The Complete Works of Zhuangzi

«The Universal Harmony3 records various wonders, and it says: “When the Peng journeys to the southern darkness, the waters are roiled for three thousand li. He beats the whirlwind and rises ninety thousand li, setting off on the sixth-month gale.”» — el texto acredita el vuelo del Peng citando a *The Universal Harmony*, que le da tres mil li de aguas revueltas y noventa mil de altura; el *3* es la llamada a la nota de Watson.

«If water is not piled up deep enough, it won’t have the strength to bear up a big boat. Pour a cup of water into a hollow in the floor, and bits of trash will sail on it like boats. But set the cup there, and it will stick fast, for the water is too shallow and the boat too large.» — el capítulo primero razona por acumulación: sin hondura bastante el agua no sostiene el barco, y la taza vertida en un hueco del piso solo mueve basuras.

«If wind is not piled up deep enough, it won’t have the strength to bear up great wings. Therefore when the Peng rises ninety thousand li, he must have the wind under him like that. Only then can he mount on the back of the wind, shoulder the blue sky, and nothing can hinder or block him. Only then can he set his eyes to the south.» — el mismo razonamiento aplicado al viento: solo con noventa mil li de aire debajo puede el Peng montarse en el viento y poner rumbo al sur.

«The cicada and the little dove laugh at this, saying, “When we make an effort and fly up, we can get as far as the elm or the sapanwood tree, but sometimes we don’t make it and just fall down on the ground. Now how is anyone going to go ninety thousand li to the south!”» — la cigarra y la tórtola, en el capítulo primero, se ríen del vuelo del Peng midiéndolo con su propio alcance, que llega al olmo y a veces ni eso.

«What do these two creatures understand? Little understanding cannot come up to great understanding; the short-lived cannot come up to the long-lived.» — el texto saca la regla de la burla de los dos bichos: el entendimiento pequeño no alcanza al grande ni el de vida corta al de vida larga.

«How do I know this is so? The morning mushroom knows nothing of twilight and dawn; the summer cicada knows nothing of spring and autumn. They are the short-lived.» — el texto prueba la regla por los plazos: el hongo de la mañana no sabe de crepúsculo ni de alba, ni la cigarra de estío de primavera ni de otoño.

«South of Chu there is a caterpillar that counts five hundred years as one spring and five hundred years as one autumn. Long, long ago there was a great rose of Sharon that counted eight thousand years as one spring and eight thousand years as one autumn. They are the long-lived.» — el reverso del ejemplo: la oruga del sur de Chu y la rosa de Sarón, que cuentan quinientos y ocho mil años por estación.

«Yet Pengzu4 alone is famous today for having lived a long time, and everybody tries to ape him. Isn’t it pitiful!» — el texto remata con Pengzu, famoso por longevo y remedado por todos, y llama lastimoso el remedo; el *4* es la llamada a la nota de Watson.

«Therefore a man who has wisdom enough to fill one office effectively, good conduct enough to impress one community, virtue enough to please one ruler, or talent enough to be called into service in one state, has the same kind of self-pride as these little creatures.» — el texto equipara al hombre de cargo, buena conducta, virtud o talento bastantes para un oficio, una comunidad, un señor o un Estado con la codorniz y la cigarra que se ríen del Peng.

«In the northern darkness there is a fish and his name is Kun.1 The Kun is so huge I don’t know how many thousand li he measures. He changes and becomes a bird whose name is Peng. The back of the Peng measures I don’t know how many thousand li across, and when he rises up and flies off, his wings are like clouds all over the sky.» — abre *Free and Easy Wandering* con la metamorfosis del pez Kun en el ave Peng, las dos de tamaño incalculable; el dígito pegado a la palabra es la llamada a la nota de Watson, impresa así por la fuente, y no un cosido: el tramo se releyó entero en el crudo.

«Among the questions of Tang to Qi we find the same thing.5 In the bald and barren north, there is a dark sea, the Lake of Heaven. In it is a fish that is several thousand li across, and no one knows how long. His name is Kun. There is also a bird there, named Peng, with a back like Mount Tai and wings like clouds filling the sky. He beats the whirlwind, leaps into the air, and rises up ninety thousand li, cutting through the clouds and mist, shouldering the blue sky, and then he turns his eyes south and prepares to journey to the southern darkness.» — el capítulo primero repite la escena del Kun y el Peng como cosa hallada en las preguntas de Tang a Qi, con variantes: el mar oscuro del norte, el lomo como el monte Tai; la duplicación deliberada es del propio texto; el dígito pegado a la palabra es la llamada a la nota de Watson, impresa así por la fuente, y no un cosido: el tramo se releyó entero en el crudo.

