Humans do not see trees. They walk by us every day. They sit and sleep, smoke and picnic and secretly kiss in our shade.
人類對樹木視若不見。 他們每天從我們身邊走過。 他們在我們的樹蔭下 坐、臥、抽煙、野餐、 偷偷地接吻。
They pluck our leaves and gorge on our fruits. They break our branches or carve their lover's name on our trunks with their blades and vow eternal love. They weave necklaces out of our needles and paint our flowers into art. They split us into logs to heat their homes, and sometimes they chop us down just because they think we obstruct their view.
他們摘取我們的葉子, 大啖我們的果實。 他們攀折我們的樹枝, 或用小刀在我們的樹幹上 刻情人的名字, 發下永恆的誓言。 他們用我們的松針編織項鍊, 在畫作中描繪我們的花朵。 他們把我們劈成柴薪,在家中取暖。 有時他們僅僅因為我們擋住了視線 就把我們砍倒。
They make cradles, wine corks, chewing gum, rustic furniture and produce the most beautiful music out of us. And they turn us into books in which they bury themselves on cold winter nights. They use our wood to manufacture coffins in which they end their lives. And they even compose the most romantic poems for us, claiming we're the link between earth and sky. And yet, they do not see us.
他們用我們製作搖籃、酒瓶軟木塞、 口香糖、質樸風傢俱, 並做出最美的音樂。 他們把我們變成書本, 在寒冷的冬夜埋首其中。 他們用我們的木頭製造棺材, 用來裝生命的終點。 他們甚至為我們創作了最浪漫的詩歌, 說我們將地球和天空相連。 然而,他們對我們視若不見。
So one of the many beauties of the art of storytelling is to imagine yourself inside someone else's voice. But as writers, as much as we love stories and words, I believe we must also be interested in silences: the things we cannot talk about easily in our societies, the marginalized, the disempowered.
講故事的藝術有眾多的美麗之處, 有一種美是想像自己 用別人的聲音說話。 身為作家,雖然我熱愛故事和文字, 但我認為我們也必須對沉默感興趣: 在我們的社會中無法輕易談論的事情, 那些被邊緣化、沒有權力的人的沉默。
In that sense, literature can, and hopefully does, bring the periphery to the center, make the invisible a bit more visible, make the unheard a bit more heard, and empathy and understanding speak louder than demagoguery and apathy. Stories bring us together. Untold stories and entrenched silences keep us apart.
從這個意義上說,文學可能, 而且希望真的可以, 把邊緣的帶到中心, 使隱形的更顯眼, 使不被聽見的被聽見, 同理心和互相了解 比煽動和冷漠更有影響力。 故事把我們聚集在一起; 被隱藏的故事和根深蒂固的沉默 使我們疏離。
But how to tell the stories of humanity and nature at a time when our planet is burning and there is no precedent for what we're about to experience collectively whether it's political, social or ecological? But tell we must because if there's one thing that is destroying our world more than anything, it is numbness. When people become disconnected, desensitized, indifferent, when they stop listening, when they stop learning and when they stop caring about what's happening here, there and everywhere.
但當我們的星球正在燃燒, 不管是從政治、社會 還是生態層面來看, 我們即將集體經歷的 是歷史從未發生過的, 此時我們該如何訴說 人類和自然的故事呢? 但這故事我們還是要說, 因為有一件事 最能破壞我們的世界, 那就是麻木。 人們變得脫節、無情、無動於衷, 他們停止傾聽、停止學習、 停止關心發生在這裡、那裡 和任何地方的事情。
We measure time differently, trees and humans. Human time is linear -- a neat continuum stretching from a past that is deemed to be over and done with towards the future that is supposed to be pristine, untouched. Tree time is circular. Both the past and the future breathe within the present moment. And the present does not move in one direction. Instead it draws circles within circles, like the rings you would find when you cut us down.
樹木和人類以不同的方式測量時間。 人類的時間是線性的, 一個整齊的連續體, 從過去一直延伸, 而過去被認為已經結束。 然後延伸到未來, 而未來應該是純真的、未受污染的。 樹木的時間是圓形的。 過去和未來都在當下呼吸。 然而「當下」不是朝單一的方向移動, 而是畫圈圈,一圈一圈地畫, 就是當你砍下我們時發現的年輪一樣。
Next time you walk by a tree, try to slow down and listen because each of us whispers in the wind. Look at us. We're older than you and your kind. Listen to what we have to tell, because hidden inside our story is the past and the future of humanity.
下次你從一棵樹旁走過, 試著放慢腳步並且聆聽, 因為我們每棵樹木都在風中低語。 看看我們, 我們比你們人類老。 聆聽我們訴說的故事, 因為隱藏在我們故事中的 是人類的過去和未來。