Nearly Said By Gao Weixi

作品原文

高维晞 《欲说还休》

一种忧郁的情怀,幽灵般不时悄悄浮上我的心间,拂之不去,驱之犹存,日久弥新,似要与我永世同在……我惊讶了:究竟发生了什么?

军营中总是阳盛阴衰。你面若桃花,身材苗条,性情温柔,如鹤立鸡群,更弥足珍贵了;无数双眼睛仰望着你。一个小个子科长,无论早操、吃饭、晚点名,只要排队,就站在你的身旁。大家都觉纳罕,但你却落落大方,彬彬有礼,只作视而不见。

好像是他拖人说项,一个大个子男人便理直气壮地常来拜访你。当我看到你们双双坐三轮车驶向市区的时候,先时不以为意,过后不久,慢慢地看出些端倪,有人说是乘人之危,还有人说是引狼入室……

我曾无意中瞥见,他谄媚的眼光中,似乎闪过你一丝得意的神情,我想,你真的可能属于他了。

你我只是教授语文的同事而已。至多能谈得来些。每每有关于孔子,关于普希金和契科夫的艺术优劣,福尔摩斯侦探案在文学史上的地位之类的小小争论。那些,都属于纯学术范围,对吗?

五月的黄昏,榴红似火。我倚一颗树干而立,你则端坐在一个树杈上,轻启朱唇,低声吟唱《梅娘曲》。吟罢,无语相对,任晚风吹拂,良久不去。当月出东方,情晖透过花隙,斑斑点点在你脸上脉脉荡漾的时候,我读到了什么?是无字的诗,立体的画,是揭示人生奥秘的神谕。我的心灵开始轻轻地战栗……

又是一个榴花红遍天涯的五月,旧痕已逐渐平复,我们又邂逅相遇。趁无人的时候,你悄悄对我说:“一切都是命,我没想到会和他结合。”这话够煞风景。我问:“什么意思?”你低眉寻思片刻,并不作答,然后戚戚一笑,翩然而去,留下一个千古之谜。

漫长的岁月,你并没有褪色,总是浅浅淡淡、浅浅淡淡、缥缥缈缈、缥缥缈缈的。落英缤纷的五月,我常去树下徘徊,领略那一缕飘忽的思绪,浅浅淡淡地描,总也描不出你清晰的倩影——它犹如水画的人形,一抹即去,然而又恁般冥顽不化,一霎,复又泛上心来,真如古人所云:“才下眉头,却上心头。”

皇天在上,我们并没有说过什么,更没有做过什么。或许,惟其如此,才更耐人寻味,发人深思?也或许,惟其如此,才恰到好处,才更能绵远悠长,随心赋形,心心相印?这是天意造就的一张洁白的纸,在备好笔墨色彩的丹青妙手面前,可以创作出一幅人间最美妙、最空灵的画……

最后一次听到你的声音,是别人转述给我的一句话:“代我祝福他吉星高照!”即使隔着山和海,在通讯手段相当发达的现代,实在用不着求助于人。狡黠的人儿,你要表达的究竟是一种什么样的情怀?

欲说还休,欲说还休。你可能就是要制造这种藕断丝连的效果。果然,那“最后的祝福”,像游丝般,袅袅依依,一晃数十年,至今犹时时响在我的耳际。

据说,你至今仍生活在遥远的我故乡的那座城市里。人们的感情千变万化。时间会酿造悲剧,更能培育奇迹。我衷心祝愿:只希望你生活得比我好。你肯定生活得比我好!

英文译文

Nearly Said
By Gao Weixi

Melancholy emerged in my mind as if it were a ghost. Day after day,I tried to shake it off, but it clung to my heart; I tried to kick it out, yetit lingered in my soul. It seemed as if it would accompany me throughout mylife. I was lost in astonishment —what had happened?

In the barracks, men always outnumbered women. Beautiful as a rose,you had a slender figure with a tender temperament, just like a phoenixstanding in a flock of chickens — a rare treasure. Many eyes stared at you withadmiration. There was that short section director who would stand by youwhenever we had to line up, whether it was morning drill, meal time or eveningroll call. Everybody felt surprised, but your generosity allowed you to ignoreeverything, treating him with courtesy.

