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Excerpt：埃利亞斯．卡內蒂（Elias Canetti）的《人的疆域：卡內蒂筆記（1942-1985）》
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Excerpt：埃利亞斯．卡內蒂（Elias Canetti）的《人的疆域：卡內蒂筆記（1942-1985）》
書名：人的疆域：卡內蒂筆記（1942-1985）
作者：埃利亞斯．卡內蒂
出版社：廣西師範大學出版社
出版日期：2020/05/01
內容簡介
本書為1981年諾貝爾文學獎得主埃利亞斯．卡內蒂的四部筆記合集，包括《人的疆域》《鐘錶的秘密心臟》《蒼蠅的痛苦》《漢普斯特德補遺》，創作時間跨度從1942年直至1985年，是卡內蒂小說、政論、回憶錄和戲劇作品的重要補充。
【Excerpt】
可能詩人是那種，通過感知過去去預言未來的人。他的回憶並不會讓他感到痛苦：他只能對未來預言，卻什麼都做不了。
The poet is probably the man who senses what has been in order to predict what will be. Thus he doesnt really suffer, he merely remembers, and he doesnt de anything because he firse has to predict it.
詩人們非常生氣，因為他們被要求更博學。
Now that they must know more, the poets have become angry.
語言帶有某種古老的保障，他們會為自己創造名字。逃亡中的詩人，尤其是劇作家，很多方面的能力被因此削弱了。如果將他抽離語言的空氣，他會失去自己熟悉的語言的養料。之前他注意不到每天都能聽到的名字；現在他注意到了，並準確而完整地叫喚它們。他設計角色時，會從這些名字中選出一個，即使這些名字在他的記憶裡毫無意義，但他確實存在過，並且它聽過別人喚過這個名字。他將名字的記憶像寶貝一樣好好地封存住了，沒有風能夠將這些名字帶進他的耳朵，他在新的大氣中待的時間越長，就越懶得碰這些名字。
There is an old security in language, which dares to give itself names. The writer in exile, and especially the playwright, is seriously weak- ened in more ways than one. Remote from his linguistic air, he misses the familiar nourishment of names. Earlier, he may not have noticed the names he heard daily; but they noticed him and called him fully and surely. When he sketched his characters, he drew from the cer- tainty of a huge tempest of names; and though he may have then employed one that was meaningless in the clarity of remembering, that name had existed at some point and had heard itself being called. Now the emigré has not lost the memory of his names, but there is no living wind here to bring them to him; he watches over them as a dead treasure, and the longer he must stay away from his old climate, the more avaricious the fingers through which the old names slip.
就這樣，如果逃亡中的詩人不願意完全放棄，他們只剩下一種可能性：在新的空氣呼喚他們前，將這些空氣吸進身體。過了一段時間後，空氣凝固了。他能感覺到，並且很難過，可能他會自己關上了耳朵，這樣的話他就聽不到任何名字了。陌生的空氣越來越濃重，當他醒來，他身邊還是那舊的、乾枯的一堆穀物，那是他的青春，他以此來充饑。
Thus, for the poet in exile, there is only one choice if he wont sur- render totally: he has to breathe the new air until it too calls him. It takes a long time, the air begins and goes dumb. He feels it and he is offended; he may even close his ears, and then no name can reach him. The foreign atmosphere grows, and when he awakes, it is the old dried heap that lies next to him, and he allays his hunger with grain that comes from his youth.
沒有雜亂無章的閱讀，就沒有詩人。
No poet comes into being without the disorder of reading.
詩人那卑微的任務，歸根結底可能是最重要的任務：傳遞閱讀的果實。
The modest task of the poet may in the end be the most important one: to transmit what he has read.
看著我對於生活過的一切的瘋狂執著，我漸漸懂得了，詩人們對這個世界都幹了些什麼好事。
Looking at my own mad, tenacious drive to preserve everything I have ever lived, I am beginning to see what poets have wrought in the world.
把朋友點燃，然後讓他們獨自燃燒殆盡，這是多麼殘忍，對一個詩人來說又是多麼自然啊！
To inflame one’s friends and then abandon them to the fire—how cruel, and yet how natural for a poet!
人們愛一位詩人，僅僅因為他肆意揮霍時間。一旦他開始節約時間，人們也就把他當成每個其他人一樣對待。
People love a poet merely because he is profligate with his time. As soon as he begins to be stingy with it, they treat him like anyone else.
詩人以誇張為生，又憑誤解成名。
The poet lives by exaggeration and makes himself known through misunderstandings.
我覺得最值得注意的是那些詩人，他們短暫的壽命被那些比他們還老的同代人所超越。克萊斯特在歌德盛年時還年輕，但後者比前者還要多活近二十年。
For me, the most remarkable poets are those whose brief life span was exceeded by much older contemporaries. Thus Kleist was still quite young during the mature years of Goethe, who then outlived Kleist by more than twenty years.
