Though the view from my door was still more contracted， I did not feel crowded or confined in the least.  There was pasture enough for my imagination.  The low shrub oak plateau to which the opposite shore arose stretched away toward the prairies of the West and the steppes of Tartary， affording ample room for all the roving families of men.  "There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon" ―― said Damodara， when his herds required new and larger pastures.

　　Both place and time were changed， and I dwelt nearer to those parts of the universe and to those eras in history which had most attracted me.  Where I lived was as far off as many a region viewed nightly by astronomers.  We are wont to imagine rare and delectable places in some remote and more celestial corner of the system，behind the constellation of Cassiopeia's Chair， far from noise and disturbance.  I discovered that my house actually had its site in such a withdrawn， but forever new and unprofaned， part of the universe.  If it were worth the while to settle in those parts near to the Pleiades or the Hyades， to Aldebaran or Altair， then I was really there， or at an equal remoteness from the life which I had left behind， dwindled and twinkling with as fine a ray to my nearest neighbor， and to be seen only in moonless nights by him.  Such was that part of creation where I had squatted；

　　"There was a shepherd that did live，And held his thoughts as high As were the mounts whereon his flocks Did hourly feed him by."

　　What should we think of the shepherd's life if his flocks always wandered to higher pastures than his thoughts？

　　Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity， and I may say innocence， with Nature herself.  I have been as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks.  I got up early and bathed in the pond； that was a religious exercise， and one of the best things which I did.  They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of King Tchingthang to this effect："Renew thyself completely each day； do it again， and again， and forever again."  I can understand that.  Morning brings back the heroic ages.  I was as much affected by the faint hum of a mosquito making its invisible and unimaginable tour through my apartment at earliest dawn， when I was sitting with door and windows open， as I could be by any trumpet that ever sang of fame.  It was Homer's requiem； itself an Iliad and Odyssey in the air， singing its own wrath and wanderings.  There was something cosmical about it； a standing advertisement， till forbidden， of the everlasting vigor and fertility of the world.  The morning， which is the most memorable season of the day， is the awakening hour.  Then there is least somnolence in us； and for an hour， at least， some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night.  Little is to be expected of that day， if it can be called a day， to which we are not awakened by our Genius， but by the mechanical nudgings of some servitor， are not awakened by our own newly acquired force and aspirations from within， accompanied by the undulations of celestial music， instead of factory bells， and a fragrance filling the air ――to a higher life than we fell asleep from； and thus the darkness bear its fruit， and prove itself to be good， no less than the light. That man who does not believe that each day contains an earlier，more sacred， and auroral hour than he has yet profaned， has despaired of life， and is pursuing a descending and darkening way. After a partial cessation of his sensuous life， the soul of man， or its organs rather， are reinvigorated each day， and his Genius tries again what noble life it can make.  All memorable events， I should say， transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere.  The Vedas say， "All intelligences awake with the morning."  Poetry and art， and the fairest and most memorable of the actions of men， date from such an hour.  All poets and heroes， like Memnon， are the children of Aurora， and emit their music at sunrise.  To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun， the day is a perpetual morning.  It matters not what the clocks say or the attitudes and labors of men.  Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me.  Moral reform is the effort to throw off sleep. Why is it that men give so poor an account of their day if they have not been slumbering？  They are not such poor calculators.  If they had not been overcome with drowsiness， they would have performed something.  The millions are awake enough for physical labor； but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion， only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive.  I have never yet met a man who was quite awake.  How could I have looked him in the face？

　　雖然從我的門口望出去，風景范圍更狹隘，我卻一點不覺得它擁擠，更無被囚禁的感覺。盡夠我的想象力在那里游牧的了。矮橡樹叢生的高原升起在對岸，一直向西去的大平原和韃靼式的草原伸展開去，給所有的流浪人家一個廣闊的天地。當達摩達拉的牛羊群需要更大的新牧場時，他說過，“再沒有比自由地欣賞廣闊的地平線的人更快活的人了。”

