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| 2017/04/12 05:23:25瀏覽516｜回應0｜推薦11 | |
| 【書摘】蓋爾芒特家那邊—暗戀蓋爾芒特夫人 (Secret love for Duchesse de Guermantes) 3-1 Je n’arrivais pas tous les soirs au restaurant de Saint-Loup dans les mêmes dispositions. Si un souvenir, un chagrin qu’on a, sont capables de nous laisser au point que nous ne les apercevions plus, ils reviennent aussi et parfois de longtemps ne nous quittent. Il y avait des soirs où, en traversant la ville pour aller vers le restaurant, je regrettais tellement Mme de Guermantes, que j’avais peine à respirer : on aurait dit qu’une partie de ma poitrine avait été sectionnée par un anatomiste habile, enlevée, et remplacée par une partie égale de souffrance immatérielle, par un équivalent de nostalgie et d’amour. Et les points de suture ont beau avoir été bien faits, on vit assez malaisément quand le regret d’un être est substitué aux viscères, il a l’air de tenir plus de place qu’eux, on le sent perpétuellement, et puis, quelle ambiguïté d’être obligé de penser une partie de son corps ! Seulement il semble qu’on vaille davantage. À la moindre brise on soupire d’oppression, mais aussi de langueur. (l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47) 我晚上到聖盧的飯店時，心情並不都是一樣的。雖說我們的一個記憶、一種憂慮可能會暫時銷聲匿跡，不再糾纏我們，但是還會回來，有時久久縈繞在我們心頭。幾個晚上，我穿過城市到飯店去時，一路苦苦思念德‧蓋爾芒特夫人，連呼吸都感到很困難，仿佛我的胸腔被一個高明的解剖醫生切開，割除了一部分，補上了一塊同樣大小的非物質的痛苦，補上了等量的懷舊和愛情。儘管刀口縫合很好，但當對某人的思念代替了內臟時，我們總會有不舒服的感覺，它似乎比內臟占的位置更大，再說，不得不想著身體的一個部分，這種感覺說它像什麼，它又不像什麼。不過我們變得更嬌貴了。稍微有點微風我們就會歎息，是因為氣悶，也是由於抑鬱。 (p.124~125 追憶似水年華 III蓋爾芒特家那邊 聯經版 1992) I did not arrive at Saint-Loup’s restaurant every evening in the same state of mind. If a memory, a sorrow that weigh on us are able to leave us so effectively that we are no longer aware of them, they can also return and sometimes remain with us for a long time. There were evenings when, as I passed through the town on my way to the restaurant, I felt so keen a longing for Mme. de Guermantes that I could scarcely breathe; you might have said that part of my breast had been cut open by a skilled anatomist, taken out, and replaced by an equal part of immaterial suffering, by an equivalent load of longing and love. And however neatly the wound may have been stitched together, there is not much comfort in life when regret for the loss of another person is substituted for one’s entrails, it seems to be occupying more room than they, one feels it perpetually, and besides, what a contradiction in terms to be obliged to think a part of one’s body. Only it seems that we are worth more, somehow. At the whisper of a breeze we sigh, from oppression, but from weariness also. (Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff) I did not turn up at Saint-Loup’s restaurant in the same frame of mind every evening. If a memory or a particular sadness we feel is capable of disappearing, to the point where we no longer notice t, it can also return and sometimes remain there for a long time. There were evenings when, as I crossed the town on my way to the restaurant, I felt so great a pang of longing for Mme de Guermantes that it took my breath away: it was as if part of my breast had been cut out by a skilled anatomist and replaced by an equal part of immaterial suffering, by an equivalent degree of nostalgia and love. And, however neat the surgeon’s stitches are, life is rather painful when longing for another person is substituted for the intestines; it seems to occupy more space than they do; it is a constantly felt presence; and then how utterly unsettling it is to be obliged to think with part of the body Yet it does somehow make us feel more authentic. The whisper of a breeze makes us sigh with oppression, but also with languor. (Translated by Mark Treharne) |
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| ( 知識學習｜隨堂筆記 ) |
