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雙語《遠去的羣山》第十一章(冰夫/朱文正)
作者:进生  发布日期:2020-11-21 14:18:08  浏览次数:224
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曹牧云由北京至上海途中的梦

我最初的朋友是大海。

如今,我最后的朋友还是大海。

我不再言语。我干活,我解读,

双腿交叉坐在挂有灯笼的桅杆下面。

我努力忘记幸福是什么,

却无济于事,我只好数天上的星星。               

         ——德里克·沃尔科特(圣卢西亚诗人)

夜深沉,

月色朦胧,

列车驰过华北平原往南行。

前往上海的曹牧云,

断断续续沉睡在怀乡梦境。

 

车过黄河桥,

悲从心头生。

他忽见爱妻杨艺萍,

在河面浮现的身影;

她湿漉漉走进车厢,

倚靠在床铺上,

泪水淋淋。

 

曹牧云喜出望外恍若再生,

他张开期待已久的双臂,

紧拥爱妻,又替她擦亁泪痕,

他在艺萍脸颊印下无数热吻。

千万句知心话儿,

涌上唇边,无限温存。

一句句柔声细语之后,

他方知自己置身梦境。

想起爱妻最后走上绝境,

话语中又爱又怜,有怨有恨:

再也没有想到:

你,我一生钟爱敬重的人,

一只不死的涅盘凤凰,

多少次与死神搏斗,

在烈火中重生;

你是沂蒙山飞出的天使,

曾在朝鲜战场上救死扶伤,

救过我,你钟情的人;

也冒死救过无数垂危战友

让他们获得第二次宝贵生命。

可是,你却抵挡不住死神的召唤

成为跳进黄河也洗不清自己名声的人……”

 

杨艺萍惨然一笑:

 “世道如此诡诈,

谁能透析复杂人生:

何为革命?

何为爱情?

走过无数人生圆环,

有谁能先知先觉,

预知噩梦狞恶、人生险峻?

度过几多蹉跎岁月,

有谁懂积毁销骨?

有谁懂众口铄金?

有谁知阴险小人

在暗中销熔革命者的生命?

 

爱河中,再长久的一生,                     

只不过是短暂一瞬。

谁会想到,

你和我相爱,                 

竟敷演一出悲剧

在异国山野埋下苦根!”

 

爱妻艺萍一席心中话

激起曹牧云强烈的共鸣:

多少个寒暑,

多少个春秋,

尽管时事沧桑,

岁月流逝,

那火热的记忆却未曾衰败。

订约的人苍然老去,

时光却无法消除

创痕的存在。

于是,我用浸血的泪水

将昔日层层包裹起来。

 

分别的时候没说一句话,

我额角留下时代钤印的魔咒。

艺萍,多少年在梦中,

我紧握住你的手,

仿佛厄运降临那天,

两颗心冰冷颤抖。

头顶闪烁真理的光华,

我们只能默默忍受。

 

在铁窗无眠的夜晚,

在严寒饥饿的劳改工地,

在辞别故国海岸的黄昏,

我,独自面壁的孤寂灵魂,

曾为你、为我暗中哭泣。

 

流浪不是自我的选择,

澳大利亚的慷慨世人皆知。

浪迹海外的日日夜夜,

常有瞬间即逝的异乡梦忆。

游览阿尔卑斯山的假日,

幸会战火里死而复生的兄弟,

祁昌酸甜苦辣的人生,

天上地下半个世纪。

 

每次睡梦中回首,

都要触到灵魂的隐痛。

在深深的静默里,

我看见你哀怨绝望的目光,

总在询问我同一个问题:

何为革命?

何为爱情?

 

一连串的悲欢离合,

一连串的阴差阳错,

为何偏偏在我俩命运中出现?

在人生长途每一个转角,

在生命链条每一个扣结,

多舛的命运密码

为何总埋藏其间?

这些乖异的偶然,

令我心存悬念。

 

如今回首

人生曲折之路,

蓦然发现:

一切脉络,

竟如此清晰了然。

方才痛苦地领悟:

阶级和阶级斗争

也许是灾难和忧伤的根源。

 

五十年过去了,

我伫立雪梨海滨,

隔着太平洋,

常常在碧空寻觅:


  
寻觅你那梦幻般的眼睛,

那梦幻般的声音。

 

记得吧?