«The little quail laughs at him, saying, “Where does he think he’s going? I give a great leap and fly up, but I never get more than ten or twelve yards before I come down fluttering among the weeds and brambles. And that’s the best kind of flying, anyway! Where does he think he’s going?” Such is the difference between big and little.» — la codorniz, tercera burladora, mide el vuelo del Peng con sus diez o doce yardas y llama a eso la mejor manera de volar; el texto cierra nombrando la diferencia entre lo grande y lo pequeño.

«Liezi7 could ride the wind and go soaring around with cool and breezy skill, but after fifteen days he came back to earth. As far as the search for good fortune went, he didn’t fret and worry. He escaped the trouble of walking, but he still had to depend on something to get around. If he had only mounted on the truth of Heaven and Earth, ridden the changes of the six breaths, and thus wandered through the boundless, then what would he have had to depend on?» — Liezi cabalga el viento quince días y vuelve, y el texto le pone el límite: se ahorró el caminar pero seguía dependiendo de algo; quien montara la verdad del Cielo y la Tierra y las mudanzas de los seis alientos no dependería de nada.

«Therefore I say, the Perfect Man has no self; the Holy Man has no merit; the Sage has no fame.» — la fórmula de las tres figuras sin sí mismo, sin mérito y sin fama, que el capítulo primero da por conclusión.

«Song Rongzi6 would certainly burst out laughing at such a man. The whole world could praise Song Rongzi and it wouldn’t make him exert himself; the whole world could condemn him and it wouldn’t make him mope. He drew a clear line between the internal and the external and recognized the boundaries of» — el texto pone a Song Rongzi por encima de esos hombres, indiferente al elogio y a la condena del mundo entero por haber trazado la línea entre lo interno y lo externo; el tramo se corta en el cambio de plana y sigue en la 33 con el reparo que también a él le pone.

«true glory and disgrace. But that was all. As far as the world went, he didn’t fret and worry, but there was still ground he left» — la continuación, ya en la plana siguiente: al propio Song Rongzi el texto le señala terreno sin remover; el tramo arranca tras el marcador de plana.

«Xu You said, “You govern the world and the world is already well governed. Now if I take your place, will I be doing it for a name? But name is only the guest of reality—will I be doing it so I can play the part of a guest? When the tailorbird builds her nest in the deep wood, she uses no more than one branch. When the mole drinks at the river, he takes no more than a bellyful. Go home and forget the matter, my lord. I have no use for the rulership of the world!» — Xu You rechaza el imperio: el nombre es solo huésped de la realidad, el pájaro sastre usa una rama y el topo bebe lo que le cabe en la panza.

«Though the cook may not run his kitchen properly, the priest and the impersonator of the dead at the sacrifice do not leap over the wine casks and sacrificial stands and go take his place.» — Xu You cierra su negativa con la imagen del cocinero: aunque cocine mal, ni el sacerdote ni el que personifica al muerto saltan sobre las tinajas para ocupar su sitio.

«Yao wanted to cede the empire to Xu You. “When the sun and moon have already come out,” he said, “it’s a waste of light to go on burning the torches, isn’t it? When the seasonal rains are falling, it’s a waste of water to go on irrigating the fields. If you took the throne, the world would be well ordered. I go on occupying it, but all I can see are my failings. I beg to turn over the world to you.”» — Yao ofrece el imperio a Xu You con dos imágenes de lo superfluo, la antorcha encendida a pleno sol y el riego bajo la lluvia de estación, y alega que solo ve sus propias faltas; el capítulo 28 vuelve sobre la misma cesión con otras palabras, y se ancla aquí, en la primera aparición.

«Jian Wu said to Lian Shu, “I was listening to Jie Yu’s talk—big and nothing to back it up, going on and on without turning around. I was completely dumbfounded at his words—no more end than the Milky Way, wild and wide of the mark, never coming near human affairs!”» — Jian Wu refiere a Lian Shu las palabras de Jie Yu como grandilocuentes y sin respaldo, sin fin como la Vía Láctea y ajenas a los asuntos humanos.

