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天獵

凌風 譯

 

我逃避祂,歷經白晝,到夜間;
我逃避祂,歷經年復一年;
我逃避祂,歷經我自己思念中
錯綜的迷徑;在凄迷的眼淚裏
我躲藏祂,在連續的嘻笑後面。
我急速的攀登希望的遠景,
又吶喊,流汗,
在下邊巨大可怕的深淵,
那強壯的腳步,在身後跟着,跟在後邊。
但不是匆忙的追趕,
腳步並不慌亂,
從容的速度,緊促而不失莊嚴,
腳步節奏中-聲音響起
比那腳步更近邇-
“你這背離我的,萬有都背離你。”

我抗辯,逾越法制的邊限,
有許多可愛的窗檻,垂着紅的窗帘,
其間有恩愛的糾纏
(我雖知道祂的愛跟隨着,
卻是深深的懼怕
惟恐有了祂,就必須捨棄所有的其他愛戀);
但是,如果那小窗扉只開啟一扇,
祂的狂風將衝進裏面。
懼怕不知如何逃,愛卻要追趕。
我奔逃,超越世界的邊緣,
闖進了群星的金衢街道間,
擾亂了他們的柵欄尋求遮掩;
穿越那些芳香的瓶罐
搖動月亮的銀門發聲鏗然。
我對清晨說:快來;告訴夜:不要遲延;
用你的新花掩埋我
躲避那極端的愛的眼!
撒出你朦朧的紗環繞我,叫祂看不見!
我試遍祂所有的僕役,終於發現
我雖然背逆他們卻貞堅,
他們對主忠實對我卻多變,
他們的違逆是真實,赤誠是欺騙。
我向所有迅速的東西請求速援;
攀懸在每陣呼嘯的風長鬣上面。
但不論他們如何猛馳,疾駛,
那碧藍的長空平原;
或是乘駕雷電,
他們緊附着祂的車橫越上天
繞蹄濺着飛行的電閃-
懼怕不知如何逃,愛卻要追趕。
仍然不匆忙的追趕,
腳步並不慌亂,
從容的速度,緊促而不失莊嚴,
那腳步跟在後邊,
語音比步聲更加清晰-
“沒有甚麼不接納我,而能接納你。”

我不再尋求從前的迷途
那臉孔是男或是女;
但仍然在小孩童的眼中
似乎有些甚麼,甚麼可以給我答覆;
至少他們會支持我,一定支持我!
我轉向他們滿懷着希望;
可是,正當他們忽然示愛凝眸
將要把答案傾吐,
天使抓住了頭髮拉他們離去。
“來吧,你們大自然另外的兒女-”
我說:“與我同享你們美好的歡娛;
讓我親吻歡迎你,
讓我與你擁抱輕撫,
嬉戲
弄我們母親飄揚的長髮,
歡宴
在她風為牆壁的宮府,
她湛藍的頂蓋遮覆,
照你純潔的樣子,
從杯中,傾飲着
晶瑩明亮的陽光。
這些都過去了;
我曾是他們甘美團契中之一員-
開啟過自然的秘密之閂。
我知道一切的意含
在上天固執的臉;
我知道雲如何升起
狂野的海噴吐沫涎;
所有的生或死亡
升或沉降-使他們能形成-
我自己的心境,哀悼或逍遙-
同他們歡樂或悲慘。
我很憂悶在晚間
當她燃點她閃亮的燈盞
圍繞白晝死去的尊嚴。
我歡笑在清晨的眼簾。
我歡騰又悲哀隨着氣候變換,
天與我一同哭泣,
天的甜淚和我的融合成鹹;
夕陽的心赤紅震顫
我把自己跳動的心並放在那邊,
二者的熱交會相連;
但不是如此,如此作,只是消除我人生的傷痛。
我的眼淚徒然沾濕了上天灰色的面頰。
噢!因為我們彼此言語不通,
我和自然界;雖然我言語有聲-
他們的言語卻是靜默,他們只是移動。
自然,可憐的繼母,不能夠舒解我的枯旱;
如果她還承認我,讓她
解下那藍色的胸衫,向我顯露出
她雙乳的柔軟;
她從沒有用一滴的乳汁滋潤
我嘴唇的乾渴。
逼近更逼近的追趕,
腳步並不慌亂,
從容的速度,緊促而不失莊嚴,
有個聲音傳來的更快捷
在腳步的聲響以先-
“注意,如果不滿足我,沒有甚麼會滿足你。”

我無助的等待你愛的下擊!
一件一件的你解除了我的武裝,
又打倒使我屈膝;
我全然無法反抗。
我想,我睡去,又醒覺,
慢慢的,我發現在睡中被剝脫得赤裸。
我曾鹵莽的以充沛的青年精力,
在我撼動巨柱的時刻
盡情的任意生活;沾滿了污跡,
我站在歲月堆積的灰塵裏-
我糟蹋的青年死去沉埋在灰堆底。
我破碎的年日化成煙逝去,
如泡沫升脹又破碎在陽光下的水面。
是的,現在都已破失:夢幻
和作夢的人,琵琶和弄絃者;
超越我綴連幻想,在它編織的花樣裏
運轉大地猶如小玩意在腕間,
腱索都嫌不夠強健
因為地上沉重的憂傷過於充滿。
啊!你的愛豈是
一種耶草,雖則是不衰亡的野草,
不讓任何花兒滋長只自己擴展?
啊!必定-
無限的設計者-
啊!你豈是定要燒焦樹林才可造成木炭?
我青年的力量耗盡抖顫着歸於塵土;
現在我的心如同破裂的泉源,
眼淚從裏面流積着,
從陰濕的思想不停的流
分濺在我心靈嘆息的枝頭。
既如此,又將如何?
果漿這樣苦,果皮的味道何以堪?
我隱約的猜想迷霧中的時間朦朧難辨;
從永恆隱藏的城垣
卻偶爾有號角聲響起;
暫時震動迷霧閃開空隙一片,然後
在半瞥之後樓闕重被遮掩。
但到祂傳召之後
我才得看見,展現
絢麗的紫袍,柏葉的冠冕;
我知道祂的名,號角已經宣示。
是否人的心或生命能出產
你的莊稼,你那產地
必須用糞肥和腐朽的死?

