確診三天后，我找到了《種樹的人》。醫生說，我已是絕症，最多還有六個月，或許更短。我把書丟得滿病房都是，咒罵著命運的殘酷，直到一本薄薄的書從書堆裡滑落，書頁敞開地落在冰冷的地板上。一位護士撿起它，瞥了一眼第一頁，然後違反規定，沒有把它放回書架，而是放在了我的床頭櫃上。
「你或許會需要這本書，」她輕聲說道。
她說得沒錯。但原因卻出乎我們兩人的意料。
讓我來告訴你什麼是復活。
不是聖經裡那種復活——儘管讓·吉奧諾在他那部僅有四千字的精巧傑作中所描繪的複活近乎奇蹟——而是那種始於指甲縫裡的泥土，始於對徹底絕望的執著拒絕接受死亡結局的複活。
大多數讀者讀到《種樹的人》時，都把它當作一則生態寓言或一則溫和的勵志故事。他們讚賞書中關於環境保護的理念，對書中充滿人文主義的樂觀精神表示讚賞，或許還會對人類的潛力感到一絲欣慰。然後，他們又把書放回書架，繼續著他們原本平靜的生活。
我卻無法把它放回書架。因為埃爾澤亞·布菲耶不肯放我走。
故事的設定看似簡單：1913年，一位年輕的徒步旅行者穿越普羅旺斯荒涼、飽受風蝕的高地，那裡的景色如此淒涼，以至於居民要么精神崩潰，要么被迫遷徙。在那裡，他遇到一位沉默的牧羊人，日復一日、年復一年地種植橡樹——每天一百顆完美的橡子，不求任何回報。兩次世界大戰結束後，敘事者再次來到這裡，發現這位孤獨的牧羊人默默無聞、堅持不懈的勞動，奇蹟般地將數千英畝的荒地變成了生機勃勃、水源充足的森林生態系統，人們的家園再次繁榮起來。
一段簡潔的概述，絲毫未能展現故事震撼人心的力量。
我是在那間冷冰冰的醫院病房裡開始閱讀的，三十六歲的我，身體已經開始背叛我，掃描結果仍然歷歷在目。讀到第三頁，某種東西改變了。吉奧諾簡潔的文字──不帶一絲感傷，卻充滿生命力──突破了我的理性防線，直擊我內心深處最原始的情感。
他對最初那片景象的描寫──「一切都荒蕪貧瘠，毫無色彩，宛如一片連傳統沙漠的戲劇性都沒有的沙漠」——精準地映照出我內心的狀態，讓我不禁倒吸一口涼氣。護士抬起頭，關切地看著我，但我揮手示意她走開，早已沉浸在吉奧諾的世界。
敘述者第一次見到布菲耶時，對這位牧羊人的描寫簡潔而令人難忘：「他留著黑色的鬍鬚，肩膀略微佝僂，但身形高大挺拔，與其說像個老人，不如說更像個運動員。」這幅描繪內斂力量、將活力用於有意義的而非炫耀的畫卷深深觸動了我。我一動不動地讀完了整篇故事，醫院的儀器滴滴作響，與我狂跳的心跳聲交相輝映。
那天晚上，我夢見了橡子──成百上千顆，冰冷光滑地握在我的掌心。
《種樹的人》真正危險之處並非在於其生態主題，而是它對我們理解時間、意義以及何為有意義的人生提出了根本性的挑戰。
布菲耶種下了他永遠不會坐下的樹。他默默地創造森林，不求任何認可或回報。他經歷了兩次世界大戰、個人悲劇、社會徹底崩潰與重建，始終堅持做一件事：在最合適的地方播下精心挑選的種子，然後任由自然和時間自行運作。
這種極端的耐心——這種對即時滿足、外部認可，甚至對可衡量的短期進展的拒絕——是對我們文化中所有神聖事物的直接衝擊。布菲爾冷靜而有條不紊的工作，將我們成癮的貧瘠暴露無遺，讓我們能夠立即、清晰地認識到它的存在，並看到切實的結果。
然而，奇蹟發生了。荒蕪之地開始轉變。生命回歸。這並非源自於戲劇性的介入或科技的救贖，而是源自於一個人執著地、日復一日地選擇相信一個他個人幾乎無法窺見的未來。
住院第三天，一件前所未有的事發生了。我發現自己用不同的眼光審視自己的荒蕪之地。如果我的診斷不是終結，而是一種澄清呢？如果我所擁有的時間——無論是六個月還是六年——不是以長度來衡量，而是以播下的種子來衡量呢？
我開始打電話。打電話給那些我幾十年來一直刻意迴避的家人。給那些我為了攀爬職場而背叛的前同事打電話。打電話給我疏遠的兒子，他現在十八歲了，五年前就不再接我的電話了。
許多人拒絕了我的示好。有些人回應得疑神疑鬼，小心翼翼。少數人則更坦誠回應。我沒有解釋診斷結果——這不是為了博取原諒或憐憫，而是為了在剩下的時間裡盡可能播下希望的種子。
我開始在公寓附近的青少年中心做義工，教導那些生活境遇比我艱難得多的孩子們下西洋棋。
I found "The Man Who Planted Trees" three days after the diagnosis. Terminal, they said. Six months, maybe less. I hurled books across my hospital room, cursing the universe for its cruelty, until a thin volume slipped from the pile, landing open-faced on the sterile floor. A nurse picked it up, glanced at the first page, and against protocol, left it on my bedside table instead of reshelving it.
