字體：小 中 大 |
|
|
|
| 2017/09/12 05:40:41瀏覽430｜回應0｜推薦11 | |
| 【書摘】索多姆和戈摩爾—對外祖母的想念 (Missing Grandmother) 10 Dans ma crainte que le plaisir trouvé dans cette promenade solitaire n’affaiblît en moi le souvenir de ma grand’mère, je cherchais à le raviver en pensant à telle grande souffrance morale qu’elle avait eue ; à mon appel cette souffrance essayait de se construire dans mon coeur, elle y élançait ses piliers immenses ; mais mon coeur, sans doute, était trop petit pour elle, je n’avais la force de porter une douleur si grande, mon attention se dérobait au moment où elle se reformait tout entière, et ses arches s’effondraient avant de s’être rejointes, comme avant d’avoir parfait leur voûte s’écroulent les vagues. Cependant, rien que par mes rêves quand j’étais endormi, j’aurais pu apprendre que mon chagrin de la mort de ma grand’mère diminuait, car elle y apparaissait moins opprimée par l’idée que je me faisais de son néant. Je la voyais toujours malade, mais en voie de se rétablir, je la trouvais mieux. Et si elle faisait allusion à ce qu’elle avait souffert, je lui fermais la bouche avec mes baisers et je l’assurais qu’elle était maintenant guérie pour toujours. J’aurais voulu faire constater aux sceptiques que la mort est vraiment une maladie dont on revient. Seulement je ne trouvais plus chez ma grand’mère la riche spontanéité d’autrefois. Ses paroles n’étaient qu’une réponse affaiblie, docile, presque un simple écho de mes paroles ; elle n’était plus que le reflet de ma propre pensée. (l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47 ) 我擔心這次獨自漫遊獲得的樂趣減弱了我心中對外祖母的記憶，於是想方設法，通過回想外祖母經受的巨大精神痛苦，激發懷念之情。在我的召喚下，這一痛苦試圖在我心中安營紮寨，豎起一根根巨大的柱石。無疑，我的心對它來說實在太窄小了，我無力承受如此巨大的痛苦，在痛苦全部復現的刹那間，我走了神，即將合攏的拱穹頃刻坍塌，猶如浪峰尚未盡善，大浪便一落千丈。然而，當我昏昏入睡時，只要通過睡夢，我就可得知外祖母去世給我造成的悲痛正在漸漸減弱，因為在夢境，她不像我對她的幻境想像的那樣盡受壓抑；我看她還是有病，但已在慢慢康復；我覺得她好些了。只要她一暗示她感到難受，我馬上用親吻堵上她的嘴巴，讓她相信病已徹底痊癒。我多麼想讓悲觀論者看到死亡確確實實是一種疾病，可以治癒。不過，我再也看不到外祖母像往日那樣豐富的自發性。她的言語僅僅是一種衰弱、順從的答話，幾乎是我講話的簡單回聲，充其量不過是我的思想的反映。 (p.197 追憶似水年華IV 索多姆和戈摩爾 聯經版 1992) In my fear lest the pleasure I found in this solitary excursion might weaken my memory of my grandmother, I sought to revive this by thinking of some great mental suffering that she had undergone; in response to my appeal that suffering tried to build itself in my heart, threw up vast pillars there; but my heart was doubtless too small for it, I had not the strength to bear so great a grief, my attention was distracted at the moment when it was approaching completion, and its arches collapsed before joining as, before they have perfected their curve, the waves of the sea totter and break. And yet, if only from my dreams when I was asleep, I might have learned that my grief for my grandmother’s death was diminishing, for she appeared in them less crushed by the idea that I had formed of her non-existence. I saw her an invalid still, but on the road to recovery, I found her in better health. And if she made any allusion to what she had suffered, I stopped her mouth with my kisses and assured her that she was now permanently cured. I should have liked to call the sceptics to witness that death is indeed a malady from which one recovers. Only, I no longer found in my grandmother the rich spontaneity of old times. Her words were no more than a feeble, docile response, almost a mere echo of mine; she was nothing more than the reflexion of my own thoughts. (Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff ) In my fear that the pleasure found in this solitary walk might weaken the memory of my grandmother in me, I sought to revive it by thinking of some great moral suffering that she had experienced; at my summons, this suffering tried to erect itself in my heart, throwing up its immense pillars there; but my heart was doubtless too small for it, I did not have the strength to bear so great a sorrow, my attention slipped away just as it was re-forming into a whole, and its arches crumbled before they had come together, just as waves break before they have completed their vault. Meanwhile, if only from my dreams when I was asleep, I might have learned that my grief at my grandmother’s death was diminishing, for she appeared there less oppressed by the idea I had been forming of her nonexistence. I saw her as an invalid still, but on the way to recovering; I thought she looked better. And if she alluded to what she had suffered, I stopped her mouth with my kisses and assured her that now she was cured forever. I would have liked to make the skeptics acknowkedge that death is in truth an illness from which we recover. Only I did not find in my grandmother the rich spontaneity of old. Her words were only an enfeebled, docile response, a mere echo almost, of my own words; she was no longer anything more than the reflection of my own thoughts. (Translated by John Sturrock) |
|
| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
