如果

鲁德亚德•吉卜林 著 / looker 译

如果你能保持清醒，即使众人迷失方向，
却又迁怒于你；
如果你能坚信自己、宽容别人，
即使没有人相信你；
如果你甘愿等待并乐此不疲；
即使，遭遇谎言却不以牙还牙，
或者，遭遇怨恨却不怨怨相报；
不道貌岸然，也不夸夸其谈。

如果你有梦想，却不做梦想的奴仆，
如果你有思想，却不以思想为终点，
如果你遇到胜利与患难，
却能在这两种幻象面前平静如一；
如果你能够容忍你的肺腑之言，
被小人歪曲，被愚者误解；
或者，眼看着你为之倾注生命的东西被毁去，
却能俯身拾起破旧的工具，把它们重建；

如果你能够为了目标倾尽所得，
孤注一掷，
即使输得精光也毫无怨言，
从头再来；
如果你精力已竭，储粮已尽，人们离你而去，
而你却仍坚持到底，
即使这时你已经一无所有，
只剩下意志的声音，说：“要坚持！”

如果，你能谈笑于市井而不失节操，
与王公携游却不失性情；

如果，不论是仇敌或爱人都不能伤害你；
如果人人都信赖你，但并不依赖你，
如果你能在那无情逝去的每一分钟，
奔跑着充满六十秒；

你将拥有整个世界，而这世界将具足圆满，
更重要的是，我的孩子，你将是一个真正的大丈夫！

IF

Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

后记：

父亲节过去几天了，除去打电话向老爸问好以外，忽然想对那些作为父亲、准父亲，还有儿子的男孩子们说点儿什么。对于那些我爱过的、爱过我的、迷茫的、乐观的、坚强的、孤独的男孩子们，没有比这首诗更适合现在的心境了。

这是1907年诺贝尔文学奖得主，英籍印裔作家约瑟夫·鲁德亚德·吉卜林（1865—1936）写给他12岁的儿子的一首诗，那字里行间透出的温暖力量，让我想起梁启超之于梁思成，还有我的父亲之于我。

诗的原文偶得于S君的space，后又被Z君热情地翻译过。如果随手搜索一下，大约还可以找到6、7个中译本，但仔细体会文字的意味，发现还有可以重新翻译的空间，于是我不揣浅陋，也试着译了一稿，是为记。欢迎同好指正！