《四首四重奏之一焚毀的諾頓》翻譯：傅詩予

 

Burnt Norton (1936) (No. 1 of “Four Quartets”)

By T.S. Eliot

 

「雖然邏各斯為大家所共有，但大多數人都各行其道。」

「上坡路和下坡路是一樣的。」――赫拉克利特

 

I

 

現在和過去

兩者也許都存在於未來

而未來包含在過去的時間裡。

如果所有的時間永遠是現在

所有的時間是無法切換。

可能發生的事情是抽象的

殘留一個永久的可能

僅存於猜測的世界。

可能發生和已經發生的

指向一端，總是指現在。

足音在記憶中迴響

沿著我們沒有走過的通道走下去

走向那扇我們從未打開過的門

進入玫瑰園。我的話迴響

就這樣，在你心中。

                               但基於什麼目的

撥亂一盆玫瑰葉上的灰塵

我不知道。

               其他的迴音

棲息在花園。我們跟隨嗎？

快點，小鳥說，去找到他們，找到他們，

轉過角落。穿過第一扇門，

進入我們的第一個世界，我們該聽從

畫眉鳥的慫恿嗎？進入我們的第一個世界。

他們就在那兒，高貴而無形，

輕盈地移動，越過枯葉，

在秋熱中，隨著活力滾滾的空氣，

那隻鳥啾的一聲，回應

藏在灌木叢中沒聽過的音樂，

和看不見的交流目光，只為一睹玫瑰

令人凝視的花容。

他們是我們的客人，接受和招待。

所以我們移動了，而他們，以一種正式的儀態，

沿著空蕩的小巷，走進黃楊樹籬，

往下看已經排空的池子。

乾涸的水池，乾燥的混凝土，邊緣褐色，

然而水池在陽光照射下充滿了水

蓮花靜靜地，靜靜地升起，

表面閃爍著內心的光芒，

他們就在我們身後，倒映在池裡。

而後一朵飄雲過去，池水空了。

走吧，鳥兒說，葉子上曾滿是孩子，

興奮地隱藏，克制笑聲。

走吧，走吧，走吧，鳥兒說：人類

無法承受太多的現實。

過去和未來
可能發生的和已經發生的

指向一端，總是指現在。

 

II

 

泥漿中的大蒜和藍寶石

和深陷的輪軸交纏。

血液中顫抖的的鐵絲

在無法癒合的傷疤下歌唱

安撫早已被遺忘的戰爭。

沿著動脈的舞蹈

淋巴液的環流

出現在星群的漂移中

樹叢裡登上夏天

我們在搖動的樹上方移動

在葉紋的光照中
在濕漉漉的地板上傾聽

底下是獒犬和野豬

像以前的模式一樣追逐
卻在星辰間和解。

 

在世界旋轉的靜止點上。既無生，也無死；

既無來處也無去處；在靜止的點上，舞蹈就在那兒，

既不靜也不動。不能稱之為固定，

過去與未來匯聚的地方。既無來也無往，

既不升也不降。除了那個點，那靜止的點，

那兒不該有舞蹈，卻只有舞蹈。

我只能說，我們去過那裡：但我無法說出在哪裡。

而且我無法說出需多長時間才能及時抵達。

內心擺脫物質慾望的自由，

從行動和痛苦中解脫，從內在解脫

但外在的束縛，仍然包圍

憑藉著恩典之感，一道又靜又動的白光，

不須運行地提升，專注

沒有排斥，兩者都是新世界

舊的很明確，已經理解

在部分狂喜時完成，

在部分恐懼中的決斷。

然而過去與未來的束縛

織入不斷變弱的身體中，

在天堂和地獄保護人類

肉身卻無法承受。

過去和未來

只允許一點點覺悟。

有覺悟並不意味著及時

但只有及時才能讓玫瑰園裡的那一刻，

雨棚裡雨打的那一刻，

煙霧繚繞的教堂裡的一刻

被記住；涉及過去和未來。

只有透過時間，時間才能被征服。

 

III

 

