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| 2017/05/22 05:06:58瀏覽475｜回應0｜推薦13 | |
| 【書摘】蓋爾芒特家那邊—外祖母之死 (Death of Grandmother) 1 Je remontai et trouvai ma grand’mère plus souffrante. Depuis quelque temps, sans trop savoir ce qu’elle avait, elle se plaignait de sa santé. C’est dans la maladie que nous nous rendons compte que nous ne vivons pas seuls, mais enchaînés à un être d’un règne différent, dont des abîmes nous séparent, qui ne nous connaît pas et duquel il est impossible de nous faire comprendre : notre corps. Quelque brigand que nous rencontrions sur une route, peut-être pourrons-nous arriver à le rendre sensible à son intérêt personnel sinon à notre malheur. Mais demander pitié à notre corps, c’est discourir devant une pieuvre, pour qui nos paroles ne peuvent pas avoir plus de sens que le bruit de l’eau, et avec laquelle nous serions épouvantés d’être condamnés à vivre. (l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47) 我上樓回到家裡，發現外祖母病得更厲害了。一些日子以來，她常叫身體不舒服，但不知道得了什麼病。我們只有在生病的時候才意識到我們的生命不僅僅屬於我們自己，而是和我們的軀體——一個不同界的存在物緊緊地聯繫在一起，萬丈深淵把我們同軀體隔開，它不認識我們，我們也無法讓它理解我們。如果我們在路上遇到強盜，不管是什麼樣的強盜，即使不能讓他們同情我們，至少，也可以用利益打動他們。可是要軀體憐憫我們，這就如同對牛彈琴，徒費口舌。對軀體而言，我們的話不會比水聲更有意義，而我們卻要和它一起生活，不免惶恐不安。 (p.329 追憶似水年華 III蓋爾芒特家那邊 聯經版 1992) I went upstairs, and found my grandmother not so well. For some time past, without knowing exactly what was wrong, she had been complaining of her health. It is in moments of illness that we are compelled to recognise that we live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom, whole worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body. Say that we met a brigand by the way; we might yet convince him by an appeal to his personal interest, if not to our own plight. But to ask pity of our body is like discoursing before an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the tides, and with which we should be appalled to find ourselves condemned to live. (Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff) I went up and found my grandmother far from well, more so than previously. For some time now, without knowing quite what was wrong, she had been complaining about her health. It is illness that makes us recognize that we do not live in isolation but are chained to a being from a different realm, worlds apart from us, with no knowledge of us, and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body. Were we to meet a brigand on the road, we might manage to make him conscious of his own personal interest, if not of our plight. But to ask pity of our body is like talking to an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the sea, and with which we should be terrified to find ourselves condemned to live. (Translated by Mark Treharne) |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
