Monday, December 27, 2010

Why haven't we seen them? 为何没看见?


That was a thought-provoking dialogue from a heartwarming scene of tonight's episode of Breakout. The translated lines are as follows:
Xiaoying (the tragic female lead in search for vengeance): I have found daddy's diary. I am currently examining it closely. I hope to find some trace of clues that would lead to the identity of the person who murdered my family.
Zou Jieming (a talented but autistic guy who lives in his own world): Has Xiaoying seen it?
Xiaoying: Huh?
Zou Jieming: Has Xiaoying seen it?
Xiaoying: Flowers. Yup, I've seen them.
Zou Jieming: Blooming, blooming. The flowers are blooming.
Xiaoying: Blooming? Nope, I don't see that. Let's go, Zou Jieming.
Zou Jieming. Flowers are blooming. Flowers are withering.
Leaves are budding. Leaves are falling down.
The sky turns blue. The sky turns white.
The Sun rises. The Sun sets.
Why hasn't Xiaoying seen them?

Indeed, we overlook a lot of simple beauty around us in life in our earnest quest to survive in this dog-eat-dog world. Even though the wonders of nature surround us everyday, we remain blind to them, staying obsessed with our many feuds, our hatred and the bitterness that lingers on in our hearts. This is where Nobel laureate Wislawa Szymborska's poem Miracle fair may offer some food for thought:
Commonplace miracle: 
that so many commonplace miracles happen. 
An ordinary miracle: 
in the dead of night 
the barking of invisible dogs. 
One miracle out of many: 
a small, airy cloud 
yet it can block a large and heavy moon. 
Several miracles in one: 
an alder tree reflected in the water, 
and that it's backwards left to right 
and that it grows there, crown down 
and never reaches the bottom, 
even though the water is shallow. 
An everyday miracle: 
winds weak to moderate 
turning gusty in storms. 
First among equal miracles: 
cows are cows. 
Second to none: 
just this orchard 
from just that seed. 
A miracle without a cape and top hat: 
scattering white doves.
A miracle, for what else could you call it: 
today the sun rose at three-fourteen 
and will set at eight-o-one.
A miracle, less surprising than it should be: 
even though the hand has fewer than six fingers, 
it still has more than four. 
A miracle, just take a look around: 
the world is everywhere. 
An additional miracle, as everything is additional: 
the unthinkable 
is thinkable. 
Translated by Joanna Trzeciak. More inspiring works from Wislawa Szymborska can be found in the anthology featured on the left named after this poem.
        的确,我们忙着在这个弱肉强食、适者生存的世界中挣扎求存的同时,往往忽略了生命中最简单的美。 夙怨、仇恨,我们计算分明,铭记于心;花开叶落、夕阳西下,如此单纯的快乐,我们却视若无睹。我们处心积虑、四处奔波,甚至绕遍世界追求幸福,却不知幸福就展现在眼前、就散布在脚下,无处不在。


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