"You might need this one," she whispered.
She was right. But not for the reasons either of us could have imagined.
Let me tell you about resurrection.
Not the biblical kind—though what Jean Giono created in his slender 4,000-word masterpiece borders on the miraculous—but the kind that begins with dirt under fingernails and an obstinate refusal to accept desolation as the final word.
Most readers encounter "The Man Who Planted Trees" as ecological parable or gentle inspiration. They admire its message of environmental stewardship, nod appreciatively at its humanistic optimism, perhaps feel momentarily better about our species' potential. Then they return it to the shelf and continue their lives fundamentally unchanged.
I couldn't return it to the shelf. Because Elzéard Bouffier wouldn't let me go.
The story's premise is deceptively simple: In 1913, a young hiker traverses the barren, wind-scoured highlands of Provence, a landscape so bleak it drives inhabitants to madness or exodus. There he encounters a silent shepherd methodically planting oak trees—one hundred perfect acorns daily, year after year, asking nothing in return. The narrator returns after both world wars to discover this solitary man's quiet, relentless labor has miraculously transformed thousands of acres of wasteland into a vibrant, water-rich forest ecosystem where communities once again thrive.
A simple summary that betrays nothing of the story's devastating power.
I began reading in that antiseptic hospital room, my body already betraying me at thirty-six, the scan results still burning in my mind. By page three, something shifted. Giono's sparse prose—devoid of sentimentality yet pulsing with life—bypassed my intellectual defenses and struck directly at something primal within me.
His description of that initial landscape—"everything was barren and colorless, a desert without even the drama of traditional deserts"—mirrored my interior state with such precision that I gasped audibly. The nurse looked up, concerned, but I waved her away, already descending deeper into Giono's world.
When the narrator first meets Bouffier, the shepherd is described with haunting simplicity: "His beard was black, and his shoulders slightly hunched, but his figure was tall and straight, more suggestive of an athlete than an old man." Something in this portrait of contained power, of vitality harnessed for purpose rather than display, seized me. I read the entire story without moving, the hospital machinery beeping in counterpoint to my racing heart.
That night, I dreamed of acorns—hundreds of them, cool and smooth in my palms.
What makes "The Man Who Planted Trees" truly dangerous isn't its ecological message but its fundamental challenge to our understanding of time, purpose, and what constitutes a meaningful life.
Bouffier plants trees he will never sit beneath. He creates forests without recognition or reward. He persists through two world wars, through personal tragedy, through complete societal collapse and reconstruction, doing exactly one thing: planting perfectly selected seeds in precisely the right places, then letting nature and time do what they will.
This radical patience—this refusal of instant gratification, external validation, or even measurable short-term progress—represents a direct assault on everything our culture holds sacred. Bouffier's calm, methodical labor exposes the poverty of our addictions to immediacy, recognition, and tangible results.
And yet, the miracle happens. The wasteland transforms. Life returns. Not through dramatic intervention or technological salvation, but through one man's stubborn, daily choice to believe in a future he personally will barely glimpse.
By day three in the hospital, something unprecedented occurred. I found myself examining my own wasteland with different eyes. What if my diagnosis wasn't an ending but a clarification? What if the time I had—whether six months or six years—could be measured not in duration but in seeds planted?
I began making calls. Family members I'd avoided for decades. Former colleagues I'd betrayed climbing corporate ladders. My estranged son, now eighteen, who'd stopped taking my calls five years earlier.