1957年,夏夜的烟台,

那一晚沙滩的路有多长;

涨潮了,湿漉漉的月亮,

飘向远方的梦,

像古屋廊檐的蛛网。

我向你讲述第一次寻找大海,

离开故乡的县城,

在茫茫树林里孤独地行走。

没有同伴,

也没有行囊,

走啊走,摆脱葛藤羁绊,

山泉小鸟在前引路,

我粗糙而稚嫩的脚板,

跨过峰峦的屏障,

终于听到呼啸的涛声涌来。

看到波涛汹涌的大海,

在地平线闪光。”

 

牧云的倾诉

唤醒艺萍的记忆:

一切的一切,我怎能忘?

那一晚我们踏着月光,

带着三岁的女儿,

在沙滩徜徉。

涨潮了,

浪花咬脚,

心在飞翔。

远处有夜航船驶向

灯火阑珊的烟台海港。

海风吹来花草气息,

夜的宁静。

海的平和。

心的安详。

 

谁能设想:

京都带雨的云团,

正把风暴酝酿。

事情正在起变化’

天大的“阳谋”布下罝网。

 

你说:没有猜疑,

没有忌妒,

两颗心眷念

方能天久地长。

信赖,丝的网络,

金的环扣,

编织的童话不会逃亡。

 

那曾想——

鸣’和‘放’

原是钓鱼的诱饵,

多少人向组织交心,

敞开赤裸的胸膛。

 

虚荣与自尊,

原本是非分明。

经不起邪恶的诱惑,

摆不脱小布尔乔亚的劣根。

我一封原始的‘思想汇报’,

彻底改变你的命运 ,

毁灭了你的青春。

 

这一切因我而起

怎能设想:

我一生中唯一‘出卖’的人,

竟是我最亲爱的人!”

 

杨艺萍剖析内心的自白,

深深震撼曹慕云的灵魂。

他说:“那个狂热的年代,

盲目的激情烧毁人性。

忠诚失去做人的标准,

良知违背了应有的公正。

青春与友谊。

幻想与爱情。

原则高于一切,

道德沦落成虚伪的证明。”

 

杨艺萍望着心爱的人

哭泣无声,泪水盈盈:

在你被送往农场改造的那天,

我像被剥去衣服的妖魔,

一个陷害亲人的罪魁祸首,

悄悄站在后山的高坡,

目送汽车远去。

 

天阴沉沉,

乌云吞没了太阳。

眼泪亁涸了,

尖刀仍在挖搅肝肠。

女儿偎依怀中,

紧紧撕扯我衣裳。

我虽痛恨自己无耻,

但绝未丧尽天良。

烟台港的灯火熄灭了,

谁可怜我们伶仃母女,

躺在南山冰冷的地上?”

 

曹慕云:“每次睡梦中回首,

都要触到灵魂的隐痛。

在深深的静默里,

我看见你哀怨绝望的目光,

像在等我回答同一个问题:

何为爱情?

何为革命?”

 

杨艺萍:“我的脑海里,

常常时光倒置:

战地《等着你》,

变成泪水浸泡的

无限期地‘等你——

 

等你,南山上

那颗星黯淡了光芒;

等你,山毛榉的劲枝

牵起朝霞一缕嫣红,

挽住如钩的新月,

缓缓西移。

 

等你,在山画眉

飞过的林子里,

等你,一丛丛

白杜鹃悄然开放,

盼望你的归来,

曾经两眼酸刺疼痛。

沿着那天你越过堤岸,

匆匆走去的路

 

那条路,

那条原本通往

理想圣殿的小路,

已经变冷;

生活在风暴中的人群,

像河岸边的芦苇,

左右摇摆,

晃荡不定。

 

潮涨,潮落,

多少年过去了。

古老的海堤已经拓宽,

通向灯塔的大路晶莹明亮。

牧云,你还记得

咱们的海边小屋吗?