«“You would!” said Lian Shu. “We can’t expect a blind man to appreciate beautiful patterns or a deaf man to listen to bells and drums. And blindness and deafness are not confined to the body alone—the understanding has them, too, as your words just now have shown.» — Lian Shu responde que la ceguera y la sordera no son solo del cuerpo, que también las tiene el entendimiento, y da las palabras de Jian Wu por prueba; el tramo arranca tras el marcador de plana.

«This man, with this virtue of his, is about to embrace the ten thousand things and roll them into one. Though the age calls for reform, why should he wear himself out over the affairs of the world?» — Lian Shu declara del Hombre Santo que abarca las diez mil cosas y las hace una, y pregunta por qué habría de desgastarse en los asuntos del mundo aunque la época pida reformas.

«There is nothing that can harm this man. Though floodwaters pile up to the sky, he will not drown. Though a great drought melts metal and stone and scorches the earth and hills, he will not be burned.» — Lian Shu declara al Hombre Santo indemne: ni la inundación que sube hasta el cielo lo ahoga ni la sequía que funde el metal y la piedra lo quema.

«From his dust and leavings alone, you could mold a Yao or a Shun! Why should he consent to bother about mere things?» — Lian Shu remata: del polvo y las sobras del Hombre Santo se moldearía un Yao o un Shun, y por eso no tiene por qué ocuparse de meras cosas.

«A man of Song who sold ceremonial hats made a trip to Yue, but the Yue people cut their hair short and tattooed their bodies and had no use for such things.» — la anécdota del vendedor de gorros ceremoniales que viaja a Yue, donde llevan el pelo corto y el cuerpo tatuado y no tienen uso para ellos.

«Yao brought order to the people of the world and directed the government of all within the seas. But he went to see the Four Masters of the faraway Gushe Mountain, [and when he got home] north of the Fen River, he was dazed and had forgotten his kingdom there.» — Yao, que había ordenado el mundo, vuelve aturdido de ver a los Cuatro Maestros del monte Gushe y ha olvidado su reino; los corchetes son añadidura declarada del traductor.

«Mountain, with skin like ice or snow and gentle and shy like a young girl. He doesn’t eat the five grains but sucks the wind, drinks the dew, climbs up on the clouds and mist, rides a flying dragon, and wanders beyond the four seas. By concentrating his spirit, he can protect creatures from sickness and plague and make the harvest plentiful. I thought this all was insane and refused to believe it.”» — Jian Wu describe al Hombre Santo del monte Gushe: piel de nieve, no come los cinco granos sino que sorbe viento y bebe rocío, cabalga un dragón volador y, concentrando su espíritu, libra a las criaturas de plaga y hace abundante la cosecha; y declara no haberlo creído; el tramo arranca tras el marcador de plana, con la palabra que completa el nombre del monte.

«Huizi10 said to Zhuangzi, “The king of Wei gave me some seeds of a huge gourd. I planted them, and when they grew up, the fruit was big enough to hold five piculs. I tried using it for a water container, but it was so heavy I couldn’t lift it. I split it in half to make dippers, but they were so large and unwieldy that I couldn’t dip them into anything. It’s not that the gourds weren’t fantastically big—but I decided they were of no use, and so I smashed them to pieces.”» — Huizi cuenta a Zhuangzi que rompió una calabaza gigante por inútil: demasiado pesada de llenar y demasiado ancha de partir en cazos.

«Now you had a gourd big enough to hold five piculs. Why didn’t you think of making it into a great tub so you could go floating around the rivers and lakes, instead of worrying because it was too big and unwieldy to dip into things! Obviously you still have a lot of underbrush in your head!”» — Zhuangzi aplica la moraleja a la calabaza: bastaba hacerla tina y echarse a flotar por ríos y lagos en vez de lamentar que no sirviera de cazo.

«Huizi said to Zhuangzi, “I have a big tree called a shu. Its trunk is too gnarled and bumpy to apply a measuring line to, its branches too bent and twisty to match up to a compass or square. You could stand it by the road, and no carpenter would look at it twice. Your words, too, are big and useless, and so everyone alike spurns them!”» — Huizi vuelve con el árbol shu, nudoso y torcido, que ningún carpintero mira, y equipara a él las palabras de Zhuangzi: grandes e inútiles.

«Zhuangzi said, “You certainly are dense when it comes to using big things! In Song there was a man who was skilled at making a salve to prevent chapped hands, and generation after» — Zhuangzi reprocha a Huizi su torpeza con las cosas grandes y arranca la historia del ungüento de Song contra las manos agrietadas; el tramo se corta en el cambio de plana y sigue en la 35.

