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| 2009/05/02 06:05:17瀏覽1692｜回應6｜推薦24 | |
| Ma Vlast （我的祖國） 英文原作： 德州大哥 中文翻譯：北橋客 Ma Vlast 是捷克作曲家史麥塔納 (Smetana) 所譜的六首交響詩，其中以莫爾導河 (Die Moldau) 最為有名。Ma Vlast 一般譯為 My Country, 直譯則為 My Fatherland. 因此，請您打開這首音樂，邊聽邊讀。 ************************************************************* My Vlast Forget Paris since I have never been there. Taipei, Taipei is my City of Lights. I was born and raised in Taipei but have not been back for almost 20 years. That is, if you don’t include my brief visit there 14 months ago; I was hurried in late at night straight from the airport to the ICU where my gravely sick father was. That particular trip really counts no more than a dream that I have no clear memory of. Going back for the same reason but in much less urgent a manner this time has given me a chance to feel and to think. So what exactly have I done with that opportunity? I feel the place still surprisingly familiar, after being gone for so long, but think of myself strangely out of place. I try to establish a fake feeling of home coming but sadly find no such power at my disposal any more. It is a bizarre sensation: blending in immediately and knowing with high confidence which short cut to make as I move at ease from point-A to point-B, I only find myself ending up again and again at places where everyone, friends, relatives and total strangers, are awfully nice and polite to me – actually too nice and too polite that I can’t help but wondering my presence to them is no more than a temporary necessity and a tolerable intrusion upon their lives; my absence shall not be missed when all is over. I don’t have a home there any more. What I do have is a dream about a home that I once had. 並非巴黎，因我沒去過那。臺北，臺北才是我心目中流光泛彩的城市。 我在臺北出生長大，卻將近二十年沒回去。其實十四個月前我匆匆回去了一趟，深夜從機場直奔加護病房，趕到病勢沉重的父親身旁。那次旅程像個模糊的夢，不能算數。 這次回臺北仍然旨在探病，但情況遠不似上次緊急，所以有餘豫可以體會思索一番。那麼，此行我究竟做了什麼？ 儘管離開了如此之久，這地方依舊出乎意料的熟悉，但我感到自己格格不入。我試圖營造歸鄉的情緒，可悲的是，我無能為力。這是種怪異的感覺：一方面我立刻融入環境，曉得從甲地到乙地該抄那條捷徑，輕車熟路毫不猶疑；另一方面，所到之處大家都把我當客人看。朋友也好、親戚也好、乃至完全陌生的人，待我皆親切客氣，甚至親切客氣得過了頭，讓我不免忖度：我暫時闖入這些人的生活，對他們而言好比一樁無可避免但尚可忍受的偶發事件；一旦事過境遷我消失了，他們也不會在意。 我在臺北已無家可歸，只剩一個夢還能抓住，夢中有我的故居。 _____________________________________________________________________ Where our two families now live, mine and my wife’s, take me to all four corners of that city that I had hardly set foot on during my first 26 years there. Crossing over from one spot to another, some times more than once within the same day, provides me some fresh perspectives about Taipei that I once thought I understood well. That revelation starts with the smell – the most primal and faithful one among all sensory functions belonging to mankind. Within the airport, that prime achievement of human civilizations, everything smelled exactly the same to me as if I have never left San Diego. Someone had all the airports in the world, at least for a few that I have been to, filled with the artificial fragrance coming with the purified air and the mixtures of oily fast-food and of new car sprays. Because of that, CKS smells exactly like my life in the States for the last two decades. All that disappeared the moment I stepped beyond the threshold of the airport. Then I sensed it, the once must have been familiar but now totally out of context smell of rains from the seasonal monsoon falling on and dripping away from the steel re-enforced concrete structures, the smell created by what locals call ‘The Prune Rain.’ The air-tight window of the shuttle bus taking me from the airport to the city could not have sealed it away. It came mingling with the sights of half collapsing warehouses under rusty tin roofs along the highway – so it is true when they told me that the island got hit pretty hard by the global economy crisis. As I approached my destiny the bus slowed down before passing through a toll booth. Ah, this used to be my favorite way of entering the city: Years ago arriving under an October sky on my first vacation back home from college, at this same location the entire basin of Taipei, including the farthest rim of the mountains bounding it within, opened up in front of me vibrant and sparkling - I fell in love with that scene ever since. No such sensation this time; the view used to welcome me is now blocked by pillars of grayish housing projects. It’s probably better this way; the scene that I’ve been looking forward to might have been long gone so why stretch my neck looking for something existing only in my memory? Life goes on for millions of others and I have no right to ask them to move aside so I can relive what once enchanted me. Some say this city has the ugliest cityscape, architecture wise, of all cities in the world. True it is, perhaps, but inside each of these cookie-cutter houses stretching from one end to another of this city, real people truly live and they certainly do not live by-your-leave. These are places inside which they sleep, cook, make love, bear their children, comfort and torment each other and watch each other wither away. My sense of beauty means absolutely nothing to them. Surrounded by so many millions, I am, finally and truly alone now. 為了在父親家和妻的娘家之間往返，我走遍了臺北的許多角落。僅管生命的頭二十六年在此度過，許多地方我竟未嘗涉足。從城市的這頭穿梭到那頭，有時一天不止一次，給了我重新觀察臺北的機會。這城市，我一直以為對它瞭若指掌。 新的觀察從嗅覺開始。嗅覺 - 人類最原始最可靠的感官經驗。先從機場內部談起。機場這地方，可謂人類文明頂尖的成就，但聞來聞去都同一個味道，所以下飛機後我就有個錯覺，仿佛自己並未離開聖地牙哥。不知是那位仁兄把全世界機場（至少我飛過的那幾個）的空氣先行濾過、加上香水、再跟油膩的速食味和新車的噴劑混在一起。因這緣故，桃園機場聞起來就和我在美國過去二十年的日子沒兩樣。 但一出機場味道就變了。嗯，我聞到了，季風帶來的雨水從鋼骨水泥的建築滴落下來的味道，曾經多麼熟悉，如今卻顯得突兀。這當地人稱做“梅雨”的氣息，密不透風的窗戶擋它不住，直直沁入我乘坐的接駁巴士裡頭，摻和著映入眼簾的蕭條景象。公路兩旁一個個生銹的鐵皮屋頂遮蓋半塌的倉庫，看來島上的產業遭到全球經濟危機衝擊，受創慘重，果非虛言。巴士漸漸駛近我的目的地，經過收費站的時候慢了下來。啊，我以前最愛從這裡進城：多年前一個十月的天空下，上大學後第一次放假返家，就是在這個地點，整個臺北盆地以及四圍的山麓在我眼前迤邐展開，顫動閃爍。從那時起我就愛上了這幕風景。 當年的悸動不再，曾經迎接我的風景，如今被一棟棟灰色的公寓大廈擋住。這樣也未必不好；心中期待的風景可能早就消逝了，我又何必翹首企望僅存於記憶中的事物？幾百萬人的生活照常過下去，我憑什麼要求他們閃在一旁，好讓我重溫舊日的沉醉？有人批評臺北的都市建築風貌，謂其醜陋冠於世界。這觀察或有幾分道理，但橫亙市區一個個鴿子籠般的屋子裡頭，住著有血有肉的人，真實度日，不須你來批准。那是他們睡覺、燒飯、做愛、生子的所在，他們在其中彼此安慰、互相折磨，然後看著對方凋萎老去。我的美學概念對於他們毫無意義。 在幾百萬人的包圍之中，我終於，真正是，獨自一人了。 _______________________________________________________________________ So I walk in the shadow of valley of death - my father is aging fast and his condition deteriorating even faster. Where he lives now is definitely not your “A Clean and Well Lighted Place”. The streets nearby are dark, damp, narrow and winding. Of course we can afford to let him live out his remaining life in a much nicer part of the town where ladies of fashion walk elegantly while being escorted by their equally well pampered gentlemen. But debating over whether that action should have been pursued is of no vital importance now. Perhaps this is the best place for my parents as my sister lives right next door to them. Yes, my sister the multi-millionaire but why does she live there? I never bother to ask; we have now treated each other with such a civilized friendliness that all personal questions should be avoided at all cost. So in the shadow of death I think of my father holding my hand, his arm strong and his grip powerful, his palm warm and his touch loving. He lead me through mazes of street vendors selling slippers and umbrellas, brassieres and boxes full of fruit arrangements until we entered