這裡是一個讓人不喜愛的地方

之前和之後的時間

在昏暗的光線下：既沒有白天

清醒冷靜的處理形式

將陰影變成轉瞬即逝的美麗

緩慢的旋轉暗示著永恆

也沒有暗黑來淨化心靈

用剝奪來清空慾望

用時間淨化世俗的牽絆。

既不盈也不虛。光僅一閃而逝

在飽經歲月繃緊的臉上

因分心而分心

充滿幻想卻空洞無意義

沉悶冷漠，注意力不集中

人和紙片，被冷風吹旋

時間前後吹過，

風進進出出不健康的肺部

在之前的時間和之後的時間裡。

靈魂不健康的打嗝

進入晦色的空氣中，麻木的

乘著席捲倫敦山丘陰暗的風，

漢普斯特德和克勒肯韋爾，坎普登和普特尼，

海格特、普里姆羅斯和拉德蓋特。不在這裡

不是這裡的黑暗，而是這個嘰嘰喳喳的世界。

 

        下降的更低，僅只下降

進入永恆孤獨的世界，

世界不是世界，而是非世界，

內在的黑暗，剝奪

且清空所有，

感官世界的枯竭，

多彩世界的撤離，

精神世界的無法操作；

這是一種方法，還有另一種方法

是一樣的，不是在行動中

是要避免行動；當世界運行

極速渴望，在它的鐵軌上

在過去的時間和未來的時間中。

 

IV

 

時間和鐘聲埋葬了白天，

烏雲帶走了太陽。

向日葵會轉向我們嗎，鐵線蓮會

蜿蜒地向我們折腰嗎；卷鬚和芽苞

會抓緊和纏住我們嗎？

 

        一陣寒意

紫杉的手指會彎

到我們身上嗎？在翠鳥的揮翅之後

光對光做出回應，沉默了，光靜止了

在旋轉的世界的靜止點上。

 

V

 

語言的移動，音樂的移動

只存在時間中；但只要是活物

就會死。語言，說完之後，進入

無聲。僅透過形式、圖案模型，
語言或音樂能否到達
寧靜，如中國罐子般的寧靜
永遠移動在靜態中。
不是小提琴演奏後的靜，當音符持續，

不僅如此，而是共存，
或者說結束先於開始，
結束和開始總是

在開始前和結束後。

而一切永遠都是現在。語言拉得太緊，

裂開有時扯斷，在壓力之下

在緊張之下，絆倒、滑落、消亡，

不精確地衰變，將無法保留原意，

將無法靜止不變。尖叫的聲音

責罵、嘲笑或僅僅是閒聊，

總是攻擊它們。神的語言在荒漠中

最容易受到誘惑之聲的攻擊，

葬禮的舞蹈中哭泣的影子，

悲傷的蛇獸合體大聲哀嘆。

 

       圖案模型的細節是運動，

就像十級樓梯的圖象一樣。

慾望本身就是運動

其本身並不令人滿意；

愛本身是不動的，

只有起心動念的因果，

無法間斷，無法滿足

除了時間

陷入了限制的格式中

在存在與不存在之間。

突然在一束陽光下

即使塵埃湧動

隱密的笑聲升起

樹葉裡的孩子們

快點，現在，這裡，現在，永遠——

可笑的是悲傷的時刻的虛度

前後拉扯。

 

20240821 at Richmond Hill, Ontario, Canada

4893字

譯後記:

       翻譯界一直有「信、達、雅」的原則，由翻譯家嚴復提出，又稱「三難原則」。嚴復曾指出「譯事三難：信、達、雅。求其信已大難矣，顧信矣不達，雖譯猶不譯也，則達尚焉。」。可見嚴復也覺得難以兼顧三者，當無法兼顧時，他似傾向於「達」，即指不必拘泥於原文形式，譯文通順明白最重要，他有意識地使用「意譯法」。不過意譯法的最大缺點是在翻譯「詩」作品時，經常不只是失真，更是韻味全無。所以詩歌的翻譯，著實是不可能的任務，尤其是古典詩歌。索幸自由詩體（free verse）誕生，讓我們可以儘量用詩的散文或散文詩的形式去詮釋。但現代主義風格的自由詩，在象徵主義或達達主義大行其道後，往往晦澀難懂，因而被譯的南轅北輒，在「信」的境界無法圓融，「達」更是歇斯底里，所以筆者在挑選時儘量避開意義上似是而非的作品，尊字面意義不要去改寫它，或者是去更換詩的行數。

