2017年7月11日星期二

伊安·博德恩(Ian Boyden):青蛙之歌 ——献给因追求自由而失去自由的人 (唐丹鸿译)

尧西达孜(尊者达赖喇嘛的家族往昔在拉萨的宅邸)废墟前的花朵。(唯色拍于2013年9月5日)

唯色按:三个多月前,从图伯特东部的康地传来一位年轻藏人自焚的消息。已经有150多位藏人在图伯特许多地方,以及异国他乡,以这样决绝的方式表达了最迫切的愿望。然而,世界……依旧是沉默的。当时,我与居住圣胡安岛的美国艺术家Ian Boyden,透过网络谈到了这么多藏人的焚身抗议。还谈到了火的生态、诗的描述以及更多、更多。也因此有了各自写一首相关诗歌的想法。我们的诗都写于3月。
我的诗不长,题为《故乡的火焰》,见我的博客。最后一节写到:“我低头记录着忽起忽灭的火焰。/一朵,一朵,一百五十二朵还不止!/但万籁俱寂,‘蘸上墨水禁不住哭泣!’/却又似乎望见:灰烬中,重生的灵魂美丽无比。”
Ian Boyden的这首诗《青蛙之歌》是长诗,分为八节。正如他在给我的回复中写道:“这首诗是政治的,同时也是切身的。正如每一个人有自己的自我,每一个国家也有它的政治自我,文化自我,语言的自我,而每一种语言也有它的自我。这会永远延续下去。而这首诗是关于自我的生态,自我的独立和非独立的成长,特别是冲突。相信自我也必须要在黑暗里成长,可能在火里还会成长。”
用英文写的《青蛙之歌》得到了居住以色列的诗人、作家唐丹鸿的中文翻译。丹鸿本身就是一个非常优秀的诗人,以至于这首诗的中文呈现是那么难以言喻的美丽。精通中文的Ian Boyden十分喜悦中文译版的贴切与契合,赞叹不已丹鸿的翻译天才。这实在是一次奇妙的诗歌旅行。 
在转贴《青蛙之歌》的中文译版与英文原版之前,先附上Ian Boyden的自述于此:
“当我开始写一首诗,我并不知道要写什么。通常,只有一个模糊的概念。就像种植一颗神秘的种子,一颗未知的种子。 然后我看着语言的植物成长。有时那像土地一样的环境不对,植物会死亡。有时环境是适宜的,植物就蓬勃生长。依照这个比喻,你可以说:在诗歌中,土壤条件是基于心和原始语言之间的关系。这是一种很特别的生态。往往,人们会说这首诗是我写的,是我养的,其实,诗与我是分开的。它自己活着。有时候,我写的一首诗的力量足以改变我的心灵,我的自我。这就是为什么我写诗。 
但翻译是不同的。如何翻译这样一种脆弱的植物?这就像把植物从一个环境移植到另一个环境中,大多数时候是恶劣的。仅仅使植物生存还不够,它也必须要唱歌。而翻译家就像一个很重要的园丁,不但必须了解植物的生态需要,还要负责植物在另一个语言世界的生态需要。
与丹鸿的合作是一次非常感动的经历。她同时是一位美妙的诗人和翻译家。因为她,对我的诗也有了一种新的方式去理解,我因此发现诗歌也在经历轮回。感谢你,丹鸿。我很荣幸地看到这株植物的化身成长于汉语的园地。当然,我认为这首诗原产于图伯特高原。啯啯啯(青蛙叫着)。”

青蛙之歌
——献给因追求自由而失去自由的人


作者:伊安·博德恩(Ian Boyden
译者:唐丹鸿

1.
这一页是静穆的池塘
夜灯是静止不移的太阳
我的手循踪熟悉的弧
将写划什么 我一无所知
火焰中一段木头微挪
像睡眠里它轻辗侧卧

这黑暗中,一只
白鹭伫立池塘边缘
它的饥饿是静凝的白火
在青蛙的沉默中燃烧

它等待着动静
等待青蛙捕食昆虫
并因此暴露行迹
反而被转化成白色的羽毛 

此刻青蛙之歌
随夜色灼烧如星光,
一个星系的声音簇拥池塘
扩散遍布整片草地 

我惊奇,想知道:多少昆虫  
才能化为一只青蛙的歌

2.
为何青蛙们突然沉默了

我踏入这寂静
           空无
黑暗中的草地
春天的气味
我永远不会知道
是什么使他们坠入了沉默
甚至连这首诗也消失在
松树的身影里
我将全身心给予这一切  
这已然陌生异化的全身心 