a noodle shop. Being ethnically a Mainlander, my father took little delight in local Taiwanese cuisines in general but had somehow found the combination of fish-ball and noodles soup metaphorically humorous. For many years, at the counts of almost once every week he would take me to this diner not too far away from his office and ordered the curry flavored fish-ball noodles for me, even though he himself never touched it. Through the wiggling air created by the rising steams from the freshly cooked noodles I looked up at him admiringly: Him I worship and die he never shall, I told myself. I was wrong and now I know. The noodle shop is still there and to get to it I still have to fight my way through mazes of slippers, umbrellas and under-garments street vendors. I feel dizzy and puzzled; my father is no where to be found to guide me through, and people there from the owner of noodle diner to all the surrounding mobile Phoenicians have all grown mysteriously much younger than I am now. ‘Were you born before or after I had the curry flavor fish-ball noodles here years ago for the first time?’ I wanted to ask the waitress. She would have smiled politely but perplexedly. Why would a question like that be relevant to anyone? She would have asked herself secretly. 就這樣我步入死蔭的幽谷。父親快速衰老，健康情況惡化更甚。他目前的住處，巷弄闃黑陰濕，湫隘曲折，絕非所謂“窗明几凈”之地。讓他換個高檔一點的地方，在時髦淑女和伴遊的高雅紳士從容盤桓的時尚之區度過餘年，我們當然負擔得起，但若為了是否應將此構想付諸實行而引發爭執，則甚是無謂。現在的住處或許最適合我父母，因為我姐姐便住在隔壁。我身價百萬的姐姐，為何住在那種地方？我懶得問。我們之間以客套禮貌相待，敏感的私人話題能免則免。 於是在死亡的陰影中，我想像父親又握著我的手，他的胳臂結實，抓握有力，他的掌心暖和，觸摸慈愛。他領我穿過街上賣拖鞋雨傘胸罩和水果禮盒的小販構成的迷陣，進入一家麵館。父親是大陸人，不甚喜歡臺式烹調，但他不知怎地發現魚丸與湯麵的組合頗富幽默的喻意。每星期一次，他帶我上這家離辦公室不遠的館子，點一碗咖喱口味的魚丸湯麵給我吃，年復一年幾乎從未間斷，他自己卻從來不碰。剛出爐的湯麵冒著蒸氣，我透過蠕動的空氣仰頭望他，滿心孺慕。我告訴自己說：我崇拜他，而他永不會死去。 我錯了。我現在曉得了。 麵館還在，我仍然得穿過賣拖鞋雨傘和內衣的小販構成的迷陣才能到那。我神暈眩我心迷惘；我尋不著領路的父親，而館子的老闆和四周的流動商販則匪夷所思地變得比我了年輕一大截。 “很多年前，我在這吃咖喱魚丸湯麵的時候，妳出生了沒有？” 我有個衝動想問端盤的小妹。 她一定會禮貌的對我笑笑，同時大惑不解。這種無聊問題干我什麼事？她必然會在暗地裡自問。 【註】”A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” 是海明威的一篇短篇小說，故事發生在一個餐廳裡，講一個耳聾的老人和兩個侍者。這詞雖非一語雙關，卻提供有意思的聯想。 _______________________________________________________________________ I had to go to another part of the town to have my national ID re-issued. This is supposedly where my residential address locates even though the place has been rented out to someone else years ago. Who was the wise one that came up with such a marvelous system? “So long as you have not been declared dead, there shall be a spot on this surface of earth to where we can have you registered”, said the wise one to me. I walked into the administrating office and talked to a clerk whose only interest in me is the fact, not the story, of my life. “Please wait and have a seat, we will have it all sorted out for you in no time,” answered she. I took the advice and sit down watching her print out page after page of ‘No such person exists. No information available.’ and the confused look on her face turn from puzzled to alarmed. Finally and thankfully the computer spitted out a page scanned into the system many years ago. Written on top of it was something about a person having the identical name, first and last, as the one was given to me; owning the same national ID number as I still acquire; living in the same address as I once did. She looked very relief and satisfied. Smiling at me she told me, “Congratulation sir. It appears that you are who you said you are.” But no, wait, I am the confused one now: I know I am who I say I am. But am I who I think I was? And please tell me this: to whom can I raise that question? For the second time within that 24 hours, I spared myself from getting another sympathetic but perplexed smile. 