Correcting the Nature｜Zhuangzi

缮（shàn）性（xìng）于（yú）俗（sú），（）俗（sú）学（xué）以（yǐ）求（qiú）复（fù）其（qí）初（chū）；（）滑（gǔ）欲（yù）于（yú）俗（sú），（）思（sì）以（yǐ）求（qiú）致（zhì）其（qí）明（míng）；（）谓（wèi）之（zhī）蔽（bì）蒙（méng）之（zhī）民（mín）。（）

Cultivating one’s nature amid worldly custom, they seek to recover its beginning through conventional learning. Their desires are disturbed by custom, yet they seek clarity through deliberation. Such are called people veiled in ignorance.

古（gǔ）之（zhī）治（zhì）道（dào）者（zhě），（）以（yǐ）恬（tián）养（yǎng）知（zhì）。（）知（zhì）生（shēng）而（ér）无（wú）以（yǐ）知（zhì）为（wèi）也（yě），（）谓（wèi）之（zhī）以（yǐ）知（zhī）养（yǎng）恬（tián）。（）知（zhī）与（yǔ）恬（tián）交（jiāo）相（xiāng）养（yǎng），（）而（ér）和（hé）理（lǐ）出（chū）其（qí）性（xìng）。（）夫（fū）德（dé），（）和（hé）也（yě）；（）道（dào），（）理（lǐ）也（yě）。（）德（dé）无（wú）不（bù）容（róng），（）仁（rén）也（yě）；（）道（dào）无（wú）不（bù）理（lǐ），（）义（yì）也（yě）；（）义（yì）明（míng）而（ér）物（wù）亲（qīn），（）忠（zhōng）也（yě）；（）中（zhōng）纯（chún）实（shí）而（ér）反（fǎn）乎（hū）情（qíng），（）乐（lè）也（yě）；（）信（xìn）行（xìng）容（róng）体（tǐ）而（ér）顺（shùn）乎（hū）文（wén），（）礼（lǐ）也（yě）。（）

Those who understood the Way of governance in ancient times nurtured knowing through calm. Knowing arose of itself, yet they did not set about acting by means of it; this was called nurturing calm through knowing. Knowing and calm sustained each other, and harmony and order emerged from their nature. Virtue is harmony; the Way is order. When virtue embraces all, benevolence appears. When the Way puts everything in accord, rightness appears. When rightness is clear and things draw near, there is loyalty. When the inner center is pure and true and returns to genuine feeling, there is joy. When trustworthy conduct and bodily bearing accord with ritual patterns, there is ritual.

礼（lǐ）乐（yuè）遍（biàn）行（xíng），（）则（zé）天（tiān）下（xià）乱（luàn）矣（yǐ）。（）彼（bǐ）正（zhèng）而（ér）蒙（méng）己（jǐ）德（dé），（）德（dé）则（zé）不（bù）冒（mào）。（）冒（mào）则（zé）物（wù）必（bì）失（shī）其（qí）性（xìng）也（yě）。（）古（gǔ）之（zhī）人（rén），（）在（zài）混（hùn）芒（máng）之（zhī）中（zhōng），（）与（yǔ）一（yī）世（shì）而（ér）得（dé）淡（dàn）漠（mò）焉（yān）。（）当（dāng）是（shì）时（shí）也（yě），（）阴（yīn）阳（yáng）和（hé）静（jìng），（）鬼（guǐ）神（shén）不（bù）扰（rǎo），（）四（sì）时（shí）得（dé）节（jié），（）万（wàn）物（wù）不（bù）伤（shāng），（）群（qún）生（shēng）不（bù）夭（yāo），（）人（rén）虽（suī）有（yǒu）知（zhì），（）无（wú）所（suǒ）用（yòng）之（zhī），（）此（cǐ）之（zhī）谓（wèi）至（zhì）一（yī）。（）

When ritual and music spread everywhere, the world falls into disorder. Those who set others straight obscure their own virtue. When virtue does not overreach, things retain their natures; when it overreaches, things lose them. People of old dwelt amid undivided obscurity and rested in quiet simplicity with their age. Yin and yang were harmonious and still, spirits did not disturb, the seasons kept their measure, things were unharmed, and living beings did not die young. People had knowledge but no occasion to use it. This was called utmost oneness.

当（dāng）是（shì）时（shí）也（yě），（）莫（mò）之（zhī）为（wèi）而（ér）常（cháng）自（zì）然（rán）。（）

At that time no one deliberately brought things about, yet things continually came to be of themselves.

