雙語(yǔ)《園丁集》 用了幾天的苦工 我蓋起一座廟宇

72

WITH days of hard travail I raised a temple. It had no doors or windows, its walls were thickly built with massive stones.

I forgot all else, I shunned all the world, I gazed in rapt contemplation at the image I had set upon the altar.

It was always night inside, and lit by the lamps of perfumed oil.

The ceaseless smoke of incense wound my heart in its heavy coils.

Sleepless, I carved on the walls fantastic figures in mazy bewildering lines—winged horses, flowers with human faces, women with limbs like serpents.

No passage was left anywhere through which could enter the song of birds, the murmur of leaves, or hum of the busy village.

The only sound that echoed in its dark dome was that of incantations which I chanted.

My mind became keen and still like a pointed flame, my senses swooned in ecstasy.

I knew not how time passed till the thunderstone had struck the temple, and a pain stung me through the heart.

The lamp looked pale and ashamed; the carvings on the walls, like chained dreams, stared meaningless in the light as they would fain hide themselves.

I looked at the image on the altar. I saw it smiling and alive with the living touch of God. The night I had imprisoned had spread its wings and vanished.

72

用了幾天的苦工，我蓋起一座廟宇。

這廟里沒(méi)有門窗，墻壁是用層石厚厚地壘起的。

我忘掉一切，我躲避大千世界，

我神注目奪地凝視著我安放在龕里的偶像。

里面永遠(yuǎn)是黑夜，

以香油的燈盞來(lái)照明。

不斷的香煙，把我的心繚繞在沉重的螺旋里。

我徹夜不眠，

用扭曲混亂的線條在墻上刻畫出一些奇異的圖形——

生翼的馬，人面的花，四肢像蛇的女人。

我不在任何地方留下一線之路，

使鳥的歌聲，葉的細(xì)語(yǔ)，或村鎮(zhèn)的喧囂得以進(jìn)入。

在沉黑的仰頂上，

唯一的聲音是我禮贊的回響。

我的心思變得強(qiáng)烈而鎮(zhèn)定，

像一個(gè)尖尖的火焰。

我的感官在狂歡中昏暈。

我不知時(shí)間如何度過(guò)，

直到巨雷震劈了這座廟宇，一陣劇痛刺穿我的心。

燈火顯得蒼白而羞愧；

墻上的刻畫像是被鎖住的夢(mèng)，

無(wú)意義地瞪視著，

仿佛要躲藏起來(lái)。

我看著龕上的偶像，我看見(jiàn)它微笑了，

和神的活生生的接觸，它活了起來(lái)。

被我囚禁的黑夜，展起翅來(lái)飛逝了。