為了換新身份證，必須到原戶籍所在地走一遭，僅管那房子早就租給了別人。 是哪個有識之士設計出這套了不起的系統？ “只要還沒被宣告死亡，你在地球表面某處就登記有案，” 有識之士告訴我。 走進戶政機關詢問辦事人員。她感興趣的是有關我的資料，而非我的故事。 “請坐下稍候，我們馬上會替你辦好。” 她回答道。 我依言坐下，看她印出一頁頁的“查無此人，沒有資料，” 而她的表情也從困惑逐漸轉為警覺。幸好電腦終於印出一份掃描的老文件，上頭記錄的名字與我雷同，同名同姓，就是爸媽給我取的那個名字。記錄的身份字號也是我的，地址也是我曾住過的。 她如釋重負，露出滿意的笑容告訴我：“先生，恭喜你。看來你的確是你所宣稱的那個人。” 等等，這時該我糊塗了。我當然知道我現在是誰，但我還是當初的那個人嗎？可否請妳告訴我，我該向誰提出這個問題？ 二十四小時之中第二次，我憋住沒問，幫自己躲過另一個充滿同情但大惑不解的微笑。 _______________________________________________________________________ I gently placed my father’s hand down into a resting position; his grip over mine loosened up as he fell asleep. I stared at the river through the window by his sickbed. We were on the 8th floor of a Presbyterian (MacKay Memorial) Hospital facing the Dankun River into which, for the last few years, they had put forth a lot of efforts in hope of turning it into a tourist attraction. It was such a lovely day; so lovely that I began to fear of not remembering it any more. This was another part of the city that I had hardly ever been to, except once many years ago coming with my parents for the sake of getting a basket of salted duck eggs. Why have I remembered something so trivial? I really couldn’t tell. “Such a beautiful day!” I loudly reminded myself again, afraid the idea would slip. Staring at the far end of the river with two sails drifting toward the opposite bank, I almost willed myself into believing that I was back in the San Diego Bay. But I knew I was not. Between here and there, what I could not see but could unmistakably feel were the presences of endless patches of low income housing zone where millions were born, lived, got sick and faced death, all at that same moment. But did they know, or did they even care to know about my existence? If someone, anyone, happened to lift his eyes so he could see me through the well-kept spotless window glass separating my modern wonders of life-prolonging paradise from the ghetto where he stood, could he tell that with all the modern technologies my million dollar salary can afford, I was as helpless as he was at watching my life and lives of those I dearly love slip away inch by inch? Such a beautiful day, I must try very hard to remember it. 我慢慢把父親的手擱到休息的位置。他已沉睡，原本握著我的手鬆開了。我從病床邊的窗戶凝視外面的河流。病房在馬偕紀念醫院的第八層，正對淡水河。這條河經過幾年的大力整治，有望脫胎換骨成為觀光景點。 那真是美妙的一天，的確太美妙了，我開始擔心會把它給忘了。那是城裡另一個我足跡罕及的角落，只在很多年前跟爸媽去過一次，就為了買一籃鹹鴨蛋。怎麼會記得這件雞毛蒜皮事？我毫無頭緒。“多美的一天啊！” 我再次大聲提醒自己，唯恐這個念頭溜走。我的視線移到河的遠處，盯著兩只帆船緩緩飄向對岸，差點以為回到了聖地牙哥的海灣。但我知道沒有。從這頭到那頭無窮無盡的散佈著一大片低收入住宅，我雖看不見但明顯察覺它們的存在。幾百萬人，同一瞬間，在其中出生、度日、面臨疾病和死亡。他們可意識到、可在乎我的存在？當中可有人恰好在此時舉目仰視，看到我站在一塵不染的玻璃窗前；一面隔離世界的窗，那邊是他所在的貧民區，這邊是我所在的樂土，一個拖延生命的現代奇蹟。他可明白，我空有百萬年薪足堪支付現代科技的花費，卻和他一樣的無助，只能眼睜睜看著自己的生命、以及摯愛之人的生命，一點一滴的溜走。 多美妙的一天，我一定設法牢牢記住。 _______________________________________________________________________ Yes, the restaurant is still at where I remember it so my dearest let us sit down and order you your favorite dish - fine noodles in clear chicken broth. Me? I will have the minute buns, like I always had years ago when I attended high school two block east from here. While we're waiting, my dear darling wife, let me look at you closely, like I did 28 years ago. Do you not remember? It was from across the street, exactly that many years ago that we exchanged our first kiss and yes I can still taste the sweetness of your lips on mine. It was intoxicating then as it still is today. Your hands were cold then as they still are now. And I will hold true to my vow to you today as I did then; that I will keep your hands warm inside mine until the day this universe stops. Do