继而单独一只青蛙歌唱   
它唱得世界再次旋转
在沉默青蛙的黑暗星系中
犹如宇宙中心的歌唱

谁会是下一位歌者呢
谁将加入那孤身歌唱的青蛙

3.
我把另一段木头投进火里
闻到百年持守的佛香
我缓慢地吸入
屏敛这一小缕烟
树以难以置信的精度
一轮又一轮生长
像万有引力次第绽放
                 鸟之家
                 风之舞
               松针的骤雨
               一轮一环轮回相继

这一切悠忽消失
在佛香的一缕烟中 

火焰贪婪地吞噬
当火烧完
剩下的仅是灰

柔软的灰
柔软如春夜
唱一曲白灰之歌
在月光的池塘里
我的手跟循炭的线索  
将示现什么 我一无所知

4.
在灰烬中 一枚舍利
         一粒牙齿
         一颗石头心
         一个未燃烧的舌头

继而一座佛骨塔    
骨白色的佛骨塔
珍藏这舍利
连火焰也未能触及的舍利

一座宝塔
珍藏这舍利
在舍利之内
有未能被烧毁的事物

白灰色佛塔
依存蔚蓝天空

5.
燕子们归来了
从一只、几十只
到千百只燕子
环绕舍利飞旋
在巨弧中环绕复环绕
环绕未能被烧毁的舍利

燕喙含满了泥和稻草
在梁椽间修筑它们的巢
燕喙含满了昆虫
在梁椽间喂养它们的孩子
它们的孩子从屋檐下起飞
歌唱

什么是真正的舍利呢? 
是这骨头吗?
是这塔?
是这鸟?

亦或每件事物的聚合?

青蛙的鸣叫
在它化为羽毛之前
羽毛的飞升
在它化为舌头之前
舌头的语言
在它拒绝火焰之前

6.
另一名尼师点燃她自己
在火里吟诵古老的音节
嘛呢叭咪吽
嘛呢叭咪吽
音节未被火焰触及
而火焰带走了她

她是那孤身的青蛙
在流转的黑暗中
选择了歌唱而非沉默

随着声音飘荡
从一种语言到另一种
它与其他含义相对应
人与动物合而为一

梵音“嗡”化作一只蜜蜂的嗡
僧伽们的吟诵化为宏大的蜂群
簇集在蜂巢周围

一声蛙鸣
成了汉字“啯”
         发音为 guō
         啯啯啯啯啯
         充满了春夜       啯啯啯

这单音节的“啯”
也是一声呜咽
是吞声饮泣的哀恸      啯啯  我国   

这个词的身体蕴含一个国家
用呼吸象喻其边界
                      啜泣 我的国

青蛙以歌声
象喻它绵延的大地
如果青蛙歌唱  或将被吞吃
如果青蛙沉默 它的国家丧失

还有另一个声音
像一张嘴挨近火旁
意图一口气猝然呼出
吹灭那火苗
                     吙吙
而词的身体守持一团火
汇聚成发光的余烬
以衡量消失的一切
                   我燃烧的国
人与火相融一体
我火 国火
嘛呢叭咪吽

7.
我饱尝了这个世界
我吃过青蛙
我吃过鱼和阳光晒暖的无花果
我吃过鸟和黑莓
玫瑰花瓣和莲藕
无数的粒籽
奶白色的蘑菇
金色的腰果
我快乐地吃过这一切

我与它们已然相融
它们骑乘我的呼吸
它们游弋我的声音
它们开放我梦的无际的原野
我的泪水含有它们的盐
我的血是它们的红铁
我耳朵的骨头震动着它们的钙

倘若我是一架钟
那我是这一切所铸造的钟

我是一个舍利
是我所吃过的每件食物的舍利
我的这一世已拥有
某些事物超越了我自己所了知

8.
并不希望我的身体
被给予火

火是贪婪的
当它烧完
剩下的只是灰

火不会将它的身躯
赋予另一生灵的形成
火不过是聚拢成烟
把它的身体交给灭绝

我并不希望
将我所拥有的
给予灭绝之灵 

我宁愿把我的身体
回归所摄取过的生灵
不是回归灰 而是回归大海
元素与分子的大海
也许为羽毛
鱼鳞或甲虫的翅膀
蛤壳或蜘蛛蛋
梨花一云花粉
一棵命定化为纸浆的

它命定化为另一张纸
在他人的夜晚
像一封邀请信熠熠发光

我愿不可知坚守
随四季流转沉浮
一如既往
作为迁栖之歌
作为青蛙
并作为青蛙警醒悟的歌

2017-3-28


Frog Song

      Dedicated to everyone who has lost their freedom in the pursuit of freedom

1.
This page is a quiet pond
The lamp an unmoving sun
My hand traces familiar arcs
into what     I don’t know
A log shifts within the fire
rolls to one side as if in sleep

