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| Selected poems：米沃什的《故土追憶》 https://www.books.com.tw/products/CN11566875 故土追憶 作者：切斯瓦夫‧米沃什 譯者：楊德友 出版社：上海譯文出版社 出版日期：2018/07/01 內容簡介 收錄米沃什詩作87首，來自《故土追憶》(1986)、《紀事》(1985–1987)和《彼岸》(1991)。詩人追憶已逝的人和難以涉足的故土，沉思我們共同的命運，但「還是學不會妥帖敘事，平心靜氣」。 〈冬季〉 加利福尼亞州冬季強烈的氣息， 到處是灰色和玫瑰色，幾乎是透明的滿月。我給壁爐添加木柴，喝小酒，思緒飄來。 剛剛閱讀了新聞消息： 「雷姆凱維奇，詩人，在伊瓦瓦大行歸西， 享年七十。」 他是我們一群人裡最年輕的，我有點小看他， 就像小看其他人，因為他們思想膚淺 雖然在很多美德方面，我還比不了他們。 我在這裡，這個世紀和我的一生 正在接近終點。對於自己的力量雖然自豪， 卻因為觀點的明確而感到困窘。 混雜了鮮血的先鋒派。 無法索解的藝術品的灰燼。 混亂的雜燴。 我對此做出判斷。自己卻有標記。 這不是有正義感和尊嚴的人士的世紀。 我知道怎麼製造惡魔， 在其中識別出自己。 月亮。雷姆凱維奇。松樹枝椏的火光。 水快沒過我們，姓名只留存一瞬。 是否留在後代人記憶之中無關輕重。 帶著獵犬狩獵這世界奇妙的意義，世人不可及，多麼宏偉。 現在我準備好遠行 在死亡邊界後面太陽升起的時候。 我已經看到天堂森林裡的山巒 在那裡每種實質後面呈現出新的實質。 我垂暮之年的音樂，我受到 越來越完美的聲音和色彩的召喚。 壁爐柴火，不要熄滅。你進入我的夢境，愛情。 大地的青春季節，你要保持長盛。 伯克利 一九八四 WINTER The pungent smells of a California winter, Grayness and rosiness, an almost transparent full moon. I add logs to the fire, I drink and I ponder. "In Ilawa," the news item said, "at age 70 Died Aleksander Rymkiewicz, poet." He was the youngest in our group. I patronized him slightly, Just as I patronized others for their inferior minds Though they had many virtues I couldnt touch. And so I am here, approaching the end Of the century and of my life. Proud of my strength Yet embarrassed by the clearness of the view. Avant-gardes mixed with blood. The ashes of inconceivable arts. An omnium-gatherum of chaos. I passed judgment on that. Though marked myself. This hasnt been the age for the righteous and the decent. I know what it means to beget monsters And to recognize in them myself. You, moon, You, Aleksander, fire of cedar logs. Waters close over us, a name lasts but an instant. Not important whether the generations hold us in memory. Great was that chase with the hounds for the unattainable meaning of the world. And now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderlands of death. I already see mountain ridges in the heavenly forest Where, beyond every essence, a new essence waits. You, music of my late years, I am called By a sound and a color which are more and more perfect. Do not die out, fire. Enter my dreams, love. Be young forever, seasons of the earth. 〈黃昏中的無篷馬車 （一九三〇）〉 黃昏時候乘坐無篷馬車。車轍磨損。 道路經過湖邊平原的村莊。 屋頂緊靠在一起，草地上晾著麻布。 漁網散開，煙囪里冒出炊煙。 一片寂靜。他們是誰？得到拯救還是受到詛咒？ 坐下來晚餐，在主的聖徒肖像下面。 托馬斯·阿奎納在他那小室中不停 書寫他們，那無疑是懲罰，他太善良。 我寫作大概也是受罰。我要膜拜光明、 膜拜威儀，鞠躬行禮，如此而已。 而這裡只有人群，他們的習俗，家園， 家庭不設防，每一年按照皇歷過去。 藝術家的目的：適度避免突發的喜悅和絕望；在過去的時候他長時間地處於這種狀態。清晨早餐時候什麼也不想，只想到去畫室，那兒有釘好的畫布在等待。在那裡同時畫幾張畫，對於畫筆下面不意中出現的形象很感興趣。他知道自己在尋找什麼，追求什麼。那是只看到一次的全部的現實，但是它又常常溜掉，其本質沒有名稱，迄今誰也沒有觸及。這一切都是要再現樹木、風景、人物、動物，但是總是希望畫筆自己遇到筆意。 除了畫筆，還有書寫之筆。也許有的人比較成功，有的人不太成功。湖邊的茅屋從何而來，同時還有托馬斯·阿奎納？據說他在去世之前說：「我寫的一切，我覺得都是麥稈。」這應該理解為否定運用三段論努力構建的宏偉建築，因為建築太人性化，亦即不過是迷霧，在我們回顧觀看的時候面對終極之物、幾乎就在最高寶座之前的時候——不過是虛無。但是有誰知道，我們是否可以以絕對的願望之名義放棄短暫的、須臾即逝的形式。我在青年時期沒有預期日後會著迷於人、人在時間上的日常生存，一天，一年——這一天一年對於湖上的茅屋並沒有什麼好的預示。不行，不能直視太陽。另外一方面，我們也不能模仿美名大師托夫故事裡王宮中的貴客，這些人忘記了他們為何到了那裡。 哈希德派的故事 從不同的國家、省份、不同的村莊和城市， 我們應邀到了國王的宮殿， 那裡的池塘和花園令我們驚奇 還有鳥雀合唱和珍奇樹木。 