李徵は、若くして詩の才能に恵まれた隴西の才能ある若者だった。早くから科挙に合格し、地方の役人として身を立てたが、その傲慢で人を見下す性格のせいで、上司や同僚とうまくやっていけず、心の中でひそかに彼らを軽蔑していた。
Li Zheng was a young man of great poetic talent from Longxi. He passed the imperial examinations early and began his career as a local official, but his arrogant, condescending nature kept him at odds with his superiors and peers, whom he privately looked down on.
役人としての生活に嫌気が差した李徵は、ついに官職を辞めて詩作に専念しようと決意した。「平凡な人々と肩を並べて生きるよりも、独りで詩の道を究めて後世に名を残したい」と彼は考えた。妻子のことも顧みずに、故郷に引きこもったのだった。
Tired of life as a bureaucrat, Li Zheng finally decided to resign his post and devote himself entirely to writing poetry. "Rather than walk alongside ordinary people, I want to pursue the way of poetry alone and leave my name to later generations," he told himself, and so he withdrew to his hometown without a thought for his wife and child.
しかし、詩人としての名声は簡単には上がらなかった。月日を重ねるうちに、家の財産は次第に傾き、妻子の衣食すらまともに賄えなくなった。やむを得ず再び役人として働き始め、地方の地位の低い役職に甘んじる身となったが、かつての同僚はすでに高い地位に登っており、彼らの前で頭を下げる屈辱は、李徵の自尊心を絶えず傷つけ続けた。
But fame as a poet did not come easily. As the months and years passed, the family fortune steadily dwindled, until he could no longer even provide proper food and clothing for his wife and child. With no other choice, he returned to government service and took a lowly provincial position; meanwhile his former peers had already risen to high rank, and the humiliation of bowing his head before them gnawed at his pride without a break.
ある夜、公務で旅の途中にあった李徵は、突然狂気に取りつかれた。「誰かが俺を呼んでいる」と叫ぶや否や、宿を駆け出し、闇の中へと姿を消した。供の者がいくら探しても、その行方は分からなくなってしまった。
One night, while traveling on official business, Li Zheng was suddenly seized by madness. "Someone is calling me!" he cried, and the moment the words were out he bolted from the inn and disappeared into the darkness. No matter how hard his attendants searched, they could not find any trace of him.
それから一年余りが過ぎた頃のことである。役人の袁傪が天子の命を受けて南方へ向かう途中、深い山にさしかかった。「この先の深い森には人喰い虎が出るので、日が高く昇るまでは進まない方がいい」と、宿の者は袁傪に強く忠告した。
A little more than a year passed. The official Yuan Can, traveling south on the emperor's orders, came upon a deep mountain pass. "A man-eating tiger appears in the forest ahead, so you'd better not set out until the sun is high in the sky," the innkeeper warned him sternly.
朝霧の中、袁傪一行が森へ踏み入ったその時、案の定一匹の猛虎が草むらから躍り出た。虎は今にも襲いかかりそうな勢いだったが、突然体を返し、再び草陰へと消えていった。やがて草の奥から、「危ないところだった」と人の言葉でつぶやくような声が聞こえてきた。
In the morning mist, just as Yuan Can's party stepped into the forest, sure enough a great tiger leapt out from the grass. The tiger seemed ready to spring on them at any moment, but then it suddenly turned around and disappeared back into the brush. Soon after, from deep in the grass came what sounded like a human voice murmuring, "That was close."
袁傪は耳を疑った。その声には聞き覚えがあったのだ。「もしや、李徵君ではないか」と呼びかけると、草むらの中からはしばらくむせび泣くような声が漏れ、やがて「いかにも、隴西の李徵である」と低く悲しげな返事があった。
Yuan Can could not believe his ears. He recognized the voice. "Could it be — is that you, Li Zheng?" he called out. From within the grass came a brief sound like sobbing, and then a low, sorrowful answer: "It is. I am Li Zheng, of Longxi."
袁傪は涙を抑えきれず、なぜそのような姿になったのかと尋ねた。李徵は深い後悔を込めて、そのいきさつを語り始めた。「ある夜、声に誘われて山中を駆けるうちに、気がつけば四肢は地につき、毛は逆立ち、自分でも自身の運命がすぐには信じられなかった」と、彼は語った。
Yuan Can could not hold back his tears, and he asked how his friend had come to look like this. With deep regret, Li Zheng began to explain what had happened. "One night, drawn by a voice, I ran through the mountains, and when I came to myself my four limbs were on the ground and my hair was standing on end — even I could hardly believe my own fate," he said.
「人として生きていた頃の私の心は、日に一日と虎のそれに取って代わられつつある。この心も尽きれば、私は完全な獣になってしまうだろう」と、李徵は後悔と恐れに満ちた声で言った。
"The heart I had when I lived as a human is being replaced, day by day, by that of a tiger. When this last bit of human heart is gone too, I will become completely a beast," Li Zheng said, his voice full of regret and fear.
