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【書摘】女囚—貝戈特之死 (the death of Bergotte) 3
2018/08/12 06:04:58瀏覽664|回應0|推薦5
【書摘】女囚貝戈特之死 (the death of Bergotte) 3
Il était mort. Mort à jamais ? Qui peut le dire ? Certes, les expériences spirites, pas plus que les dogmes religieux, n’apportent la preuve que l’âme subsiste. Ce qu’on peut dire, c’est que tout se passe dans notre vie comme si nous y entrions avec le faix d’obligations contractées dans une vie antérieure ; il n’y a aucune raison, dans nos conditions de vie sur cette terre, pour que nous nous croyions obligés à faire le bien, à être délicats, même à être polis, ni pour l’artiste cultivé à ce qu’il se croie obligé de recommencer vingt fois un morceau dont l’admiration qu’il excitera importera peu à son corps mangé par les vers, comme le pan de mur jaune que peignit avec tant de science et de raffinement un artiste à jamais inconnu, à peine identifié sous le nom de Ver Meer.
(l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47)

他死了。永遠死了?誰能說得準呢?當然,招魂術試驗和宗教信條都不能證明人死後靈魂還存在。人們只能說,今生今世發生的一切就彷彿我們是帶著前世承諾的沉重義務進入今世似的。在我們現世的生活條件下,我們沒有任何理由以為我們有必要行善、體貼、甚至禮貌,不信神的藝術家也沒有任何理由以為自己有必要把一個片斷重畫二十遍,他由此引起的讚歎對他那被蛆蟲啃咬的身體來說無關緊要,正如一個永遠不為人知,僅僅以弗美爾的名字出現的藝術家運用許多技巧和經過反復推敲才畫出來的黃色牆面那樣。
(p.195 追憶似水年華 V 女囚 聯經版 1992)

他死了。就此永遠死了?誰能說得清呢?誠然,通靈實驗並不比宗教教義更強,它也並不能證明靈魂是存在的。我們所能說的是,今世發生的一切,都彷彿是在兌現前世承諾的責任;我們在這個世界上的生存狀態,沒有任何理由讓我們相信自己非得行善積德,非得溫文爾雅,非得彬彬有禮不可,對一個無神論者的畫家來說,也沒有任何理由,讓他非得把一幅畫作的局部反覆畫上二十遍,就如一個名不見經傳,幾乎沒人知道他弗美爾這個名字的畫家,憑借精湛絕倫的技巧,反覆推敲打磨畫成這塊黃色的牆面一樣,作品所贏得的贊美,跟日後被蛆蟲嚙噬的軀體相比,又能算得了什麼呢。
(p.186
追尋逝去的時光 第五卷女囚 周克希譯 2012)

He was dead. Permanently dead? Who shall say? Certainly our experiments in spiritualism prove no more than the dogmas of religion that the soul survives death. All that we can say is that everything is arranged in this life as though we entered it carrying the burden of obligations contracted in a former life; there is no reason inherent in the conditions of life on this earth that can make us consider ourselves obliged to do good, to be fastidious, to be polite even, nor make the talented artist consider himself obliged to begin over again a score of times a piece of work the admiration aroused by which will matter little to his body devoured by worms, like the patch of yellow wall painted with so much knowledge and skill by an artist who must for ever remain unknown and is barely identified under the name Vermeer.
(Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff)

He was dead. Dead for ever? Who can say? Certainly spiritualist experiments provide no more proof than religious dogma of the soul¡¦s survival. What we can say is that everything in our life happens as if we entered it bearing a burden of obligations contracted in an earlier life; there is nothing in the conditions of our life on this earth to make us feel any obligation to do good, to be scrupulous, even to be polite, nor to make the unbelieving artist feel compelled to paint a single passage twenty times over, when the admiration it will excite will be of little importance to his body when it is eaten by the worms, like the little piece of yellow wall painted with such knowledge and such refinement by the never-to-be-known artist whom we have barely identified by the name of Vermeer.
(Translated by Carol Clark)

( 知識學習隨堂筆記 )
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