在那長久的追逐之後
巨響已近在身邊;
那聲音包圍我像是突來的海濤一般:
“是否你的土地已全失盡
像破而又碎的瓦片?
看哪,因你逃避我,所有的都逃避你!
奇怪,可憐,無益的東西,
何必讓其他的把你的愛隔離?
只有我從無有造出萬有。”祂說。
“人性的愛需要有人間的成就
你有甚麼可值得誇口-
所有泥塊的人中最骯髒的泥塊?
唉,你不知道
你何等不值得任何的愛!
你能找到誰肯救卑賤的你
除了我,除非唯一的我?
所有我從你拿去的我剝奪
並非是要害你,
是要你能單從我手中尋得。
你一切童騃的誤意
幻想是損失,我都已經為你收存在家裏;
起來,握緊我的手,來!”

那腳步在我旁停住;
或許是我的陰鬱,
祂的手蔭伸出慰撫?
“啊,最愚昧,最軟弱,最盲目的,
我是那一位你尋求追逐!
你驅動我的愛,愛驅使我。”

  英國詩人湯樸生,父親為執業醫生。父親希望他讀神學,但他選擇習醫學。不過,他習醫失敗,貧病交迫,為止病痛,又染上了鴉片的嗜好,淪落倫敦街頭,賣火柴和報紙為生,一度寄居在修鞋店裏幫閒。但他總不肯放棄所喜愛的文學和鴉片。後來,有一個編輯Wilfred Meynell發現他的才華,在其雜志上發表了他的詩,並送他入醫院療養恢復健康,又助他刊行詩集。他的詩出版後,勃朗寧(Robert Browning)讀過後大為讚賞;特別是“天獵”詩,他的朋友Coventry Patmore稱之為英國文學中的最佳作品。
  湯樸生的詩,很像十七世紀英國宗教詩人的作品。在“天獵”詩中,有豐富的意喻,還像奧古斯丁(St. Augustine),敘述自己的懺悔,特別是神的恆久忍耐和不可抗拒的恩典。人在神以外追尋滿足,結果不過是虛空和失望;也描述人的逃避與神恩的追逐,仿佛是詩篇第一百三十九篇的演述。

 

The Hound of Heaven

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days,
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities
(For, though I knew His love Who followed,
Yet was I sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside).
But, if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of His approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clanged bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.
I said to Dawn: Be sudden- to Eve, Be soon;
With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
From this tremendous Lover-
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
The long savannahs of the blue;
Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged his chariot 'thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn of their feet: -
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Still with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat -
"Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me."

I sought no more that after which I strayed
In face of man or maid;
But still within the little children's eyes
Seems something, something that replies;
They at least are for me, surely for me!
I turned me to them very wistfully;
But, just as their young eyes grew sudden fair
With dawning answers there,
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.
"Come then, ye other children, Nature's - share
With me" said I, "your delicate fellowship;
Let me greet you lip to lip,
Let me twine with you caresses,
Wantoning
With our Lady-Mother's vagrant tresses,
Banqueting
With her in her wind-walled palace,
Underneath her azured dais,
Quaffing, as your taintless way is,
From a chalice
Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring."
So it was done:
I in their delicate fellowship was one-
Drew the bolt of Nature's secrecies.
I knew all the swift importings
On the willful face of skies;
I knew how the clouds arise
Spumed of the wild sea-snortings;
All that's born or dies
Rose and drooped with; made them shapers
Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine;
With them joyed and was bereaven.
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning's eyes.
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine;
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart
I laid my own to beat,
And share commingling heat;
But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek.
For ah! we know not what each other says,
These things and I; in sound I speak-
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;
Let her, if she would owe me,
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
The breasts o' her tenderness:
Never did any milk of hers once bless
My thirsting mouth.
Nigh and nigh draws the chase,
With unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;
And past those noised Feet
A voice comes yet more fleet-
"Lo! naught contents thee, who content'st not Me!"

Naked I wait Thy love's uplifted stroke!
My harness piece by piece Thou has hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee;
I am defenseless utterly.
I slept, methinks, and woke,
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
I stand amid the dust o' the mounded years-
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;
Even the linked fantasies, in whole blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
Ah! is Thy love indeed
A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?
Ah! must-
Designer infinite!-
Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?
My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust;
And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.
Such is; what is to be?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity;
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.
But not ere him who summoneth
I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes, purpureal, cypress-crowned;
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.
Whether man's heart or life it be which yields
Thee harvest, must Thy harvest fields
Be dunged with rotten death?

Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at hand the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
"And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught," (He said),
"And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited-
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to live ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!"

Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."


Francis Thompson, 1859-1907
English Poet

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