Perhaps he had somebody bragging to you about him — a tall, big manoften came to visit you openly. I did not take it to heart when I first saw youtwo sitting on a tricycle heading for town, but soon I sensed something wrongthere. Some said he exploited the crisis of a relationship; others said youinvited a wolf to your house.

By chance I once saw his coquettish look almost sparking a line ofself-conceit in you. Then I thought, perhaps you really had made your choice.

You and I were only colleagues in language teaching, that’s all. Wemight have more common conversation topics. We did often have little disputesover Confucius (1), the literary merits and blemishes of Pushkin and Chekhov,and the importance of Sherlock Holmes’s detective stories in literary history.But those were just academic issues, weren’t they?

At dusk in May, the pomegranate blossoms were bright as fire. Ileaned against the tree trunk as you sat on the fork, opened your red lips, andin a low voice began to sing the Song of Mei Niang. When you finished singing,we were lost in silence. We each embraced the evening wind, and did not want toleave. Then what did I decipher from the dancing freckles of moonlight on yourface which crept through the flowers when the moon appeared in the east? It wasa poem written without words. It was a three-dimensional picture. It was holyteaching that exposed human secrets. My heart began to tremble.

Then it was another May, when the earth was covered with pomegranateblossoms again. Our old wounds had just healed, but we ran into each otheragain. You whispered to me when nobody was around, “Everything’s beenpre-arranged. I never knew I would marry him.” Didn’t your words spoil thescenery? “What do you mean?” I asked. You looked down, lost inthought for a moment. Instead of answering me, you gave a sad smile and trippedaway, leaving behind a lifetime mystery.

Always dim and vague, now visible, now invisible, you never faded inmy mind during those long years. In May when petals fell in riotous profusion,I often walked back and forth under the tree, cherishing that little feelingyou had left in me, picking up the fallen leaves and chewing on the days thathad passed. Using that drifting train of thought, I tried but never succeededto draw your clear figure: it was always like one drawn in water — once you wipedit, it was gone. Yet just like a spirit lingering around, momentarily you wouldappear in my mind again. As our ancestors said, hardly had I closed my eyeswhen I saw you again.

May God be our witness: we never said or did anything that loverswould have done. Perhaps because of this, it invites more guessing and provokesmore thinking. And probably because of that, our relationship has reached sucha lasting state that it takes shape after our thinking and creates kindredspirits. It was God’s will that this piece of blank paper be created, ready fora most beautiful and ingenious human picture to be painted by a clever hand,brushes, paints and ink lying by, ready for use.

The last words I hear from you were forwarded to me by anotherperson: “Tell him I wish him good luck!” You asked someone to forwardyour message even though today’s means of communication are so advanced thatnobody really needs anyone’s assistance. May I ask, you cunning woman, what areyou really up to? What message do you intend to convey?

You wanted to say it, but you did not. You wanted to say it, but younever did! It seems you just wanted to create a broken relationship that is nottotally broken. Several decades have flown by. Indeed, it is that “lastwish,” like gossamer, now drifting away, now clinging around me, that hasbeen resounding in my ears up till today.

I was told that you still live in my remote home city. Humanfeelings change day in, day out. Time can turn out tragedies, but wonders moreso. I sincerely hope that you live better than I do. I am sure you do!

(1) Confucius (551-467 BC) was a sage in ancient China, born in thefeudal State of Lu, or today’s Shandong Province. He advocated a system ofmorality and statecraft that would preserve peace and afford the people stableand fair government. The influence of his doctrines has spread from generationto generation and far beyond China itself.

To TAReward
{{data.count}} people in total
The person is Reward
Chinese literature

The National Anthem for the People's Republic of China

2023-2-7 6:34:09

Chinese literature

Wild Grass - Xia Yan

2023-2-7 6:36:06

0 comment AArticle Author MAdministrator
    No discussion yet, tell us what you think
Profile
Cart
Coupons
Check-in
Message Message
Search