不知為何，我竟有股決心要完成這荒唐的工程。起初，也許是出於對博爾赫斯的崇敬；後來，卻漸漸轉化為對那位十七世紀英國探險家——波頓先生——的致敬。沒有波頓先生，我們或許根本無緣讀到這些充滿魔力的故事。因此，他的前言我絕不可能省略，特別是其中既交代了《一千零一夜》的前世今生，也為後世讀者留下「芝麻開門」的暗語。
無論如何，我會盡可能利用閒暇時光去翻譯、考究，力求讓故事更貼近波頓先生的譯本。（一千零一個夜，即便真能「一夜譯一夜」，也要將近三年才能完成吧！）
往後，我將把譯文拆分成平均約十分鐘可讀完、剛好能停下來泡杯咖啡的篇幅（不包含英語部分）。每一篇的開端，會以類似章回小說的三言兩語，與《一千零一夜》的讀者們閒聊，並補充必要的開章註解。時間緊迫的朋友，亦可直接利用快捷鍵（見目錄）跳過我的個人發表。木谷人右
二〇二五年九月十五日，北角
註：
- 譯者有時而用 The Book of The Thousand Nights and One (a) Night、Arabian Nights、The Nights 以替換名稱，皆指同一部書。我將統一處理：前者譯作《一千零一夜》，後二者則譯作《天方夜譚》或《夜譚》。
- 文中屬於我個人的註解，將以粗黑體表示；屬波頓先生的註解，則加註「原註」。
- 英文原文於文末附上。
- 來源：The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night
正文
Puris omnia para
“TO THE PURE ALL THINGS ARE PURE.”
（拉丁原文：Puris omnia para）
「對於純潔之人，萬物皆純潔。」
——《提多書》1:15
“Niuna corrotta mente intese mai sanamente parole.”
（義大利語）
「腐敗的心靈從不可能健全地領會話語。」
——《十日談》結語
“Erubuit, posuitque meum Lucretia librum Sed coram Bruto. Brute! recede, leget.”
（拉丁語）
「盧克麗霞臉紅，放下了我的書，因布魯圖在場。布魯圖！退下，她便會讀。」
——馬提亞爾（Martial）
“Mieulx est de ris que de larmes escripre, Pour ce que rire est le propre des hommes.”
（中古法語）
「寧書笑而不書淚，因笑乃人之本。」
——拉伯雷（Rabelais）
“The pleasure we derive from perusing the Thousand–and–One Stories makes us regret that we possess only a comparatively small part of these truly enchanting fictions.”
「我們因閱讀《一千零一夜》故事而獲得的樂趣，使我們對僅能握有這些無比迷人故事的一隅心生遺憾。」
——克萊頓《阿拉伯史》 (Crichton’s History of Arabia)
「一恨鰣魚多刺，二恨海棠無香，三恨紅樓未完。」
——張愛玲
（中譯者引用）
〈譯者前言〉── 理查·法蘭西斯·波頓
這部作品，或許看來艱鉅，對我而言則始終是一份愛的勞作，是源源不絕的慰藉與滿足之泉。在我長年被官方流放至西非那繁茂卻致命的沙漠，以及南美洲那沉悶乏味的半開墾地時，它自證是一股魔力，一張抵禦倦怠與沮喪的護身符。我無法翻開書頁而不立刻浮現一幅景象；不從腦海的畫廊（pinacothek，亦作 pinacotheca）中取下一幅畫；不喚醒那些非尋常旅人所共同擁有的一大堆記憶與年華（memories and reminiscences），無論他們走得多麼遼遠。從那枯燥、平凡而「體面」的環境中，精靈頃刻間把我帶到我心之所嚮的土地，阿拉伯，這片地域對我的心靈而言如此熟悉，在我初見之時，竟似遙遠過去某段靈魂轉世的追憶。我又一次佇立於半透明的天空下，在如以太般壯麗的以太中（æther，拉丁文，詞源為希臘語 αἰθήρ (aithḗr)，指「高空上的純淨空氣」，與地表呼吸的普通空氣 ἀήρ (aḗr) 區分開來），每一口呼吸，都宛如飲下發泡酒那般讓人精神振奮。我又一次看見那顆昏星，如孤鑽般懸於西方蒼穹純淨的天幕上；而晚霞的餘暉，宛如魔法，將樸素而粗礪的景色化作仙境，以一種從未照耀於他方土地或海洋的光點亮。隨後，屬於純正巴達維人羊毛帳篷會浮現，黑而低矮，在獅毛赭黃的黏土與羚羊褐色的礫石的無際荒漠裡，不過是微不足道的斑點，尚有一簇營火如螢火蟲般閃爍於村落中央。不久之後，可聞少男少女們狂野而詭異的歌聲，因距離而柔和，驅趕或更像是猛力攆趕他們的綿羊與山羊，穿過暮色；還有長矛兵，莊嚴地尾隨在所護衛的駱駝之後，節奏分明地吟唱；混雜著羊群的咩叫與駝群的吼鳴；同時，蝙蝠（rere-mouse，蝙蝠的古字）細微尖聲地掠過頭頂，豺狼的咆哮在漸沉的幽暗中迴盪，而——最具音樂性的音樂——棕櫚樹以最柔和的流水之音，回應夜風的耳語。
