Did he not say in the previous poem, “If I do not accord with the conditions of poverty and wealth, I will go against my original resolve—and that would be a great pity”? From this, we can see that he once aspired to transcend poverty and attain a more fulfilled life. Thus, in this poem, he turns back to reflect upon his youth.
「少年罕人事，游好在六經」，是說當我年輕的時候，沒有經歷過人間社會那些複雜的事情，那時每天讀聖賢的書，學的都是孔孟的道理，以為做人就是應該如此，從沒想到人間社會的政治鬥爭是這麼黑暗和齷齪。「游好」兩個字說得很好，很多人讀書是被逼迫的，有的人是被家長逼迫，有的人是被老師逼迫，有的人是為了將來的出路，自己逼迫自己用功讀書。而陶淵明他是真的愛好，從小時候就覺得讀「六經」是一件快樂的事情。
“Hardly involved in worldly affairs in my youth, / I delighted in studying the Six Classics.” Here, Tao Yuanming is saying that in his early years, he had not yet encountered the complexities of society. Each day, he immersed himself in the writings of the sages, learning the principles taught by Confucius and Mencius. He believed that human beings ought to live according to these ideals. Never had he imagined that the political world could be so dark and fraught with contention. The phrase yóu hào (游好), meaning “to take genuine delight in,” is especially significant. Many people study out of compulsion—whether driven by parents, teachers, or concerns about their future. But Tao Yuanming was different: he truly loved learning. From childhood, he found deep joy in studying the Six Classics.
所謂「六經」，就是《詩》、《書》、《易》、《禮》、《樂》、《春秋》。其中《樂經》沒有文字傳下來，所以有時候也稱為「五經」。關於沒有《樂經》的原因，有各種說法：有人認為是在秦始皇焚書坑儒的時候亡失了，也有人認為它主要是音樂演奏，依附《詩》和《禮》而存在，所以從來就沒有獨立的文字。六經是儒家的經典，是每個讀書人年輕時都讀過的。「宋末元初」有一個人寫過一首詩叫《讀書樂》，說他每天讀書所接觸的都是孔孟這些古代聖賢的教導，都是人世間最美好、最完整、最高遠的理想，所以讀書是最快樂的事情。陶淵明少年時也是如此，儒家的經典使他對人世懷有一種美好、高遠的願望和追求。
The Six Classics refer to the Book of Odes, Book of Documents, Book of Changes, Book of Rites, the Book of Music, and the Spring and Autumn Annals. Of these, the Book of Music was not transmitted as a complete text; thus, the canon is often referred to as the Five Classics. There are various explanations for the loss of the Book of Music. Some attribute it to the book burnings under Qin Shi Huang, while others suggest that, because it concerned musical performance, its content was incorporated into other works such as the Book of Odes and the Book of Rites, rather than preserved independently. These Classics formed the foundation of Confucian learning, and every scholar studied them from a young age. During the period spanning the Southern Song Dynasty to the Yuan Dynasty, a poem titled The Joy of Study expressed this sentiment: through daily study, one communes with the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, encountering the highest and most complete ideals of human life—what greater joy could there be? Such was Tao Yuanming’s experience in his youth. The Confucian Classics filled him with beautiful and lofty aspirations, offering him a vision of how the world ought to be.
可是，「行行向不惑，淹留遂無成」：光陰一天一天地過去，年齡一天一天地老大，忽然有一天我就發現自己已經接近不惑之年了。陶淵明常用古典，四書、五經、諸子他幾乎都用過，但如果我們給他統計一下，用得最多的，其實還是孔子的話。孔子說：「吾十有五而志於學，三十而立，四十而不惑，五十而知天命。」（《論語 • 為政》）這是孔子講他自己為學和做人的經驗。
However, he continues:
“Now, as I near the age of forty,
Long immersed in study, I have achieved nothing.”
As time passed, Tao Yuanming gradually realized that he was approaching forty—the age at which one is said to be free from doubt. He frequently drew upon classical sources, especially the Confucian canon and the writings of various schools of thought. If one were to examine his works closely, one would find that he most often cites the words of Confucius.
Confucius once said:
“At fifteen, I set my heart on learning.
At thirty, I stood firm.
At forty, I was free from doubts.
At fifty, I understood the Mandate of Heaven.”
(Analects, “On Government”)
Here, Confucius summarizes the stages of his own development.