«generation his family made a living by bleaching silk in water. A traveler heard about the salve and offered to buy the prescription for a hundred measures of gold. The man called everyone to a family council. ‘For generations we’ve been bleaching silk, and we’ve never made more than a few measures of gold,’ he said. ‘Now, if we sell our secret, we can make a hundred measures in one morning. Let’s let him have it!’» — la continuación, ya en la plana siguiente: el forastero compra la receta por cien medidas de oro y el consejo de familia acepta, porque blanqueando seda nunca habían juntado tanto; el tramo arranca tras el marcador de plana.

«The traveler got the salve and introduced it to the king of Wu, who was having trouble with the state of Yue. The king put the man in charge of his troops, and that winter they fought a naval battle with the men of Yue and gave them a bad beating.11 A portion of the conquered territory was awarded to the man as a fief. The salve had the power to prevent chapped hands in either case; but one man used it to get a fief, while the other one never got beyond silk bleaching— because they used it in different ways.» — el desenlace de la historia del ungüento: el mismo remedio contra las manos agrietadas dio un feudo a quien lo llevó a la guerra naval del rey de Wu y dejó a la familia blanqueando seda, porque le dieron usos distintos; el dígito pegado a la palabra es la llamada a la nota de Watson, impresa así por la fuente, y no un cosido: el tramo se releyó entero en el crudo.

«Then again there’s the yak, big as a cloud covering the sky. It certainly knows how to be big, though it doesn’t know how to catch rats.» — el yak, del tamaño de una nube, sabe ser grande y no sabe cazar ratones: la utilidad medida por una sola vara.

«Now you have this big tree, and you’re distressed because it’s useless. Why don’t you plant it in Not-Even-Anything Village or the field of Broad-and-Boundless, relax and do nothing by its side, or lie down for a free and easy sleep under it? Axes will never shorten its life, nothing can ever harm it. If there’s no use for it, how can it come to grief or pain?”» — Zhuangzi cierra el capítulo primero: el árbol inútil plantado en la aldea de Nada-en-Absoluto, donde nadie lo tala, es justamente el que no llega a daño ni a pena.

«Zhuangzi said, “Maybe you’ve never seen a wildcat or a weasel. It crouches down and hides, watching for something to come along. It leaps and races east and west, not hesitating to go» — Zhuangzi contrapone al árbol inútil la comadreja hábil, que salta y corre sin detenerse; el tramo se corta en el límite de chunk, dentro de la plana 35, y sigue con la caída en la trampa.

«high or low—until it falls into the trap and dies in the net.» — el remate al otro lado del corte de chunk: la habilidad de la comadreja acaba en la trampa y en la red.

«Ziqi of South Wall sat leaning on his armrest, staring up at the sky and breathing—vacant and far away, as though he’d lost his companion.1 Yan Cheng Ziyou, who was standing by his side in attendance, said, “What is this? Can you really make the body like a withered tree and the mind like dead ashes? The man leaning on the armrest now is not the one who leaned on it before!”» — abre *Discussion on Making All Things Equal* con Ziqi de la Muralla del Sur ausente de sí, y Yan Cheng Ziyou preguntándole si de veras se puede hacer el cuerpo como árbol seco y la mente como ceniza apagada; el dígito pegado a la palabra es la llamada a la nota de Watson, impresa así por la fuente, y no un cosido: el tramo se releyó entero en el crudo.

«Ziqi said, “You do well to ask the question, Yan. Now I have lost myself. Do you understand that? You hear the piping of men, but you haven’t heard the piping of earth. Or if you’ve heard the piping of earth, you haven’t heard the piping of Heaven!”» — Ziqi declara haberse perdido a sí mismo y escalona tres flautas: la de los hombres, la de la tierra y la del Cielo.

«Ziqi said, “Blowing on the ten thousand things in a different way, so that each can be itself—all take what they want for themselves, but who does the sounding?”» — Ziqi define la flauta del Cielo por una pregunta que no responde: soplar sobre las diez mil cosas de modo que cada una sea ella misma, y quién es el que suena.

«COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS Publishers Since 1893 NEW YORK CHICHESTER, WEST SUSSEX cup.columbia.edu» — la página de derechos identifica al editor y su antigüedad declarada, con las dos sedes de la casa.

