Today, I intend to start translating a new series of Neruda's poems: those in which he writes not just of fruits you often see in the Chilean fruterias, marketplaces, family kitchens or dinner tables, but normally life-less everyday objects. Let me see. I'll start off with...ah, the bed, that companion of rest but also the seat of one of the most vigorous and most intense activities known to men, upon which all human lives ultimately depend. But let's see what Neruda has to say about that.
Oda a la Cama Ode to the Bed 床之頌
De cama en cama From bed to bed 這是床至床
es este viaje, is this voyage 之旅
el viaje de la vida. the voyage of life. 生命之旅，。
El que nace, el herido That which is born, the wounded 生、傷
y el que muere, and that which dies. 與死，
el que ama y el que suena one who loves an one who dreams 愛與夢
vinieron y se van de cama en cama, come and go from bed to bed, 他們來與去
vinimos y nos vamos we come and we go 我們來與去
en este tren, en esta nave, en este in this train, this ship, in this 在這火車，這船，在這
río river 河
común shared 一切死亡
a toda muerte. with all deaths. 與共。
La tierra es una cama The Earth is a bed 大地一牀
florida por amor, sucia de sangre, blooming through love. dirty with blood,以愛為花，以血為垢
las sábanas del cielo the bedsheets of the sky 天之床鋪
se secan dry 正乾
deplegando spreading 將軀體
el cuerpo de septiembre y su blancura, september's body and its whiteness, 蓋上九月及雪白，
el mar the sea 海
cruje rustles 在蕩漾
golpeando beating 正扣探
por la cúpula upon the green 那深淵
verde dome 之
del of the 綠
abismo abyss 拱
y mueve ropa blanca y ropa negra. and moves white vests and black vests 而抖動白衣黑衣。
O mar, cama terrible, O sea, awesome bed, 噢，汪洋，了不起之床
agitación perpetua perpetual agitation 死生
de la muerte y la vida, of death and life, 在成肉身之空氣與泡沫中
del aire encarnizado y de la espuma, of incarnated air and of foam, 無休之恍動，
duermen en ti los peces, fishes sleep within you, 魚群與你同睡，
la noche, the night, 夜
las ballenas, the whales, 眾鯨
yace en ti la ceniza the centrifugal and heavenly 在你那兒披上
centrifuga y celeste ashes of the agonizing meteors 掙扎磒星留下
de los agonizantes meteoros: rest in you: 離心和天堂般之灰燼。
palpitas, mar, con todos palpitating, sea, with all 你心噗通地跳，海洋，與你全體
tus dormidos, your sleepers, 睡眠者，
construyes y destruyes you are building and destroying 你正在建築與摧殘
el tálamos incesante de los sueños. the incessant stems of dreams 無限美夢之婚夜床。
De pronto sale un rayo Suddenly a ray comes out 特閃出一線光芒
con dos ojos de puro nomeolvides, with two pure eyes of forget-me-nots, 兩顆純潔之無忘我眼眸，
con nariz de marfil o de manzana, with a nose of marble or apple 瑪瑙石或蘋果鼻
te muestra el sendero and show you the path 你指向滑溜床鋪之
a suaves sábanas to the smooth bedsheets 途徑
como estandartes claros de azucena like the bright flags of the lily 彷如百合花耀目的笙旗
por donde resbalamos where we slip 在哪我們
al enlace. entwined. 纏綿。
Luego Then 然後
viene a la cama comes to the bed 死亡與其氧化之手
la muerte con sus manos oxidadas death with its oxidized hands 和碘般之舌頭
y su lengua de yodo and its tongue of iodine 到來
y levanta su dedo and your finger rises 舉指
largo como un camino long as a path 長若小徑
mostrándonos la arena, showing us the sand, 向我們展示
la puerta de los ultimos dolores. the door of final pains. 那極痛之門與沙粒.