穿過許多房間我們看見 黃金、白銀、珍珠和寶石。 幾天幾個星期也看不完。 賓客四散在整個宮殿裡的一間間房間， 我堅持要尋找國王的房間。 有人帶引。突然之間，一切 都消失不見。他是幻境製造大師， 是他憑空呼喚出來這輝煌燦爛。 伯克利一九八五 IN A BUGGY AT DUSK To ride in a buggy at dusk. Well-worn ruts. The road goes past a farm in a dell by a lake. The roofs nestling together, raw linen spread on the meadow. Nets drying, smoke rising from the chimney. What silence. Who are they? Are they among the saved or damned, Sitting down to supper under pictures of the saints? And Thomas Aquinas writes about them in his cell, Nonstop, as punishment no doubt, he was too angelic. Perhaps I write as punishment, too? I wanted to bow To the Light, to Majesty, only that, no more. And here are mere people, their customs, their houses, A defenseless family, a year on the calendar. The goal of an artist: to be free from violent joys and sorrows for which he had time enough during his past life. At breakfast not to think anything except that he will go to his workshop, where stretched canvases are ready. He works on a few of them simultaneously, intrigued by a surprise emerging out of the movements of the brush. He knows what he looks for, what he strives for. And that is the whole reality, a detail seen once but constantly escaping, its nameless essence not touched by anybody. Practically this means to re-create trees, landscapes, people, animals, but always with the hope that the brush will find a proper trail. The brush but also the pen. Perhaps some attempts succeed better, others less well. Why a hut by the lake and with it Thomas Aquinas? He presumably said before his death: "Everything I wrote seems to me straw. Which should be understood as renouncing a gigantic edifice laboriously erected with syllogisms because it was too human and thus is no more than mist, nothing when we look at it backward, facing the last thing, almost before the highest throne. Yet who knows whether we are allowed to renounce transient, fleeting forms in the name of an absolute desire. In my youth I did not expect that I would be one day so fascinated by people, by their everyday existence in time, by that day, by that year —which do not augur anything good for the hut by the lake. No, we cannot look straight at the sun. On the other hand we should not imitate the guests in the royal palace from Baal Shem-Tovs tale, who forgot why they arrived there. A HASSIDIC TALE From various countries, districts, villages, cities We were invited to the palace of the king. His ponds and his gardens astonished us As well as the choruses of birds and trees of every species. Wandering through the rooms we saw marvels, Gold, and silver, and pearls and precious stones. Days and weeks were too short for looking. While the guests scattered through the maze of rooms I insisted on searching for the kings chamber And was led in. Suddenly all those things Vanished. They had been conjured up By Him, the All-Radiant, master of Illusion. Berkeley, 1985 |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
