2025年3月18日星期二
西藏文革的画册《杀劫》中的几幅老照片
西藏文革的画册《杀劫》中的几幅老照片
文/唯色
“杀劫”是藏语“革命”的发音，汉语拼音为“Sha Jie”。传统藏语中从无这个词汇。半个多世纪前，当解放军来到西藏，为了在藏文中造出“革命”一词，将原意为“新”的藏文和原意为“更换”的藏文合而为一，从此有了“革命”。据说这是因新时代的降临而派生的无数新词中，在翻译上最为准确的一个。
藏语“革命”在汉语中可以找到很多同音字，我选择的是“杀劫”，以此表明二十世纪五○年代以来的革命给西藏带来的劫难。四十年前，又一场被称为“文化大革命”的革命席卷西藏，于是“杀劫”之前被加上了藏文的“文化”。藏文“文化”的发音，汉语拼音为Ren Lei，与汉语的“人类”发音相近，所以用汉语表达藏语中的“文化大革命”一词，就成了对西藏民族而言的 “人类杀劫”。
看上去，文化大革命即将到来之前的拉萨风平浪静。一幢幢类似兵营的房屋修筑在过去的大片草地、“林卡”（园林）和沼泽上，是新政府的办公场地和宿舍。据一九六五年的《西藏日报》报导：拉萨市建成了一个以人民路为中心的、拥有二十五个较大的建筑物的新市区。
二十世纪六○年代的拉萨正在失却古老而独特的风貌，举世闻名的布达拉宫是沧桑之变的见证。
穿军便服在当时是全中国红卫兵的时尚，西藏红卫兵也不例外。而且，西藏女孩子习惯保留的长辫子已剪成了齐耳的短发，这也是「革命化」的象征。
这些戴着红领巾、挥动红宝书——《毛主席语录》的孩子们，看上去都是小学生，却佩有红卫兵袖章，这表明红卫兵的成分已经扩大化了。当同学们都在高呼口号时，右边那个小男孩在埋头玩什么呢？
公元一四○九年，藏传佛教格鲁派宗师宗喀巴在对大昭寺大规模修整之后，以稀世之宝供养释迦牟尼十二岁等身佛像（藏人尊称“觉仁波切”。“觉”的意思是至尊，“仁波切”的意思是珍宝，也用以指代转世活佛），并献上纯金制作的五佛冠。同时，为纪念佛陀以神变之法大败六种外道的功德，宗喀巴遍召各寺院、各教派的僧众，于藏历正月期间在大昭寺举行祝福祈愿的大法会——“默朗钦莫”，前后持续十五天。
因来参加法会的僧俗众多，故将其法座移到大昭寺南侧的广场继续传法，从此历代达赖喇嘛和甘丹赤巴（甘丹寺法台）都在此处传授佛法而称之为“松却绕瓦”，意为“传法之地”。而法会也遂成惯例得以沿袭，五世达赖喇嘛以后延至二十一天。届时拉萨三大寺——哲蚌寺、色拉寺、甘丹寺以及其它寺院的数万僧人云集于大昭寺，举行修法、辩经、驱魔、酥油花灯会、迎请未来强巴佛等活动。在“松却绕瓦”的辩经场面甚为壮观，最优秀者可以获得格鲁派最高学位——“格西拉然巴”。这一年一度的盛大法会通常由达赖喇嘛亲自主持。
文革以前的“松却绕瓦”是拉萨除了寺院和布达拉宫之外唯一一块铺了石头的场地，专门用以法会上无数僧侣就座。但在文革期间，这里是揪斗“牛鬼蛇神”的批斗场，改名为“立新广场”。以后除了在此召开群众大会，还是露天电影院、文艺团体表演翻译成藏语的样板戏《红灯记》和现代革命舞剧《红色娘子军》的剧场。
一九八六年二月，被禁二十年的祈愿大法会重新恢复。但由于一九八九年在法会期间发生“骚乱”再度被取消，至今不再举行。“松却绕瓦”日渐被云集的商贩拥挤得只馀小片空地。这些商贩有的来自山南农村，带着自己编织的氆氇毛毯出售给当地人和游客；也有不少汉族和回族商贩在此摆摊，以卖工艺品为主。在“松却绕瓦”左边不远处，是八角街派出所所在地。
这是“破四旧”运动中第一次“革命行动”——砸大昭寺的部分红卫兵在“松却绕瓦”的合影。
曾经聚集数万绛红喇嘛的讲经场，如今面目全非。过去供奉达赖喇嘛和高僧大德之法座的高台上，此刻却被毛泽东画像和一面上书“宣战书”的大牌子取而代之。一幅“彻底砸烂旧世界！我们要做新世界的主人！”的标语被高高举起，比红墙金顶的大昭寺更为醒目。除了一群看热闹的小孩子和七八个头上系着头帕挤坐在一起的女人（她们是帕廓街上的居民），在林立的红旗和红缨枪之间，一个个东张西望、稚气十足的年轻人几乎都是拉萨中学的学生。
这是大昭寺的前院“金戈”（坛城之意），在拉萨红卫兵“破四旧”这一天，遍地堆积着残破不堪的佛像、法器、供具以及其它佛教象征物，据说很多都是从楼上的佛殿里、长廊上抬来再扔下去的。二楼露台上的十几个人都是红卫兵，其中还有几个扎辫子的女红卫兵，还有两人似是蹲伏着又似是个头儿矮小的小孩子，手里拿着什么东西似乎正欲往下扔。楼下很明显的有三个手持红缨枪的男红卫兵，角落深处还有四个穿军装或军便服的背影。
传统上，“金戈”是藏历正月期间在大昭寺内举行“默朗钦莫”的所在，彼时有数万僧人裹着绛红大氅围坐于此齐声颂祷的盛况。院内主要安排哲蚌寺的僧人就坐，其它寺院的僧人则环坐于转经回廊，甚至挤满了二楼呈凹字形的露台。达赖喇嘛则从三楼围着金黄纱幔、其上金顶闪耀的“甚穹”（尊贵者的寝室，又称「日光殿」）款款而下，端坐在庭院左边的金黄法座上，亲自主持这一年一度的盛大法会。
