Selected poems：《但是還有書籍：米沃什詩歌1981-2001》
2025/04/29 05:32:01
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Selected poems：《但是還有書籍：米沃什詩歌1981-2001》
書名：但是還有書籍：米沃什詩歌1981-2001
作者：切斯瓦夫·米沃什（Czeslaw Milosz）
譯者：趙剛等
出版社：上海譯文出版社
出版日期：2024/11
https://www.books.com.tw/products/CN12104394
內容簡介
本書彙集波蘭詩人、諾貝爾文學獎得主切斯瓦夫·米沃什1981年至2001年間的詩作。1980年代的詩歌裡，詩人追憶已逝的人和難以涉足的故土，沈思我們共同的命運，但“還是學不會妥帖敘事，平心靜氣”。進入1990年代之後，詩歌包含了與其他人士的往來對話，對人世的描述冷峻，字裡行間熱血依舊，延續了對善與惡、真實與自由的探討。詩人將個人經驗和歷史視角融合在一起，顯示出一種啟示性的洞察力。
〈陶罐〉
尊敬的蠑螈們，現在我憑借知識
接近你們居住的陶罐
看著你們垂直浮上水面
還露出你們的腹部的緋紅顏色，
火焰色澤，展示你們和煉丹術士——
那在火裡生活的火蛇的親緣關係。
大概我是為此在松樹之間一個池子裡
捕捉了你們，四月天上的雲朵飛奔，
我把你們帶回城市，令人自豪的戰利品。
你們消失已經很久，我時常猜測
你們當時的生活不知何謂小時和歲月。
我對你們說話，給你們帶來存在，
甚至在語法王國中的名字和稱謂，
通過詞尾變化保護你們不受虛無侵襲。
我自己無疑受到神靈擺布，他觀察我
把我投放到某種超語法的形式，
但是我等待，希望他們抓住我把我帶走
我得以長生，像煉金術士火焰中的火蛇。
南哈德利 一九八五
IN A JAR
Now, with all my knowledge, honorable newts,
I approach the jar in which you live
And see how you float up vertically to the surface
Showing your bellies of vermilion color,
Color of flame, that makes you akin
To the alchemists salamander living in fire.
Perhaps thats the reason why I caught you
In a pond between pines when white April clouds race,
And carried you to town, proud of my trophy.
You vanished so long ago, I ponder the moment
When you lived unaware of hours and years.
I address you, I give you existence-
Even a name and a title in the princedom of grammar-
To protect you by inflection from nothingness.
Myself no doubt held by powers who observe me
And transfer me to some grammatical hyper-form,
While I wait with the hope that they seize me and carry me up
So that I last like an alchemists salamander in fire.
South Hadley, 1985
〈和解〉
稍遲，他與自己和解，
認命的時刻到來。
“是的，”他說，
“我天生就是一名詩人，
而非其他。除此之外
我什麼也不會，雖然羞愧，
也改變不了宿命的定理。”
詩人：一個不斷想到其他事的人。
他時時走神，令同事、友人惱恨。
也許他甚至沒有人之常情。
但是說到最後，怎麼不是這樣？
在人的多樣性之中，也需要
變異，變體。我們去訪問詩人，
在顯得荒涼的近郊的一間小屋之中，
他養家兔，用草藥泡酒，
在錄音機上錄制謎一般的詩作。
伯克利 一九九〇
RECONCILI ATION
Late, the time of humbling reconciliation
With himself, arrived for him.
"Yes"-he said-"1 was created
To be a poet and nothing more.
I did not know anything else to do,
Greatly ashamed but unable to change my fate."
The poet: one who constantly thinks of something else.
His absentmindedness drives his people to despair.
Maybe he does not even have any human feelings.
But, after all, why should it not be so?
In human diversity a mutation, variation
Is also needed. Let us visit the poet
In his little house in a somewhat faded suburb
Where he raises rabbits, prepares vodka with herbs,
And records on tape his hermetic verses.
〈閱讀安娜·卡敏斯卡的筆記本〉
閱讀她的筆記，我意識到她何等富有，我何等貧困。
她富有愛情、痛苦、哭泣、夢境和禱告。
她活在自己人之間，他們不太幸福但是互相支持，
生者和死者的和約聯結他們，和約在墓地更新。
慰藉她的有綠草、野玫瑰、松樹和馬鈴薯田地
以及自幼熟悉的田野芳香氣味。
她不是傑出的詩人。但是這合情合理：
善良的詩人不容易學會藝術的花招。
READING THE NOTEBOOK OF ANNA KAMIENSKA
Reading her, I realized how rich she was and myself, how poor
Rich in love and suffering, in crying and dreams and prayer.
She lived among her own people who were not very happy but
supported each other,
And were bound by a pact between the dead and the living renewed
at the graves.
She was gladdened by herbs, wild roses, pines, potato fields
And the scents of the soil, familiar since childhood.
She was not an eminent poet. But that was just:
A good person will not learn the wiles of art.
〈持久的影子〉
那是在一個大城市，且不論在哪個國家，用哪種語言，
在很久以前（受到祝福的天賦：
從一件小事編織出一篇故事——
我在街道上、在汽車裡記錄，避免忘記）。
也許不是小事，夜晚咖啡館客人擁擠，
每晚有一位著名女歌星獻藝。
我和他人落座，煙雲繚繞，碰杯聲響。
領帶、軍官的軍裝、女人低開口胸衣，
那裡民間的粗獷音樂，一定來自山區。
那歌聲，她的嗓音，搏動顫抖的身軀，
經過漫長歲月都未曾忘記，
舞蹈的動作，頭髮的青黑，皮膚的白皙。
想像中她香水的氣味。
後來我學會了什麼，有什麼發現？
萬國、不同習俗、各種生活，都成為過去。
她和那個咖啡館都已經毫無蹤跡。
只有她的形影一直與我同在，脆弱、美麗。
LASTINGNESS
That was in a big city, no matter what country, what language,
A long time ago (blessed be the gift
Of spinning a tale out of a trifle,
In the street, in a car-l write it down not to lose it) .
Perhaps not a trifle, a crowded night cafe
Where every evening a famous chanteuse used to sing.
I was sitting with others in smoke, a clatter of beer glasses.
Ties, officers uniforms, deep decolletes of women,
Wild music of their folklore, probably from the mountains.
And that singer, her throat, a pulsating stem,
Her dancing movement, the black of her hair, white of her skin,
The imagined scent of her perfumes.
What have I learned since, what have I discovered?
States, customs, lives, gone.
No trace of her or of that cafe.
And only her shade with me, her frailty, beauty, always.
