ITHACA597周(中国)惠风文学电子版

ITHACA597周(中国)

今天是星期天

今天他们第一次带我出去晒太阳。

我这辈子第一次感到惊讶

天空如此遥远

那么蓝

如此辽阔

我站在那里一动不动。

然后我虔诚地坐在地上

靠在白色的墙上。

谁现在还在乎我渴望翻滚的海浪?

还在意冲突、自由或我的妻子。

地球、太阳和我……

我感到快乐。

1938年

原 作:土耳其  纳兹穆·海克米特(1902 – 1963)

英 译:比利时  乔曼·卓根布鲁特

汉 译:中   国   周道模 2019-8-24

Today is Sunday.

They took me out for the first time into the sun today.

And for the first time in my life I was amazed

That the sky is so far away

And so blue

And so vast

I stood there without a motion.

Then I sat on the ground with respectful devotion

Leaning against the white wall.

Who cares about the waves with which I yearn to roll?

Or about strife or freedom or my wife right now.

The earth, the sun and me…

I feel happy.

1938

Nâzim Hikmet, Turkey (1902 – 1963)

English translation Germain Droogenbroodt

Chinese translationWilliam Zhou

中国惠风文学社电子版

总:第187期

编辑:Anna惠子

国际文化基金会ITHACA主席 乔曼·卓根布鲁特诗人

受邀2019年第三届成都国际诗歌周

Germain  Droogenbroodt, president of the International Cultural Foundation ITHACA was invited as poet 

at the Chengdu International Poetry Week

Poetry For More Humanity or

Poetry as antidote for mental pollution

诗歌更人性化或诗歌是精神污染的解毒剂

Reading Chengdu Poetry week 2019

2019年成都诗歌周宣读

by Germain Droogenbroodt

乔曼·卓根布鲁特

The German philosopher Martin Heidegger claimed, that language is the home of being, of existence, and that humans should learn to live in it again. But also in recent years, millions of people have lost all they had, and are searching for a new home, but walls are being built, in Europe, in the United States and elsewhere. And the poet, Diogenes alike, errs with his lantern through the crowded streets of the world, searching for more humanity, for fewer walls, whereas politicians and religious leaders don’t stop creating them, both mentally and physically.

德国哲学家马丁·海德格尔声称,语言是生存、存在的家园,人类应该重新学会在语言中生活。但近年来,数以百万计的人失去了他们所有的一切,并正在寻找一个新家,但在欧洲、美国和其它地方,正在建造城墙。而诗人,和迪奥奇尼斯一样,在世界的拥挤街道上提着灯笼走错路,在寻找更人性化,寻找更少的墙壁,而政治家和宗教领袖,在精神和肉体上,并没有停止创造这些墙壁。

Throughout the ages, the philosophers alike, poets have been in search of the sense of human existence, in search of more humanity. And the poem, what else is the poem than the poet´s tool to search for the sense of our being in relation to  our fellow-humans? No, one cannot expect the modern poet to be optimistic, to be able to make the world more human, to remove walls and borders. But a contemporary Diogenes alike, he can use his poetry as a lantern, a tool to find, in the brainwashing light of media & multinationals, the real, the illuminating light and more humanity, a poetic bridge between people of all races, cultures or religions, crossing all kinds of borders between the inhabitants of this planet.

古往今来,和哲学家们一样,诗人们一直在寻找人类存在的意义,寻找更多的人性。而诗歌,除了诗人的工具诗歌之外,还有什么可以用来寻找我们与人类同胞之间存在的感觉呢?不,人们不能期望现代诗人抱乐观态度,有能力使世界更人性化,去消除隔阂和边界。但类似于当代的迪奥奇尼斯,他可以把自己的诗歌用作灯笼,一个工具,在媒体和跨国公司的洗脑之光中,找到真实、启迪的光明和更多的人性,各种族、文化或宗教之间的一个诗意桥梁,跨越这个星球上居民之间的各种边界。

No, it is not obvious to speak in a not too pessimistic way about poetry as a tool for more humanity in the present time where the world is led – or rather misled – by liars, demagogues and extremists. The world is full of ice and winter, estranged the god of love and mercy. Egocentric, power-mad men opened Pandora’s box, Chaos, the Greek goddess of disorder, reigns and her daughter Nyx, the winged goddess of the night, rides across the sky throwing her dark shades on the earth. Poetry, becoming more marginal than ever before, cannot make the world more human, poetry can hardly do more than describe the nature of human beings, as Homer did, the first great Western poet.