Many rejected my overtures. Some responded with suspicious caution. A few engaged more openly. I didn't explain the diagnosis—this wasn't about extracting forgiveness or pity. It was about planting whatever seeds I could in the time remaining.
I started volunteering at a youth center near my apartment, teaching chess to kids with life circumstances far more challe
https://hcbooks.blogspot.com/2018/06/markings-1964-by-dag-hammarskjold.html
MARKINGS (1964) by Dag Hammarskjöld (道格·哈馬紹) United Nations Peace Window: 1964. Marc Chagall's dedication
Happy 70th birthday to the United Nations!
UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld in front of the General Assembly building (1950s)
Hammarskjöld liked quoting Buber’s apodictic remark: “The only reply to distrust is candor.”
Dag Hammarskjöld 有修養的人。他的名著英譯本Markings (1964) ---此書台灣翻印過。
日文本: 『道しるべ』（鵜飼信成訳･みすず書房、初版1967年）－パンセ的な日記 (像帕思卡《沉思錄》般的日記。)
漢文中最好的參考資料: 許達然《苦悶的英雄》
".......可憐的哈馬紹就是一個抽樣。......" p.113
《苦悶的英雄》(1964年。 收入《遠方》1978，pp.113-118和《許達然散文精選集》2011，pp.32-36；前書有出處注而無年份，後書無注而標寫作年份。我看了1978年的書才注意英譯者之一為名詩人 W. H. Auden）
Markings
Hammarskjöld, D. (1963) Albert Bonniers Förlag
Dag Hammarskjöld himself describes Markings as “the only true ‘profile’ that can be drawn”. Markings consists of short diary-like notes, prose and haiku poems.The texts are in the same order and form as Hammarskjöld himself left them. Notes and explanations can be found in the end of the book.
The dating begins in 1925 and the last entry was written a few weeks before his death. Markings is not a book that you can rush through, since each paragraph requires reflection.
Markings is a true classic. Since its discovery in 1963 it has been translated into a number of different languages.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dag_Hammarskj%C3%B6ld
Former Secretary-General
Dag Hjalmar Agne Carl Hammarskjöld
Dag Hjalmar Agne Carl Hammarskjöld was Secretary-General of the United Nations from 10 April 1953 until 18 September 1961 when he met his death in a plane accident while on a peace mission in the Congo. He was born on 29 July 1905 in Jonkoping in south-central Sweden. The fourth son of Hjalmar Hammarskjöld, Prime Minister of Sweden during the years of World War I, and his wife Agnes, M.C. (b. Almquist), he was brought up in the university town of Uppsala where his father resided as Governor of the county of Uppland.哈馬紹1955年飛北京談判釋放美俘 未果
身後
《金融時報》2011年的報導指出，哈馬紹是評價其繼任人的指標[22]。
歷史學家：
- 保羅·甘迺迪在《人類議會》（The Parliament of Man）書中讚揚哈馬紹，稱他比其繼任人更善於作重大決定，可算是最偉大的秘書長。
- 保羅·約翰森則在《1917年至1980年代現代史》（A History of the Modern World from 1917 to the 1980s）書中對他的判斷大加批判。
建築物和房間：
- 美國紐約哥倫比亞大學的國際及公共關係學院設有道格·哈馬紹會客廳，而其研究院專門研究哈馬紹的國際和平合作的原則。
