歌詞：
Jacqueline Du Pre杰奎琳·杜普蕾 《殇》(1)
如果我死去，你会不会思念我？
不会，我会陪你一起死
在夏日明亮的陽光裡。
我站在世界的尽头，
低頭俯視這風中的墳墓；
大地母親孤單的一個乳頭.
很久以前，你擁有這里高高的山丘，
暮色吞噬著我的眼淚;
如今依舊。
沿著蜿蜒狹窄的山路，
你說起，
有過風中的眼淚…
可似乎無所謂那樣的風和眼淚，
只有我聽到你說。
我閉上眼睛，幾十年過去了，
土地別有所主；
生活就像風中的塵土；
只有風中的眼淚，
细诉你我写不出的结局。
Sorrow
Jacqueline Du Pre杰奎琳·杜普蕾（1945-1987）
If I die, will u ever miss me?
No, let me share with you
In Light of the summer-time.
I stand here on
The edge of the world,
Watching down
The grave—a lone breast
Of Motherland in the wind;
Let darkness swallow my sorrow.
Time out the mind,
You have owned lofty hills,
Darkness swallows my sorrow.
Now still;
By the winding narrow road，
Yes，while you said that—
Tears and wind, as though
Wind or tears
Were all one to you?
No one hears only me …
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and decades gone;
We live on lands
Owned by someone;
Life as dust in the wind with
Tears detailing nameless
End to u and me.
（譯者）
第二章
幽灵与老人的对话：爱是永恒
十年生死两茫茫，
不思量，
自难忘。
千里孤坟，
何处话凄凉。
纵使相逢应不识，
尘满面，
鬓如霜。
——苏轼
悬崖上，
枝柯繁密茂盛。
深谷里，
溪流叮咚晶莹。
山风飘洒黄昏的雾霭，
覆盖住浆果垂挂的小径。
突然乌云骤起，
电闪雷鸣中，
一个身披悲恨尘埃的女子，
从古墓里惊醒。
我们故事女主人公杨艺萍，
在霏霏暮雨里，
时现时隐的身影。
她对着坟前的老人，
仿佛对着群山，
无情地诘问：
“——你是谁？”
杨牧云：
“——我是谁？
这简单的命题，
古往今来
蒙住了多少颗心，
难住了多少探索人生底蕴的人。
“——我是谁？
我是踏着波涛来的人，
是被你舍弃而消逝的人。
“在命运的航道里，
我是缝补黑夜与黎明的针。
可记得那只无情的手，
扯断了命运的线。
你为什么
默默地投身黄河？
我在寻找
领我穿越黑暗的人。”
幽灵：
“过去的时间，
未来的夙愿，
连接起一面怪异的铜镜，
照出阴阳两极；
无比的荒唐岁月，
照出你我永恒的厄运。”
杨牧云：
“那荒唐的年代，
太阳酒醉醺醺。
荣耀与虚浮，
冠以真理的威名；
希望与尊严，
被埋进深深的土层。
“命运忒虚假，
岁月尤狰狞。
多少怨梦呵多少悔恨，
缝缀在尘世的悲剧中。
“两朵命运的飘萍，
时代激流中
汇聚上海军营。
一个沂蒙山麓的女子，
初识江南水乡的年轻人，
几多差异与隔膜，
消融于洪流浪花中。”
幽灵：
“奔赴朝鲜冰雪的山野，
战火硝烟里重逢。
多事之秋的时代，
别离与企盼，
磨砺心灵；
结婚生子欣喜时，
厄运骤然降临。
多少悲喜多少哀怨，
构筑你我的历史年轮。”
杨牧云
“东风年华，
流水天涯，
所有的岁月都已变成，
一篇虚幻的神话。
桃李春风一杯酒
江湖夜雨十年灯
任它天光云锦，
繁花绿茵，
经不起风雨交加，
在政治神话的晕眩中，
一颗颗烂漫童心，
终于纷纷落入风尘。”
幽灵：
“往日的一切，
都是过眼烟云。
少年时的聪慧英气，
军营中的友爱情怀，
梦幻与理想，
青春与战火，
山风与海涛，
尘埃与流浪，
都已止息。
“可笑啊，
不幸的我
从坟墓醒来，
满头白雪皑皑；
分明阴阳阻隔，
生死两个世界。
“唉,今夜相见，
我们早已青春不再；
何为革命？
何为爱情？
你纵有生花妙笔
能将这个谜底揭开？”
…… ……
夜雾漫漫。
落叶纷纷。
所有乌云般的悲欢，
都已随风飘散。
亲爱的朋友，
两个主人公的对话，
你们已经听清，
古人曾说——
万里因循成久客，
一年容易又春风。
河水唱着哀歌流去了，
群山满怀依依之情。
战争岁月的往事，
在峰峦中屹立。
那热流滚滚的历史，
翻卷一页奇特的碑文。
老记者曹牧云，
从海外归来探亲；
陪同战友、爱妻
杨艺萍的幽灵，
随着爱神指引，
正无怨无悔地走向——
那场编织青春梦幻的战争。
2010-10-9，改于悉尼
Chapter 2
Ten years so long
When the living and the dead both have dimed,
Remember or not and yet effort beyond nought,
Yes，she might have been and I was.