不,当今这个世界被说谎者、煽动者和极端主义者领导(相当程度是误导)的时代,以一种不太悲观的方式谈论诗歌作为一种寻求更人性化的工具并不易得到公认。这个世界充满了冰雪和冬天,疏远了爱与仁慈的上帝。以自我为中心的权力狂人打开了潘多拉的盒子,混乱,希腊混乱女神,当着政而她的女儿尼克斯,黑夜之有翼女神,骑马穿越天空,把她的黑影抛到地球上。诗歌,比以往任何时候都更加边缘化,无力使世界更加人性化,诗歌只能描述人的本性,就像荷马,第一位伟大的西方诗人,所做的那样。

Day by day we are confronted with selfishness, with nationalism, with merciless cruelty, with terrorism, with hate, murder and death, which irrevocably appears to be human’s destiny.

我们日复一日地面对着自私、民族主义、残忍无情、恐怖主义、仇恨、谋杀和死亡,这些都是人类的命运。

As the Austrian poet Ingeborg Bachmann described in her poem “Every Day,” wars are no longer declared, but as we see in Afghanistan, Africa, in Iraq, in Kuwait, Syria, in Nicaragua, in Venezuela, et al wars continue and the poor suffer as ever before.

正如奥地利诗人英格堡·巴赫曼在她诗中描绘的“每一天”,战争不再宣告,但是当我们看到阿富汗,非洲,伊拉克,科威特,叙利亚,在尼加拉瓜,委内瑞拉等的那样,战争还在继续而穷人和从前一样在受苦。

Allow me to recite Ingeborg Bachman’s splendid poem.

请允许我背诵英格堡·巴赫曼的绝妙诗篇。

Every day

The war is not anymore declared,

but continued. The outrageous

became ordinary. The hero

absents himself from the battles. The weak

have been moved to the firing line.

The daily uniform is patience,

the distinction the shabby star

of hope above the heart.

每一天

战争不再宣告,

但在继续。无耻的人

变得平常。英雄

自己缺席这些战斗。弱者

已经被移送到火线了。

每天一致的是忍耐,

这特质这心灵上空的

希望的不公正的星。

It is extended,

when nothing happens anymore,

when the drumfire dies down,

when the enemy becomes invisible

and the shadow of never-ending arming

covers the sky.

它被扩展,

当什么都没有发生时,

当猛烈炮火停歇下来,

当敌人隐身时

而永无止境的武装的阴影

覆盖天空。

It is extended

for deserting the flags,

for the bravery towards a friend,

for the betrayal of unworthy secrets

and the rejection

of whatever command.

它被延长了

为了抛弃旗子,

为了面对朋友的勇敢,

为了没有价值的秘密的背叛

和不管什么命令

的拒绝执行。

Ingeborg Bachmann

But we, the poets, should continue to be obstacles to all kinds of injustice, we should not sleep while the vindicators of the world are busy, as warned the German poet Günter Eich, we should be suspicious against their power, which they pretend to acquire for us. We should take care that our hearts are not empty, when they count with their emptiness. We should do what appears useless; sing the songs they do not expect from one’s mouths! We should be sand, not oil, in the driving gear of the world.

但是,我们诗人们,应该继续成为各种不公正的绊脚石,我们不应该在世界的维护者忙碌时睡觉,正如德国诗人君特·艾希所警告的那样,我们应该对他们的权力持怀疑态度,他们假装获取权力是为我们。当他们用空虚算计的时候,我们应该注意我们的心不是空虚的。我们应该做那些看起来没用的事;唱那些他们不希望从人们口中听到的歌!在世界的驱动装置中,我们应该是沙子,而不是润滑油。

Especially in Latin-America, where according to my taste the best contemporary poetry is written, a large number of poets wrote critical, revolting poetry. Although not of mass destruction, the word used to be a weapon, a human bridge. Till today, poets have been writing about their fellow humans, about their misfortunes and their glories. So did Maulana Rumi, the Persian poet born in Afghanistan who wrote:

尤其是在拉丁美洲,根据我的口味,最好的当代诗歌写出来了,许多诗人写了批评的,反抗的诗歌。虽然不是大规模杀伤,但这个词曾经是一种武器,一座人类的桥梁。直到今天,诗人们一直在写他们的同胞,他们的不幸和荣耀。出生在阿富汗的波斯诗人毛拉娜·鲁米也是这样写的:

We are the mirror and the face in the mirror.

