你好,我是清鸣。帝都人,现居米国,攻城狮+程序员,然而沉迷于社会学和历史。弹琴的。酒饕烟枪,枪迷刀痴,最近在学以色列格斗术。游戏狗+足球狗。宝利来玩家。耳机宅。会调酒,一个厨子,整理强迫症,喜欢买厨具/文具/生活用品。风流客,情种,容易不寿的那种。
微博主号:@清鸣_猫_阿九_大麻赵
刷球号:@清鸣-猫-阿九-专刷足球

这里主要放文 + 刷足球。
荷兰国家队主队五百年不动摇!几乎一切对足球的爱都来自于对破荷的爱233。
俱乐部主队基本是渣团和破车,还有国安。对于竞竞、巴黎和大矿有源自于球员的爱。
基本是“足球球迷”,踢得好+精神专业的球员和具有凝聚力的队伍,我都喜欢的233。

谢谢你的停留:D。
 
 

翻譯 Linger by Viggo Mortensen(2005)

mividaloca:

我又回來了。那麼拼,愛我你怕了嗎。

這次的幾篇文字和攝影都出自於V叔2005年的集子Linger,這本的主題是失去、改變和復興。叔為了這本集子四處遊歷了不少地方。集子裡面所有的照片都是黑白的,風格都比較蒼涼。我也翻拍了一些加在了翻譯的最後。

糟糕的是,這幾篇不少都有些晦澀。尤其是Linger,我一直不確定該如何解讀這篇散文。我猜想那是叔對自我的一種清醒的認識。

另外再說一下,私心打上的西皮tag,心中有愛,到處都是食糧。(?)

記得給我點贊哦!




Linger by Viggo Mortensen, Perceval Press, 2005.



Junio: Tengo unlibro lleno de frases incompletas. El sol: blanco, hecho de seda vieja.

六月:我有一本充滿了不完整句子的書。太陽:白色的,像是用舊絲綢做成的。



Don't be bitter.You drew a moon, and now you miss the day.

別那麼憤世嫉俗。你畫下了月亮,現在卻又思念白天。



Linger

逗留

Light comes slowly,too slowly, as I stumble into your sights. I’m yours, you’re mine. Have youlost your picture of the road through the trees? Misplaced the list of riversand place-names you borrowed to tell stories? Do you care if you miss theending, if the hero’s welcome is a send-off? Will you go from your bed, leavingus as quietly as the moon does? We begin to recognize each other, butappearances change and deceive us, as fog hides a reef. I’ll leave out most ofour sins as we glimpse the day you’re allowed to back away untouched. Justreread the statement you hope speaks for your body. I miss you, as I have foryears, and retain a measure of respect for your temper, which someday may beall you have left of your independence.

光線緩慢地到來,過於緩慢地,當我趔趄進入你的視線。我屬於你,你屬於我。你是不是丟失了那張透過樹木拍攝的道路的相片?忘記了你為講故事而保存的那張寫滿河流名稱和拜訪過地名的清單?你在不在意錯過結局,倘若主人公歡迎的盛會不過是為了告別?你是否會離開你的床鋪,像是月光一樣將我們留在寂靜之中?我們開始互相認出對方,然而外貌變化多端、且詭譎莫辨,就像是一場濃霧遮掩海上的群礁。當我們終於等到你被應允以完好無損的姿態離去那天,我會將決口不談我們所犯下的罪過。我重新閱讀了那些你渴望用來表達你身體意願的宣言。我思念你,年以繼年,並且保持著對你衝動脾氣的敬意,而終有一天,那會成為你所剩餘的全部自由。

 

You’ve seemednearly one with beasts you’ve slaughtered, and always fond of friends andstrangers you’ve randomly, unexpectedly had no patience for. You’ve taught usthe value of physical work, and a general sense of fairness. Ethics and justicein the greater world are complicated subjects, however. When we ourselvesbecome the bully, do we know it? Will I let bygones be bygones? Will you go tosleep angry? When we walk away in our separate directions, will it matter whohad the last word, who was in charge in the end? Will it matter why we wroteeach other irregularly, fulfilling a contract started as soon as I could pushink in a straight line? I’ve sometimes wanted to leave you behind, but stilluse old words of yours in new sentences, saying things we wrote each other andnever spoke.

你幾乎跟你所屠宰的那些野獸別無二致,而你也總是青睞那些讓你莫名其妙地失去耐性的好友和陌生人。你曾經教會我們體力勞動的價值,以及所謂公平的大概涵義。道德和正義在這個大世界裡面都算是複雜的論題,然而。當我們自己成為霸凌者的時候,我們又如何知曉呢?我會對過去的事情既往不咎嗎?你會帶著憤怒入睡嗎?當我們分別走向不同的方向,我們會不會在意,最後的决定是誰所說出口的,而最後又是誰主宰了我們?而我們互相致予對方的毫無規律的書信,當我提筆的瞬間就立定的那些契約又是否有任何意義?我有時候想將你忘諸腦後,然而我卻依然用著你的舊字眼去構造我的新句子,說著我們互相寫給對方卻從未開口說清的話語。

 

You have a farmer’sacceptance of demise and decay, an ingrown certainty of Spring. You’ll take wityou a private understanding of soil and unseen skies, of mating habits andcostal wind patterns, but will leave us plenty to go through and call our own,sparrows on split grain. You’ll rise early, as always, and drift high above thehorizon, first to see unclaimed fields, geese returning from the south, a buckin shadow at meadow’s edge, and the sudden and shocking outline of continentsunknown to any of us. You’ve always shared the excitement of your discoveries,insisted that we pay attention to your finds, and learn to live in yourlandscapes.