«Copyright © 2013 Columbia University Press All rights reserved E-ISBN 978-0-231-53650-9» — el asiento de derechos fecha esta edición electrónica en 2013 y le da su ISBN propio.

«Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-231-16474-0 (cloth : alk. paper)— ISBN 978-0-231-53650-9 (e-book)» — el asiento catalográfico declara que el volumen lleva bibliografía e índice, y distingue la tirada en tela de la electrónica.

«I. Watson, Burton, 1925– II. Title. BL1900.C46E5 2013 181.09514—dc23» — la ficha de la Library of Congress consigna a Burton Watson como único responsable secundario, con su año de nacimiento, y clasifica la obra por materia.

«Book design by Chang Jae Lee A Columbia University Press E-book. CUP would be pleased to hear about your reading experience with this e-book at cup-ebook@columbia.edu» — el colofón nombra al diseñador del libro y declara la naturaleza electrónica del ejemplar, con la dirección a la que la casa pide escribir; el troceo parte *e-book* a fin de renglón y la herramienta devuelve la forma unida, que se conserva tal cual.

«CONTENTS INTRODUCTION OUTLINE OF EARLY CHINESE HISTORY 1. Free and Easy Wandering 2. Discussion on Making All Things Equal 3. The Secret of Caring for Life 4. In the World of Men 5. The Sign of Virtue Complete» — el índice abre con la introducción y una *Outline of Early Chinese History* que el troceo no llega a imprimir, y numera los siete capítulos que Watson llama interiores; `folio-en-verbatim.py` marca aquí dos encabezados corridos, y son falsos positivos: las dos cadenas son entradas del propio Contents, releídas en el crudo.

«6. The Great anerable Teacher 7. Fit for Emperors and Kings 8. Webbed Toes 9. Horses’ Hoofs 10. Rifling Trunks 11. Let It Be, Leave It Alone 12. Heaven and Earth 13. The Way of Heaven 14. The Turning of Heaven 15. Constrained in Will 16. Mending the Inborn Nature» — el índice imprime así el título del capítulo sexto, con la palabra partida por la extracción; el cuerpo del volumen lo rotula *THE GREAT AND VENERABLE TEACHER* en la plana 70, y la ficha conserva las dos formas sin corregir ninguna.

«17. Autumn Floods 18. Supreme Happiness 19. Mastering Life 20. The Mountain Tree 21. Tian Zifang 22. Knowledge Wandered North 23. Gengsang Chu 24. Xu Wugui 25. Zeyang 26. External Things 27. Imputed Words 28. Giving Away a Throne 29. Robber Zhi 30. Discoursing on Swords 31. The Old Fisherman 32. Lie Yukou 33. The World INDEX» — la segunda mitad del índice numera de la diecisiete a la treinta y tres y cierra con el índice alfabético.

«According to this account, his personal name was Zhou, he was a native of a place called Meng, and he once served as “an official in the lacquer garden” there.» — Watson resume el asiento del Shiji: nombre personal Zhou, natural de Meng, y un cargo en el jardín de laca.

«Sima Qian adds that he lived at the same time as King Hui (370–319 BCE) of Liang and King Xuan (319–301 BCE) of Qi, which would make him a contemporary of Mencius, and that he wrote a work in 100,000 words or more that was “mostly in the nature of fable.”» — Watson data a Zhuangzi por los reyes con quienes Sima Qian lo hace coincidir, lo que lo volvería contemporáneo de Mencius, y recoge la descripción de su obra como fábula.

«A certain number of anecdotes concerning Zhuangzi appear in the book that bears his name, though it is difficult, in view of the deliberate fantasy that characterizes the book as a whole, to regard these as reliable biography.» — Watson señala que las anécdotas sobre Zhuangzi que el propio libro trae no se pueden tomar por biografía fiable, dada la fantasía deliberada del conjunto.

«Scholars disagree as to whether “lacquer garden” is the name of a specific location or simply means lacquer groves in general, and the location of Meng is uncertain, though it was probably in present-day Henan, south of the Yellow River.» — Watson consigna el desacuerdo de los estudiosos sobre si el jardín de laca es un sitio concreto y la incertidumbre sobre dónde quedaba Meng.

«All these facts of Song life—the preservation of the legends and religious beliefs of the Shang people, the political and social oppression, the despair born of weakness and strife—may go far to elucidate the background from which Zhuangzi’s thought sprang and to explain why, in its skepticism and mystical detachment, it differs so radically from Confucianism, the basically optimistic and strongly political-minded philosophy that developed in the Zhou lineage states of Lu and Qi.» — Watson propone el fondo de Song para explicar por qué el escepticismo y el desapego místico de Zhuangzi difieren del confucianismo, y enseguida acota la propuesta.