一九八九年三月在这里举办了最后一次祈愿大法会，由于发生所谓的“骚乱”，“默朗钦莫”终被禁止。据一位知情者在其传记中透露，引发“骚乱”的导火索是在法会即将结束的当天，西藏的某位藏族高官带着北京的几位汉族官员，擅自闯入达赖喇嘛在法会期间下榻的日光殿，掀开遮着窗户的黄绸幔东张西望时，被聚集于前院正在进行佛事的喇嘛们发现，认为是莫大的亵渎，激发起愤怒情绪。为制服僧众的不满，手持武器的武警闯入大昭寺内抓捕、殴打被视为“分裂分子”的无数喇嘛。一位因躲藏在仓库里免遭厄运的喇嘛回忆，第二天，当他走出藏身之处，已经空空荡荡的前院到处散落着藏式木碗和僧人的披单、鞋子，那都是匆匆逃跑的僧人们遗下的，更令他震惊的是，除了这些，地面上还有一层已经结了薄冰的血迹。
如今这个庭院在平日里显得洁净、安宁，而在宗教节日和藏历新年期间却格外拥挤，来自全藏各地的信徒排着长队去朝拜释迦牟尼等身佛像。供奉这尊释迦佛像的殿堂“觉康”是整座大昭寺的中心，是那些长途跋涉，甚至用身体丈量迢迢朝圣之路的藏地百姓最终的向往。也有拉萨附近的寺院或者由家庭邀请的僧侣在这里举办法会，但由于当局的限制，此类法会的规模越来越小。
这是大昭寺的正面，可以看见已经发生了很大变化。用牦牛毛编织的幡幢消失了，巨大的鎏金宝瓶和六角悬挂的铜铃消失了，由金色法轮和左右两侧的牝牡祥麟构成的“祥麟法轮”也消失了。而五星红旗还在飘扬着。二十多个手持红缨枪的红卫兵正在安放毛泽东的巨幅画像。
从上往下看，镶嵌在红墙上的心型图案，其实里面镶嵌的还有鎏金铜塑的“十相自在”（藏语“朗居旺丹”，是藏传佛教的象征之一，被认为积聚了神圣意义和力量，具有装饰和辟邪的功效），右边的已被掏空，左边的正在被挖出。
大门前的几根粗大的柱子上都贴着标语。
熊熊燃烧的烈火。大肆漫卷着、吞没着正在烧为灰烬的无数书页——在这之前都是存放在寺院里的佛教典籍。分不清楚谁是纵火者，谁是围观者，因为他们相互混杂，表情皆都兴奋莫名。而且，比较中国内地的同一类文革照片中出现的人群，无论装束还是相貌都十分相似。只有作为背景的藏式建筑提醒我们：这是西藏，这是拉萨，这是大昭寺的讲经场“松却饶瓦”。
如今也是摄影家的德木·旺久多吉清楚地记得父母第一次被游斗的时间，正是罗布林卡改名为“人民公园”的前一天——一九六六年八月二十七日。他的父亲，德木·洛桑绛白隆多单增加措，乃着名的十世德木仁波切。
德木仁波切属于西藏佛教活佛系统中相当重要的一支，拉萨有名的丹杰林寺的寺主，其六世、七世和九世均当过西藏的摄政王（代理达赖喇嘛管理政教的最高权威）。十世德木仁波切还是西藏历史上最早的、也是西藏迄今最优秀的摄影家。
照片上，六十五岁的德木仁波切头戴高帽，上面用藏文写着“彻底打倒反动农奴主单增加措”，挂在胸前的相机是他的“罪证”，用来暗示他是一个里通国外的反动分子。其实那架上海五八II型一三五相机属于儿子旺久多吉，虽然被德木夫人藏在装糌粑的口袋里，仍在居委会红卫兵抄家时给抄出来了，而德木仁波切自己的好几套高级相机早已被工作组没收，理由是相机乃特务的作案工具。其中一架蔡司A康，被一个姓阎的工作组组长私吞，再不归还。
四十七岁的德木夫人穿戴的是旧时拉萨贵族夫人的华丽装束，双手捧着盛有金银珠宝的托盘。德木·旺久多吉回忆说：“每次游街，他们都让我父亲穿上我们家的护法神——‘孜玛热’的法衣，让我母亲穿上贵妇的盛装。后来，我父亲对我说，‘当时抓我游街的时候，我很担心他们逼我穿袈裟，这样我会羞死的。还好，他们要我穿的是跳神时‘孜玛热’的法衣，这倒让人有一种演戏的感觉。而且在游街的时候，除了一个小男孩冲着我说老实坦白，围观者中没人打我、骂我，还不错’”。然而，德木夫人却在经历了抄家、游街批斗等公开羞辱以及被居委会长期单独关押之后精神崩溃，仅仅一年便从疯癫走向死亡。六年后，德木仁波切圆寂了，却不被允许为他举行西藏传统的与他身份相称的葬礼。
这是丹杰林居委会组织的游斗队伍。押解德木夫妇的两个积极分子争相挥舞着拳头，表达了他们对“牛鬼蛇神“的痛恨。左边那人名叫扎西，原是一个马车夫，文革期间当了居委会副主任。在抄德木家时，他以破“四旧”为名，不仅抢走了衣物和珠宝，还抢走了政府在“赎买”（在一九五九年之后的“民主改革”中，对未参加“叛乱”的贵族、庄园主和寺庙的财产实行赎买政策，发放赎买金支付券，凭券到银行领取赎买金）中发给德木仁波切的存折，后在旺久多吉的坚持索要下不得不归还，但已被他取走两百元，这在当时不是一笔小数。扎西后来是布达拉宫前门的看门人，二00三年二月，我原本打算采访他，却听说他已于前不久病故。
右边的那个穿着破衣烂裤的人名叫单增，是“牛鬼蛇神”小组的组长，据说他最能斗“牛鬼蛇神”，德木夫人就被他狠狠打过。他早已亡故。
这个头戴圆帽、身裹僧衣、手捧宝瓶的年轻女子就是西藏最着名的女活佛——桑顶·多吉帕姆·德钦曲珍，年仅二十六岁，刚生下第三个孩子才一个多月。就在不久前，鉴于一九五九年原本追随达赖喇嘛出逃印度的她很快又返回西藏，她被视为“弃暗投明”的“爱国主义者”，成为党的座上宾，受到毛泽东的接见，享有很高的政治地位和优厚的物资待遇。多吉帕姆是河坝林居委会的“牛鬼蛇神”，批斗她的“革命群众”都是河坝林居委会的居民，批斗现场在多吉帕姆的府邸，位于帕廓东街的清真大寺一带。
