2014年6月30日 星期一

On His Seven-Fifth Birthday












On Himself 
Walter Savage Landor (1775C1864) 
I STROVE with none, 
for none was worth my strife; 
Nature I lov'd, and next to Nature, Art; 
I warm'd both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, 
and I am ready to depart. 
------

http://tieba.baidu.com/p/110838061
博爾赫斯的寫作被認為是“迷宮”式寫作。他最喜歡的文學作品中包括《一千零一夜》。山魯佐德那些個不斷分岔的故事令國王以及後來的讀者如身陷迷宮般感到神秘的快樂,博爾赫斯說它就像“中國式的空心的圓球套著圓球”――我們知道他想說的是“玲瓏”。博氏著名的小說《小徑分岔的花園》被認為是這種“迷宮”的隱喻。我私下底認為《紅樓夢》也是一種“迷宮”式寫作,由一塊石頭分支再分支出的眾多人物和眾多事件,更由於後四十回的佚失使讀者徹底地陷入迷宮。“都云作者癡,誰解其中味?”為了解這“味”竟又派生出眾多的紅學流派――那是外話,擱置不提。 《列子・說符》中說楊朱的鄰居走失了一頭羊,就率領全家及親朋好友四下去尋,仍嫌人手不夠,到楊朱家借人,楊朱問:就丟了一頭羊,要那麼多人嗎(嘻!亡一羊何追者之眾)?鄰居說:好多岔道啊(多歧路)。終究羊是沒有找回來,人再多也不夠。岔道又分岔(歧路之中又有歧焉),尋羊回來的人們給了楊朱一個命題,以至於他數日不言不笑(楊子戚然變容,不言者移時,不笑者竟日)。 我常常在閱讀中陷入這種分岔的困惑,但我覺得這些困惑有時是快樂的。在這裡我其實就是想要說我的“分岔”的閱讀。事由某日在MSN上遇到了一位在澳洲的朋友,我隨口說起南半球該是秋天了,而北京,丁香花才剛剛綻蕾。她隨手輸入一句:“四月是最殘忍的一個月,荒地上/長著丁香”我隱約記得這是艾略特《荒原》中的一句譯文。由於我早知道原文即堅澀難懂,更惶論中文譯稿,故並沒有完整地讀過《荒原》全文,但是在我的眾多閱讀中不斷地遇到《荒原》的引文。

於是我決定找他出來認真地讀一遍,我的書架上有一本王佐良先生編譯的小書《英詩的境界》,翻到艾略特那章,發現由於原詩太長,文中只有該詩的評述和部分譯出的引文。略生失望,讀完此章就有些心不在焉,隨手翻看別的章節,其它的較長的譯詩已沒有耐心讀下去了,但翻到蘭陀(Walter Savage Landor)這首《七五生辰有感》時眼睛一亮:

不與人爭,也無人值得我爭, 愛的是自然,其次是藝術。 生命之火前我把雙手烤烘, 火焰低落了,我準備離去。 

並不是此譯稿有多麼精采,而是我突然覺得很熟悉。我猜這是一位另外裝扮的老友――我一定在哪裡讀過另一種更優美的譯稿,並且那位譯者是楊絳。可惜我狹小的書房裡沒有那份文本。在google裡搜索,果然證實了我的猜測,楊絳的譯稿―― 

我和誰都不爭,和誰爭我都不屑; 我愛大自然,其次就是藝術; 我雙手烤著,生命之火取暖; 火萎了,我也準備走了。 

是不是語感更優美?相較王佐良,楊絳的中文顯然更充滿詩歌情緒,單說音調,楊譯的首句尾音重而尖銳,恰暗合首句詩意中的狷狂;而尾句尾音聲輕,又暗合對結局的低調。並且楊譯更適合漢語閱讀,不會有王譯中的“也無人值得我爭”和“烤烘”這些讀起來拗口的遣詞造句。

但這次分岔的閱讀並沒有結束,在google搜索中,我還得到了另外的相異成趣的譯稿,下面這個孫梁譯的,竟是離騷體,彷彿碧眼褐髮的蘭陀也“帶長鋏之陸離兮,冠切雲之崔嵬”,連詩名都譯成《終曲》―― 
與世無爭兮性本狷介. 
 鍾情自然兮遊心藝苑; 
生命之火兮暖我心田, 爝火熄兮羽化而歸天. 
另有一個絕句體的,題為《題七十五歲生日》,略有一點李賀的況味。譯者:散宜生―― 本無才俊可相難 自愛斯文更愛天 真火曾燎雙手暖 火衰我亦辭人間 但蘭陀本是Landor,無論把他的名字譯成蘭德或是蘭多爾,他是用英語寫作的,讓我們從這些有趣的漢語閱讀回到原文―― On His Seventy-Fifth Birthday I strove with none, for none was worth my strife, Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life, It sinks, and I am ready to depart. 