還要令人印象深刻的是諾瓦利斯與歌德之間同樣的關係，此處可以想見，歌德對於諾瓦利斯有多麼重要的意義。年輕的詩人更易變成永恆，他們的永生如同一種補償：他們年老的樣子是不可想像的。我們於是傾向於相信，他們在年輕時去世，就是為了不留下自己年老的樣子。
This disproportion is even more extreme between Novalis and Goethe, especially when considering how much Goethe meant to Novalis. It is easier for those young poets to become timeless, their immortality seems like a form of compensation: it’s impossible to imagine them in old age. We are inclined to believe that they died young in order not to leave behind a single image of their aged selves.
詩人就是，他所創造的人物形象不會有人相信，卻也沒有人能忘懷。
A poet is someone who invents characters in whom no one believes yet no one can forget.
痛苦造就了詩人，那種完全感受到的、無法迴避的痛苦，被認出、被理解、被保存的痛苦。
Pain makes the poet, pain fully felt, in no way evaded, pain perceived, grasped, and sustained.
他記憶力衰退而成了詩人。自從他必須找回印象和記憶以來，它們就變得陌生而出乎意料。在黑暗中它們獲得色彩。他必須伸展得很遠以便夠到它們。它們並不會立即出現。印象與記憶通過疏遠而變得更緊迫；通過陷入睡眠來變得更鬆散。當它們蘇醒時，便潛入一束他永遠都無法辨識的危險光線中。他不得不告訴自己，直到高齡他才能夠認識自己，並且獲得——太晚了——對驚歎的渴求。到底何種過去讓人驚歎的事讓他感到如家般親切！如今他變成了一個沉迷于驚恐的醉漢，也終於讓自己經受檢驗而至火花迸濺。
His memory diminished and he became a poet. Ever since he had to struggle to find his impressions and memories, these became unexpected and strange. In darkness they gained color. He had to stretch far to reach them. They did not appear right away. They became more urgent as they kept their distance, and they loosened up only as they sank into sleep. When they awoke, they were bathed in a dangerous light, which he was never able to recognize. He had to admit that he had not known himself until very old age and only very late did he gain the thirst for wonder. For what kind of wonder had that been that made him feel at home? Now, however, he was bold with intoxication, eager for every terrifying amazement, and in the end he put himself to such tests as to make the sparks fly!
一個唯讀柏拉圖的人是否能夠成為詩人呢？
Can one who reads only Plato become a poet?
從根本上來說，我不再相信任何認為自己是詩人的人。也完全不相信一個，認為自己是，雖然他確實是詩人的人。
Basically I don’t trust anyone who calls himself a poet, especially not the self-styled poet who really is one.
英譯參考資料：
Translation of Die Provinz des Menschen
Translated From The German By H. F. Broch de Rothermann、Joel Agee、John Hargraves
書名：人的疆域：卡內蒂筆記（1942-1985）
作者：埃利亞斯．卡內蒂
出版社：廣西師範大學出版社
出版日期：2020/05/01
內容簡介
本書為1981年諾貝爾文學獎得主埃利亞斯．卡內蒂的四部筆記合集，包括《人的疆域》《鐘錶的秘密心臟》《蒼蠅的痛苦》《漢普斯特德補遺》，創作時間跨度從1942年直至1985年，是卡內蒂小說、政論、回憶錄和戲劇作品的重要補充。
【Excerpt】
可能詩人是那種，通過感知過去去預言未來的人。他的回憶並不會讓他感到痛苦：他只能對未來預言，卻什麼都做不了。
The poet is probably the man who senses what has been in order to predict what will be. Thus he doesnt really suffer, he merely remembers, and he doesnt de anything because he firse has to predict it.
詩人們非常生氣，因為他們被要求更博學。
Now that they must know more, the poets have become angry.
語言帶有某種古老的保障，他們會為自己創造名字。逃亡中的詩人，尤其是劇作家，很多方面的能力被因此削弱了。如果將他抽離語言的空氣，他會失去自己熟悉的語言的養料。之前他注意不到每天都能聽到的名字；現在他注意到了，並準確而完整地叫喚它們。他設計角色時，會從這些名字中選出一個，即使這些名字在他的記憶裡毫無意義，但他確實存在過，並且它聽過別人喚過這個名字。他將名字的記憶像寶貝一樣好好地封存住了，沒有風能夠將這些名字帶進他的耳朵，他在新的大氣中待的時間越長，就越懶得碰這些名字。
There is an old security in language, which dares to give itself names. The writer in exile, and especially the playwright, is seriously weak- ened in more ways than one. Remote from his linguistic air, he misses the familiar nourishment of names. Earlier, he may not have noticed the names he heard daily; but they noticed him and called him fully and surely. When he sketched his characters, he drew from the cer- tainty of a huge tempest of names; and though he may have then employed one that was meaningless in the clarity of remembering, that name had existed at some point and had heard itself being called. Now the emigré has not lost the memory of his names, but there is no living wind here to bring them to him; he watches over them as a dead treasure, and the longer he must stay away from his old climate, the more avaricious the fingers through which the old names slip.