站在女活佛多吉帕姆身边的两个满面愁云、战战兢兢的老人是女活佛的父母。
多吉帕姆的父亲名叫仁增加布，是一户贵族家族的总管家，母亲是商贩出身。因为女儿的特殊身份，父母也随着一荣俱荣，一毁俱毁。据说她的父亲，因为在“平叛”期间给解放军带路，传递情报，充当内线，被认为是真正的“爱国人士”。可就是这位“爱国人士”，不但跟着女儿被揪斗，两个月后还被关进了监狱。
看见这幅照片，一位藏人说：“我又像是回到了那时候，我也常常坐在这中间。”
另一位藏人则感慨道：“你看，这些窗户是破破烂烂的，这孩子的衣服也是破破烂烂的，还拿着别人给他的发言稿，他知道是什么意思吗？这周围的人恍恍惚惚的，任人摆布似的，这整个就是西藏的文化大革命。”
那个正在激动地呼喊口号以至额头上青筋毕现的红小兵，有人说他的名字叫阿旺格列，长大后当了民兵队长，现在快五十了，天天转经朝佛。旁边那个穿着背上打补丁的衣服、正扭头看着男孩的男人，被认出是河坝林的一个修自行车的老汉。男孩身后的那个头上包着头巾的女人是个回族，如今常在帕廓街上摆摊买饼子。
注意看，邦达多吉也坐在人群中，正是男孩背后那个戴着遮阳圆帽子、露出上半身的男子，满面愁云，呆呆地注视着批斗现场，随时准备被点名，然后被揪出去斗争一番。一代豪杰竟也如此落魄！
《杀劫》：2006年2月，台湾大块文化公司出版
摄影：泽仁多吉（我的父亲）
文字：唯色
2024年7月6日星期六
唯色：空，或者不空——献给嘉瓦仁波切89寿诞 （Empty, or Not Empty —dedicated to the Dalai Lama on his 89nd birthday）
空，或者不空——献给嘉瓦仁波切89寿诞[1]
唯色
1、空法座：修赤
修赤的意思是法座
林卡的意思是林苑
修赤林卡[2]在颇章布达拉[3]的前面
往昔葱茏，簇拥着虬枝左旋的老树，水塘和小桥
稍远有一座方柱形的石碑[4]，记载千年前的帝国事迹
那法座，应该是用尽量平整的石块垒成，从缝隙间长出
参差不齐的草，也会开花，而更多的花朵
是远近走过的人们每日供放，香气四溢
这一切都出自我的想象
却也大致符合老人们的回忆。数年前
有过俊美容貌但福报甚浅的贵胄公子，将我引至此处
从他微微颤抖的手指望去，已荡然无存，更名为广场
因此布满这样的标配：红灯笼、升旗台、纪念碑……
正播放着一首首赞歌的大喇叭、小喇叭……
赞歌：旋律如昨，却更换了歌词
那尊原本于一九五九年三月之前存在的
法座是如何消失的？那尊
在树木与花丛中的，总是虚位以待的
法座有着怎样的故事？我问过许多人：你听说过
修赤林卡吗？在电视台工作过的退休干部突然失声哭泣
他说，你懂得怀念的感觉吗？你尝过心碎的滋味吗？
而当年，他是调皮少年，随渴求祝福的人们由此经过
不禁仰头，望见盘坐的嘉瓦仁波切[5]多么年轻，笑靥如花
他再也无法忘记。一生不会忘记。
我继续低声询问：你知道修赤林卡吗？
遇见一位青年，他出生于伟大赞普[6]故乡附近的农户家中
天赋画才，善于描绘不曾见过的失乐园
其中一幅，是的，那幅画，在他不幸丧生前完成[7]
翠绿的山峦重叠，洁白的云朵翻卷，但房屋已变样
空空的法座设于正中，装饰华美，等待的心愿如气球飘飘欲飞
2、空房间：甚穹
七支百合在深夜怒放
必须是深夜，才能及时目睹最美的瞬间
而我祈愿这是一种奉献：虽然这百合
只能放入简单的玻璃器皿，供在一张照片前
有的房间，不，有许多房间，甚至连这张照片
都不容许出现。真奇怪，这世上，会有人
连一张照片都害怕。他们是什么样的人呢？
强悍的唯物主义者不是无所畏惧吗？
百合的盛开化作慰藉。香气氤氲，我伏身敬拜
至少这个房间不再空无
我见过多个空的房间
在大昭寺，在罗布林卡，在布达拉宫……
敬语称为甚穹[8]。有一天，我找到一位结识多年的僧人
他又从一大串钥匙中找到一把做了记号的钥匙
四顾无人，低头走入黄色窗幔遮住的房间[9]
梵香浓郁，似乎掩护着另一种芬芳
我竭力分辨，如同寻觅往昔那不堪重负的纤细身影
沉默的僧人将我拉回现实，以眼神示意
那绘有菩萨和众生的墙上，布满刺刀凶狠的划痕……
空空的法座前，哈达[10]洁白，几张完整的章噶[11]纸币意味深长
前些日子，传来两个安多青年唱的歌：
“阳光下，活蹦乱跳的，昨天的那个孩子，
把成群的行星磨成粉末，用彩粉绘写出明天，他把所有的
问题都抛向别人，可世界又聋又哑，默不作声……”[12]
我想起康区北部的一座有名的寺院
打开不为他人所知的门，所见到的，你会泪下：
精雕细琢的檀木长椅上，仿若真人的照片
各种敬供，皆是精心挑选。里面的那间
水晶灯散发着温馨的光
一双金色的拖鞋摆放在纯白的浴缸前……
3、空城：拉萨
站在这里。每一次站在这里，会
“被一种奇异而衰颓的风景包围”[13]，内心