- 史丹福大學的道格·哈馬紹樓是供史丹福大學對國際關係感興趣的本科生和研究生入住的宿舍。[23]
- 在哈馬紹墜機遺址附近的尚比亞恩羅比，主要足球場是道格·哈馬紹體育館。
學校：
- 在美國新澤西州、康乃狄克州、俄亥俄州和加拿大安大略省，都有學校以道格·哈馬紹命名。
- 1962年，瑞典成立道格·哈馬紹基金會以紀念哈馬紹。[24]
- 1997年7月22日，聯合國安理會1121號決議成立了道格·哈馬紹獎，以認可和紀念在聯合國維持和平任務中喪生的人[25]。
- 漢密爾頓市柯蓋德大學和平與衝突學系每年向最傑出學生頒授「道格·哈馬紹和平與衝突學獎」。[26]
*****
誰殺死了聯合國第二任秘書長？英國《金融時報》專欄作家西蒙•庫柏
1961年9月18日零點剛過，一架飛機在英屬北羅得西亞的恩多拉市（Ndola，今屬贊比亞——譯者註）附近墜毀。飛機上有一位帥氣的瑞典男士，他就是聯合國(UN)秘書長達格•哈馬舍爾德(Dag Hammarskjold)。當天下午，人們在飛機殘骸旁發現了哈馬舍爾德的屍體。飛機已燒成焦炭，但哈馬舍爾德的屍體並未燒焦。羅得西亞的調查小組稱，飛機失事的原因是飛行員誤操作。但幾乎可以肯定，事實並非如此。哈馬舍爾德很可能是被人謀殺的。這一次，陰謀論說對了。這是倫敦英聯邦研究學院(Institute of Commonwealth Studies)高級研究員蘇珊•威廉斯(Susan Williams)得出的結論。她的書用斯堪的納維亞犯罪驚悚小說的那種平實語言撰寫，驚心動魄、細節豐富、令人信服。“這本書的作者做了很詳細的調查。”南非法官理查德•戈德斯通(Richard Goldstone)對我說，“不少人讀了這本書之後感到有必要做點什麼。”戈德斯通所在的一個國際律師委員會正在商議，是否請求聯合國重新調查哈馬舍爾德的死因。調查肯定會進行，甚至有可能找出殺死哈馬舍爾德的兇手。1961年，全世界的目光都集中在剛果。隨著非洲擺脫殖民統治，剛果從比利時取得獨立。當時的關鍵問題是：這些剛剛獨立的非洲國家會真正取得獨立，還是會繼續受各西方大國控制？剛果獨立後沒多久，檢驗這個問題的時機就來了——加丹加省(Katanga)宣布脫離剛果。剛果的自然資源大多分佈在加丹加省。美國投在日本的兩顆原子彈所用的鈾，就來自加丹加省。威廉斯告訴我：“美國樹立對全球控制權的基礎就是鈾。”各西方大國不能讓這些寶貴的資源被毀於戰火，或流向蘇聯。加丹加省的獨立受到西方的鼎力支持。另外，南非和白人統治的中非聯邦（Central African Federation，包括今天的讚比亞、馬拉維和津巴布韋）擔心統治權落入黑人手中。簡言之，許多力量在反對新獨立的非洲。而哈馬舍爾德的聯合國是站在新獨立的非洲這一邊的。哈馬舍爾德希望包括加丹加省的剛果真正實現獨立。加丹加省宣布獨立以後，聯合國部隊介入。聯合國部隊與加丹加省的白人僱傭軍展開激戰。那天晚上，哈馬舍爾德打算飛往恩多拉進行斡旋，希望各方達成停火協議。為了躲避加丹加省民族獨立軍的富加戰鬥機(Fouga jet)，哈馬舍爾德的飛機選擇了一條迂迴的飛行路線。那段時間，加丹加省民族獨立軍的富加戰鬥機一直在轟炸聯合國部隊和空軍基地。威廉斯告訴我，一開始，她認為哈馬舍爾德死於謀殺的說法“十分荒謬”。 “然而，之後我在不同的檔案中不斷發現一些證據。”有些證據在1961年至1962年已經發現，但當時沒有得到兩個羅得西亞調查委員會的採信。有一些證據是威廉斯自己發現的。她查閱了許多檔案，並赴瑞典、贊比亞等多個國家採訪了一些證人。還有更多證據在浮出水面。這些證據拼在一起，足以證明哈馬舍爾德死於謀殺。例如，多位證人在1961年聲稱看到有第二架飛機飛過哈馬舍爾德所在的飛機上方，隨後就發生了爆炸。失事飛機上16名乘客中唯一的生還者、保鏢哈羅德•朱利恩(Harold Julien)說，飛機爆炸了。朱利恩在事故發生幾天后離開了人世。但羅得西亞的調查委員會認為朱利恩的話不可信，因為他是黑人，而且精神有問題——儘管朱利恩的醫生證明他精神正常。
美國人查爾斯•M•索撒爾(Charles M. Southall)在1961年為美國國家安全局(NSA)在塞浦路斯的監聽站工作。那時他還是個年輕的小伙子。索撒爾回憶道，飛機失事那天夜裡，他聽到了一段實時錄音，錄音中，一名飛行員報告擊落了哈馬舍爾德的飛機。索撒爾認為美國中央情報局(CIA)與此事有牽連。他對威廉斯說：“如果CIA沒有下令謀殺哈馬舍爾德，那他們至少為凶手付了錢。”恩多拉機場官員的表現也十分可疑。哈馬舍爾德的飛機向恩多拉機場請求降落後不久就消失了。英國高級專員奧爾波特勳爵(Lord Alport)說，他覺得飛機肯定是“飛去別的地方了”，然後就關閉了機場。在有飛機突然失踪時，這種反應太不正常了。次日，搜查活動很晚才開始。哈馬舍爾德的飛機失踪15個小時後，官方才宣布找到飛機的殘骸，而飛機的殘骸距離恩多拉機場不過8英里。但威廉斯發現了一些證據，證明在官方宣布找到失事飛機殘骸幾個小時之前，事故現場就已經被發現。嫌犯可以利用這段時間重新佈置事故現場，甚至槍殺哈馬舍爾德——假如他沒有在墜機事故中喪生的話。事故後攝於醫院的一張哈馬舍爾德的照片顯示，他的額頭上有一個明顯的白點。戈德斯通說：“那有可能是一個彈孔。”的確，奧爾波特在1993年的一份備忘錄中有一句話格外引人注目，他寫道，哈馬舍爾德“在墜機後不久身亡”。哈馬舍爾德是被謀殺的。只是不清楚兇手是誰。甚至可能同時有兩撥人在策劃謀殺他。哈馬舍爾德有許多敵人，其中不乏狠毒之徒。戈德斯通1961年時在約翰內斯堡。他回憶道，哈馬舍爾德去世的消息傳出後，南非許多白人興高采烈。在當時的中部非洲，各種骯髒的故事輪番上演。比如說，比利時後來承認，曾參與1961年1月暗殺剛果總理帕特里斯•盧蒙巴(Patrice Lumumba)的行動。假如聯合國重新調查此事，可能會發現一些令人尷尬的事實。即便羅得西亞人在英國不知情的情況下謀殺了哈馬舍爾德，英國也脫不開干係，因為英國負責中非聯邦的外交政策。如果美國的情報機構也受到此事牽連，那就更尷尬了。戈德斯通告誡稱，我們很可能永遠都沒法肯定兇手到底是誰。他說：“這是個概率問題，而非不容置疑的事情。”但幾乎可以肯定，調查會有所發現。譯者/吳蔚
