散文是什么？我的意见是：没法说它是什么，只可能说它不是什么。因此它存在于一切有定论的事物之外，准确说，是存在于一切事物的定论之外。What is prose? My opinion is: It cannot be defined as what it is, only as what it is not. Therefore, it exists beyond all things that have a definitive conclusion, to be precise, it exists beyond the definitive conclusions of all things.
在白昼筹谋已定的种种规则笼罩不到的地方，若仍漂泊着一些无家可归的思绪，那大半就是散文了——写出来是，不写出来也是。但它不是收容所，它一旦被收容成某种规范，它便是什么了。In the places where the rules established during the day do not reach, if there are still some homeless thoughts wandering, then most of them are probably prose—whether written or not. But it is not a refuge. Once it's confined to a certain norm, it becomes something specific.
可它的本色在于不是什么，就是说它从不停留，惟行走是其家园。它终于走到哪儿去谁也说不清。我甚至有个近乎促狭的意见：一篇文章，如果你认不出它是什么（文体），它就是散文。However, its true nature lies in what it isn't. That is to say, it never stays put; only walking is its homeland. Where it will finally end up, no one can say for sure. I even have a rather narrow-minded view: if you can't recognize what a piece of writing is (in terms of literary genre), then it's prose.
譬如你有些文思，不知该把它弄成史诗还是做成广告，你就把它写成散文。可是，倘有一天，人们夸奖你写的是纯正的散文，那你可要小心，它恐怕是又走进某种定论之内了。For example, if you have some literary ideas and don't know whether to turn them into an epic poem or an advertisement, you can write them as prose. But if, one day, people praise you for writing pure prose, then you should be careful, as it might have entered into some kind of definitive category again.
小说呢？依我看小说走到今天，只比散文更多着虚构。What about novels? In my opinion, novels, up to this day, are only more fictional than prose.
我其实未必合适当作家，只不过命运把我弄到这一条（近似的）路上来了。左右苍茫时，总也得有条路走。Actually, I may not be cut out to be a writer. It's just that fate has pushed me onto this (approximate) path. When there's nothing but vastness on either side, one has to have a way to go.
这路又不能再用腿去趟，便用笔去找。而这样的找，后来发现利于此一铁生，利于世间一颗最为躁动的心走向宁静。Since this way can't be explored with one's legs anymore, one has to look for it with a pen. And such a search, as it turned out, was beneficial for this Tie Sheng (referring to Shi Tiesheng), helping the most restless heart in the world move towards tranquility.
我的写作因此与文学关系疏浅，或者竟是无关也可能。我只是走得不明不白，不由得唠叨；走得孤单寂寞，四下里张望；走得怵目惊心，便向着不知所终的方向祈祷。Therefore, my writing has a rather tenuous relationship with literature, or it might even be unrelated. I'm just walking without a clear understanding, and can't help but ramble on; walking alone and lonely, looking around; walking in horror, and praying towards an unknown destination.
我仅仅算一个写作者吧，与任何“学”都不沾边儿。学，是挺讲究的东西，尤其需要公认。数学、哲学、美学，还有文学，都不是打打闹闹的事。I am merely a writer, not affiliated with any "discipline." A discipline is quite a formal thing, especially requiring common recognition. Mathematics, philosophy, aesthetics, and literature are all not things to be taken lightly.
写作不然，没那么多规矩，痴人说梦也可，捕风捉影也行，满腹狐疑终无所归都能算数。当然，文责自负。Writing, on the other hand, has fewer rules. It allows for the ramblings of a fool, the chasing of shadows, and even a belly full of doubts leading nowhere can be counted. Of course, the writer bears the responsibility for their words.
写作救了史铁生和我，要不这辈子干什么去呢？当然也可以干点别的，比如画彩蛋，我画过，实在是不喜欢。Writing has saved Shi Tiesheng and me. Otherwise, what would we have done in this lifetime? Of course, we could have done something else. For example, I've painted Easter eggs before, but I really didn't like it.
我喜欢体育，喜欢足球、篮球、田径、爬山，喜欢到荒野里去看看野兽，但这对于史铁生都已不可能。写作为生是一件被逼无奈的事。I enjoy sports, including football, basketball, track and field, and mountain climbing. I also like to venture into the wilderness to observe wild animals, but all of these are no longer possible for Shi Tiesheng. Writing for a living is a matter of being forced by circumstances.
开始时我这样劝他：你死也就死了，你写也就写了，你就走一步说一步吧。这样，居然挣到了一些钱，还有了一点名声。In the beginning, I advised him like this: "If you're going to die, then die; if you're going to write, then write. Just take it one step at a time." Surprisingly, this approach earned him some money and a bit of a reputation.
这个愚顽的铁生，从未纯洁到不喜欢这两样东西，况且钱可以供养“沉重的肉身”，名则用以支持住孱弱的虚荣。This stubborn Tie Sheng was never so pure as to dislike these two things. Besides, money can support the "heavy physical body", and fame can prop up the frail vanity.
待他孱弱的心渐渐强壮了些的时候，我确实看见了名的荒唐一面，不过也别过河拆桥，我记得在我们最绝望的时候它伸出过善良的手。When his frail heart gradually grew stronger, I did see the absurd side of fame. But we shouldn't burn our bridges either. I remember that it extended a kind hand when we were in our most desperate moments.
我的写作说到底是为谋生。但分出几个层面，先为衣食住行，然后不够了，看见价值和虚荣，然后又不够了，却看见荒唐。荒唐就够了么？所以被送上这不见终点的路。Ultimately, my writing is for making a living. But it can be divided into several levels. First, it's for food, clothing, housing, and transportation. Then, when that's not enough, one sees value and vanity. Then, when that's still not enough, one sees absurdity. Is absurdity enough? So, I'm sent on this road with no end in sight.