In this little poem about the bed, Neruda wrote not really about the bed but what may go on within that bed. He turns the image of the bed from one of objectivity to one of subjectivity, from a static image to that of a dynamic image, from a noun to a verb. To him the bed is the symbol of life and also a symbol of joy but also a symbol of pain. What passes between joy and pain and our dream is our life before our death. He links up everything through the familiar image of the journey. The journey of life is reduced to a journey as he says, "from bed to bed". As I stated before I read the poem, the bed is a place of rest. But it is also the scene of the most vigorous activity possible between a man and a woman. In that love act, we experience within a particularly brief period both death and life after which we hanker for the next time when we shall experience more of what we have experienced a hundred times before, according to Neruda in another bed. Again as in so many Spanish poetry, there is this constant contrast of polar pairs, pairs of opposites, of contrasts, of antithesis, of contradiction, of diversity, of reversals etc: of coming and going, of you and we, of top and bottom, of high and low, of exterior and interior, of long and short, of big and small, of construction and destruction,of night and day and finally of life and death. But the opposites are paradoxically united by Neruda's image of the bed! When Neruda's "sand" and and "door of final pain" are of course, euphemisms for the products of male love making and the seat of man's joy. I like his imagery for the male organ: the "estantartes claros de azucenas": the stamens of the lily! And he describes the incesant dreams of men as "tálamos" which in Spanish carries a number of possible meaning like bridal chamber, or bridal bed or the more neutral botanical "thalamus" but in Spanish, it is also the first person plural form of the verb "telar" which means to "cut down" or to "fell". I do not have to state what is intended to be felled or cut down in the context! Hence multiple interpretations are possible and his real intention finds an excellent place of concealment in the conservative Chile of his days. This is the beauty of poetry: the poet can say what he wants to say "without" having to say it at all!!
Things are getting intense here...!!! Hey man! You really got us what we want... after all these lonely years in this web site! Haha! Your research is interesting indeed! I can't help to wait and see "What's next?"...
回覆刪除Yes, writing has seldom been anything but a lonely enterprise. The blog has done not a little to make it less so. Thanks for your support. It's heartening to see that someone actually bothers to read the kind of odds and ends from the dustbin of your mind you dare to inflict upon them. I sometimes wonder if those who write and those who read what is written are not joined by a common bond called sado-masochism! It pains the one who writes and it hurts the one who reads. What for? I often ask myself. But somehow, when the time comes, you feel the itch again, like a drug addict who can't help himself!
回覆刪除Yes. as to "what next?" I haven't got the faintest clue. It depends on so many things: how much energy I got left from my office work, whether what's left is taken up by un-refusable social engagements or my insatiable "pat-kwa" instinct, what books or concerts my eyes or ears happen to come upon. I am as puzzled as you are! To me, that is precisely the excitement and fascination of life. You never know what is going to happen next!
回覆刪除Since I find love , I understand 聶魯達.
回覆刪除[版主回覆05/26/2010 07:22:00]My heartiert congratulations for being amongst the few who are living in the land of the blessed. So many people in this world are looking for love. To them, love is either something which they thought they had but lost or something which they are even now searching desperately to find and something they can hope to find only in the future. But love is something very strange, very mysterious and very fascinating. It requires a certain chemisty, a certain sensitivity, a certain judgement, a certain selfishness, a certain selflessness and a certain maturity before we can seize it when it comes and to treasure it whilst it is there and to culitvate it with the right kind of response. And yet, even if we have given it our all, sometimes it may still not click. The fault may not be ours then. It may be the fault of the our partner! He or she may not have the ability to respond in the right way. No one is perfect. But lovers have a tendency to idealize their counterpart initially and build up all kinds of unrealistic images about him/her and attribute all kinds of qualities to the latter which the latter may not really have and when the first fires of love subside and they are able to see their partner more clearly, they are disillusioned and disappointed and totally fail to realize their own part of that "fault" by their own initial "idealization". They fail to understand the dynamic nature of love: it develops and changes its nature at different stages. Their failure is a failurre of insight and consequently a failure of adjustment to the changing requirements of love. They had been fooled by poets and writers that love should be or can be "eternal". Or they fail to understand the true meaning of the word "eternal".