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| 2014/03/18 07:49:40瀏覽191｜回應0｜推薦9 | |
| 【書摘】在斯萬家那邊—斯萬的愛情 (Swann in love) 9 Et certes, il était sincère, mais son amour s’étendait bien au delà des régions du désir physique. La personne même d’Odette n’y tenait plus une grande place. Quand du regard il rencontrait sur sa table la photographie d’Odette, ou quand elle venait le voir, il avait peine à identifier la figure de chair ou de bristol avec le trouble douloureux et constant qui habitait en lui. Il se disait presque avec étonnement : « C’est elle », comme si tout d’un coup on nous montrait extériorisée devant nous une de nos maladies et que nous ne la trouvions pas ressemblante à ce que nous souffrons. « Elle », il essayait de se demander ce que c’était ; car c’est une ressemblance de l’amour et de la mort, plutôt que celles, si vagues, que l’on redit toujours, de nous faire interroger plus avant, dans la peur que sa réalité se dérobe, le mystère de la personnalité. Et cette maladie qu’était l’amour de Swann avait tellement multiplié, il était si étroitement mêlé à toutes les habitudes de Swann, à tous ses actes, à sa pensée, à sa santé, à son sommeil, à sa vie, même à ce qu’il désirait pour après sa mort, il ne faisait tellement plus qu’un avec lui, qu’on n’aurait pas pu l’arracher de lui sans le détruire lui-même à peu près tout entier : comme on dit en chirurgie, son amour n’était plus opérable. (Éditions Gallimard, 1987) ……這是因為他的愛已經大大超出了肉欲的領域。奧黛特的身體已經不占很多的地位。當他抬頭看到桌子上奧黛特的相片時，或者當她來他家看他時，他很難把這照相紙上的或者那有血有肉的面容跟在他心頭的那份難以平靜的痛苦的不安心情之間劃上等號。他幾乎是不勝詫異地心想：「是她！」就像是有人突然把我們身上的某種疾病拿到體外來給我們看，而我們覺得它跟我們所鬧的那種病並不相像一樣。他試圖弄清楚這到底是什麼東西；那是有點像愛情，像死亡的東西，而不是跟疾病的概念依稀相似的東西；那是我們經常對之表示懷疑，經常予以深究，唯恐掌握不了它的實質的東西——那是人的品格之謎。而斯萬的愛情這個病已經大大擴散，已經跟他的一切習慣、一切行動，跟他的思想、健康、睡眠、生活，甚至是身後的遺願是如此緊密相連，它已經跟他合而為一，不可能從他身上剝離而不把他自身整個毀壞：用句外科大夫的話，他的愛情已經無法再動手術了。 (p.334 追憶似水年華 I 在斯萬家那邊 聯經版 1992) ……他的愛情早已綿延超越了肉欲的範圍。奧黛特這個具體的人，在其中已經不占多大位置。當他在桌前抬起頭來，目光接觸到奧黛特的照片，或者逢到她來看他的時候，他感到難以把活生生的奧黛特或照片上的她，跟久駐他心間的令人痛苦而又揮之不去的煩惱憂慮對上號。他幾乎很驚訝地對自己說：“這是她，" 就像醫生當著我們的面，根據種種外部徵候，一下子斷定我們得的是什麼病，可我們覺得這病跟自己的症狀一點兒也不像。她，他老是琢磨不透這個她究竟意味著什麼；人們常說愛情和死亡是相似的，這話現在看來並不空泛，情與死的聯繫有了特定的含義，並促使我們去進一步探究人性的奧秘，不讓它的真實面目從我們眼前隱去。斯萬的愛情這種病，已經四處擴散，跟斯方的種種習慣，跟他的所作所為，跟他的思想、健康、睡眠、生活起居，甚至跟他有關身後的願望，全都密不可分地聯繫在一起，它與他是你中有我，我中有你，若想把它從他身上剝離，勢必要弄得他遍體鱗傷：用外科的行話來說，他的愛情已經不能手術了。 (p.342 追尋逝去的時光 I 去斯萬家那邊 上海譯文版 周克希譯 2004) And certainly he was sincere, but his love extended a long way beyond the province of physical desire. Odette’s person, indeed, no longer held any great place in it. When his eyes fell upon the photograph of Odette on his table, or when she came to see him, he had difficulty in identifying her face, either in the flesh or on the pasteboard, with the painful and continuous anxiety which dwelt in his mind. He would say to himself, almost with astonishment, “It is she!” as when suddenly some one shews us in a detached, externalised form one of our own maladies, and we find in it no resemblance to what we are suffering. “She?”—he tried to ask himself what that meant; for it is something like love, like death (rather than like those vague conceptions of maladies), a thing which one repeatedly calls in question, in order to make oneself probe further into it, in the fear that the question will find no answer, that the substance will escape our grasp—the mystery of personality. And this malady, which was Swann’s love, had so far multiplied, was so closely interwoven with all his habits, with all his actions, with his thoughts, his health, his sleep, his life, even with what he hoped for after his death, was so entirely one with him that it would have been impossible to wrest it away without almost entirely destroying him; as surgeons say, his case was past operation. (Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff ) And of course, he was sincere, but his love extended well beyond the realms of physical desire. Odette’s body itself no longer had a large place in it. When his eyes fell upon Odette’s photograph on the table, or when she came to see him, he had trouble identifying the figure of flesh or cardboard with the painful and constant disturbance that inhabited him. He would say to himself almost with surprise: “It’s she!” as if suddenly someone were to show us in a separate, external form one of our own diseases and we found that it did not resemble what we were suffering. “She”—he tried to ask himself what that was; for one thing love and death have in common, more than those vague resemblances people are always talking about, is that they make us question more deeply, for fear that its reality will slip away from us, the mystery of personality. And this disease which was Swann’s love had so proliferated, was so closely entangled with all his habits, with all his actions, with his thoughts, his health, his sleep, his life, even with what he wanted after his death, it was now so much a part of him, that it could not have been torn from him without destroying him almost entirely: as they say in surgery, his love was no longer operable. (Translated by Lydia Davis) |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