就這樣，如果逃亡中的詩人不願意完全放棄，他們只剩下一種可能性：在新的空氣呼喚他們前，將這些空氣吸進身體。過了一段時間後，空氣凝固了。他能感覺到，並且很難過，可能他會自己關上了耳朵，這樣的話他就聽不到任何名字了。陌生的空氣越來越濃重，當他醒來，他身邊還是那舊的、乾枯的一堆穀物，那是他的青春，他以此來充饑。
Thus, for the poet in exile, there is only one choice if he wont sur- render totally: he has to breathe the new air until it too calls him. It takes a long time, the air begins and goes dumb. He feels it and he is offended; he may even close his ears, and then no name can reach him. The foreign atmosphere grows, and when he awakes, it is the old dried heap that lies next to him, and he allays his hunger with grain that comes from his youth.
沒有雜亂無章的閱讀，就沒有詩人。
No poet comes into being without the disorder of reading.
詩人那卑微的任務，歸根結底可能是最重要的任務：傳遞閱讀的果實。
The modest task of the poet may in the end be the most important one: to transmit what he has read.
看著我對於生活過的一切的瘋狂執著，我漸漸懂得了，詩人們對這個世界都幹了些什麼好事。
Looking at my own mad, tenacious drive to preserve everything I have ever lived, I am beginning to see what poets have wrought in the world.
把朋友點燃，然後讓他們獨自燃燒殆盡，這是多麼殘忍，對一個詩人來說又是多麼自然啊！
To inflame one’s friends and then abandon them to the fire—how cruel, and yet how natural for a poet!
人們愛一位詩人，僅僅因為他肆意揮霍時間。一旦他開始節約時間，人們也就把他當成每個其他人一樣對待。
People love a poet merely because he is profligate with his time. As soon as he begins to be stingy with it, they treat him like anyone else.
詩人以誇張為生，又憑誤解成名。
The poet lives by exaggeration and makes himself known through misunderstandings.
我覺得最值得注意的是那些詩人，他們短暫的壽命被那些比他們還老的同代人所超越。克萊斯特在歌德盛年時還年輕，但後者比前者還要多活近二十年。
For me, the most remarkable poets are those whose brief life span was exceeded by much older contemporaries. Thus Kleist was still quite young during the mature years of Goethe, who then outlived Kleist by more than twenty years.
還要令人印象深刻的是諾瓦利斯與歌德之間同樣的關係，此處可以想見，歌德對於諾瓦利斯有多麼重要的意義。年輕的詩人更易變成永恆，他們的永生如同一種補償：他們年老的樣子是不可想像的。我們於是傾向於相信，他們在年輕時去世，就是為了不留下自己年老的樣子。
This disproportion is even more extreme between Novalis and Goethe, especially when considering how much Goethe meant to Novalis. It is easier for those young poets to become timeless, their immortality seems like a form of compensation: it’s impossible to imagine them in old age. We are inclined to believe that they died young in order not to leave behind a single image of their aged selves.
詩人就是，他所創造的人物形象不會有人相信，卻也沒有人能忘懷。
A poet is someone who invents characters in whom no one believes yet no one can forget.
痛苦造就了詩人，那種完全感受到的、無法迴避的痛苦，被認出、被理解、被保存的痛苦。
Pain makes the poet, pain fully felt, in no way evaded, pain perceived, grasped, and sustained.
他記憶力衰退而成了詩人。自從他必須找回印象和記憶以來，它們就變得陌生而出乎意料。在黑暗中它們獲得色彩。他必須伸展得很遠以便夠到它們。它們並不會立即出現。印象與記憶通過疏遠而變得更緊迫；通過陷入睡眠來變得更鬆散。當它們蘇醒時，便潛入一束他永遠都無法辨識的危險光線中。他不得不告訴自己，直到高齡他才能夠認識自己，並且獲得——太晚了——對驚歎的渴求。到底何種過去讓人驚歎的事讓他感到如家般親切！如今他變成了一個沉迷于驚恐的醉漢，也終於讓自己經受檢驗而至火花迸濺。
His memory diminished and he became a poet. Ever since he had to struggle to find his impressions and memories, these became unexpected and strange. In darkness they gained color. He had to stretch far to reach them. They did not appear right away. They became more urgent as they kept their distance, and they loosened up only as they sank into sleep. When they awoke, they were bathed in a dangerous light, which he was never able to recognize. He had to admit that he had not known himself until very old age and only very late did he gain the thirst for wonder. For what kind of wonder had that been that made him feel at home? Now, however, he was bold with intoxication, eager for every terrifying amazement, and in the end he put himself to such tests as to make the sparks fly!
一個唯讀柏拉圖的人是否能夠成為詩人呢？
Can one who reads only Plato become a poet?
從根本上來說，我不再相信任何認為自己是詩人的人。也完全不相信一個，認為自己是，雖然他確實是詩人的人。
Basically I don’t trust anyone who calls himself a poet, especially not the self-styled poet who really is one.
英譯參考資料：
Translation of Die Provinz des Menschen
Translated From The German By H. F. Broch de Rothermann、Joel Agee、John Hargraves
自訂分類：Selected & Extracts
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