not, shall not - as you have absolutely no need for it - put any cosmetics over your face. I want to be able to see all your wrinkles clearly so I can count the wonderful years I have spend with you and look forward to the days of adding a few more to what we have put together so far. I want to trace each one of them out: this one because we were happy and that one because we were sad; to retell the stories of our lives full of gratitude because at the formation of every single crease we were together, you and I. To me, my dearest darling wife, you never age; what never ceases to amaze me is how your beauty gets more admiringly graceful as each day goes by and this is how I shall behold thee till the day I exist no more. Look, here comes your noodles; eat, mia piccina mogliettina – just watching that graceful movement of your hands completes my life. Eat, mia angelo piccolo. When you're done eating I will lead you back home through the mists and rains, snows and sleets, holding your hand while feeling the warmth of the food I have just provided you chases away the chills that tormented you. I will protect you and break open the crowds in your way like an ice-breaker in arctic sea. But I will do it gently and quietly so no other human being would know that since the beginning of time, no one man loves another woman more than I you. 我的記憶無誤，餐廳仍在原址，所以親愛的，我們找個位子坐下，點一道妳最喜歡的清燉雞湯細麵。我呢？我來一客小籠包，從前在東邊兩條街外的高中念書的時候我總愛點這道。等待上菜的空檔，親愛的妻，讓我好好端詳妳，像二十八年前那樣仔細瞧妳。妳可還記得？就在對街，整整二十八年前，我們交換了初吻。啊，我仍嘗得出妳的唇印在我的唇上那股甜蜜滋味，令今日的我如當年一般陶醉。妳的手冰冷一似曩昔；那麼，就讓我重申往日的誓言，我要把妳的手暖暖裹在我的手裡，直到這宇宙薪盡火熄。 不要，千萬不要 – 因妳絕對不需要 – 把化妝品敷上面龐。我要看清楚妳的每條皺紋，數算與妳共度的華年，並且冀望美好的年日在未來繼續加增。我要追溯每一道紋路：諾，這道，是由於快樂，諾，那道，是由於悲傷。我要重新述說我倆的故事，我滿心感謝，因為妳臉上的每一道摺痕形成的時候，我與妳相偕。親愛的妻，在我眼中妳從未變老；隨著歲月流逝，我未嘗停止傾慕妳益發優雅的美麗。我便要如此凝視妳，直到我不在的那日。 瞧，麵來了。吃吧，我親親的小媳婦 – 單單欣賞妳雙手優雅的動作，我的生命就了無缺憾。吃吧，我翩翩的小仙子。等妳吃完，我帶妳回家，穿過迷霧風雨，穿過雪花冰霰，我握住妳的手，感覺到入腹的食物帶來的暖意驅散了折磨妳的寒氣。我要護著妳，撥開擋路的人群如破冰船行在北極冰洋。但我得溫柔地，悄悄地，別讓人曉得我的秘密：自亙古以來、沒有一個男人愛一個女人像我這樣愛妳。 ________________________________________________________________ The shopping district has not really been my favorite place. At one point in my life I probably had enjoyed it but watching enough human sufferings as I grew older had slowly bled that innocence out of my mind; more and more I regard persons holding bags full of luxurious goodies enemies of social justice. But that is not the case today. Today my heart is full of love and compassion because what I have witnessed on my way to the Taipei-101. I started out from a much shabbier part of the town, the far northeast side. To catch the bus then the subway, I had to meander my way through a chain of disconnected sidewalks broken up every now and then by a few steps up or down, or a malignantly parked motorcycle - a scene I had experienced millions of times from my first 26 years living here and hated it with every fiber of my being. I passed three adjoined general stores and hold my pace waiting for the signal light to change before crossing the street. It is a typical corner of a dying old town, suffocating low ceilings forming the cover of these sidewalks, giving a bleak and desolate feeling to the stores underneath them. I glanced at what they had to offer – assortments of cheap candies held within some dusty jars, manufacturing rejected woman's brand name underwear inside wrinkled plastic wraps – things exactly as they were when I left 20 years ago. Chances were they have never managed to sell any one single item for that day, unlikely for that week and certainly not an off bet for that entire year; so how did they survive, I wondered? Just as