就有个声音在拒绝，在反抗，要尽快去做
去实现一个个逆缘的转变，不然真的来不及了
想起那年深秋时，哦不，是初冬时节
带上几串经幡和一小包叫作桑[14]的植物碎末、
一些刚磨好的糌粑、一小瓶用青稞酿成的酒
缓缓走上五千多米的山脊，心跳加快
这是因为临行前，堪布[15]仁波切[16]的叮嘱：
“勿要说话、叫喊。要坐下，祈祷，就能看见未来。”
一面是阳坡，阳光照耀，赐予些许温暖
一面是阴坡，被浅浅的白雪覆盖
那状如佛冠的圣湖，拉姆拉措[17]，恰在不远的凹形之处
像明镜，像幻境，像所有不真切的真切，充满力量
周围无人。只有我和爱人。
先向班丹拉姆[18]奉献桑的香味、糌粑与酒的美味
再将经幡系在石块之间，以示一种代言
分开坐下，互不干扰，其实我已有几分急切
尽量专注地凝视着：“请指给我看命运的样貌。”
两只鸦倏忽而至
一只落在我的右边，一只落在他的左边
用不似鸦的叫声使我回眸：有着黑色的羽毛、红色的嘴与双足……
“迥嘎[19]是松玛的使者，不是凶兆是吉兆。”我似乎听得有人说
鸦在踱步。间或鸣叫。那么继续凝视，一幅画面从湖水渐渐呈现：
那是坚热斯[20]在人世间的形象，熟悉的笑容寄予某个意义
就像一个奇迹多么明亮，一切尽在不言中
天色将晚，携手返回那座已空了几十年的城
途中，两只鹿轻盈跑过，犹如去往时轮金刚的坛城
是这个寓意吗？无论如何，与许多归来的族人一样
内心不空，倾注了爱与希望。
2017-7-6，尊者达赖喇嘛寿诞日
注释：
[1]这首诗完成于2017年7月6日，原本献给尊者达赖喇嘛82寿诞，这里重发，献给尊者今年今日89寿诞。
[2]修赤林卡：བཞུགས་ཁྲི།་གླིང་ཁ།名为法王宝座的园林。
[3]颇章布达拉：ཕོ་བྲང་པོ་ཏཱ་ལ།布达拉宫。初建于公元七世纪，扩建于十七世纪五世达赖喇嘛时代，属吐蕃（图博）君王松赞干布及五世之后历代达赖喇嘛居住的宫殿，兼及西藏（图伯特）甘丹颇章政教合一的政府处理事务之处。
[4]即达扎鲁恭记功碑：ཞོལ་རྡོ་རིངས་ཕྱི་མ་历史记载，吐蕃（图博）君王赤松德赞时代大将恩兰·达扎鲁恭，于763年率兵攻陷唐国长安，赞普下令在布达拉宫前立碑铭记。
[5]嘉瓦仁波切：རྒྱལ་བ་རིན་པོ་ཆེ།对历代达赖喇嘛的敬称，意为至尊如意宝。藏语对达赖喇嘛的敬称很多，本诗集也多有采用。
[6]赞普：བཙན་པོ། 吐蕃（图博）君王。这里指松赞干布，公元七世纪吐蕃帝国第三十三代赞普，以缔造帝国、建造布达拉宫并将佛教引入图伯特等功德伟绩而著名于世。
[7]指的是曲尼江白，ཆོས་ཉིད་འཇམ་དཔལ་ 图伯特当代艺术家，2011年3月29日车祸遇难，年仅三十岁。
[8]甚穹：གཟིམ་ཆུང་敬语，寝宫。
[9]在拉萨大昭寺，往昔尊者达赖喇嘛于法会期间下榻的日光殿，文革期间被红卫兵、造反派和解放军所占。墙上壁画被刀刃乱划，至今留有痕迹。
[10]哈达：ཁ་བཏགས། 图伯特文化作为礼仪或献祭用的丝织品。高级哈达上印有图案和文字。
[11]章噶：ཊམ་ཀ། 公元1911年，图伯特噶厦政府即甘丹颇章政权所印制和发行的纸币。
[12]即在图伯特安多地区的西藏病人乐队的歌曲《空房间》。
[13]引（美）雷蒙德·卡佛（臺譯:瑞蒙.卡佛Raymond Carver）《为了今天的埃及币，阿登，谢谢你》（《我们所有人》，舒丹丹译）。
[14]桑：བསང་། 指用于祭祀、敬供等仪式的植物、香料、糌粑等。
[15]堪布：མཁན་པོ། 深通经典的僧侣上师，而为寺院或经学院的主持者。
[16]仁波切：རིན་པོ་ཆེ། 意为珍宝，通常也是对藏传佛教转世高僧的尊称。又称祖古。汉语称活佛，其实是错误的称呼。
[17]拉姆拉措：ལྷ་མོའི་བླ་མཚོ། 图伯特最神圣的湖，寻访达赖喇嘛转世的观相湖，是图伯特、拉萨及达赖喇嘛的护法神班丹拉姆的魂湖，位在今西藏自治区山南地区加查县境内。
[18]班丹拉姆：དཔལ་ལྡན་ལྷ་མོ 吉祥天女，藏传佛教万神殿众护法神中最主要之一，图伯特、拉萨及尊者达赖喇嘛的护法神。
[19]是红嘴山鸦，སྐྱུང་ཀ 藏语发音“迥嘎”，该物种的模式产地在喜马拉雅山脉地区，学名Fregilus himalayanus。
[20]坚热斯：སྤྱན་རས་གཟིགས། 观世音菩萨，尊者达赖喇嘛被认为是观世音菩萨的化身。
Empty, or Not Empty
TRANSLATIONSThe Dalai Lama's dharma-throne—the Potala Palace. The date of this photograph is unknown, sometime between 1900–1940. During this period, there were Russians, British, Germans, Austrians, etc. who took photos in Lhasa.