孔子十五歲立志求學，三十歲建立了精神品格上的操守。這個「三十而立」的「立」，不只是身體和物質上的站立，更重要的是精神品格的站立。有的人總是被別人左右，別人說幾句話，他就動搖了、改變了，這是精神上不能站立。還有的人，一直不知道自己應該追求什麼，聽一聽這個也不錯，聽一聽那個也動心。
To “set one’s heart on learning” at fifteen marks the beginning of aspiration. To “stand firm” at thirty does not merely mean being materially independent; more importantly, it refers to establishing one’s character and integrity. Some people are easily swayed by others—just a few words can alter their direction. Such individuals have not yet “stood firm” inwardly. Others do not even know what they truly seek; they are constantly tempted, thinking, “This seems good,” or “That also seems appealing,” and thus drift without direction.
到四十歲的時候，孔子就有了自己的人生理想和追求，不再為這些問題而困惑了。至於「五十而知天命」，說的是一種很深刻的人生經驗。一個人不能不承認，天下的事情確實有一些是自己不能掌握的。對於能掌握的事情，一定要把它保握住；對於不能掌握的，就應該樂天知命。從這裡也可以看出，儒家對人生的態度是很現實的，既不純任理想，也不消極悲觀，而是在人生的艱難困苦中，保持覺悟和操守，堅持理想和追求。
By forty, Confucius had clarified his path and was no longer confused or uncertain. As for “knowing the Mandate of Heaven” at fifty, this refers to a deep insight into the limits of human control. One comes to recognize that there are indeed things beyond one’s power. Yet at the same time, one must firmly uphold what is within one’s control. Toward what cannot be controlled, one learns to accept and accord with circumstances. From this, we can see that Confucianism embodies a profoundly realistic attitude toward life. It is neither purely idealistic nor pessimistic. Rather, it encourages perseverance amid hardship, while maintaining integrity and never abandoning one’s higher ideals.
陶淵明本來是希望有所作為的，可是時代限制了他，使他沒有完成自己的理想。他在《雜詩》的一首中也曾說：「日月擲人去，有志不獲騁。念此懷悲悽，終曉不能靜。」他說，我一想到自己已經年齡老大，多少要做的事情卻沒有做成功，我就滿懷悲哀，內心整夜整夜地不能夠平靜。這些話，也可以和「行行向不惑，淹留遂無成」兩句互相印證。
Tao Yuanming once hoped to accomplish something in the world. Yet the conditions of his time constrained him, making it impossible to fulfill his aspirations. In one of his Miscellaneous Poems, he writes:
Time passes swiftly,
And my aspirations remain unfulfilled.
Whenever I reflect upon this, sorrow arises,
And through the long night, my heart finds no rest.
He is essentially saying: as I grow older and see that so many of my aspirations remain unrealized, sorrow fills my heart, and I lie awake through the night in unrest. These lines echo and reinforce the sentiment: “Now, as I near the age of forty, Long immersed in study, I have achieved nothing.”
上一次課我說過，前人說陶淵明是「欲有為而未能」——希望有所作為卻沒有能夠完成。而陶詩之所以好，就正是因為他經歷了這樣的矛盾、選擇和掙扎。他終於回到田園去種地，那是他經過多少艱難的選擇，付出了多少內心痛苦的代價，才作出來的決定。這些感情的積澱，就使得陶詩的味道十分豐富深厚。後代不但有許多讀書人喜歡陶詩，連辛棄疾那樣的英雄豪傑也喜歡陶詩，其原因亦在於此。
In earlier discussion, it was mentioned that later critics described Tao Yuanming as one who “wished to achieve, yet was unable to.” He aspired to accomplishment, yet could not bring it to fruition. It is precisely because he underwent such inner conflict—facing difficult choices, enduring struggle, and ultimately making life-defining decisions—that his poetry possesses such depth and power. In the end, he chose to withdraw from official life and return to farming. This decision was not made lightly, but arose from profound inner suffering and careful reflection. The accumulation of these emotional and existential struggles gives his poetry its rich and enduring resonance. For this reason, later generations of scholars—and even great figures such as Xin Qiji—deeply admired his work.