         研究英美文學，艾略特絕對是不可跳過的坎。早期的〈普魯夫洛克戀歌〉較為雜亂和情緒飽滿，尚未脫胎於丁尼生的後期浪漫唯美或法國頹廢文學，但經過〈荒原〉，以及轉陣地到戲劇和文學批評後再回到詩的寫作，他真的做到了「知性與感性」並存的境界，而最具代表的就是這900多行的《四首四重奏》。我屢屢陷入他的感性，又屢屢被他喚起知性，甚是豐饒的經驗。由於他知性部分可以跨越時空旁徵博引，在讀詩之外又可琢磨出許多其他趣味來長知識，這是附帶的成果。

             翻譯《四首四重奏》其實沒什麼動機，只是為了與《人間魚詩雜誌》的編輯與讀者共勉，在這條已經被世俗功利棄了的園地裡耕耘我們的荒原。

 20250313

   人間魚詩生活誌vol.20

FOUR QUARTETS

T.S. Eliot
 

BURNT NORTON
(No. 1 of Four Quartets)
  

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
                              But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
                        Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrush? Into our first world.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool.
Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

II

Garlic and sapphires in the mud
Clot the bedded axle-tree.
The trilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars.
The dance along the artery
The circulation of the lymph
Are figured in the drift of stars
Ascend to summer in the tree
We move above the moving tree
In light upon the figured leaf
And hear upon the sodden floor
Below, the boarhound and the boar
Pursue their pattern as before
But reconciled among the stars.

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.
And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.
The inner freedom from the practical desire,
The release from action and suffering, release from the inner
And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded
By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving,
Erhebung without motion, concentration
Without elimination, both a new world
And the old made explicit, understood
In the completion of its partial ecstasy,
The resolution of its partial horror.
Yet the enchainment of past and future
Woven in the weakness of the changing body,
Protects mankind from heaven and damnation
Which flesh cannot endure.
                                          Time past and time future
Allow but a little consciousness.
To be conscious is not to be in time
But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,
The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,
The moment in the draughty church at smokefall
Be remembered; involved with past and future.
Only through time time is conquered.

III

Here is a place of disaffection

Time before and time after
In a dim light: neither daylight
Investing form with lucid stillness
Turning shadow into transient beauty
With slow rotation suggesting permanence
Nor darkness to purify the soul
Emptying the sensual with deprivation
Cleansing affection from the temporal.
Neither plenitude nor vacancy. Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
Eructation of unhealthy souls
Into the faded air, the torpid
Driven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,
Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,
Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not here
Not here the darkness, in this twittering world.

    Descend lower, descend only
Into the world of perpetual solitude,
World not world, but that which is not world,
Internal darkness, deprivation
And destitution of all property,
Desiccation of the world of sense,
Evacuation of the world of fancy,
Inoperancy of the world of spirit;
This is the one way, and the other
Is the same, not in movement
But abstention from movement; while the world moves
In appetency, on its metalled ways
Of time past and time future.

IV

 Time and the bell have buried the day,

The black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?

    Chill
Fingers of yew be curled
Down on us? After the kingfishers wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world.

V

Words move, music moves
Only in time; but that which is only living
Can only die. Words, after speech, reach
Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,
Can words or music reach
The stillness, as a Chinese jar still
Moves perpetually in its stillness.
Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts,
Not that only, but the co-existence,
Or say that the end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now. Words strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still. Shrieking voices
Scolding, mocking, or merely chattering,
Always assail them. The Word in the desert
Is most attacked by voices of temptation,
The crying shadow in the funeral dance,
The loud lament of the disconsolate chimera.

    The detail of the pattern is movement,
As in the figure of the ten stairs.
Desire itself is movement
Not in itself desirable;
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always—
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.