[This poem is published on the occasion of the 60th anniversary of the Tibetan uprising, March 10, 1959.]
Empty, or Not Empty
—dedicated to the Dalai Lama on his 89nd birthday
1. The Empty Dharma-Throne: Shukti
Have you heard of the Shukti Lingka?
Shukti means ‘dharma-throne’;
and lingka means ‘park’.[1]
In the past, the Shukti Lingka spread out
before the Potala Palace, lush and verdant,
filled with ancient trees whose branches twisted
counterclockwise like dragons
and mirrored in the ponds crossed by small bridges.
A little ways away stood a stele,
the Lhasa Zhöl Pillar,[2] a tall, square column
recording imperial deeds of a thousand years ago.
The dharma-throne in this park
must have been made with layers
of the flattest possible stone.
There would have been tufts of grass growing
from the crevices, and flowers would have bloomed,
and then even more bouquets of flowers
would have been left on the seat by visitors
who came from near and far,
the fragrance permeating every corner.
This vision, from my own imagination,
matches the memories of the older generation.
A few years ago, I was brought to this spot
by a son of old Lhasa royalty, a handsome man
with a shallow karmic reward.
He couldn’t bear the sight, covering his eyes,
he looked out through his trembling fingers
pointing through tears to where the throne had stood.
All vestiges of that park had been obliterated.
What had been a park was now a “square,”[3]
concrete paved and filled
with red lanterns, flagpoles, memorial monuments….
And loudspeakers, large and small, blared
songs of propaganda. The melodies were old,
but the lyrics had been changed.
That honorable dharma-throne, which existed before March 1959—
How did it disappear? What kind of story did that throne have,
always left vacant to wait among the trees and flowers?
I have asked so many people: Have you heard of the Shukti Lingka?
A retired official from the local television station burst into tears
He asked, Can you understand what it feels like
to miss your cherished memory?
Have you tasted the flavor of heartbreak?
And he told me this memory from before the occupation:
In those years, His Holiness was a mischievous teenager.
People eager for a blessing would pass by
and could not help but raise their heads,
and see the young Gyalwa Rinpoche[4] sitting on the throne,
so young, his face like a smiling flower.
There is no way he could forget this sight,
one could not forget over the course of an entire lifetime.
I continue to ask in a low whisper: Have you heard of the Shukti Lingka?
I met a young man named Choenyi Jampel, [5]
who was born in a farmer’s house
near the hometown of the great Songtsen Gampo.[6]
He had a great talent for painting,
and was able to depict our lost paradise
in ways I’ve never seen before.
Among his paintings, one stood out: one of the last
paintings he completed just before his unfortunate death:
Layers of emerald green mountains, rolling
white clouds, a few houses that no longer survive,
and there, right in the center,
sat the completely empty dharma-throne,
richly decorated, the heart’s dream waiting
like a balloon floating through desire.
.jpg)
2. The Empty Room: Gzim Chung
Five lilies bloom in the middle of the night.
At this late hour, when one is able to witness
the most beautiful moments,
I want to make this offering:
lilies in a simple glass vase placed in front of a photograph.
There are some rooms, no, there are many rooms,
where even this photo is not allowed.
So strange.
In this world there are people who are afraid
of a photograph. What kind of people are they?
Aren’t the intrepid materialists fearless?
The blooming lilies bring comfort.
In their dense fragrance,
I prostrate myself in prayer.
At least this room is no longer empty.
I have seen many empty rooms
in the Jokhang, in the Norbulinka, in the Potala Palace.
The honorific word for one of these rooms is: Gzim Chung.[7]
One day, I encountered a monk I had known for many years.
He showed me a single key with a mark on it
attached to a large ring of keys.
Looking around and seeing no one,
we lowered our heads and entered a room
covered with yellow curtains.
The smell of incense was thick, as though covering up another fragrance.
I did my best to identify it, as if searching the past
for a silhouette of one who could not bear a heavy burden.
The silent monk pulled me back to reality, and with his eyes indicated
a wall painted with images of bodhisattvas and other beings.
The images were written over
by the fierce scratches of a bayonet.[8]
In front of the empty dharma-throne, a white khata
and a few complete Kashag banknotes.[9]
A few days ago I was sent a song
sung by two Amdo youth[10] that goes:
“Under the sun, the child of yesterday leaps and frisks about.
He grinds groups of planets into pigment,
and uses the pigment to draw tomorrow—
he takes all of his problems and casts them to other people,
but the world is deaf and mute, it doesn’t make a sound…”
I think of a famous temple in the northern district of Kang.
If you open that door that is not known to others,
you will shed tears at everything you see:
on a beautifully carved sandalwood bench,
all kinds of offerings, each carefully selected.
And inside that room, in the warm light of a crystal lamp,
a pair of golden slippers in front of a pure white bathtub.
.jpg)
3. The Empty City: Lhasa
Stand right here.
Every time I stand here,
I am “surrounded by a strange fading landscape”[11]
in my innermost heart
there is a voice that refuses, that rebels.
If we are to achieve a reverse of course,
we must do it as soon as possible,
otherwise it will truly be too late.