接著，場景變換。部族的酋長與「白鬚子」（指「白鬚者」，象徵 年高德劭、受人尊敬的族中長老）們莊重地各就其位，衣襬舒展，依阿拉伯人的說法，宛如平原上的丘陵，圍繞在營火旁，而我則朗讀或背誦幾頁他們最愛的故事，以此回報他們的好客，並確保這份情懷得以延續。婦女與孩童如同剪影般一動不動地站在圈外；眾人全都屏息專注；他們彷彿不止以耳傾聽，連眼睛及嘴巴也在吸入這些話語。最天馬行空的幻想、最荒誕的不可能、最不可能中的不可能，在他們眼裡全然自然，不過是日常之事。他們徹底投入於作者所觸及的層層情感：他們因泰姬·穆魯克（Taj al-Mulúk）的英雄本色與騎士英勇而自豪；他們因阿齊扎（Azízah）自我犧牲的愛所生的柔情所觸動；當他們聽聞如山的無數黃金如泥土般被慷慨散發時，便垂涎欲滴；每當有一位卡齊（Kázi，伊斯蘭法官）或法基爾（Fakír，托缽僧／聖人）——法官或聖職者——被某個荒野中的莽夫粗魯對待時，他們會愉快地竊笑；並且，儘管他們平時肅穆而木訥，也全都哄然大笑，有時甚至在地上打滾，笑到讓朗讀者的穩重也深受考驗，因為聽了那喋喋不休的理髮師，以及阿里與庫德騙子的故事。在這股令人著迷的氛圍中，唯一的例外是：某位學識高超、偶爾還會祈禱的貝都因人，忽然驚呼「Astaghfaru’llah」——我祈求真主饒恕！——並非因為聽見了卡萊爾（Carlyle）的「赤裸謊言」（downright lies），而是因為故事稍稍觸及了那個在沙漠貴族間從不被直言的性別。
（中譯註：Thomas Carlyle，19 世紀英國散文家、歷史學家、社會評論家，代表作：《衣服哲學》、《英雄與英雄崇拜》、《法國大革命史》。Carlyle 曾在作品《腓特烈大王史》中，以「downright lies」來斥責伏爾泰筆下對腓特烈二世的「私生活」描寫，這些內容並非單純誇張，而是帶著惡意、誇大的虛構。他甚至認為這些段落是伏爾泰在憤怒或狂亂狀態下寫下的，與事實完全背離。）
不僅僅是在阿拉伯，那本不朽的夜譚（the immortal Nights）給了我如此顯著的助益：我發現索馬里地區的野民同樣受它的教化約束；沒有人能對這份魅力充耳不聞，且在我前往哈拉爾（Harar）的路途上，商隊中的兩位女廚子立刻被我的下屬取了綽號，「薛赫拉莎德」（Scheherazade）與「德納扎德」（Dinazad）。
或許我也該在此指出，這部翻譯是我前往麥地那（Al-Medinah）與麥加（Meccah）朝聖的天然產物。1852 年（所謂的）冬季，我抵達亞丁（Aden，位於葉門的城市）時投宿於我那位摯愛的老朋友史坦豪瑟（Steinhaeuser），本卷獻給他以為紀念；而當我們談論起阿拉伯與阿拉伯人時，立刻得到相同的結論： 雖然這部伊斯蘭民間傳說的奇妙寶庫之名，幾乎每個英國孩子都耳熟能詳，但普通讀者卻並不知曉它所蘊藏的瑰寶；且除了精通阿拉伯學的人以外，這扇門確實不會為任何人開啟。臨別時，我們議定要「合作」，製作一部完整、全備、未經粉飾、未經刪改的偉大原作譯本；我的朋友負責散文部分，而我負責韻文部分；我們亦為此計畫通信往來多年。不過，就在我身在巴西之際，史坦豪瑟於瑞士伯恩因中風而猝然去世，而按照英屬印度（Anglo-India，盎格鲁-印度）的慣例，他留在亞丁的珍貴手稿零落散佚，使得他的心血僅有極少數流入我手。
因此，我只得單獨作業，在無數阻礙中斷斷續續地推進。終於，在 1879 年春天，那乏味的抄錄工作開始了，這本書也逐漸成形。然而，在 1881 至 1882 年的那個冬季，我在文學期刊上讀到一則關於約翰．培恩（John Payne）先生新譯本的消息，他以英語詩歌的造詣著稱於學界，尤其是他翻譯的《巴黎的弗朗西斯‧維庸詩集》（The Poems of Master Francis Villon, of Paris）。當時我正籌劃一趟將持續數月的黃金海岸（為了黃金）遠征，並於 1881 年 11 月 13 日致信《雅典娜神殿》雜誌及佩恩先生；彼時他全然不知我們正從事同一項工作，而我也欣然讓他居前，將此領域交予他，直至他無心再續。他也同樣坦率地接受了我的提議，而他的優先權使我的進度再度延宕，直到 1885 年春。 這些來龍去脈可部分解釋我姍姍來遲的原因，但尚有另一個緣故。專業上的野心提醒我，文學性的勞作既不得粗俗之輩與半桶水的人歡心，自然不大可能助人攀上升遷的階梯。然而，很快理智便告訴我：在職業上，我的確談不上成功；但同時，我也無需因自己的失敗而感到羞愧。在我們這個時代， 人們生活在一種由下層「中產階級」的庸俗主義者（Philister）所主宰的專制之下，他們萬般皆可饒恕，唯獨不容卓越；競爭仕途的獎賞盡為平庸政治（Médiocratie）的寵兒壟斷，以及那些嫉妒而強大的多數人——那些「對才能一竅不通」的平庸之輩。局外人很難理解平庸如何徹底壟斷一切，也難以明白，一個人若敢於獨立思考，或知識與行動多於那群既知甚少、所為更少的衣冠僱員所成的烏合之眾，會為自己的晉升之路設下何等致命的絆腳石。
縱然，無論我延誤多久，依然會有足夠的空間與餘地，來容納一套《天方夜譚》（Arabian Nights’ Entertainments）的英譯本。
我們這一世紀以來的譯本，自安東萬‧伽朗教授 (Professor Antoine Galland) 在 1704 年出版的精采節譯與改編起，無論通俗或白話，都絲毫無法代表東方的原作。最新、最受推崇的福斯特牧師（Rev. Mr. Foster）譯本，文辭冗贅，亦或喬治·莫伊爾·巴塞（G. Moir Bussey）的再修訂版，則充斥著法文的表達與語法；且全都在貶低這部在人類學與民族學上極具價值與重要性的經典鉅作（chef-d’œuvre，法語「傑作」），使其淪為僅僅一本童話，一份送給小男孩的體面禮物。