风暴来时地板吱吱鸣响,

女儿吓得哇哇哭泣,

整座房子像艘木船在摇晃。

你说这座小城迟早要变,

咱们会有一座,

明亮稳固的楼房。

 

多少年过去了。

沉睡抑或悲痛,归于

泪珠滚滚的梦境。

我的躯壳早已回归大海,

骨灰盒埋在沂蒙山间的松林。

 

牧云,去找江惠吧,

她对你怀有真情;

只是为了我,

她才远远回避你,

甚至隐姓埋名。

牧云,去吧,去找她,

告诉她,一定告诉她:

我解脱枷锁的灵魂,

无比自由地,

在黑暗与光明间穿行?”

 

2010-7-26-草成10-16修改

Chapter 11

 Had chosen you

  the blue seabeing the foremost friend ;

Now chose you,

  So deep and dark the sea is like the last friend.

No more talking but

Work in silence and unscramble in it.

Cross-leggedI sit

 Beneath the crosstrees which hung with lanterns.

   I try so hard to forget what

 The meaning of human’s happiness is,

   But in vain, so I'm beginning to count

Upon the sky every star listless. 

                         ——Sir Derek Walcott


On the way from

Beijing to Shanghai the dream of Cao Mu-yun

 

The night deepened

And the moon hazy;

The train’s running southwards on the northern-plain.

Cao Mu-yun going to Shanghai with

A broken dream.

 

Over a Great-iron Bridge of the Yellow-River,

When the whistle lorn caught the night and low,

And shook the silent waves

From his life in a given summer

When every splash never runs dry that same yellow;

With the irony-wheels

Rattled, the troubled soul with tender

Sorrows rose from corners of his heart.

The echoed yellow waves

More like to fail, a reflection there

While a glimpse of a family figure

Appeared, still on the water,with his

Practiced eye was not without perceiving that it was

That his wife, wild-eyed Yang Yi-ping behind a wet

Veil. Then her wet body flew up into the

Compartment,leaning upon his bedside,

Tears shone in her eye.     

 

As happy as being reborn Cao was, he stretched

Out his arms, holding his love so tight, and

wiped her tears and kissed a lot on her cheek

Stumbled over words he longed to hear and say all

Murmured on his lips a soft in him they could speak.

The face resurfaced, water-dripped hair and tearful

Now disappearing, now finding self…thought

Of his love about the last journey:

Died with no room to die again;

His never-ending burden.

Heavy of the past:

His words sounded of love and pity,

Of bitterness and lament, as a naked soul:

“Never thought: you, as my lifelong love and model

With heavenly shine, robed in fires of Dearth or

Bright-reborn with the well-a-day, just a never-die-

Phoenix in Nirvana is an angel she belongs

To the range of Yi-Meng Mountains.

You had rescued the many on battlefields,

Me, your love and many others, for whom

You had risked your own giving them the reborn.

But you could not bear the deadly call of Death,

And jump down embracing to the Mother River emotion

Make you feel so light to her Yellow rolling rhythms:

I am dying, forever rolling, just like one

Of those fated waves

Touching the yellows and gone in

No returning, no shame

—The Yellow River is our wildlands' hourglass,

She never let you—no lapse of time, no distance

Of space—down towards the blue sea to be forgotten:

As the leaving-now-then-living- for- ever-voice

Until flesh no longer talks to flesh: 

It's meant to be

Of spirit of the rioting land of Promises.

 

Yang Yi-ping smiled grimly:

“With rocks the mountain being high and

With drops sea being boundless wild,

Who with Home Rule sun

Could dissect their own lives and the world?

What does that revolution mean?

What does that love mean?

Walked jerkily into many circles of life,barely

Know who you are talking to, can such things be?

Then feel self

 Had been eaten and spewed, as for rest rubble,

The very worst hour of the nightmare,

Is the hour so late, sprawling the years the waste.

Pity to knowslandering on whom then passing away

Gold melting of heat spilled of mass of mouths.

Who knows those cunning old toadies?

Same fellows are

Used to sending thought-honored believers

On the scaffold high in the dark;

A good system for the two-faces.