I think of the deep autumn of that year.
Wait—no, it must have been early winter.
We carried a few strands of prayer flags,
a bag of powdered bsang to burn like incense,
some freshly ground barley, a bottle of barley wine.
We walk slowly along a ridge 5000 meters high,
our hearts beat faster and faster.
Before the Rinpoche left, he exhorted:
You must not talk, must not yell.
Sit down, pray that you may see the future.
To one side is the sunny slope, where sunlight bestows a little warmth;
the other slope is shady, covered with a shallow snow.
Lhamo Latso.[12] This holy lake is the crown of the Buddha,
a pure mirror held by this U-shaped valley.
Filled with power, it’s so vivid it seems unreal.
Not a soul around its edges. Only me and my lover.
First, I offer the bsang and barley wine to Palden Lhamo.[13]
Then I tie prayer flags between the stones
which convey our wishes and our prayers.
We sit down, separate from each other,
not interfering. I focus my mind and gaze at the lake:
“Please grant me a vision of my fate.”
The two ravens suddenly appear.
One lands to my right, one to my left:
black feathers, black feet, red mouth.
I glance back toward an un-ravenlike cry
and a voice within the vision says,
“The raven is a messenger of the srung ma,[14]
not a bad omen.” The ravens pace back and forth.
They caw occasionally while I continue to gaze.
Gradually, an image emerges from the lake,
it’s Chenrézik,[15]
her smile is familiar in its compassion:
a vivid miracle, outside the realm of words.
When the sky grew dark, we returned hand in hand
to that city which has been empty for decades.
Along the way, two deer ran lightly by
as though we were within the Kalachakra mandala.
Could this be the case?
Like so many of my people who have returned—
my heart is not empty. It is filled with love and hope.
—Woeser, July 4-5, 2017, edited July 6, 2017, Beijing
Translated by Ian Boyden, March 9, 2019
Endnotes:
[1] Shukti Lingka (བཞུགས་ཁྲི། གླིང་ག)
[2] The Lhasa Zhol Pillar (ཞོལ་རྡོ་རིངས་ཕྱི་མ་) was erected in the late eighth century and describes deeds of the Tibetan Empire. It is also one of the oldest surviving examples of Tibetan script, a writing system attributed to Thonmi Sambhota, who was a minister to the founder of the Tibetan Empire Songtsen Gampo who is mentioned later in the poem (see note 6).
[3] The Shukti Linka was destroyed in 1965. The park and its wetlands were drained and filled, then covered with concrete and turned into what what was then known as the People’s Cultural Palace Square (人民文化宫广场). This square was subsequently renovated in 1999 and renamed as Potala Square. In 2002, it became the site of the monstrous Monument to the Peaceful Liberation of Tibet, a 37-meter high structure commemorating the PLA liberation of Tibet in 1951. And in 2005, it was once again renovated to its current state.
[4] Gyalwa Rinpoche is one of the honorific names of the Dalai Lama.
[5] Choenyi Jampel (ཆོས་ཉིད་འཇམ་དཔལ་) was a very promising young artist in Lhasa. He was tragically killed in a car accident on March 29, 2011. He was only 30 years old.
[6] Songtsen Gampo (སྲོང་བཙན་སྒམ་པོ) was an early 7th century king. He is credited with founding the Tibetan Empire and introducing Buddhism toTibet.
[7] Gzim Chung (གཟིམ་ཆུང་)
[8] In the past, the Dalai Lama would stay at the Jokhang during the Buddhist ceremonies celebrating the New Year. He had a special room, which was known as Gzim Chung. During the Cultural Revolution, this room was occupied by Red Guards, members of the Opposition Party, and the People’s Liberation Army. During this time, the murals in this room were scratched by bayonets, and these scars exist to this day.
[9] In 1911, the Tibetan government printed and distributed Kashag banknotes. They also minted gold, silver, and copper coins.
[10] The song is titled “Empty Room” and is sung by the Tibetan Patient Band (西藏病人乐队).
[11] This is a line from the poem “For the Egyptian Coin Today, Arden, Thank You" by Raymond Carver.
[12] Lhamo Latso (ལྷ་མོའི་བླ་མཚོ།) is the most sacred lake in Tibet. This is the lake where visions are sought for the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama and is presided over by the the Dalai Lama’s guardian goddess Palden Lhamo. It is located Gyaca County, Lhokha Province to the southeast of Lhasa.
[13] Palden Lhamo (དཔལ་ལྡན་ལྷ་མོ།) is the primary goddess of protection in the Tibetan Buddhist Pantheon and is the guardian god of Tibet, Lhasa, and the Dalai Lama.
[14] Srungma (སྲུང་མ། ) are protectors of the dharma, also known as dharmapālas.
[15] Chenrézik (སྤྱན་རས་གཟིགས།) is the Tibetan name for the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara.