Continuously, minute by minute, we taste eternity.

We are the pain and what cures the pain

We are the sweet, refreshing water and the jar that pours it

我们是镜子和镜子里的脸。

持续地,一分钟一分钟地,我们尝到了永恒。

我们是痛苦和治愈痛苦的事物

我们是甘甜,清爽的水和涌流清水的罐子。

So reported also Paul Celan with his dramatic Fugue of Death about the murdering of Jews by the Nazis, so questioned the Bosnian poet Izet Sarajlic if—after the atrocities committed in ex-Yugoslavia—his former friends were still friends, so reported Juan Gelman in Argentina about the disappeared, so wrote the Palestinian Mahmud Darwish about the hope and the misery of his people. . . . As far as human memory reaches, the poet has been and continues to be a chronicler, a wanderer between cultures. The word is his vehicle, the poem his tool, to search for enlightenment, for more humanity, to pull down walls and borders, to create cultural and human bridges.

Poetry was and should still be light in the darkness, to those in distress, it should be companion and consolation as described in the poem “Information about Poetry” by the Austrian poet Christine Busta:

因此,保罗·策兰也用他激动人心的《死亡赋格曲》报道了犹太人被纳粹杀害的情况,因此,波斯尼亚诗人伊泽特·萨拉季利克在前南斯拉夫的暴行之后,质疑他以前的朋友是否仍然是朋友,因此阿根廷的胡安·格尔曼报道了失踪事件,巴勒斯坦民族马哈茂德·达尔维希就是这样写到他的人民的希望和苦难……人类有记忆以来,诗人曾经是而且仍将是一个编年史者,一个文化间的流浪者。词语是他的工具,诗歌是他的工具,为了寻求启蒙,为了更多的人性,为了推倒墙壁和边界,为了创造文化和人类的桥梁。

诗歌过去是而且应该仍然是黑暗中的光明,对那些处于困境中的人们来说,它应该是与之相伴的慰藉,正如奥地利诗人克里斯蒂娜·布斯塔在她的诗《关于诗歌的信息》中所描述的:

Information About Poetry

Sometimes, a poem is

a timid hand,

stretched out in the darkness

to a fellow human.

Hello you, I am here.

I rejoice, I suffer,

I am thoughtful just like you.

I am tired

and neither can sleep.

关于诗歌的信息

有时候,一首诗是

胆怯的手,

在黑暗中伸出来

伸向一位人类同胞。

你好,我在这里。

我高兴,我受苦,

我正如你一样满怀体贴。

我累了

且都睡不着。

Sure, poetry cannot change the world, but how poor humanity would be, without Homer, without Li Bai and Du Fu, without Shakespeare, Dante and Petrarca, without Bashō  and Issa, Goethe, Baudelaire, Tagore, Mandelstam, Neruda, Lorca and so many other poets who offered beauty, faith, solace and hope, victuals for the human being on his journey called LIFE.

诚然,诗歌不能改变世界,但是没有荷马,没有李白和杜甫,没有莎士比亚,但丁和彼得拉卡,没有巴索和伊萨,歌德,波德莱尔,泰戈尔,曼德尔斯坦,聂鲁达,洛卡和其他许多诗人,他们为人类提供了美丽、信仰、慰藉和希望,为人类的生命旅程提供了食粮,要是没有这些诗人们,人类将会是多么贫穷。

Thousands of youngsters have been protesting this year all over Europe to force politicians to take measures against the worldwide pollution. Nobel Prize laureate Günter Grass already years ago protested with his poem  “Our garbage”:

今年,全欧洲成千上万的年轻人都在抗议以迫使政治家采取措施防止全球污染。诺贝尔奖获得者冈特·格拉斯几年前就用他的诗“我们的垃圾”抗议:

Our Garbage

I looked for stones and found

the survived glove

of synthetic material.