　　時間和地點都已變換，我生活在更靠近了宇宙中的這些部分，更挨緊了歷史中最吸引我的那些時代。我生活的地方遙遠得跟天文家每晚觀察的太空一樣，我們慣于幻想，在天體的更遠更僻的一角，有著更稀罕、更愉快的地方，在仙后星座的椅子形狀的后面，遠遠地離了囂鬧和騷擾。我發現我的房屋位置正是這樣一個遁隱之處，它是終古常新的沒有受到污染的宇宙一部分。如果說，居住在這些部分，更靠近昴星團或畢星團，牽牛星座或天鷹星座更加值得的話，那末，我真正是住在那些地方的，至少是，就跟那些星座一樣遠離我拋在后面的人世，那些閃閃的小光，那些柔美的光線，傳給我最近的鄰居，只有在沒有月亮的夜間才能夠看得到。我所居住的便是創造物中那部分；――曾有個牧羊人活在世上，他的思想有高山那樣崇高，在那里他的羊群每小時都給與他營養。如果牧羊人的羊群老是走到比他的思想還要高的牧場上，我們會覺得他的生活是怎樣的呢？

　　每一個早晨都是一個愉快的邀請，使得我的生活跟大自然自己同樣地簡單，也許我可以說，同樣地純潔無暇。我向曙光頂禮，忠誠如同希臘人。我起身很早，在湖中洗澡；這是個宗教意味的運動，我所做到的最好的一件事。據說在成湯王的浴盆上就刻著這樣的字：“茍日新，日日新，又日新。”我懂得這個道理。黎明帶國來了英雄時代。在最早的黎明中，我坐著，門窗大開，一只看不到也想象不到的蚊蟲在我的房中飛，它那微弱的吟聲都能感動我，就像我聽到了宣揚美名的金屬喇叭聲一樣。這是荷馬的一首安魂曲，空中的《伊利亞特》和《奧德賽》，歌唱著它的憤怒與漂泊。此中大有宇宙本體之感；宣告著世界的無窮精力與生生不息，直到它被禁。黎明啊，一天之中最值得紀念的時節，是覺醒的時辰。那時候，我們的昏沉欲睡的感覺是最少的了；至少可有一小時之久，整日夜昏昏沉沉的官能大都要清醒起來。但是，如果我們并不是給我們自己的稟賦所喚醒，而是給什么仆人機械地用肘子推醒的；如果并不是由我們內心的新生力量和內心的要求來喚醒我們，既沒有那空中的芬香，也沒有回蕩的天籟的音樂，而是工廠的汽笛喚醒了我們的，――如果我們醒時，并沒有比睡前有了更崇高的生命，那末這樣的白天，即便能稱之為白天，也不會有什么希望可言；要知道，黑暗可以產生這樣的好果子，黑暗是可以證明它自己的功能并不下于白晝的。一個人如果不能相信每一天都有一個比他褻讀過的更早、更神圣的曙光時辰，他一定是已經對于生命失望的了，正在摸索著一條降入黑暗去的道路。感官的生活在休息了一夜之后，人的靈魂，或者就說是人的官能吧，每天都重新精力彌漫一次，而他的稟賦又可以去試探他能完成何等崇高的生活了。

　　可以紀念的一切事，我敢說，都在黎明時間的氛圍中發生。《吠陀經》說：“一切知，俱于黎明中醒。”詩歌與藝術，人類行為中最美麗最值得紀念的事都出發于這一個時刻。

　　所有的詩人和英雄都像曼依，那曙光之神的兒子，在日出時他播送豎琴音樂。以富于彈性的和精力充沛的思想追隨著太陽步伐的人，白晝對于他便是一個永恒的黎明。這和時鐘的鳴聲不相干，也不用管人們是什么態度，在從事什么勞動。早晨是我醒來時內心有黎明感覺的一個時候。改良德性就是為了把昏沉的睡眠拋棄。人們如果不是在渾渾噩噩地睡覺，那為什么他們回顧每一天的時候要說得這么可憐呢？他們都是精明人嘛。如果他們沒有給昏睡所征服，他們是可以干成一些事的。幾百萬人清醒得足以從事體力勞動，但是一百萬人中，只有一個人才清醒得足以有效地服役于智慧；一億人中，才能有一個人，生活得詩意而神圣。清醒就是生活。我還沒有遇到過一個非常清醒的人。要是見到了他，我怎敢凝視他呢？

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