2023年2月11日星期六
【诗及英译】满城回响救护车催命般的鸣笛声…… ——献给我的母亲，献给我们的拉萨
 |
| 这张照片拍摄于去年9月21日，既是“静默管控”的拉萨封城41天，也是我母亲离世42天。 |
今天，2023年2月11日，是我母亲离开人世整整半年的日子。这首献给母亲的诗，写于拉萨因新冠疫情被封城期间，因此也是献给故乡拉萨的诗。前不久，我在给友人Dechen Pemba 的访谈中写道：“所谓‘疫’，不只是指疫病，也指灾难。……对于我来说，我所经历的正是双重的不幸，双重的灾难：丧母；遭遇新冠疫情，都发生在拉萨。”在我的“双疫”之时写的这首诗，现已译成英文发布于High Peaks Pure Earth(高峰净土)网站。感谢Dechen 啦，感谢译者Christopher Peacock。
满城回响救护车催命般的鸣笛声……
——献给我的母亲，献给我们的拉萨
茨仁唯色
预先设好的手机铃响，提醒供酥[1]的时间到了，
我放下奥兹的《爱与黑暗的故事》[2]，
起身走向门口，将糌粑和特殊药粉搅拌的酥，
均匀地撒在熏黑的不锈钢盘子上，
打开电炉，烤出的香味随烟飘散[3]。
已值正午，烈日当空，白云寥落，
点开噶玛巴念诵《极乐净土愿文》的视频，
却听见不远处传来救护车的鸣笛声，
很急促，催命般，又时断时续，像是不只一辆，
像是满载了不少病人，需要快快地送走。
送往哪里？听说拉萨的方舱已增至八、九个[4]，
而方舱这个词没译成藏语，若汉语发音不准，
就成了藏语谐音的猪圈或乞丐的房子[5]。
这些日子，这三十多天被“静默管控”的日子，
救护车的嘶鸣是这座空空荡荡的城市
唯一的最强音（想起新话“时代最强音”），
还有什么声音呢？啜泣，呼告，谁听得见？
院子的四面墙头有雀鸟啁啾，盛开的
月季红得像鲜血，被小蜜蜂无声地吸吮；
长得像花豹的野猫跃下堆满朽木的房顶兀自离去。
越盖越高的世俗居所遮挡了颇章布达拉，
也遮蔽了原本可以随风传来的风铃声。
我静下心，举起金刚铃，朝着香烟袅袅的
酥，摇响三次，并须念诵三次：嗡啊吽
多么盼望走了整整一个月的阿妈会听见，会再来……
然后，我会沿着那个永别的深夜，我消瘦的阿妈
被年轻力壮的天葬师放上担架前，给她穿上
她喜爱的那套绿衬衣、绿条邦典[6]的藏装，
从刹那空寂却残留香味的卧室抬出的路线：
穿过用一条条挽结的白哈达隔出的通道，
两边是残花凋落的纷乱枝条出自她的栽种；
绕过供着美丽佛陀塑像和大桶清水的木桌，
桌下用糌粑画了古老的雍仲符号，而窗户上
映出几十盏点燃的酥油灯，摇曳着，如同照亮莫测的中阴；
依顺时针方向转一圈，再依逆时针方向转一圈，
这是让亡灵找不到回家之路的意思吗？
不料，紧攥着拴在担架上的哈达走在前面的我
一个踉跄，是阿妈不愿离去吗？泪水奔涌，
走出大门……不，我不能走出大门，据说奥密克戎
仿如可怕的巨兽，张开血盆大口，蹲伏门外！
是的，我们都不能走出大门，所有人；
我们都要乖乖地听话，所有人；
我们都须随时听令，所有人（新话称“不漏一人”）；
或者排长队做核酸，或者等大白[7]入户做核酸，
有天半夜还做过什么抗原，就像某种被操控的游戏……
人们啊，要活着还真是花样百出，心存侥幸，
最多隐约地感觉到有些深渊早在暗夜挖好。
对了，我们还要双手接过恩赐的连花清瘟[8]，
我们还要感激涕零，三呼万岁……
但我此刻不关心疫情，我已深陷生离死别的疫情！
啊，我的阿妈，你走过的这条离开我的，
离开你多年前一手盖起来的这座宅院的路线并不长，
如今我每日三次供酥都会反复地走来走去，
会边走边念六字真言，声音很大，如同呼喊，
就仿佛，被打动的观世音菩萨会垂怜丧母的人……
而我抬头，深邃、碧蓝的天空一缕白云飘来，
于是我再也、什么都听不见：救护车的不停
哀号，金刚铃的三声脆响，法王声若洪钟的救度，
以及这些日日夜夜我的祈祷……我啊我
什么都听不见，只听见那个生养我的亲人
最后的叹息：“来不及了，已经来不及了……”
2022年9月12日写，15日改，28日再改，于拉萨
注释：
[1]酥：གསུར་是一种烟供。传统上，须用特殊药粉及“三白三甜”（酥油、牛奶、酸奶；冰糖、红糖、蜂蜜）与糌粑搅拌，点燃后或烤出的香烟是某种食物，以求上供下施，以及亲人亡灵享用。
[2]《爱与黑暗的故事》是以色列作家阿摩司·奥兹（1939-2018）写的长篇自传体小说。
[3]传统上，是在陶罐内放置点燃的牛粪，再撒上酥，以供亡灵七七四十九天享用。
[4]修改这首诗时得知在拉萨盖好的、或临时设的方舱不止八、九个，而是二十多个，甚至更多，并扩延至附近的墨竹工卡县等。另外，将核酸检测为阳性、甚至也有阴性的人们拉往方舱的车，除了救护车，更多的是公交车，因为常常是深夜拉人，被拉萨人以黑色幽默的方式戏称为“恐怖片：拉萨午夜的公交车”。据公交公司的报告，截止9月23日，转运人员达到34.9万人次，而拉萨只有 80余万人口。补充：至9月28日，即我母亲离世“七七”四十九日，拉萨封城已是49天，尚不知何日解封。
[5]藏语的猪圈发音“帕仓”，乞丐的房子发音“邦仓”，与汉语方舱谐音。
[6]邦典：པང་གདན།，藏人妇女藏装裙袍上的围裙。
[7]大白：也是中国发明的一种新话，指参与疫情防控的人员，因穿白色防护服被称为“大白”。
[8]连花清瘟：中国发明的用中药材制成的以对付新冠病毒的药，是中国卫健委的推荐用药。
（这首诗发表于自由亚洲唯色博客2022年9月20日：https://www.rfa.org/mandarin/pinglun/weiseblog/ws-09202022131133.html。之后有修改和注释补充）
“The City Echoes with Ominous Ambulance Sirens…
––For my mother, for our Lhasa”
By Woeser
Translated by Christopher Peacock
The preset alarm sounds on my mobile, reminding me it’s time for the sur[i] offering
I put down Oz’s A Tale of Love and Darkness,[ii]
Rise and go to the doorway, take the sur mixed with tsampa and special medicinal powders,
And sprinkle it evenly in the smoke-blackened stainless-steel dish
I turn on the hotplate, and a roasted fragrance wafts up with the smoke.[iii]
It is midday, the scorching sun high in the sky, white clouds scattered about
I play a video of the Karmapa reciting the Prayer to be Reborn in the Blissful Pure Land,
But all I hear is the wail of an ambulance siren coming from nearby,
Urgent, ominous, intermittent, like it’s not just one,
Like they’re full of patients who need to be taken away in a hurry,
But taken where? Apparently there are eight or nine fangcang in Lhasa now[iv]
This word fangcang hasn’t been translated into Tibetan, and if your Chinese pronunciation is off,
It becomes the Tibetan word for a pigsty or a beggar’s hovel.[v]
These days, thirty-plus days now of “silent management,”
The whine of the ambulance is the only “strongest voice” in this empty city
(as in that Newspeak phrase, “the strongest voice of our times”)
What other sounds are there? Who can hear the sobs and cries?