Within this darkness
an egret stands at the pond’s edge
its hunger a still white flame
burning within the frogs’ silence

It waits for a movement
for a frog to snatch an insect
and in so doing reveal itself
only to be transformed
into white feather

And now by night the frogs’ song
burns like starlight a galaxy
of voices clustered by the pond
dispersing across the meadow

And I wonder how many insects
does it take to become a frog’s song


2.
And why did the frogs go suddenly silent

I step into the silence
                      nothing
a meadow in the darkness
the smell of spring
I will never know
what made them fall silent
Even the poem disappears
into the shadowed body of the pine
I give myself
to all of this with a completeness
that has become a stranger

And then a single frog sings
it sings the world round again
in the black galaxy of silent frogs
sings as the center of the universe

Who will sing next
Who will join that single frog


3.
I throw another log into the fire
and smell the incense
of a hundred years of standing
I breathe in slowly
to hold in this wisp of smoke
the tree’s incredible precision
growing ring by ring
as a blossom of gravity
       home to bird
       dance of wind
       shower of needles
       ring by ring by ring

All this vanishes
in a wisp of incense  

The fire is greedy
When it is finished
all that is left is ash

Soft ash
soft as a spring night
singing an ashen song
in a pool of moonlight
where my hand follows
carbon’s thread
into what     I don’t know


4.
And within the ash a relic
       teeth
       a stone heart
       an unburned tongue

And then a stupa
a bone-white stupa
to house the relic
which even fire
could not touch

A pagoda
to house the relic
that holds in its body
something that could not be burned

An ash-white pagoda
against a blue sky


5.
Swallows return
at first one then tens
then thousands
to fly around the relic
around and around in giant arcs
around what could not be burned

Their beaks fill with mud and straw
to repair their nests in the rafters
Their beaks fill with insects
to feed their children in the rafters
Their children take flight
from the eves
and sing

What is the true relic
Is it the bone
        the building
        the bird

Could it be a gathering
of each thing around another

The frog’s voice
before it becomes a feather
The feather’s lift
before it becomes a tongue
The tongue’s language
before it refuses fire


6.
Another nun lights herself on fire
and chants the ancient syllables
Om mani padme hum
Om mani padme hum
the syllables untouched
by the fire that takes her

She is that single frog
who chose song over silence
in the shifting darkness

And as one sound drifts
from one language into another
it aligns with other meanings
human and animal become one

Om becomes the buzzing of a bee
the chanting of the sangha a great swarm
gathering around a hive

The croaking of a frog
becomes the Chinese character
       pronounced guō
       guō   guō   guō   guō   guō
            filling the spring night      guō   guō   guō

but this single sound guō
is also a sob
the swallowing of grief
                                                     guō   guō     wǒ guō

The body of the word holds a country
its borders marked by breath
                                                     sobbing    my country
The frog marks the stretch
of its land through song
If the frog sings it may be eaten
If it is silent its country disappears

And there is another sound          huō
written as a mouth next to fire ()
meaning to exhale
a breath of surprise
blowing out the flames
                                                     huō huō    wǒ huō
The body of the word holds a fire
that gathers as glowing embers
to measure the vanishing

                                                     My burning country
human and fire become one
guō huō   guō huō   guō huō
Om mani padme hum


7.
I have eaten of this world
I have eaten frogs
I have eaten fish and sun-warmed figs
I have eaten birds and blackberries
rose petals and leaves of mint
honey comb and lotus roots
countless grains
milk-white mushrooms
golden cashews
eaten it all with pleasure

I have become because of them
They ride my breath
swim my voice
open into the endless prairies
of my dreams
My tears contain their salt
My blood is their red iron
The bones of my ears rattle
their calcium

If I am a bell
I am a bell cast
of all of this

I am the relic
of each thing I have eaten
and have held for this life
something beyond my own knowing


8.
I do not wish my body
to be given to fire

The fire is greedy
When it is finished
what is left is ash

The fire does not give its body
to another’s becoming
so much as it gathers as smoke
and gives its body to erasure

I do not wish
to give what I have held
to erasure

I would rather my body gather
back to that which I consumed
not as ash but as a sea
of elements and molecules
perhaps to become feather
fish scale or beetle wing
clam shell or spider egg
pear flower a cloud of pollen
a tree to become the pulp

of another sheet of paper
to glow as an invitation
in another’s night

I would like for this
unknown holding to ebb
and flow with the seasons
as it always has
as the song of migration
as the song of the frog
and as song of the frog’s vigilance


       Ian Boyden
       March 28, 2017




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