Each fingerstall related.

No, not those stupid fisherman’s stories,

but what will remain:

Our garbage

beaches long.

Whereas we, passed away

of no one’s bereavement we will be.

我找石头而发现了

残存的合成材

料制作的手套。

每个指套都有关联。

不,不是那些愚蠢的渔夫的故事,

但还有东西留下来:

我们的垃圾

海滩长久。

然而,我们,过世了

我们不会成为任何人的丧亲之痛。

And what about the human role of the so called “social media,” which are not at all “social” but mainly a tool tocontrol and manipulate the people. Can they be a helpful tool for the poet to make the world more human? We should find out and be sure that they are really social and not mere commercial enterprises, eager to have as many customers as possible to fill their bank accounts with staggering amounts of money. Are we not living in times of mediaticdictatorship? Neither the media nor the politicians seem to care for quality, but for quantity, for the masses which are easy to manipulate.

那么所谓的“社会媒体”的人类角色又如何呢?它根本不是“社会”,却主要是一种控制和操纵人们的工具。它们能成为诗人使世界更人性化的有用工具吗?我们应该发现并确定的是,他们是真正的社会性企业,而不仅仅是商业企业,他们渴望拥有尽可能多的客户,以惊人的金额填满他们的银行账户。我们不是正生活在中间独裁的时代吗?无论是媒体还是政治家,似乎都不关心质量,而关心数量,关心容易操纵的群众。

Throughout the ages poetry has been marginal and marginal it will remain, it should remain what it has always been: an antidote for mental pollution.

古往今来,诗歌一直是边缘的,它仍将是边缘的,它应该保持原样:一种消除精神污染的解毒剂。

The East, especially ancient Chinese philosophy, always fascinated me and also left deep traces in my poetry. Some of my Chinese friends even pretend that my poetry is more Chinese than contemporary Chinese poetry. In fact, in 1998 I wrote a collection of 30 poems entitled “The Road,” translated by the Chinese poets Bei Dao and Hai An as “TAO,” and published in many countries, including Japan, China, Hong Kong and Taiwan.

东方,尤其是中国古代哲学,一直让我着迷,也在我的诗歌中留下了深深的痕迹。我的一些中国朋友甚至称说,我的诗比当代中国诗歌更中国化。事实上,在1998,我写了一集题为“道路”的30首诗歌,由中国诗人北岛和海岸翻译为“道”,并在许多国家发表,包括日本,中国,香港和台湾。

I felt a need to write a series of poems, bridging poetically Western and Eastern cultures and philosophies, mixing elements of the Greek mythology with Hinduism, ZEN Buddhism and Taoism. I had no idea at all that the book would be so successful. I just HAD to write it, reflecting in some way the road of mankind: its past, its present and its unpredictable future. But more than anything else “The Road” referring to the TAO, was a lyrical record of my personal experience of various cultures, religions and philosophies, a poetic bridge between East and West.

我觉得有必要写一系列的诗,把西方和东方的文化和哲学诗意地联系起来,把希腊神话的元素与印度教、禅宗佛教和道教融合起来。我完全不知道这本书会如此成功。我只是不得不写它,以某种方式反应人类的道路:它的过去、现在和不可预知的未来。但最重要的是,“道路”指的是道,它是我个人对各种文化、宗教和哲学的体验的抒情记录,是东西方之间的诗意桥梁。

I would like to conclude this text with a poem selected from my book

“In The Stream Of Time, Meditations In The Himalayas”

我想从我书中挑选的一首诗来结束这篇演讲

在时间的洪流中,喜马拉雅山脉的冥想

EVERYTHING CHANGES, EVERYTHING STAYS THE SAME

The nameless is the origin of heaven and earth

--Lao Tse

Apparently

everything sometimes looks different

than it did before

hardly

or not at all recognizable anymore

the winding path

to the stream

although perceptible

is hidden for the time being

for more

than just the eye.

***

一切在变,一切又未变

无名天地之始

——老子

显而易见

有时一切不同于

往昔

几乎

认不出或不再熟悉

蜿蜒的小道

追着小溪而去

依稀可辨

但此刻隐匿如故

不仅仅

躲避眼睛

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