南宋詩(shī)人楊萬(wàn)里的《寒雀》正是一窗寒雀的意境。冬日的午后,剛剛下過(guò)雪,天露出了光亮,推開(kāi)書(shū)房窗戶望去。有數(shù)不清的麻雀飛到空曠的院子里來(lái),在梅梢上有幾只麻雀好像在議論雪停的事。不一會(huì)兒,窗外開(kāi)始聒噪起來(lái),讓人心煩意亂。又不知道是什么驚到了它們,突然間,院子又恢復(fù)了寂靜。由寂靜到喧囂,突然又回歸到寂靜,從聲響上留下余音,襯托出更深一層的靜。
楊萬(wàn)里·《麻雀》
百千寒雀下空庭,小集梅梢話晚晴。
特地作團(tuán)喧殺我,忽然驚散寂無(wú)聲。
sparrows in winter
--yang wanli
hundreds of sparrows
crowd the empty courtyard in winter
they puff in their feathers
high on the plum branches
they are saying what a fine evening this is
what a noise they make to disturb me
suddenly they disappear in a startled flock
and the world is as still as death
(王守義、約翰·諾弗爾 譯)
Cold Sparrows
Yang Wan-li
Hundreds of cold sparrows dive into the empty courtyard,
cluster on plum branches and speak of sun after rain at dusk.
They choose to gather en masse and kill me with noise.
Suddenly startled, they disperse. Then, soundlessness.
(Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping 譯)