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【書摘】女囚—嫉妒的真實與想像 (Reality and imagination of Jealousy) 1
2018/01/16 05:41:19瀏覽525|回應0|推薦15
【書摘】女囚嫉妒的真實與想像 (Reality and imagination of Jealousy) 1
La réalité n’est jamais qu’une amorce à un inconnu sur la voie duquel nous ne pouvons aller bien loin. Il vaut mieux ne pas savoir, penser le moins possible, ne pas fournir à la jalousie le moindre détail concret. Malheureusement, à défaut de la vie extérieure, des incidents aussi sont amenés par la vie intérieure ; à défaut des promenades d’Albertine, les hasards rencontrés dans les réflexions que je faisais seul me fournissaient parfois de ces petits fragments de réel qui attirent à eux, à la façon d’un aimant, un peu d’inconnu qui, dès lors, devient douloureux.
(l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47)


真實從來就只是一種把我們引向未知世界的誘餌而我們在探索這未知世界的道路上是沒法走得很遠的。最好的辦法是儘量不去知道,儘量不去多想,不為嫉妒提供任何具體的細節。遺憾的是,即使與外界生活隔絕,內心世界也會滋生種種事端;即使我不陪阿爾貝蒂娜出去,獨自在家遐想,紛沓的思緒中時而也會冒出一鱗半爪真實得不能再真實的東西,它們就像一塊磁鐵那樣,把未知世界的某些蛛絲馬跡牢牢地吸住,從此成了痛苦的淵藪。
(p.19 追憶似水年華 V 女囚 聯經版 1992)

Reality is never more than an allurement to an unknown element in quest of which we can never progress very far. It is better not to know, to think as little as possible, not to feed our jealousy with the slightest concrete detail. Unfortunately, even when we eliminate the outward life, incidents are created by the inward life also; though I held aloof from Albertine’s expeditions, the random course of my solitary reflexions furnished me at times with those tiny fragments of the truth which attract to themselves, like a magnet, an inkling of the unknown, which, from that moment, becomes painful.
(Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff)

Reality is always a mere starting-point towards the unknown, on a path down which we can never travel very far. It is better not to know, to think as little as possible, not to feed jealousy on the smallest concrete detail.
Unfortunately, failing contact with the outside world, the inner world can also provide incidents; even when I did not go out with Albertine, chance meetings in my own solitary thoughts sometimes provided those little fragments of reality that magnetically draw to themselves scraps of the unknown which immediately begin to hurt.
(Translated by Carol Clark)
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