我坦白,我是完全不懂英語閱讀的。我相信原文閱讀一定會有更高更有趣的境界,精通 ​​英語的人有福了。但我並不對我的不懂英文而感到十二分的惋惜,王小波說:“想要讀好文字就要去讀譯著,因為最好的作者在搞翻譯”,雖然有點誇張,但也從側面說明那些才華橫溢的老一輩知識分子在被剝奪話語權後對翻譯傾注的心血,中文閱讀者有福了。 另外在巴別塔外大聲用自己的語言為自己朗讀,也是我迷失的快感。人只活阿僧祗劫中的一剎那,知識卻如恒河沙數。譬如上面這首短閱讀的緣起――我後來找到《荒原》的全文,趙蘿蕤的譯本,努力讀完了,真的不懂,並且發現了無數的需要另外閱讀的分岔,我想我有生之年也不能把這些岔道全部走完。這首具有極高國際知名度的作品直到目前世上也沒有幾個人能夠完全讀懂。且不說詩歌的內容、思想、技巧,艾略特是位博學的文人,原詩他用了英語、法語、希臘語、拉丁語、希伯萊語、梵語等等語言交*寫作;用典則涵蓋希臘神話、舊約故事、佛典原文、民間傳說等等東西方文化典藉,正所謂“無一字無來歷”。艾略特自己對詩歌的註釋甚至比原詩還長(這是我讀的第二部有巨多註釋的詩文,另一部是蕭乾譯的喬伊斯的小說《尤里西斯》 )。
自然,這些堅澀巨著的價值並不在於能否被人們迅速理解,而在其所蘊含的寫作技巧和厚重的文化背景。這些詩中迭迭呈現的文化背景和浩如煙海的註釋彷彿越來越密的巨木叢生的分岔小徑。回到楊朱的困惑,李白說“多歧路,今安在?” 如同弗洛斯特對《未選擇的路》充滿懷念的傷感,沒有人能把歧路走完。

博爾赫斯說:“一個人希望丟失在《一千零一夜》中,一個人知道,進入這本書就會忘記人生可憐的境遇。”我希望迷失在所有有趣的、博學的書藉之中。本雅明宣布自己的"最大野心"是"用引文構成一部偉大的著作”。真希望有足夠的時間在最大的圖書館裡閱讀這樣一本書。
      



2014年6月25日 星期三

A Grammarian's Funeral BY ROBERT BROWNING / 胡適引用

這是一個歷史的解釋,但是對於十七世紀那些中國大學者有一點欠公平。我那時說:「中國的知識階級祇有文學的訓練,所以他們活動的範圍祇限於書本和文 獻。「這話是不夠的。我應當指出,他們所推敲的那些書乃是對於全民族的道德、宗教、哲學生活有絕大重要性的書。那些大人物覺得找出這些古書裏的每一部的真 正意義是他們的神聖責任。他們正像白朗寧的詩裏寫「文法學者」:
  「你捲起的書卷裏寫的是什麼?」他問,
  「讓我看看他們的形象,
  那些最懂得人類的詩人聖哲的形象,——
  拿來給我!」於是他披上長袍,
  一口氣把書讀到最後一頁……
  「我什麼都要知道!……
  盛席要吃到最後的殘屑。」
  「時間算什麼?『現在』是犬猴的份!
  人有的是『永久』。」(48)
  白朗寧對人本主義時代的精神的禮讚正是:「這人決意求的不是生存,是知識(49)。」
  孔子也表示了同樣的精神:「學如不及,猶恐失之。」「朝聞道,夕死可矣。」朱子在他的時代也有同樣的表示:「義理無窮,惟需畢力鑽研,死而後已耳(50)。」----中國哲學裏的科學精神與方法(胡 適 1959) The Right to Doubt in Anc...
48)白朗寧的詩,A Grammarian's Funeral
49)同上。

重要的是胡適採用兩處刪節號......