逮（dài）德（dé）下（xià）衰（shuāi），（）及（jí）燧（suì）人（rén）、（）伏（fú）羲（xī）始（shǐ）为（wèi）天（tiān）下（xià），（）是（shì）故（gù）顺（shùn）而（ér）不（bù）一（yī）。（）德（dé）又（yòu）下（xià）衰（shuāi），（）及（jí）神（shén）农（nóng）、（）黄（huáng）帝（dì）始（shǐ）为（wèi）天（tiān）下（xià），（）是（shì）故（gù）安（ān）而（ér）不（bù）顺（shùn）。（）德（dé）又（yòu）下（xià）衰（shuāi），（）及（jí）唐（táng）、（）虞（yú）始（shǐ）为（wèi）天（tiān）下（xià），（）兴（xīng）治（zhì）化（huà）之（zhī）流（liú），（）浇（jiāo）淳（chún）散（sàn）朴（pǔ），（）离（lí）道（dào）以（yǐ）善（shàn），（）险（xiǎn）德（dé）以（yǐ）行（xìng），（）然（rán）后（hòu）去（qù）性（xìng）而（ér）从（cóng）于（yú）心（xīn）。（）

As virtue declined, Suiren and Fuxi began to govern the world. People could be guided, but no longer shared undivided oneness. As virtue declined further, Shennong and the Yellow Emperor governed; people were settled, but no longer followed things naturally. With another decline, Yao and Shun brought in systems of rule and transformation. Simplicity was diluted and plainness dispersed. In the name of goodness they departed from the Way; through cultivated conduct they put virtue in jeopardy. People then left their nature behind and followed the discriminating mind.

心（xīn）与（yǔ）心（xīn）识（shí），（）知（zhī）而（ér）不（bù）足（zú）以（yǐ）定（dìng）天（tiān）下（xià），（）然（rán）后（hòu）附（fù）之（zhī）以（yǐ）文（wén），（）益（yì）之（zhī）以（yǐ）博（bó）。（）文（wén）灭（miè）质（zhì），（）博（bó）溺（nì）心（xīn），（）然（rán）后（hòu）民（mín）始（shǐ）惑（huò）乱（luàn），（）无（wú）以（yǐ）反（fǎn）其（qí）性（xìng）情（qíng）而（ér）复（fù）其（qí）初（chū）。（）由（yóu）是（shì）观（guān）之（zhī），（）世（shì）丧（sàng）道（dào）矣（yǐ），（）道（dào）丧（sàng）世（shì）矣（yǐ），（）世（shì）与（yǔ）道（dào）交（jiāo）相（xiāng）丧（sàng）也（yě）。（）道（dào）之（zhī）人（rén）何（hé）由（yóu）兴（xīng）乎（hū）世（shì），（）世（shì）亦（yì）何（hé）由（yóu）兴（xīng）乎（hū）道（dào）哉（zāi）！（）

Mind came to know mind, yet such knowledge could not settle the world. People then added elaborate forms and enlarged learning. Ornament obscured substance; breadth of learning overwhelmed the mind. The people became bewildered and disordered, unable to return to their nature and beginning. Thus the world lost the Way and the Way lost the world: each lost the other. How could people of the Way arise in the world, and how could the world arise through the Way?

道（dào）无（wú）以（yǐ）兴（xīng）乎（hū）世（shì），（）世（shì）无（wú）以（yǐ）兴（xīng）乎（hū）道（dào），（）虽（suī）圣（shèng）人（rén）不（bù）在（zài）山（shān）林（lín）之（zhī）中（zhōng），（）其（qí）德（dé）隐（yǐn）矣（yǐ）。（）隐（yǐn）故（gù）不（bù）自（zì）隐（yǐn）。（）古（gǔ）之（zhī）所（suǒ）谓（wèi）隐（yǐn）士（shì）者（zhě），（）非（fēi）伏（fú）其（qí）身（shēn）而（ér）弗（fú）见（xiàn）也（yě），（）非（fēi）闭（bì）其（qí）言（yán）而（ér）不（bù）出（chū）也（yě），（）非（fēi）藏（cáng）其（qí）知（zhì）而（ér）不（bù）发（fā）也（yě），（）时（shí）命（mìng）大（dà）谬（miù）也（yě）。（）

When the Way cannot flourish in the world and the world cannot give the Way a place to flourish, a sage's virtue remains hidden even outside the forests and mountains. It is hidden without the sage hiding it. The recluses of old did not necessarily conceal their bodies from sight, keep their words unspoken, or withhold their knowing. Rather, the times and their allotted circumstances had gone badly awry.

