 
字體：小 中 大 |
|
|
|
| 2019/09/11 05:05:01瀏覽453｜回應1｜推薦9 | |
| Excerpt：《不安之書》(The Book of Disquiet) 04 〈163 / 真實的危險不值得感受〉 對於那些沒有任何想像力的人而言，直接經驗是一種逃避，或者是避難所。一個人在獵殺老虎時遇到了危險，讀到這裡時，我覺得除了真實的實體危險，一切危險都值得我們去感受。真實的實體危險不值得去感受，是因為它消失時不會留下一絲痕跡。 行動者不知不覺就成了理性者的奴隸。事情的價值取決於對它們的解釋。某些人做出行動，而另一些人給予解釋，將它們帶入生活。敘述就是創造，生活不過是被生活。 163 Direct experience is an evasion, or hiding place, for those without any imagination. Reading about the risks incurred by a man who hunts tigers, I feel all the risks worth feeling, save the actual physical risk, which wasn't really worth feeling, for it vanished without a trace. Men of action are the involuntary slaves of the men of reason. The worth of things depends on their interpretation. Certain men make things which other men invest with meaning, bringing them to life. To narrate is to create, while to live is merely to be lived. 〈227 / 我喜歡散文的理由〉 我更喜歡散文而不是詩歌這種藝術形式，原因有二：第一個原因純粹是個人原因：我沒有選擇，因為我不會寫韻文。第二個原因適用於每個人，然而，我不認為散文只是一種詩歌的影子或偽裝形式。散文值得細看，因為它關係到一切藝術價值的本質所在。 我將詩歌看作一種介於音樂和散文之間的中間階段。和音樂一樣，詩歌要遵從音韻節律，即使沒有嚴格的格律，它們的存在仍然受到檢查、約束、壓抑和責難的自動機制影響。在散文中，我們可以自由發揮。我可以在思考的同時加入音樂的韻律。我們可以置身詩歌之外，加入詩歌的節律。偶爾出現詩韻不會擾亂散文，但是，偶爾岀現散文的節奏卻會毀掉詩歌。 散文將一切藝術囊括其中，部分是因為文字包含了整個世界，部分是因為不受限制的文字包含了一切表達和思考的可能性。在散文中，透過轉換句，我們可以渲染一切：繪畫只能透過顏色和形態直接渲染，就其本身而言，它沒有內在維度；同樣，音樂只能透過韻律直接渲染，就其本身而甘，它沒有正式形體，更不用說第二形體，即思想； 建築師必須要從特定的、堅硬的外在事物中找到結構，我們帶著韻律、猶豫、連續性和流動性來建造房子；雕刻家必須將真實留給世界，沒有變體過程帶來的氛圍；最後是詩歌，詩人就像祕密社團的新加入者，是紀律和慣例的奴僕 (儘管出於自願)。 我確信，在一個完美的文明世界中，除了散文沒有其他藝術，日落就是日落，我們只是透過言語藝術理解它們，用一種可理解的音樂色彩表現出來。我們沒有雕刻實體，而是讓它們保持原有的柔軟輪廓和看得見、摸得著的溫熱。我們蓋房子是了住進去，這終究也是蓋房子的目的。由於詩歌明顯有點幼稚，容易記住，是一種初級的輔助形式，所以詩歌是為兒童而寫的，是他們學習散文的準備階段。 哪怕是被我們稱作次要藝術的東西，它們在散文中也能找到共鳴。散文自己唱歌，為自己跳舞，為自己朗誦。散文中有踩著曼妙舞步的文字韻律，表達的思想就像剝去外衣，露出堪稱典範的真實感官。散文中還有偉大演員的微妙手勢，文字帶著一種節奏，將宇宙中的無形奧祕轉變成有形物質。 227 I prefer prose to poetry as an art form for two reasons, the first of which is purely personal: I have no choice, because I'm incapable of writing in verse. The second reason applies to everyone, however, and I don't think it's just a shadow or disguised form of the first. It's worth looking at in some detail, for it touches on the essence of all art's value. I consider poetry to be an intermediate stage between music and prose. Like music, poetry is bound by rhythmic laws, and even when these are not the strict laws of metre, they still exist as checks, constraints, automatic mechanisms of repression and censure. In prose we speak freely. We can incorporate musical rhythms, and still think. We can incorporate poetic rhythms, and yet remain outside them. An occasional poetic rhythm won't disturb prose, but an occasional prose rhythm makes poetry fall down. Prose encompasses all art, in part because words contain the whole world, and in part because the untrammelled word contains every possibility for saying and thinking. In prose, through transposition, we're able to render everything: colour and form, which painting can render only directly, in themselves, with no inner dimension; rhythm, which music likewise renders only directly, in itself, without a formal body, let alone that second body which is the idea; structure, which the architect must make out of given, hard, external things, and which we build with rhythms, hesitations, successions and fluidities; reality, which the sculptor has to leave in the world, with no aura of transubstantiation; and poetry, finally, to which the poet, like the initiate of a secret society, is the servant (albeit voluntary) of a discipline and a ritual. I'm convinced that in a perfect, civilized world there would be no other art but prose. We would let sunsets be sunsets, using art merely to understand them verbally, by conveying them in an intelligible music of colour. We wouldn't sculpt bodies but let them keep for themselves their supple contours and soft warmth that we see and touch. We would build houses only to live in them, which is after all what they're for. Poetry would be for children, to prepare them for prose, since poetry is obviously something infantile, mnemonic, elementary and auxiliary. Even what we might call the minor arts have their echoes in prose. There is prose that dances, sings and recites to itself. There are verbal rhythms with a sinuous choreography, in which the idea being expressed strips off its clothing with veritable and exemplary sensuality. And there are also, in prose, gestural subtleties carried out by a great actor, the Word, which rhythmically transforms into its bodily substance the impalpable mystery of the universe. 中譯：劉勇軍／野人出版社， 英譯：Richard Zenith／Penguin Classics |
|
| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