Sparrows chirp atop the walls of the courtyard, The roses
In full bloom are red as blood, sucked silently by the little bees;
A stray cat, like a leopard, leaps off the rooftop piled with rotten wood and steals away.
The worldly apartment blocks, ever more and ever higher, block out the Podrang Potala,
And block out the sound of the chimes that used to carry on the wind.
I calm myself, raise the vajra bell, and face the sur and its curling smoke,
I ring it thrice and recite three times: Om ah hum
How I wish that Ama, gone a month now, could hear it, and come again…
And then, I would follow that deep night of eternal farewell, before Ama, so frail,
Was placed on the stretcher by the sky burial master, young and strong,
And dressed in that green Tibetan shirt and the matching pangden[vi] she loved so much,
Out from the bedroom, suddenly silent, but where a fragrance lingered:
Through a passageway separated by knotted white khatas
Flanked by tangled branches and withered flowers from all her planting;
Past the wooden offering table with the beautiful Buddha statue and the vat of fresh water,
The ancient yungdrung symbol made out in tsampa beneath, while the window reflects
dozens of lit Butter lamps, flickering, as if to illuminate the unfathomable bardo;
A clockwise circumambulation, and then one anticlockwise,
Is that so the departed won’t be able to find their way home?
As I walked ahead tightly clutching the khata tied to the stretcher, all of a sudden
I stumbled, did Ama not want to leave? The tears flowed,
And I walked out the door… No, I can’t walk out the door; they say Omicron
Lies in wait right outside, like a fearsome beast, bloody maw gaping!
Yes indeed, none of us can go outside, all of us;
We must obey like good little children, all of us;
We must heed the orders at all times, all of us (in Newspeak: “all without exception”)
Must stand in long lines for COVID tests, or wait for the Big Whites[vii] to come do them on the doorstep,
And one time an “antigen test” in the middle of the night, like some kind of rigged game…
Ah, humans––to survive we need a big bag of tricks and a lot of luck
At best we have the vague sense that some abysses were dug out in the deep night long ago
That’s right, we must receive with both hands the gift of Lianhua Qingwen pills,[viii]
We must shed tears of gratitude, and thrice call out Long Live the Emperor…
But I don’t care about the epidemic right now, I’m sunk in the epidemic of separation and death!
Ah, my Ama, this path you took to leave me, to leave the house you
Built all those years ago, was not a long one,
Now I walk it again and again as I perform my thrice daily sur offerings,
Reciting om mani padme hum as I go, loud, like I’m yelling it,
As if the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara will be moved and take pity on one who’s lost her mother…
And I look up, and a wisp of cloud drifts across the deep, azure sky,
And then I don’t hear anything anymore: the incessant wailing
Of the ambulances, the three crisp rings of the vajra bell, the resounding salvation of the Karmapa’s voice, and these prayers of mine, day after day, night after night… I, oh––
I don’t hear a thing, just the last sigh of the mother who carried and raised me:
“Too late, it’s too late now…”
Lhasa, September 12th, 2022; revised on the 15th, and again on the 28th.
Notes
[i] གསུར། a type of smoke offering for those who have passed into the bardo. Traditionally, it is made with special medicinal powders and the “three whites and three sweets” (butter, milk, and yoghurt; crystal sugar, brown sugar, and honey), all mixed together with tsampa. When roasted, the fragrant smoke it gives off acts as a kind of nourishment that is offered to the departed consciousnesses of close relatives.
[ii] A memoir by the Israeli author Amos Oz (1939-2018).
[iii] Traditionally, this ritual is performed by burning cow dung in a clay pot and sprinkling the sur on top, an offering to the deceased to be used for forty-nine days.
[iv] Fangcang is the Chinese word for a portable cabin, referring here to the temporary buildings set up to quarantine COVID patients. When I was revising this poem, I discovered that eight or nine was far too low an estimate: there are some twenty-odd of these makeshift hospitals in Lhasa––perhaps even more. They have also spread into Meldro Gungkar and other neighboring counties. What’s more, ambulances aren’t the only vehicles taking people away to the fangcang when they test positive (or even negative) for COVID: public buses are yet more common. Because they often come to take people away in the middle of the night, city residents have dubbed them “Lhasa’s Midnight Buses”––a black humor horror movie title. According to a report from the bus company, 349,000 people had been transferred in this way as of September 23rd, and Lhasa only has a population of just over 800,000.
[v] In Tibetan, pigsty is pronounced paktsang, while a beggar’s hovel is a trangtsang––both sound similar to the Chinese fangcang.
[vi] པང་གདན། the apron worn over a Tibetan woman’s dress.
[vii] Another “Newspeak” term coined in China referring to COVID prevention personnel, so-called because of their white protective suits.
[viii] A type of traditional Chinese herbal medicine, originally developed in China to combat SARS. It is recommended by the National Health Commission of the PRC as a treatment for COVID-19.
订阅：
博文 (Atom)