I submerged deep within my self-driven philosophical thoughts, some actions took places and that’s when it hit me. As if triggered by an invisible clock, several women running those shops suddenly turned alive. Pulling out a few chairs and gathering at the middle of the sidewalk they sit down and started chatting to each other lively. Judging from the dexterity of their swift movements, this must have been the moment they’ve been waiting for all day long, and likely for the no-one-knows-how-many times in their lives. I suddenly realized that I have just witnessed the force of life working out its greatest magic. For the last half a million years or so this same play must have been performed under countless sunsets and it got passed on. What’s at play is the full strength of maternal care and resilience – let tomorrow worry about what will happen tomorrow; we have just made it through today and all is well. Let's all sit down and talk about the states of the current affairs: No, the hunting season isn't particularly prosperous this year so many may starve, but it matters little; it will turn around – it always does and those who survive will guarantee the continuation of the clan and so on and so forth… Yes, all will thrive, not necessarily our personal-selves but the force of life itself. Let it be democracy or tyranny, capitalism or socialism, China or Taiwan, global warming or minor ice age; life, life as it is will be here and will overcome. I felt as if I was watching the ‘Seven Samurais” again but this time finally getting it. 並不真地喜歡逛那個購物商圈。以前的我可能愛去那溜達，但隨著年紀漸長多閱人間疾苦，我的天真便一點一滴流失。我愈來愈把提著一大袋奢侈品的人視為社會正義的公敵。 但今天情況不同。今天往臺北101的路上看到的一幕，讓我心中充滿了愛和憐憫。 從城市東北角破舊的社區出發；為了搭公車去換地鐵，須經過一串迂迴曲折不相連貫的人行道。人行道總是被時上時下的幾節臺階、或者被惡意停放的摩托車切割得肝腸寸斷；這雜亂景象我在臺北住的二十六個年頭裡早已厭看，我身上每一根神經都痛恨它。路過三家毗鄰的雜貨店，走到紅綠燈前停下，等著過馬路。這乃是暮氣沉沉的老區一個典型的角落；令人窒悶的低矮屋頂壓迫人行道，裡頭的店面籠罩於荒涼廢棄的氣息。 瞥了雜貨店一眼，看他們賣些什麼。塵埃滿佈的罐子盛著各色的廉價糖果，皺巴巴的塑膠套包著工廠退貨的女性名牌內衣，簡直和二十年前離開的時候沒兩樣。一天之內，一星期當中，甚至整整一年裡，我打賭他們八成一樣東西也賣不掉；天知道他們靠什麼過活？我正沉浸於哲學的沉思之中，身邊發生了些許騷動，一瞬間靈光乍現我猛然領悟。幾個看店的女人仿佛被一只隱形的時鐘敲醒，突然活了過來。她們搬出椅子聚在走道當中坐下，開始起勁的聊天。根據她們敏捷的動作來判斷，這必是她們一天之中期待已久的時刻，而且顯然慣熟有年。我突然理解到：眼前這一幕，乃是生命的巨匠施展她最奇偉的魔力。過去幾十萬年以來，同樣一齣戲碼在不計其數的日落時分一再上演，代代相傳，領銜演出的是沛然浩然屬於母性的關懷與韌性。任明天憂慮明天才發生的事吧，我們可不又熬過了今日？一切都還好，來，坐下聊聊目前的光景。唉，今年打獵的季節收獲不佳，只怕不少人要餓死。但不要緊，會有轉機的。總是有轉機的，活下去的人會保障家族的延續。的確，整體務必繁衍下去，雖然我們自身不見得能夠存活，但生命務必繼續茁壯。管他是民主還是極權，是資本主義還是社會主義，是中國還是臺灣，是全球暖化還是冰河期，生命必克服這一切、必在這裡有一席之地。 我覺得仿佛重看了一次“七武士，” 但這回總算看懂了。 _______________________________________________________________________ During my seven days there, except the very last two days, the weather has been either rainy or heavily overcast. As I went air-port bounded, leaving behind me a city under a sky breaking clear, I stared at the patches of watery rice fields zooming past me without really seeing them - I was deeply absorbed within my own thoughts of aspects of life that I had foolishly believed I understand before making this trip. I was thinking about the young and the old, the loved and the hated, the passionate and the compassionate, those that are alive and those that were dead, the has-beens and the yet-to-comes… Then I heard in my head the melody of this song that was once familiar to me from my previous life, “The sky of Taipei once had my youthful smiling face…” Yes, it did. And now it also has my middle-age mind of sorrow. 在臺北逗留的七天，若非陰雨綿綿就是烏雲密佈。最後兩日終於放晴了，但我卻要離開晴空下的城市，馳往機場。途中盯著一塊塊飛越眼簾的稻田發呆，深陷在自己的思緒裡。想到此行之前，愚昧的自以為了解生命的面貌；想到年輕的，年老的，所愛的，所恨的，熱情如火的，悲天憫人的；想到生者，逝者，往者，來者 … 然後我聽到腦海浮現一段旋律，是昔日熟悉的一首歌，唱道：“臺北的天空，有我年輕的笑容 … ” 是的，臺北曾有我年輕的笑容。如今它也有了我中年的哀傷。 |
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