«But since we know so little about the life and identity of Zhuang Zhou or his connection with the book that bears his name, it is perhaps best not to seek too assiduously to establish a direct causal connection between the background and the philosophy.» — Watson acota su propia hipótesis: sabiendo tan poco del hombre, prefiere no buscar con demasiado ahínco la conexión causal entre el fondo y la filosofía.

«I shall simply state that from here on, when I speak of Zhuangzi, I am referring not to a specific individual known to us through history but to the mind, or group of minds, revealed in the text called Zhuangzi, particularly the first seven sections of that text.» — Watson declara el uso que dará al nombre: no una persona histórica sino la mente, o el grupo de mentes, que el texto revela, sobre todo en las siete primeras secciones.

«Essentially, all the philosophers of ancient China addressed themselves to the same problem: how is man to live in a world dominated by chaos, suffering, and absurdity?» — Watson enuncia el problema común de los filósofos chinos antiguos al que el Zhuangzi responde de otro modo.

«It is this baggage of conventional values that man must first of all discard before he can be free.» — Watson glosa la anécdota de Nanrong Zhu: el bagaje que hay que soltar son las ideas viejas y los conceptos convencionales de bien y mal.

«But he believed that they were ills only because man recognized them as such.» — Watson atribuye a Zhuangzi la tesis de que los males lo son porque el hombre los reconoce como tales.

«Thus in Zhuangzi’s eyes, man is the author of his own suffering and bondage, and all his fears spring from the web of values created by himself alone.» — Watson cierra el argumento: para Zhuangzi el hombre es autor de su propio sufrimiento y sus miedos brotan de la red de valores que él mismo teje.

«Zhuangzi sums up this whole diseased, fear-struck condition of mankind in the macabre metaphor of the leper woman who “when she gives birth to a child in the deep of the night, rushes to fetch a torch and examine it, trembling with terror lest it look like herself” (sec. 12).» — Watson cita del propio libro la imagen de la mujer leprosa que corre con una antorcha a mirar al hijo recién nacido, temblando de que se le parezca, y la da por resumen de la condición que el Zhuangzi describe.

«Most of the philosophies of ancient China are addressed to the political or intellectual elite; Zhuangzi’s is addressed to the spiritual elite.» — Watson sitúa el destinatario: donde las demás filosofías chinas se dirigen a la élite política o intelectual, la de Zhuangzi va a la espiritual.

«One device he uses to great effect is the pointed or paradoxical anecdote, the non sequitur or apparently nonsensical remark that jolts the mind into awareness of a truth outside the pale of ordinary logic—a device familiar to Western readers of Chinese and Japanese Zen literature.» — Watson describe el primer recurso, la anécdota paradójica que sacude la mente hacia una verdad fuera de la lógica ordinaria, y lo compara con la literatura Zen.

«The other device most common in his writings is the pseudological discussion or debate that starts out sounding completely rational and sober and ends by reducing language to a gibbering inanity.» — Watson describe el segundo recurso: el debate pseudológico que arranca sobrio y acaba reduciendo el lenguaje a balbuceo.

«Finally, Zhuangzi uses throughout his writings that deadliest of weapons against all that is pompous, staid, and holy: humor.» — Watson nombra el tercer recurso, el humor, como arma contra lo pomposo y lo sagrado.

«Zhuangzi, on the contrary, makes it the very core of his style, for he appears to have known that one good laugh would do more than ten pages of harangue to shake the reader’s confidence in the validity of his pat assumptions.» — Watson contrasta a Zhuangzi con los demás filósofos chinos, parcos en humor, y explica por qué el humor es el núcleo de su estilo.

«He remains within society but refrains from acting out of the motives that lead ordinary men to struggle for wealth, fame, success, or safety.» — Watson precisa que el liberado no se retira del mundo sino que permanece en la sociedad sin actuar por los motivos que mueven a los demás.

«as wuwei, or inaction, meaning by this term not a forced quietude but a course of action that is not founded on purposeful motives of gain or striving.» — Watson define el término: no quietud forzada sino un curso de acción que no se funda en motivos de ganancia ni de esfuerzo.

