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| 2017/07/12 06:10:12瀏覽531｜回應0｜推薦8 | |
| 【書摘】蓋爾芒特家那邊—對阿爾貝蒂娜的欲念 (The desire for Albertine) 6 Ainsi qu’en bas les feuilles mortes, en haut les nuages suivaient le vent. Et des soirs migrateurs, dont une sorte de section conique pratiquée dans le ciel laissait voir la superposition rose, bleue et verte, étaient tout préparés à destination de climats plus beaux. Pour voir de plus près une déesse de marbre qui s’élançait de son socle, et, toute seule dans un grand bois qui semblait lui être consacré, l’emplissait de la terreur mythologique, moitié animale, moitié sacrée de ses bonds furieux, Albertine monta sur un tertre, tandis de Guermantes, et que j’avais à répondre à une lettre de Gilberte, trois femmes que j’avais aimées, je me dis que notre vie sociale est, comme un atelier d’artiste, remplie des ébauches délaissées où nous avions cru un moment pouvoir fixer notre besoin d’un grand amour, mais je ne songeai pas que quelquefois, si l’ébauche n’est pas trop ancienne, il peut arriver que nous la reprenions et que nous en fassions une oeuvre toute différente, et peut-être même plus importante que celle que nous avions projetée d’abord. que je l’attendais sur le chemin. Elle-même, vue ainsi d’en bas, non plus grosse et rebondie comme l’autre jour sur mon lit où les grains de son cou apparaissaient à la loupe de mes yeux approchés, mais ciselée et fine, semblait une petit statue sur laquelle les minutes heureuses de Balbec avaient passé leur patine. Quand je me retrouvai seul chez moi, me rappelant que j’avais été faire une course l’après-midi avec Albertine, que je dînais le surlendemain chez Mme de Guermantes, et que j’avais à répondre à une lettre de Gilberte, trois femmes que j’avais aimées, je me dis que notre vie sociale est, comme un atelier d’artiste, remplie des ébauches délaissées où nous avions cru un moment pouvoir fixer notre besoin d’un grand amour, mais je ne songeai pas que quelquefois, si l’ébauche n’est pas trop ancienne, il peut arriver que nous la reprenions et que nous en fassions une oeuvre toute différente, et peut-être même plus importante que celle que nous avions projetée d’abord. (l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47 ) 天上的雲彩也和地上的樹葉一樣追趕著風兒。天空中出現了一層層疊合的玫瑰紅和藍綠色的雲彩，夜晚猶如候鳥，向著美好的氣候遷徙。在一個小山丘上，屹立著一尊大理石女神像。女神孤孤單單，待在一個似乎已成為她的聖地的大樹林裡，用她半神半獸的暴跳，使這片樹林彌漫著神話般的恐怖。為了從近處瞻仰女神，阿爾貝蒂娜爬上山丘，我在路上等她。從底下往上看，阿爾貝蒂娜不再像那天我在床上所見的那樣又粗又圓了 (那天離她很近，連她脖子上的疙瘩都看得一清二楚)，而是苗條纖細，像是用刻刀雕刻成的一尊小像，在巴爾貝克幸福地度過的每一分鐘給她鍍上了一層古色光澤。當我獨自回到家裡時，想起下午我和阿爾貝蒂娜奔跑半天的情景，兩天後要到德‧蓋爾芒特夫人家去吃晚飯，還要給希爾貝特回一封信——想起這三個我曾愛過的女人，我思忖，社交生活很像雕刻家的工作室，堆滿了曾一度寄託著我們狂熱的愛而現已廢棄不用的毛坯。但我沒有想到，如果毛坯的年代不算太久，有可能被重新撿起來，雕成一個與原先構思完全不同的、更有價值的藝術品。 (p.430~431 追憶似水年華 III蓋爾芒特家那邊 聯經版 1992) As on the ground the drifting leaves so up above the clouds were chasing the wind. And a stream of migrant evenings, of which a sort of conic section cut through the sky made visible the successive layers, pink, blue and green, were gathered in readiness for departure to warmer climes. To obtain a closer view of a marble goddess who had been carved in the act of leaping from her pedestal and, alone in a great wood which seemed to be consecrated to her, filled it with the mythological terror, half animal, half divine, of her frenzied bounding, Albertine climbed a grassy slope while I waited for her in the road. She herself, seen thus from below, no longer coarse and plump as, a few days earlier, on my bed when the grain of her throat became apparent in the lens of my eye as it approached her person, but chiselled and delicate, seemed a little statue on which our happy hours together at Balbec had left their patina. When I found myself alone again at home, and remembered that I had taken a drive that afternoon with Albertine, that I was to dine in two days’ time with Mme. de Guermantes and that I had to answer a letter from Gilberte, three women each of whom I had once loved, I said to myself that our social existence is, like an artist’s studio, filled with abandoned sketches in which we have fancied for a moment that we could set down in permanent form our need of a great love, but it did not occur to me that sometimes, if the sketch be not too old, it may happen that we return to it and make of it a work wholly different, and possibly more important than what we had originally planned. (Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff ) Like the dead leaves on the ground, the clouds in the sky were following the wind. And a flock of migrant evenings, their various layers-pink, blue, green-made visible by a sort of conic section cut into the sky, were stationed there in readiness for departure to warmer climes. To get a closer view of a marble goddess in the posture of springing from her pedestal and, alone in a great wood that seemed to be consecrated to her, filling it with the mythological terror, half animal, half sacred, of her frenzied leaps, Albertine climbed up onto a mound while I waited for her on the road, Seen from below in this way, she herself－no longer coarse and fleshy, as she had been a few days earlier, on my bed, when the texture of her neck was seen close up under the magnifying glass of my eyes, but finely chiseled-seemed like a small statue on which the happy days in Balbec had left their patina. When I found myself alone again at home, reminding myself that I had spent the afternoon on an excursion with Albertine, that I was dining in two days with Mme de Guermantes, and that I needed to answer a letter from Gilberte, three women I had loved, it occurred to me that our social life, like an artist’ s studio, is filled with abandoned sketches depicting our momentary attempts to capture our need for a great love, but what did not occur to me was that sometimes, if the sketch is not too old, we may return to it and transform it into a completely different work, possibly more important than the one we had originally planned. (Translated by Mark Treharne) |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