原文
This work, laborious as it may appear, has been to me a labour of love, an unfailing source of solace and satisfaction. During my long years of official banishment to the luxuriant and deadly deserts of Western Africa, and to the dull and dreary half-clearings of South America, it proved itself a charm, a talisman against ennui and despondency. Impossible even to open the pages without a vision starting into view; without drawing a picture from the pinacothek of the brain; without reviving a host of memories and reminiscences which are not the common property of travellers, however widely they may have travelled. From my dull and commonplace and "respectable" surroundings, the Jinn bore me at once to the land of my predilection, Arabia, a region so familiar to my mind that even at first sight, it seemed a reminiscence of some by-gone metempsychic life in the distant Past. Again I stood under the diaphanous skies, in air glorious as æther, whose every breath raises men's spirits like sparkling wine. Once more I saw the evening star hanging like a solitaire from the pure front of the western firmament; and the after-glow transfiguring and transforming, as by magic, the homely and rugged features of the scene into a fairy-land lit with a light which never shines on other soils or seas. Then would appear the woollen tents, low and black, of the true Badawin, mere dots in the boundless waste of lion-tawny clays and gazelle-brown gravels, and the camp-fire dotting like a glow-worm the village centre. Presently, sweetened by distance, would be heard the wild weird song of lads and lasses, driving or rather pelting, through the gloaming their sheep and goats; and the measured chant of the spearsmen gravely stalking behind their charge, the camels; mingled with the bleating of the flocks and the bellowing of the humpy herds; while the rere-mouse flitted overhead with his tiny shriek, and the rave of the jackal resounded through deepening glooms, and—most musical of music—the palm-trees answered the whispers of the night-breeze with the softest tones of falling water.