你有著一個農夫那樣對死亡和腐朽的寬容,以及與生俱來的對春天的信仰。你會在自己對土壤和看不見天空、對動物交配的習慣和海岸上風的形狀的私人理解中尋求智慧。但是卻會留給我倆許多可以回味,並且將稱之為我們專屬的事物,像是穀物碎屑上的麻雀。你會早起,一如往常,遠遠漂移過地平線,去探看那些無人掌管的原野,從南方歸來的大雁,在草原邊緣樹蔭之中的那隻雄鹿,以及那突然而又令人訝異的陌生大陸的輪廓。你總是對你的發現充滿激情,並且要我們一起查看你尋獲的珍寶,並且學會在那樣的景緻中生活。

 

You’ll carry onesmall piece of our bone to pick for eternity, your secret commendation, claspedagainst your hip as blood slows, cools, and blackens. We won’t take it fromyou, wont’ peer into your fist to guess what it might be. Take thatconsolation, that promise you deserve. Your appetite has kept you alive throughbilious, hoarfrost witching hours, determined to see you reach another set ofhigh hay days. You lower your head against the night, tilting your eyes awayfrom the faint arctic glow, red cheek burning against the back-door window. Youhave winter all to yourself and could easily be the only man awake between hereand Canada right now. Alone to witness coy-dogs disappear behind the barn,seeking or just done with some savagery. Something’s been killed recently. Youcan feel it inside, even as you cup your hands to your tired eyes and strainagainst the freezing glass, trying to see through the ghosts of willows. It’smuch too quiet, even for this cold hour.

你將會永遠帶著對我們之間的一點質疑,當血液變得遲緩、冰冷、漆黑,你那秘密的嘉獎會被你緊緊系在腰間。我們無法將它從你身邊奪走,也不會檢查你握緊的雙拳猜想那究竟是什麼。帶著這樣的慰藉吧,這是你應得的承諾。你的慾望曾讓你度過多少乖戾、帶著霜雪的迷人時刻,執意要看看你將如何度過更多的節日。你就著夜色低下你的頭顱,將你的眼睛剝離極地的光芒,凍紅的雙頰在後門的小窗上滾燙燃燒。你獨自擁有了整個冬季,並且也許是從此地到加拿大唯一醒著的男人。獨自一人看著那些科伊犬(叢林狼和野狗雜交的後代)消失在穀倉背後,企圖開始、或是剛剛完成某些野蠻的行徑。有些東西剛被殺死。你在房裡都能感覺到,當你用雙手覆上你疲累的雙眼,並且對著冰冷的玻璃窗用盡全力,企圖透過柳樹的鬼影看清究竟發生了什麼。即使對這一個寒夜來說,一切都顯得過於寂靜。



Patreksfjörður

(冰島的地名)

Go hear same songall places time allows echo to fail.

Landscapes show uswhy we might stay or stay away.

去聽同一首歌無所不在般時光讓迴音消融。

讓景緻示意我們該駐足亦或是離去。

 

Gull fixed highover fjord won’t sleep all summer long.

We’ll wait like herfor dark’s return to mend our nests.

海鷗高飛過峽灣在整個夏日都不眠不休。

我們像她一樣等待著黑暗的歸來以修築我們的巢穴。

 

Final gleam ontucked wings rivals midnight’s rainbow.

She pierces skerry-rifflesilver spawn on green gravel.

交疊雙翼上最後的閃光可以媲美午夜的彩虹。

她穿透在綠色礫石上繁衍的銀色孤岩和湍流。

 

Cliffside shalefills side mirror in broken downhill skid.

Strain and seewheel sunk in moss so deep it’s lost.

懸崖邊的葉岩在下坡打滑的後視鏡裡閃現。

拉鋸時看到輪胎被陷入深到不可見地的苔蘚之中。



March

三月

Movies memories aremade of. Music that rises, breaks away from its source, hovers over wet, emptystreets. Unmanageable echo of places we really live in. I picture a face,blizzard-bit: one of many images never captured, one more missed opportunity toexploit and order the growing past. Have surrendered to unavoidable cave-inscaused by sentence upon sentence, given in to ideas that freely resolvethemselves and run through buckled walls, downed fences, and thawing pack ice.What seem like lucid glimpses sparkling inside untutored lapses only confirmvalue of trying nothing, saying nothing, solving nothing. Last note float downBay Street at day’s end, and beginning of another. I answer neither murmur fromceiling vent, nor wail of light bulbs pulling heat from buried wires, nor moanof pigeon-toed parquet fir settling its brutal joins in waxed rows as it crampsits way into corner shadows. Hallway’s quiet. Phone waits, warns.

喚起電影的回憶。音樂響了起來,遠離它的發源地,盤旋在潮濕、空曠的街道。像是對我們所處的地方作出的無法控制的回聲。我想像著一張臉,久經風霜:像是那許多從未被捕捉影像中的一個,像是錯失了盤剝指使那生長中過往的一個機會。早已因為一句句的控訴屈從于那些無法避免的妥協,放任讓思想自生自滅,奔過扣緊的牆壁,傾頹的圍欄和融化了的冰塊。那看似清晰的瞥視在粗野的過錯中閃亮,確認了無為、無言和無解的價值。最後一個音符在日暮飄過海灣街,接著另一首歌快要響起。我既不回覆屋頂排風管的嗡嗡響聲,也不擔憂燈泡因為燒壞了的電線而過熱,更不在乎橡木地板上的冷杉因為銜接太過粗糙而跟打過蠟的部份互相碰撞,至於房間角落而發出的呻吟。門廊一片寂靜。電話等待著,提醒著。

 












09 Nov 2015
 
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