A thousand miles away of her lonely grave it is,
To whom the griefs quivering could make echoing sound?
Might we meet again somewhere and both not recognized：
Yet，lost in thought；
A face dusted and the hairs grayed.
——Su Shi
A Dialogue about the Eternal Love
Between the ghost and an old man
On cliff-tops the thick rich trees,
Beneath, in a deep rocky-valley of a stream Ding-dongs
In the breeze floating along a quiet winding path,
Along with it dimly shine the fogy-dusk lights
On its path side wild fruits
Of their frisking branches
Suddenly appear overflowing the inky black clouds
Of the skies with thunders cracked and boomed in hills,
And bolts of lightning that awake a woman who was buried
In an old grave with her hatred dust, as
Another major character of this true story, named
Yang Yi-Pin now, yet through the dusk-rains
She-shadow suddenly and then disappears.
She gravely asked
The old man sitting In front of her grave, as
Faced the rows of mountains:
“Who are you”?
A quality darkly lambent in her voice;
Yang Mu-yun:
“—Who I am?
A simple proposition
From time immemorial,
That has duped so many a souls
To search for their own truth of real life.
.
“—who I am？
I am a man he tottered on the waves come
Even dumped by you then faded so long since.
“On of my fortune the rolling waves
I am a needle sewing the nights and dawns.
Remember that the pitiless hand
Had pulled half of a thread of our fate.
Unknowing Why? You committed a silent- suicide
In the rolling Yellow River,
And left me in the inky darkness searching the end.
She-shadow:
“Time of the past
And the wish for future they happened
To be beyond compare a joining of two extremes
Of Yin-Yang in a strange copper-mirror within
An illustration of
Were-Ridiculous ages
And of shows of our eternal doom”
Yang Mu-yun:
“Were-fantasies' ages when the suns
Drunken in the bright sky; in the blight of Might
The glory named the gospels
Within eels conceited
And yet Dignity and hopes
Buried in the deep mud.
“The fortune was so false
And the Were-fantasies' ages so hideous;
That swallowed much nightmares and regrets
In many tragedies down the heart of the dusty- world.
“This was a pair of a duck-weed
inconspicuous on wild current ；
In Shanghai Army-Camp they had encountered:
The one as a young lady from the foot of Yi-Meng Mountain;
Another one, a young man from a Jiang-Nan rice-field;
Their own living-traces, estranged from each other,
Dispelled by the fatal wild currents “
She-shadow：
“Hasten To go to Korea fields, icy-snowy Mountains
Met again over the life of war by pure chance.
An age of meddled seasons when
Parted and then standing on tiptoe;
The days when
Getting married and a baby born
But blue air soared too high
Downing eerily into black skies.
That had formed our historic growth rings.”
Yang Mu-Yun:
“The days when east-wind blew, ignored
A stream of life carried its all welcome sights
Of spring, yet in a shared void
Of a fairy tale false.
Peaches pears in the spring wind, a cup of wine-colored;
Night-rains on water-ripples, along by lamplight decade-long.
No matter clouds colored in a sunset,
And rich greenness flourished golden-yellow blossoms,
When a windy-rains’ storm comes over
They all in being merely decorations
As political mythology looked after
The pulses of rapt brains of sprig-boys—
The dusty-wind chases the rustle leaves.
She-shadow:
“Whole past of the world
Like eyeing the smoky- clouds faded;
Remember those boys in spring fresh,
Idealism with a dream-winged
With their comrade-hearts,
In the army camp, then, let each youthhood
In the war-fire flash.
Now the chill-mountain wind
Approaches sea-waves,
The long way the dust gave chase but now dead rest.
“Now with a laugh of every corner, ruined
I in a quiet sector of a quiet world—
I wake in the grave,
Hairs snowy-white
Surely out the living world,
Be a death- holder breathing dead.
“We meet at tonight, Should sigh
Our days been gone;
What kind of is Revolution?
The core of true love is?
But even hold a blooming-pen,
With vacant lips the solutions of the puzzles still unknown.
……
Night-fogs flowing,
Leaves fall rustling;
Sorrows and joys black as thick-clouding
Those go within the wind.
The ears dear of the world hear
The dialogues of the two lovers;
And a long time ago a wise ancient poet sighed:
“The one used to be through thousands of miles
At easy of year after year, laughing at a new spring wind.”
Now at the top-relics, autumn wind in the willful blows,
And a river runs in a sorrowful song beneath.
The past things of the war-time rose
From the broad alluvial valleys
Over the rows of mountains, as
Roaring waves of the burning histories
Show up a page of an epigraph.
The old man was a correspondent in the Korean War,
Now comes from oversea to visit his comrade
And his love-wife Yang Yi-Pin, as a She-Shadow;
Both fully-hearted, guided by Cupid,
Plunging again into the past war,
Of it the red-flags flying over
Many green visions of dreaming youth soul.