記載禪宗語錄的《五燈會元》中，有一個「透網金鱗」的故事，講的是有兩位禪師在水邊散步，看到漁人正在那裡拉網，有一條魚在網裡拼命掙扎，終於跳出網外。一位禪師就讚美說：「俊哉！」意思是，牠真了不起，牠表現得真是美好。他的夥伴回答說，牠雖然了不起，可是「爭如當初不撞入網羅好」——要是當初根本就沒被網住豈不更好？禪師就對他的夥伴說，老兄，你「欠悟在！」
A story recorded in the Wudeng Huiyuan, titled “The Golden Fish that Escaped the Net,” offers a fitting reflection: Two Chan masters were walking beside a river when they saw a fisherman drawing in his net. Inside, a fish struggled desperately and finally leapt free. One monk exclaimed, “Outstanding!”—praising the fish for its remarkable escape. The other replied, “Outstanding indeed—but would it not have been better if it had never entered the net in the first place?” Upon hearing this, the first monk said, “Dharma brother, you have not yet understood.”
「在」是禪宗語錄裡常用的一個語助詞，「欠悟在」就是缺少悟性。為什麼說他缺少悟性呢？因為沒有入過網的魚，倘若有一天被網住，能不能跳出來還是一個問題，也許就永遠也出不來了。只有被網住又能夠跳出來，那才是真正得到了大自由、大解脫，今後再也沒有什麼東西能把它網住了。同樣，陶詩之所以豐富深刻，也是因為他經過了這樣的矛盾掙扎，而終於找到了自己的一個立足之地。
“At this point” is a common expression in Chan discourse (more naturally than “quotations”). When one says, “You are lacking realization at this point,” it means that one has not yet understood the principle in this particular regard. Why was it said that the fellow practitioner lacked comprehension? Because if a fish had never entered a net before, then once it is caught, whether it can escape becomes uncertain—it may never break free. Only those fish that have been caught and yet manage to leap out truly attain freedom. Having once escaped, they are no longer easily ensnared again. In the same way, the richness and depth of Tao Yuanming’s poetry arise precisely because he gained firm insight after passing through such inner conflicts and struggles.
如果僅僅是事業上淹留無成，生活上卻能夠豐衣足食，舒服快樂，那也沒有什麼了不起。有人說北宋的晏小山(晏幾道 1037-1110)品格很好，因為他一生都不出來做官。可是晏小山當然可以不出來做官，因為他父親晏殊（991-1055）是宰相，他身為貴公子，不愁吃穿，整天聽歌看舞，不做官有什麼稀奇！
However, if Tao Yuanming’s statement “I have achieved nothing” referred merely to an unsuccessful official career, while he still lived comfortably and without hardship, then it would carry little significance.Some have praised Yan Jidao (1037–1110) for his lofty character, noting that he never sought office throughout his life. Yet he did not need to—his father, Yan Shu (991–1055), was a prime minister. He lived in wealth and ease, free from concern over food or clothing, spending his days enjoying music and entertainment. What, then, is so remarkable about his not entering official life?
陶淵明與晏小山不同。他不但理想不能實現，事業淹留無成，而且還「竟抱固窮節，饑寒飽所更」。我們說到「竟」，往往都是出乎意料之外的事。以陶淵明少年時那樣好學，那樣有理想，本來他早就應該有所成就了，可是沒想到年近四十歲卻事業無成，所能守住的就只剩下一個「固窮」的節操。
Tao Yuanming was entirely different. Not only was he unable to fulfill his aspirations or achieve success in office, he also endured real hardship: “Though poor, I hold fast to my principles;/ As a result, I suffer from hunger and cold.” The word jìng (竟) often conveys a sense of the unexpected. Given Tao Yuanming’s love of learning and his lofty aspirations in youth, one might have expected him to achieve success early on. Yet by the age of forty, he had accomplished nothing in official life. What remained to him was only this: to uphold his integrity, as expressed in “Though poor, I hold fast to my principles.”