 “In a river of the free love life of lovers

Whatever longest runs merely as an instant in it;

Then who could know that the lives'

Bitter roots of you and me of

A tragic-drama planted in the land of

A place unknown

 

Her continued voice woke in the shadows

A stream of an echo of his heart:

“How many summers there and winters,

How many autumns there and springs,

Within all unremitting contests of the top game

Of the men, keeping bide the sun farewell;

My hot memories never wane, even the human

Flesh dated, mauled, and withered

On the wane. Time never has been

Killing the aching spot.

Hence, the tears blood-stained

Of mine held fast in the heavy sorrowful past.

 

“Parting we seemed to say no words;

On my forehead high is the symbol of curse.

Many a year I have been in my dreams,

Holding your hand as the same day when we parted,

Two hearts in wintry cold beneath

The richest light of Truth,

In summer blue sky

Stifled the voices the rude tide.

 

“In sleepless nights behind a bar,

In the chill matchless hunger of the labor field,

In dusks apart from homeland' seashore,

I cried, yet I crying, a soul, facing alone the world,

Cry in white silence, for myself and for you.

 

“Roam about is not self-choice;

Even everyone knows Australia a generous country.

Day and night when roaming about the world

Often without an echo,

A strange dream has come for a moment.

Holidays when going sightseeing in the Alps,

A dear fellow who supposed to be dead

Long in the past war,in charming met, with

His heaven and earth

Of half-century's weathering lives”.

 

“A dream, every time cast

A look behind, Yet re-approached

Of my soul the aching spots,

I saw you, then seeing your eyes asked

Melancholy in silence:

What does that revolution mean?

What does that love mean?

 

“Either there a sprinkling of

Happy rejoining and sad parting

Or chances to coalesce with two lovers of

Not-yet-for this timing:

That has bad appeared at our fate

At every turning corner of our journey and

At every knot of the chaining event,

Why whatever cipher or code on a rocky road?

The dim power of the human heart.

 

 “Cast a look behind the wound road of

Our being, suddenly all the threads of

It clearly appears in front of

The plastic power of

Our eye: the unrest spirit of

The class struggles bearing

The class brand have done a double-taking

Suffers in disaster, no mercy.

 

 “Fifty years have passed by, now I am

Standing by Sydney beach,

Partitioned by the Pacific Ocean,

Often gazing upon the blue

Of your dreaming eyes

And hearing waves of your voice.

 

“Remember the year 1957, Yan-Tai city.

A road so long on a foot-scuffed sandy beach;

As when, upon a traced summer-night,

The tide raised, a wet moon came upon the silence.

A dream as a spider-web beneath ancestral eaves

Went on,a while I was telling you

The first time of a noble boy,

Of a passion of approaching sea, that made me

Leave my home-town soon in woods, not alone

But solitary; And kept through aged boughs,

That yielded like mists, neither hail-fellow nor

Bag; just kept getting rid of a dense

Brake of cane and brier,

Following the branch-charmed by the earnest bids

And sounding streams as the hills' voices.

Trusted my young and rough feet over the ridges

Until I came near and near the sea,

Heard its sounds of voice, gazing at rolling waves,

Lights dotted shone on the soul horizon.

 

The tell of Mu-Yun awaking

The memories of Yang Yi-ping

“There was a chain of events

That would never be forgotten:

That night with our daughter aged three, we paced on

Beneath the moonlight, wondering along

The sandy beach,high water at bay, the murmurs

Of lines Of white waves about the feet, souls

Flying up to the air; looked careflly in the distance

There was a ship solitary sailing towards

The shadow light Of the Yantai harbor;

The sea winds blew in the smells

Of flowery- grass on the land...

The quite calm night was,

Wave’s mild, and,

The heart kept calm sooth.

 

“Who could imagine that?

The rain-stored clouds

Over the capital of the country

Within the black storms:

“Things are changing ”—yet makeup pitfalls

 Under sunshine of politicians' one way

Of getting the kill designed on in the world.

                                                                       

“you said never be suspicious

Never be jealous of

Between two love hearts,

There would be a long-lasting life of

It; trusting as a net

Of silk and fibulae gold,

With this one a fairy tale never out.

 

“Did it ever strike the people the watchwords?

