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【書摘】蓋爾芒特家那邊—蓋爾芒特之名 (The Name of Guermantes) 3
2016/09/02 05:48
【書摘】蓋爾芒特家那邊—蓋爾芒特之名 (The Name of Guermantes) 3
Pour un instant, du ramage réentendu qu’il avait en tel printemps ancien, nous pouvons tirer, comme des petits tubes dont on se sert pour peindre, la nuance juste, oubliée, mystérieuse et fraîche des jours que nous avions cru nous rappeler, quand, comme les mauvais peintres, nous donnions à tout notre passé étendu sur une même toile les tons conventionnels et tous pareils de la mémoire volontaire. Or, au contraire, chacun des moments qui le composèrent e
mployait, pour une création originale, dans une harmonie unique, les couleurs d’alors que nous ne connaissons plus et qui, par exemple, me ravissent encore tout à coup si, grâce à quelque hasard, le nom de Guermantes ayant repris pour un instant après tant d’années le son, si différent de celui d’aujourd’hui, qu’il avait pour moi le jour du mariage de Mlle Percepied, il me rend ce mauve si doux, trop brillant, trop neuf, dont se veloutait la cravate gonflée de la jeune duchesse, et, comme une pervenche incueillissable et refleurie, ses yeux ensoleillés d’un sourire bleu.
(l’édition Gallimard, Paris, 1946-47)

追憶似水年華 III蓋爾芒特家那邊 聯經版 1992)

For a moment, from the clear echo of its warbling in some distant spring, we can extract, as from the little tubes which we use in painting, the exact, forgotten, mysterious, fresh tint of the days which we had believed ourself to be recalling, when, like a bad painter, we were giving to the whole of our past, spread out on the same canvas, the tones, conventional and all alike, of our unprompted memory. Whereas on the contrary, each of the moments that composed it employed, for an original creation, in a matchless harmony, the colour of those days which we no longer know, and which, for that matter, will still suddenly enrapture me if by any chance the name‘Guermantes,’ resuming for a moment, after all these years, the sound, so different from its sound to-day, which it had for me on the day of Mile. Percepied’s marriage, brings back to me that mauve—so delicate, almost too bright, too new—with which the billowy scarf of the young Duchess glowed, and, like two periwinkle flowers, growing beyond reach and blossoming now again, her two eyes, sunlit with an azure smile.
(Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff)

For a second, rehearing the warbling from some distant springtime, we can extract from it, as from the little tubes of color used in painting, the precise tint
forgotten, mysterious, and freshof the days we thought we remembered when, like bad painters, we were in fact spreading our whole past on a single canvas and painting it with the conventional monochrome of voluntary memory. Yet, on the contrary, each of the moments that composed it, in order to create something original, a unique blend, was using those colors from the past that now elude us, colors that, for instance, are still able to fill me with sudden delight, should the name Guermantesassuming for a second after so many years the ring it had for me, so different from its present resonance, on the day of Mile Percepied’s marriagechance to restore to me the mauve colors so soft, too bright and new, that lent the smoothness of velvet to the billowing scarf of the young Duchesse, and made her eyes like inaccessible and ever-flowering periwinkles lit by the blue sun of her smile.
(Translated by Mark Treharne)