這個「抱」字用得很好。你把你認為珍貴美好的東西緊貼在心上，如此親切，如此珍愛，那是你的懷抱。陶淵明抱持的是什麼？是「固窮」的品格。孔子說：「君子固窮，小人窮斯濫矣。」（《論語 • 衛靈公》）意思是：君子不因貧窮而改變節操；而那些品格不好的小人，在貧窮的時候，就什麼事情都幹得出來了。「固窮」這個詞，誰都可以說，可是許多人在說這個詞的時候，其實是衣食溫飽；而陶淵明那時候卻是「饑寒飽所更」。「更」，在這裡是經歷的意思。他不是偶爾餓了一頓，偶爾沒有衣服穿，而是經常挨餓，每年冬天都沒有足夠的棉衣，是「飽所更」。
The word bào (抱, “to hold” or “to embrace”) is especially powerful. One embraces what one cherishes most deeply, holding it close to the heart. What did Tao Yuanming embrace? He embraced the principle of maintaining integrity despite poverty. Confucius said, “The noble person remains steadfast in principle even in poverty; the petty person, when impoverished, will do anything.” (Analects, “Duke Ling of Wei”) This means that a person of integrity does not compromise moral principles due to hardship, whereas one lacking virtue may abandon all restraint when faced with poverty. Many people speak of “holding fast to principles despite poverty,” but often do so while living in comfort. Tao Yuanming, however, spoke these words while truly enduring hardship—“suffering from hunger and cold.” The word gēng (更, here meaning “all the more” or “as a result”) indicates lived experience. His suffering was not occasional, but continual. He lacked sufficient clothing in winter and often went hungry—this is the full weight of “suffering much.”
底下他還有更具體的描寫：「敝廬交悲風，荒草沒前庭。披褐守長夜，晨雞不肯鳴。」「交悲風」是說，四面八方的風都可以交雜地吹進來；也就是說，他的草屋是處在四面八方的風吹雨打之中。「悲風」，是指秋季冬季那種蕭瑟寒冷的風。「荒草沒前庭」也是寫實，可以和前邊那一首的「灌木荒余宅」相印證。可是你要知道，陶淵明這個人不但品格修養很深厚，他的文學修養也是很深厚的。他所使用的形象，往往給我們一種暗示，有一種象徵的含義。所以我以為，「敝廬交悲風，荒草沒前庭」兩句，不只是說他家的房子處在這麼荒涼的地方，同時也象徵了他所在之時代那種雜亂和危難的環境。至少我們是可以有這種聯想的。
He then offers a more concrete depiction of his circumstances:
“My shabby hut endures the bitter wind,
The front yard lies overgrown with grass.
Thinly clad, I wait through the long night:
‘When will the sun rise? Why do the roosters not crow?’”
“Enduring the bitter wind” suggests that cold air pierced his hut from all directions; it could not shield him from the elements. The “bitter wind” evokes the harsh chill of autumn and winter. “The front yard overgrown with grass” is also a realistic portrayal, echoing the earlier line, “my house has become overgrown with shrubs.” Yet Tao Yuanming was not only a man of refined character, but also a master of literary expression. The images he employs often carry suggestive, symbolic meaning. Thus, these lines do more than describe a dilapidated dwelling—they may also allude to the turbulent and perilous conditions of his time. At the very least, such a resonance can be felt between the physical setting and the broader historical environment.
宋代詞人辛棄疾有一首〈沁園春〉，寫的是他有一所房子座落在群山之中，前邊有瀑布、小橋，還有許多松樹，上闋的最後幾句是：「吾廬小，在龍蛇影外，風雨聲中。」山中時常有風雨，松樹的樹幹伸出去那種盤拏的樣子，很像龍蛇的形狀，而且風吹松樹也會發出一種波浪般的聲音，我們稱作「松濤」。所以這幾句是寫實。可是你要知道，龍蛇那種奇形怪狀的變化，和風雨波濤的聲音，在辛詞中也正代表了一種不安定的感覺，因此這幾句同時也象徵著時代的風雨，和外界強加給作者的那些患難與挫折。陶淵明這兩句，也同樣給人這種象徵的聯想。
Xin Qiji, a great ci poet of the Song dynasty, composed a lyric titled A Garden Full of Springtime Vitality. In it, he describes a mountain dwelling: before his hut stand a waterfall, a small bridge, and towering pine trees. The closing lines of the upper stanza read:
A small hut stands secluded,
Beneath pine shadows twisting like dragons and snakes,
Amid the mingled sounds of wind and rain.
In the mountains, wind and rain are frequent. The gnarled branches of pine trees, coiling and bending, resemble dragons or serpents; when stirred by the wind, they produce a surging, wave-like sound—the so-called “sound of pines.” On the surface, these lines are realistic descriptions. Yet the strange, shifting forms of dragons and snakes, together with the restless sound of wind and rain, also convey a sense of inner unease. Thus, these images simultaneously evoke the “wind and rain” of the times—the turmoil of the age—as well as the frustrations and trials imposed upon the poet. In this way, Xin Qiji’s imagery parallels that of Tao Yuanming: both use outward scenery to suggest deeper historical and emotional realities.