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Kuo Sh http://www.dag-hammarskjold.com/....../The-Faith-of-a......
The Faith of a Hero
Hammarskjöld: A Life
by Roger Lipsey
University of Michigan Press, 738 pp., $35.00
Searchers also retrieved his briefcase. Inside were a copy of the New Testament, a German edition of poems by Rainer Maria Rilke, a novel by the French writer Jean Giono, and copies of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber’s I and Thou in German and English. Folded into his wallet were some copies of American newspaper cartoons mocking him, together with a scrap of paper with the first verses of “Be-Bop-a-Lula” by Gene Vincent and His Blue Caps.
Searchers also recovered some sheets of yellow lined legal paper filled with his minute, neat—some called it Japanese—handwriting. This enabled investigators to conclude that in flight he had been working on a translation of Buber’s I and Thou. There is a photograph of the Jewish prophet and the spry Swede taken together in Jerusalem in 1958. Hammarskjöld liked quoting Buber’s apodictic remark: “The only reply to distrust is candor.” In a jolting aircraft traveling through the night sky over the African jungle, the secretary-general devoted his final moments alive to turning Buber’s difficult thoughts into English:
This is the exalted melancholy of our fate that every Thou in our world must become an It.Any reckoning with Dag Hammarskjöld’s life has to begin in Ndola. Clues to his elusive inner life were strewn across the crash site and the crash itself has never been conclusively explained. His colleague and first biographer, Brian Urquhart, blamed the crash on pilot error and dismissed the conspiracy theories that had sprung up around his death, but the new biography by Roger Lipsey gives considerable attention to the possibility that he was murdered.
Zambian charcoal burners working in the forest near the airport that night, and interviewed by a succession of investigators in the years since, have always claimed they saw another plane fire at Hammarskjöld’s aircraft before it plunged to earth. In 2011, a British scholar, Susan Williams, reignited the debate over his death in a book entitled Who Killed Hammarskjöld?1 On the basis of extensive new forensic and archival research, she speculated that the mystery plane might have been a Belgian fighter aircraft working for the Katangese rebels. Hammarskjöld had plenty of enemies: white racist Rhodesians opposed to his support of African liberation; Belgian mining interests aligned with the breakaway Congolese province of Katanga that the UN was trying to bring to heel; the CIA and the KGB, each battling …
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