—“Ming/ Fang”—Open hearty and say honestly—

That just was alike fishing baits

Many a man and a woman lost

Their eternal mornings with the jaw-dropping truth.

 

“Vainglory and self-respect,

One black, and one white;

As see, bear not the evil allure

And could-not-dismiss the bad root

Of the petit bourgeoisie.

The papers of the thought-honored primary report

Of mine in black and white

Totally made change your fortune,and yet

Ruined the whole youth of my love.

 

“Woe is me to trap you in

I never could think of it before:

The only betrayed by me in

My whole life is the only one, my lover.”

 

While she told all thoughts from her heard, was

Shocked the soul of Cao Mo-yun,

He said: “too huge for mortal tongue those mad years

And passions were blinded but to burn,

The loyal that never hold standards of the men;

The inwit that forever

Is vanishing by violating justness.

Lovingness and illusion,

Youth and friendships;

The principle that sits at the stern

To make morals be hypocritical, an emperium.”

 

Watched the love of her, cried

In muse and tears welled out:

“Sad was the day When you were forced to go

To a labor-camp,it is my hand naked framed up you,

As evil as a chief criminal, stood

On the slope of rear-hill, only miles of a gazing eye

Of a car far beyond straitened banks…

 

“The sky dim; Thick clouds

Shadowed the sun. Her eyes

Blurred with tears; the glint

Of the blade cutting hurt inside my heart.

My daughter steadily against

My bosom she button-held,

I take it with me but never being an evil-doer.

 

The light of Yantai harbor went out; my daughter and

Me lying down at the chill land of Southern-Mountain

Who could see in curiosity?”

 

Cao Mu-yun said:

“A dream of casting a look behind

In silence every time re-approached

Of my soul the aching spot; then

Seeing your eyes ask melancholy:

What does that revolution mean?

What does that love mean?”

 

Yang YI-ping said: “in my thought, I wonder,

What is now what was passed?

wait to youin battlefield

Singing then of my tearing heart —

For the days of you back, I could never know.

 

“Wait to you, above the gray South-mountain

There is a star that darkened its rays;

Wait to you, of rich beeches on

The peaks of the mountain its wide branches

Holding gladsome lights of a fresh sunrise

And a feather of a new moon the east westwards.

 

“Wait to you, there is

 The belt of thick trees

The hill-thrushes fly through wherein in silence,

And blossom the white azaleas;

Wait for you returning homewards—

Miles Of sour pain eye

Of the road before you in haste 

Far beyond those banks.

 

“There is another road or a byway, leads

In saying, to an ideal holy-palace,

Becoming very chill linked with bygone days—

And with a great future behind it—that makes

The people keep waving Left-and-then-right as

Pleasure-waved reeds

Besides the river-walls

In currents.

 

“The tide rises, the tide falls,

Years passed.

The old sea walls widened, bright is 

The Broadway, leading to the light-tower.

“Mu Yun, do you still remember

Our seaside the little house those days

When the storm came and rattled on its timber-floor

And our daughter cried with

A scare echoed in the house a vessel at a roaring sea.

So the small town sooner or later would

Be re-build and, a Light and strong house

We would have, you say, like rock-based.

 

“Years:

Same yellow waves and mountains and an endless sea

That bore it buried deep and cold as

Wave after wave absorbed in vain by beach sands;

Many sounding nights of sleep or melancholy in songs

Bear many teary-dim dreams.

My body has washed away by rolling yellow waves

Toward the far-distant sea;

And down those hills beneath those pine trees,

The mountain winds

Are blowing, beside the silent streams

The urn buried deep and cold without swelling vein

Of star-grasping youth and wan memories

Of Yi-Meng sun;

Remember years ago a bevy of girls of ravines ran

As feet On the poor thin soil and

Rockbound land and their laughing in hill-wind.

 

“Mu Yun, you must go to find her,

Jiang-Hui, She is really to love you,

Only because of me, she quit the luck of her;

Somewhere there among the people, away from you,

Even remaining incognito, she has hidden her

Individual life. Mu-Yun, go, go to find her,

Tell her, please to tell her:

My proud blood still being a roving soul,

I have got rid of the yoke Itook with me, a winner

In fail at the game between light and dark soil…”




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