前邊不是說「饑寒飽所更」嗎？「披褐守長夜，晨雞不肯鳴」兩句，就正是寫「寒」。沒有挨過凍的人不知道，真正冷的時候是無法入睡的，凍得你只能坐起來睜眼等天亮，可是天偏偏總也不亮，所以叫「守長夜」。「守」，是眼睜睜的看著。你沒有皮衣、毛衣，只能披上一件粗布的衣裳；你盼著天亮，可是報曉雞總也不肯叫。所以你看，陶淵明選擇躬耕，他是真的付出了饑寒勞苦的代價。但是否有人了解他呢？他說：「孟公不在茲，終以翳吾情。」
Returning to Tao Yuanming, we previously discussed the line: “Though poor, I hold fast to my principles; / As a result, I suffer from hunger and cold.” The following lines vividly express the “cold”: Thinly clad, I wait through the long night: “When will the sun rise? Why do the roosters not crow?” Those who have never endured bitter cold cannot fully understand this state. When the cold is extreme, one cannot sleep at all; one can only lie awake, eyes open, waiting for dawn—yet dawn seems endlessly delayed. This is what is meant by “waiting through the long night.” The word shǒu (守, “to keep watch” or “to wait”) suggests remaining awake, enduring the hours with open eyes. Without padded or fur clothing, wearing only coarse garments, he longs for daylight. Yet even the roosters, which should herald the dawn, remain silent. The darkness seems unending. From this, we see that Tao Yuanming truly paid the price for his chosen life: he endured hunger, cold, and physical hardship. But was there anyone who understood him? He writes: “Hermit Meng Gong is not here—To whom can I confide my heartfelt thoughts?”
在中國的歷史上，叫「孟公」的至少有兩個人，他們都是漢朝人，一個叫陳遵，一個叫劉龔。陳遵非常好客，他留客人喝酒，為了不讓客人走，把人家的車轄都卸下來丟到井裡去。因此留下了「投轄」的典故。劉龔有個好朋友叫張仲蔚，這個人「隱居不仕」，跟陶淵明一樣貧窮。陶淵明的七首《詠貧士》詩裡，有一首就是詠張仲蔚的。他說，「仲蔚愛窮居，繞宅生蒿蓬」——張仲蔚的房子周圍也是長滿了荒草；還說，「舉世無知者，止有一劉龔」——在這個世界上只有劉龔欣賞張仲蔚，懂得他為什麼寧可忍受貧窮，也不肯出仕。由此看來，陶淵明現在所說的這個「孟公」應該是劉龔。他說，當年的張仲蔚還有一個好朋友孟公，而我卻沒有一個能夠理解我的朋友。「翳」本來是遮蔽的意思，引申為不能被人理解。陶淵明雖然付出饑寒勞苦的代價選擇了歸隱的道路，但當代已經沒有孟公那樣的人，所以始終也沒有一個人能理解陶淵明為什麼這樣做。
In Chinese history, there are at least two figures known by the style name “Meng Gong,” both from the Han dynasty: Chen Zun and Liu Gong. Chen Zun was famed for his hospitality. When entertaining guests, he would even remove the linchpins from their carriage wheels and throw them into a well, preventing them from leaving—hence the anecdote of “throwing away the linchpin.” Liu Gong, on the other hand, had a close friend, Zhang Zhongwei, who “lived in seclusion and refused official service,” enduring poverty much like Tao Yuanming himself. Among Tao’s In Praise of Impoverished Scholars, one poem is dedicated to Zhang Zhongwei: “Zhongwei delights in his humble dwelling, Overgrown with weeds on every side.” Tao further remarks that in the whole world, only Liu Gong truly understood Zhongwei—only he appreciated why Zhongwei would rather endure poverty than enter official life. From this, we may infer that the “Meng Gong” Tao Yuanming refers to is most likely Liu Gong. Thus, Tao’s lament carries deep poignancy: in earlier times, Zhang Zhongwei had Liu Gong—someone who understood him. But Tao Yuanming himself had no such friend. The character yì (翳) originally means “to cover,” and by extension suggests being obscured or not understood. Tao Yuanming chose a life of withdrawal, willingly enduring hardship and obscurity, yet there was no one in his time who could truly comprehend his decision. And so his question remains: “To whom can I confide my heartfelt thoughts?” ♦