你寄給我的最後一封信裡，僅僅寫著一首詩。
莎士比亞的十四行詩。
我忘不了唸詩時，我的驚喜與好奇，
只是，當日光將我扯回現實的時候，
那首詩的每一個字句，竟散落在夢境裡。
只記得夢裡的心情，總有著期盼，不安也得所依靠。
只是，那十四行詩，
我才正認真地像是初學認字的孩子般，唸了三句…
於是，白天裡，我企圖尋找那首詩，
企圖為幻境裡的一切，覓著一個真實的線索。
網路的世界裡，什麼都有，不像我的記憶那樣破碎，
然而，即使我從清醒那一瞬，就開始徒勞無功地回想，
卻也憶不明白那一首十四行詩的樣子。
是不是這一首？
Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy,
To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.
還是這一首？
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have express'd
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
愁悵的是，隨著太陽高度的改變，
夢裡原來絕對清晰的一切，慢慢淡去，
竟連你在信未，一段以中文書寫著的句子，
也即將從短期記憶中，刪除。
幸好，我任性地揪著腦子裡的神經線絡…
『慶幸我們曾並肩走過那些道路、更曾攜手穿過的那些小徑。』
我亦深感其幸啊～
那能不能告訴我，這一首就是你寄來的十四行詩，
否則，我們如何相信曾經共度過那樣恬靜的日子？
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.
因著那一首十四行詩，我所失去的，
於是，我所失去的不只是回憶與詩歌，
連同曾經攜手走過的那一條小徑，也虛假了。
果然，就記憶而論，真實總是輕易地就將虛幻成泡影。
一○八
腦袋里有什麼，筆墨形容得出，
我這顆真心不已經對你描畫？
還有什麼新東西可說可記錄，
以表白我的愛或者你的真價？
沒有，乖乖；可是，虔誠的禱詞
我沒有一天不把它復說一遍；
老話並不老；你屬我，我也屬你，
就像我祝福你名字的頭一天。
所以永恒的愛在長青愛匣裡
不會蒙受年歲的損害和塵土，
不會讓皺紋占據應有的位置，
反而把老時光當作永久的家奴；
發覺最初的愛苗依舊得保養，
盡管時光和外貌都盼它枯黃。
一○六
我翻閱荒古時代的歷史記載，
見到最美的人物被描摹盡致，
美得使古代的詩歌也美麗多彩，
歌頌著以往的貴婦，可愛的騎士；
見到古人誇獎說最美的美人有
怎樣的手足，嘴唇，眼睛和眉毛，
於是我發現古代的文筆早就
表達出來了你今天具有的美貌。
那麼，古人的讚辭都只是預言─
預言了我們這時代：你的儀態；
但古人只能用理想的眼睛測看，
還不能充分歌唱出你的價值來：
至於我們呢，看見了今天的景象
有眼睛驚訝，卻沒有舌頭會頌揚。
九八
我離開你的時候正好是春天，
當絢爛的四月，披上新的錦襖，
把活潑的春心給萬物灌注遍，
連沉重的土星3也跟著笑和跳。
可是無論小鳥的歌唱，或万紫
千紅、芬芳四溢的一簇簇鮮花，
都不能使我訴說夏天的故事，
或從爛熳的山洼把它們采掐：
我也不羡慕那百合花的洁白，
也不贊美玫瑰花的一片紅暈；
它們不過是香，是悅目的雕刻，
你才是它們所要摹擬的真身。
因此，于我還是嚴冬，而你不在，
像逗著你影子，我逗它們開懷。
♡參考來源：
留言列表
奶油蒼蠅志旅 (8)