当（dāng）时（shí）命（mìng）而（ér）大（dà）行（xíng）乎（hū）天（tiān）下（xià），（）则（zé）反（fǎn）一（yī）无（wú）迹（jì）；（）不（bù）当（dàng）时（shí）命（mìng）而（ér）大（dà）穷（qióng）乎（hū）天（tiān）下（xià），（）则（zé）深（shēn）根（gēn）宁（níng）极（jí）而（ér）待（dài）：（）此（cǐ）存（cún）身（shēn）之（zhī）道（dào）也（yě）。（）

When the time is favorable and one can act widely in the world, one returns things to oneness without leaving a trace. When the time is adverse and one is thwarted everywhere, one roots oneself deeply, rests at the farthest point of stillness, and waits. This is the way to preserve oneself.

古（gǔ）之（zhī）存（cún）身（shēn）者（zhě），（）不（bù）以（yǐ）辩（biàn）饰（shì）知（zhì），（）不（bù）以（yǐ）知（zhì）穷（qióng）天（tiān）下（xià），（）不（bù）以（yǐ）知（zhì）穷（qióng）德（dé），（）危（wēi）然（rán）处（chù）其（qí）所（suǒ）而（ér）反（fǎn）其（qí）性（xìng）已（yǐ），（）又（yòu）何（hé）为（wèi）哉（zāi）！（）道（dào）固（gù）不（bù）小（xiǎo）行（xìng），（）德（dé）固（gù）不（bù）小（xiǎo）识（zhì）。（）小（xiǎo）识（zhì）伤（shāng）德（dé），（）小（xiǎo）行（xìng）伤（shāng）道（dào）。（）故（gù）曰（yuē）：（）正（zhèng）己（jǐ）而（ér）已（yǐ）矣（yǐ）。（）乐（lè）全（quán）之（zhī）谓（wèi）得（dé）志（zhì）。（）

People of old preserved themselves without using argument to adorn knowledge, without using knowledge to exhaustively investigate the world, and without using knowledge to wear down virtue. Standing tall in their own place, they returned to their nature. What more need they deliberately do? The Way is not confined to petty conduct, nor virtue to narrow understanding. Narrow understanding harms virtue; petty conduct harms the Way. Thus it is said: put yourself right, and that is enough. To take joy in preserving wholeness is to have one's aim fulfilled.

古（gǔ）之（zhī）所（suǒ）谓（wèi）得（dé）志（zhì）者（zhě），（）非（fēi）轩（xuān）冕（miǎn）之（zhī）谓（wèi）也（yě），（）谓（wèi）其（qí）无（wú）以（yǐ）益（yì）其（qí）乐（lè）而（ér）已（yǐ）矣（yǐ）。（）今（jīn）之（zhī）所（suǒ）谓（wèi）得（dé）志（zhì）者（zhě），（）轩（xuān）冕（miǎn）之（zhī）谓（wèi）也（yě）。（）轩（xuān）冕（miǎn）在（zài）身（shēn），（）非（fēi）性（xìng）命（mìng）也（yě），（）物（wù）之（zhī）傥（tǎng）来（lái），（）寄（jì）者（zhě）也（yě）。（）寄（jì）之（zhī），（）其（qí）来（lái）不（bù）可（kě）圉（yǔ），（）其（qí）去（qù）不（bù）可（kě）止（zhǐ）。（）

What people of old called having one's aims fulfilled did not mean the carriage and ceremonial cap of office. It meant a joy to which nothing needed to be added. Today such fulfillment is taken to mean precisely that carriage and cap. Office is not part of one's inborn life; it is a chance arrival of external things, held only on loan. Its coming cannot be kept out, nor its leaving detained.

故（gù）不（bù）为（wèi）轩（xuān）冕（miǎn）肆（sì）志（zhì），（）不（bù）为（wèi）穷（qióng）约（yuē）趋（qū）俗（sú），（）其（qí）乐（lè）彼（bǐ）与（yǔ）此（cǐ）同（tóng），（）故（gù）无（wú）忧（yōu）而（ér）已（yǐ）矣（yǐ）！（）今（jīn）寄（jì）去（qù）则（zé）不（bù）乐（lè）。（）由（yóu）是（shì）观（guān）之（zhī），（）虽（suī）乐（lè），（）未（wèi）尝（cháng）不（bù）荒（huāng）也（yě）。（）故（gù）曰（yuē）：（）丧（sàng）己（jǐ）于（yú）物（wù），（）失（shī）性（xìng）于（yú）俗（sú）者（zhě），（）谓（wèi）之（zhī）倒（dào）置（zhì）之（zhī）民（mín）。（）

Therefore one should not indulge one's ambitions on account of carriage and cap, nor chase the fashions of the world because of poverty. Joy is the same in honor and in hardship, and so there is no worry. Yet people now lose their joy when what they relied on departs. Seen this way, even while joyful their inner life has never been free of desolation. To lose oneself in things and one's nature in convention marks one as a person living in inversion.

Text size

Line spacing

Correcting the Nature

Contents

Text

English translation

Feedback

Text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation

Original Chinese text

English translation