なぜ自分が虎になってしまったのか、その理由を李徵は次のように語った。「私には、臆病な自尊心と、尊大な羞恥心があった。だから、師に学ぶこともせず、同輩と互いに高め合うこともなく、ただ独りで詩の才能を磨こうとした」と。
Li Zheng then explained why he had become a tiger like this. "Inside me there was a cowardly pride and an arrogant shame. Because of that, I refused to study under a teacher and refused to grow alongside my peers — I tried to polish my poetic talent all on my own."
「私は、自分の珠でないことを恐れるあまり、あえて磨こうともせず、半ば自分が珠であることを信じていたために、瓦と並ぶこともできなかった」。彼の言葉は、自分を強く責めるような響きを帯びていた。
"Afraid that I might not really be a jewel, I didn't dare to polish myself; and half-believing that I really was a jewel, I couldn't bring myself to stand among ordinary tiles, either." His words carried a tone of harshly accusing himself.
「世の人々が、私の才能を理解しないのが悪いのだと、ずっと信じていた。しかし今思えば、それは私自身の臆病さの裏返しにすぎなかった」と李徵は嘆いた。彼は、自身の傲慢を恥じ、ようやく真実に目覚めたのだった。
"I always believed that the world's people were at fault for failing to understand my talent," Li Zheng sighed. "But thinking back now, that was just the flip side of my own cowardice." Ashamed of his pride, he had finally awakened to the truth.
李徵は、虎になるまでに作りためた詩の中から、特に気に入ったもの三十編を、袁傪に書き留めてもらいたいと頼んだ。袁傪は従者に筆をとらせ、虎が口ずさむままに、その詩を記録した。どれも趣深く、第一流の作と評されるべきものだった。
Li Zheng asked Yuan Can to write down thirty of the poems he had composed before becoming a tiger — the ones he liked best. Yuan Can had his attendant take up a brush, and recorded the poems just as the tiger recited them. Every one was deep in feeling, the kind of work that deserved to be called first-rate.
しかし、その詩を聞き終えた袁傪の胸には、ある言いがたい違和感が残った。「これほどの才能を備えていながら、どこか、何かが欠けている」と、彼はひそかに思った。それは、李徵自身の人格における致命的な欠点を、詩そのものが映し出していたのだった。
But after listening to the poems, Yuan Can felt an indefinable unease in his heart. "He has so much talent — and yet, somehow, something is missing," he thought quietly. The fatal flaw in Li Zheng's character was being reflected by the poems themselves.
詠み終えた李徵は、自分を笑うように一首の即興詩を口ずさんだ。「たまたま狂気の病にとりつかれて別の生き物となり、災いは絶えず襲ってくるが、逃げる方法もない」と。その声には、もはやどんな希望も宿っていなかった。
After finishing the recitation, Li Zheng, as if mocking himself, improvised one more poem. "By chance, taken by the disease of madness, I have become a different creature, and disasters come at me without end, with no way to escape," he chanted. There was no hope left at all in his voice.
最後に李徵は、袁傪に心からの頼みを述べた。妻子の身を思って、彼らには自身の死だけを伝え、虎となった事実は決して知らせないでほしい、と。「親としての務めを果たさなかった私に、これほどの願いを述べる権利もないだろうが、どうかこの一事を聞き届けてくれないか」と。
Finally, Li Zheng spoke a heartfelt request to Yuan Can. For the sake of his wife and child, he asked Yuan Can to tell them only that he had died, and never to let them know he had become a tiger. "I did not fulfill my duties as a father, so I have no right to ask such a favor — but won't you please grant me this one thing?"
袁傪が承知すると、李徵はこう告げた。「もう二度と私の前を通るな。次に出会う時、私は完全な虎となっており、そなたを旧友とは認められないだろう」と。
When Yuan Can agreed, Li Zheng said this: "Don't come this way ever again. Next time we meet, I will be completely a tiger, and I will no longer be able to recognize you as my old friend."
袁傪一行は、名残惜しい気持ちで深い森を後にした。百歩ほど進んだところで一行が振り返ると、草むらから一匹の虎が躍り出て、月のなお残る空に向かい、二度三度と大きな声でほえた。それは、人として果たせなかった詩才への哀しみと、獣となっていく自分への怒りとが、入り混じった声だった。
With heavy hearts, Yuan Can's party left the forest. After they had gone about a hundred paces and looked back, a tiger leapt out from the grass and roared loudly two or three times toward the sky, where the moon still lingered. In that voice were mixed his sorrow over the poetic talent he had failed to fulfill as a human, and his anger at himself for turning into a beast.
虎は再び草むらに身を返し、二度と姿を現すことはなかった。袁傪は、長らくその場に立ち尽くしていた。やがて彼は、書き留めた詩の巻物を懐にしまい、無言のまま馬を進めたのだった。
The tiger turned back into the grass and was never seen again. Yuan Can stood there for a long time. At last he tucked the scroll of poems he had written down inside his robe and rode on in silence.