«In such a state, all human actions become as spontaneous and mindless as those of the natural world. Man becomes one with Nature, or Heaven, as Zhuangzi calls it, and merges himself with Dao, or the Way, the underlying unity that embraces man, Nature, and all that is in the universe.» — Watson describe el estado: acción tan espontánea como la del mundo natural, hombre uno con el Cielo y fundido con el Camino, que es la unidad subyacente.

«To describe this mindless, purposeless mode of life, Zhuangzi turns most often to the analogy of the artist or craftsman. The skilled woodcarver, the skilled butcher, the skilled swimmer does not ponder or ratiocinate on the course of action he should take; his skill has become so much a part of him that he merely acts instinctively and spontaneously and, without knowing why, achieves success.» — Watson señala la analogía que Zhuangzi prefiere, la del artesano diestro que no delibera y acierta sin saber por qué.

«Again, Zhuangzi employs the metaphor of a totally free and purposeless journey, using the word you (to wander, or a wandering) to designate the way in which the enlightened man wanders through all of creation, enjoying its delights without ever becoming attached to any one part of it.» — Watson explica la metáfora del vagar: el término *you* designa el modo en que el iluminado recorre la creación sin apegarse a ninguna parte.

«But like all mystics, Zhuangzi insists that language is, in the end, grievously inadequate to describe the true Way, or the wonderful freedom of the man who has realized his identity with it.» — Watson consigna el límite que el propio libro se pone: el lenguaje es insuficiente para el Camino verdadero.

«Often Zhuangzi describes the Daoist sage or enlightened man in terms suggesting that he possesses magical powers, that he moves in a trancelike state, that he is impervious to all harm and perhaps even is immortal.» — Watson consigna que el sabio aparece con rasgos de poder mágico, de trance y de invulnerabilidad.

«I am inclined to believe that Zhuangzi—that is, the author of the most profound and penetrating portions of the book that bears his name— intended these descriptions to be taken metaphorically.» — Watson declara su propia lectura, que da esas descripciones por metafóricas, y la marca como inclinación.

«Perhaps, as Arthur Waley says, the best approach is not to attempt to draw any sharp line between rationalism and superstition, between philosophy and magic, but to be prepared to find them mingled and overlapping.» — Watson recoge de Arthur Waley la propuesta de no trazar línea tajante entre racionalismo y superstición, ni entre filosofía y magia, y de hallarlos mezclados.

«In the end, the best way to approach Zhuangzi, I believe, is not to attempt to subject his thought to rational and systematic analysis, but to read and reread his words until one has ceased to think of what he is saying and instead has developed an intuitive sense of the mind moving behind the words, and of the world in which it moves.» — Watson propone leer y releer hasta desarrollar un sentido intuitivo de la mente que se mueve tras las palabras, en vez de someter el pensamiento a análisis sistemático.

«Zhuangzi, along with Laozi, or Lao Dan, has long been revered as one of the founders of the Daoist school. Because it was believed that Laozi was a contemporary of Confucius and that he was the author of the book known as the Laozi, or Daodejing, he has long been honored as the prime patriarch of the school, and Zhuangzi, as a later disciple and continuer of his doctrines.» — Watson consigna el linaje que la tradición se da a sí misma: Laozi como patriarca primero por creérsele contemporáneo de Confucio y autor del Daodejing, y Zhuangzi como discípulo posterior.

«Most scholars now agree that it is impossible to say whether Laozi ever lived or, if he did, to determine exactly when.» — Watson consigna que hoy se tiene por imposible decir si Laozi vivió, o cuándo.

«Zhuangzi at no point makes any reference to the Daodejing; there are a few places where he uses language that is similar to or identical with that of the Daodejing, but these do not prove that one text is earlier than the other or that there is any direct connection between them.» — Watson niega que el Zhuangzi remita nunca al Daodejing y acota que los parecidos de lenguaje no prueban prioridad ni conexión directa.

«Moreover, Zhuangzi’s brand of Daoism, as is often pointed out, is in many respects quite different from that expounded in the Daodejing.» — Watson señala que el taoísmo de Zhuangzi difiere en muchos respectos del que expone el Daodejing.

«Therefore, though the two may have drawn on common sources and certainly became fused in later times, it seems best to consider them separately—which is why I have not discussed the philosophy of the Daodejing here.» — Watson declara por qué trata los dos libros por separado y no discute aquí la filosofía del Daodejing, aunque admite fuentes comunes y fusión posterior.