A Grammarian's Funeral

BY ROBERT BROWNING
Shortly after the Revival of Learning in Europe
Let us begin and carry up this corpse,
         Singing together.
Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes
         Each in its tether
Sleeping safe on the bosom of the plain,
         Cared-for till cock-crow:
Look out if yonder be not day again
         Rimming the rock-row!
That's the appropriate country; there, man's thought,
         Rarer, intenser,
Self-gathered for an outbreak, as it ought,
         Chafes in the censer.
Leave we the unlettered plain its herd and crop;
         Seek we sepulture
On a tall mountain, citied to the top,
         Crowded with culture!
All the peaks soar, but one the rest excels;
         Clouds overcome it;
No! yonder sparkle is the citadel's
         Circling its summit.
Thither our path lies; wind we up the heights:
         Wait ye the warning?
Our low life was the level's and the night's;
         He's for the morning.
Step to a tune, square chests, erect each head,
         'Ware the beholders!
This is our master, famous, calm and dead,
         Borne on our shoulders.

   Sleep, crop and herd! sleep, darkling thorpe and croft,
         Safe from the weather!
He, whom we convoy to his grave aloft,
         Singing together,
He was a man born with thy face and throat,
         Lyric Apollo!
Long he lived nameless: how should spring take note
         Winter would follow?
Till lo, the little touch, and youth was gone!
         Cramped and diminished,
Moaned he, "New measures, other feet anon!
         My dance is finished"?
No, that's the world's way: (keep the mountain-side,
         Make for the city!)
He knew the signal, and stepped on with pride
          Over men's pity;
Left play for work, and grappled with the world
          Bent on escaping:
"What's in the scroll," quoth he, "thou keepest furled
          Show me their shaping,
Theirs who most studied man, the bard and sage,
          Give!" So, he gowned him,
Straight got by heart that book to its last page:
          Learned, we found him.
Yea, but we found him bald too, eyes like lead,
          Accents uncertain:
"Time to taste life," another would have said,
          "Up with the curtain!"
This man said rather, "Actual life comes next?
          Patience a moment!
Grant I have mastered learning's crabbed text,
          Still there's the comment.
Let me know all! Prate not of most or least,
          Painful or easy!
Even to the crumbs I'd fain eat up the feast,
          Ay, nor feel queasy."
Oh, such a life as he resolved to live,
          When he had learned it,
When he had gathered all books had to give!
          Sooner, he spurned it.
Image the whole, then execute the parts
          Fancy the fabric
Quite, ere you build, ere steel strike fire from quartz,
          Ere mortar dab brick!

    (Here's the town-gate reached: there's the market-place
          Gaping before us.)
Yea, this in him was the peculiar grace
          (Hearten our chorus!)
That before living he'd learn how to live
          No end to learning:
Earn the means first   God surely will contrive
          Use for our earning.
Others mistrust and say, "But time escapes:
          Live now or never!"
He said, "What's time? Leave Now for dogs and apes!
          Man has Forever."
Back to his book then: deeper drooped his head:
          Calculus racked him:
Leaden before, his eyes grew dross of lead:
          Tussis attacked him.
"Now, master, take a little rest!" not he!
          (Caution redoubled
Step two abreast, the way winds narrowly!)
          Not a whit troubled,
Back to his studies, fresher than at first,
          Fierce as a dragon
He (soul-hydroptic with a sacred thirst)
          Sucked at the flagon.
Oh, if we draw a circle premature,
          Heedless of far gain,
Greedy for quick returns of profit, sure
          Bad is our bargain!
Was it not great? did not he throw on God,
          (He loves the burthen)
God's task to make the heavenly period
          Perfect the earthen?
Did not he magnify the mind, show clear
          Just what it all meant?
He would not discount life, as fools do here,
          Paid by instalment.
He ventured neck or nothing heaven's success
          Found, or earth's failure:
"Wilt thou trust death or not?" He answered "Yes:
          Hence with life's pale lure!"
That low man seeks a little thing to do,
          Sees it and does it:
This high man, with a great thing to pursue,
          Dies ere he knows it.
That low man goes on adding one to one,
          His hundred's soon hit:
This high man, aiming at a million,
          Misses an unit.
That, has the world here   should he need the next,
          Let the world mind him!
This, throws himself on God, and unperplexed
          Seeking shall find him.
So, with the throttling hands of death at strife,
          Ground he at grammar;
Still, thro' the rattle, parts of speech were rife:
          While he could stammer
He settled Hoti's business let it be!
          Properly based Oun
Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De,
          Dead from the waist down.
Well, here's the platform, here's the proper place:
          Hail to your purlieus,
All ye highfliers of the feathered race,
          Swallows and curlews!
Here's the top-peak; the multitude below
          Live, for they can, there:
This man decided not to Live but Know
          Bury this man there?
Here   here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form,
          Lightnings are loosened,
Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm,
          Peace let the dew send!
Lofty designs must close in like effects:
          Loftily lying,
Leave him   still loftier than the world suspects,
          Living and dying.