And then a shift of scene. The Shaykhs and "white-beards" of the tribe gravely take their places, sitting with outspread skirts like hillocks on the plain, as the Arabs say, around the camp-fire, whilst I reward their hospitality and secure its continuance by reading or reciting a few pages of their favourite tales. The women and children stand motionless as silhouettes outside the ring; and all are breathless with attention; they seem to drink in the words with eyes and mouths as well as with ears. The most fantastic flights of fancy, the wildest improbabilities, the most impossible of impossibilities, appear to them utterly natural, mere matters of every-day occurrence. They enter thoroughly into each phase of feeling touched upon by the author: they take a personal pride in the chivalrous nature and knightly prowess of Taj al-Mulúk; they are touched with tenderness by the self-sacrificing love of Azízah; their mouths water as they hear of heaps of untold gold given away in largesse like clay; they chuckle with delight every time a Kázi or a Fakír—a judge or a reverend—is scurvily entreated by some Pantagruelist of the Wilderness; and, despite their normal solemnity and impassibility, all roar with laughter, sometimes rolling upon the ground till the reader's gravity is sorely tried, at the tales of the garrulous Barber and of Ali and the Kurdish Sharper. To this magnetising mood the sole exception is when ixa Badawi of superior accomplishments, who sometimes says his prayers, ejaculates a startling "Astaghfaru'llah"—I pray Allah's pardon!—for listening, not to Carlyle's "downright lies," but to light mention of the sex whose name is never heard amongst the nobility of the Desert.
Nor was it only in Arabia that the immortal Nights did me such notable service: I found the wildlings of Somali-land equally amenable to its discipline; no one was deaf to the charm and the two women-cooks of my caravan, on its way to Harar, were incontinently dubbed by my men "Shahrazad" and "Dinazad."
It may be permitted me also to note that this translation is a natural outcome of my Pilgrimage to Al-Medinah and Meccah. Arriving at Aden in the (so-called) winter of 1852, I put up with my old and dear friend, Steinhaeuser, to whose memory this volume is inscribed; and, when talking over Arabia and the Arabs, we at once came to the same conclusion that, while the name of this wondrous treasury of Moslem folk-lore is familiar to almost every English child, no general reader is aware of the valuables it contains, nor indeed will the door open to any but Arabists. Before parting we agreed to "collaborate" and produce a full, complete, unvarnished, uncastrated copy of the great original, my friend taking the prose and I the metrical part; and we corresponded upon the subject for years. But whilst I was in the Brazil, Steinhaeuser died suddenly of apoplexy at Berne in Switzerland and, after the fashion of Anglo-India, his valuable MSS. left at Aden were dispersed, and very little of his labours came into my hands.
Thus I was left alone to my work, which progressed fitfully amid a host of obstructions. At length, in the spring of 1879, the tedious process of copying began and the book commenced to take finished form. But, during the winter of 1881-82, I saw in the literary journals a notice of a new version by Mr. John Payne, well known to scholars for his prowess in English verse, xespecially for his translation of "The Poems of Master Francis Villon, of Paris." Being then engaged on an expedition to the Gold Coast (for gold), which seemed likely to cover some months, I wrote to the "Athenæum" (Nov. 13, 1881) and to Mr. Payne, who was wholly unconscious that we were engaged on the same work, and freely offered him precedence and possession of the field till no longer wanted. He accepted my offer as frankly, and his priority entailed another delay lasting till the spring of 1885. These details will partly account for the lateness of my appearing, but there is yet another cause. Professional ambition suggested that literary labours, unpopular with the vulgar and the half-educated, are not likely to help a man up the ladder of promotion. But common sense presently suggested to me that, professionally speaking, I was not a success; and, at the same time, that I had no cause to be ashamed of my failure. In our day, when we live under a despotism of the lower "middle-class" Philister who can pardon anything but superiority, the prizes of competitive services are monopolised by certain "pets" of the Médiocratie, and prime favourites of that jealous and potent majority—the Mediocrities who know "no nonsense about merit." It is hard for an outsider to realise how perfect is the monopoly of commonplace, and to comprehend how fatal a stumbling-stone that man sets in the way of his own advancement who dares to think for himself, or who knows more or who does more than the mob of gentlemen-employés who know very little and who do even less.
Yet, however behindhand I may be, there is still ample room and verge for an English version of the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments."
Our century of translations, popular and vernacular, from (Professor Antoine) Galland's delightful abbreviation and adaptation (A.D. 1704), in no wise represent the eastern original. The best and latest, the Rev. Mr. Foster's, which is diffuse and verbose, and Mr. G. Moir Bussey's, which is a re-correction, abound in xigallicisms of style and idiom; and one and all degrade a chef-d'œuvre of the highest anthropological and ethnographical interest and importance to a mere fairy-book, a nice present for little boys.
