莫言在瑞典學(xué)院演講：講故事者-中英文對照-

1、2012年諾貝爾文學(xué)獎獲得者演講Storytellers(中、英文版全文Translated by Howard GoldblattDistinguished members of the Swedish Academy, Ladies and Gentlemen:Through the mediums of television and the Internet, I imagine that everyone here has at least a nodding acquaintance with far-off Northeast Gaomi Township. You may hav

2、e seen my ninety-year-old father, as well as my brothers, my sister, my wife and my daughter, even my granddaughter, now a year and four months old. But the person who is most on my mind at this moment, my mother, is someone you will never see. Many people have shared in the honor of winning this pr

3、ize, everyone but her.尊敬的瑞典學(xué)院各位院士,女士們、先生們:通過電視或者網(wǎng)絡(luò),我想在座的各位,對遙遠的高密東北鄉(xiāng),已經(jīng)有了或多或少的了解。你們也許看到了我的九十歲的老父親,看到了我的哥哥姐姐我的妻子女兒和我的一歲零四個月的外孫女。但有一個我此刻最想念的人,我的母親,你們永遠無法看到了。我獲獎后,很多人分享了我的光榮,但我的母親卻無法分享了。My mother was born in 1922 and died in 1994. We buried her in a peach orchard east of the village. Last year we were

4、forced to move her grave farther away from the village in order to make room for a proposed rail line. When we dug up the grave, we saw that the coffin had rotted away and that her body had merged with the damp earth around it. So we dug up some of that soil, a symbolic act, and took it to the new g

5、ravesite. That was when I grasped the knowledge that my mother had become part of the earth, and that when I spoke to mother earth, I was really speaking to my mother.我母親生于1922 年,卒于1994 年。她的骨灰,埋葬在村莊東邊的桃園里。去年,一條鐵路要從那兒穿過,我們不得不將她的墳?zāi)惯w移到距離村子更遠的地方。掘開墳?zāi)购?我們看到,棺木已經(jīng)腐朽,母親的骨殖,已經(jīng)與泥土混為一體。我們只好象征性地挖起一些泥土,移到新的墓穴里。也

6、就是從那一時刻起,我感到,我的母親是大地的一部分,我站在大地上的訴說,就是對母親的訴說。I was my mothers youngest child.My earliest memory was of taking our only vacuum bottle to the public canteen for drinking water. Weakened by hunger, I dropped the bottle and broke it. Scared witless, I hid all that day in a haystack. Toward evening, I hea

7、rd my mother calling my childhood name, so I crawled out of my hiding place, prepared to receive a beating or a scolding. But Mother didnt hit me, didnt even scold me. She just rubbed my head and heaved a sigh.我是我母親最小的孩子。我記憶中最早的一件事,是提著家里唯一的一把熱水瓶去公共食堂打開水。因為饑餓無力,失手將熱水瓶打碎,我嚇得要命,鉆進草垛,一天沒敢出來。傍晚的時候,我聽到母親呼

8、喚我的乳名。我從草垛里鉆出來,以為會受到打罵,但母親沒有打我也沒有罵我,只是撫摸著我的頭,口中發(fā)出長長的嘆息。My most painful memory involved going out in the collectives field with Mother to glean ears of wheat. The gleaners scatteredwhen they spotted the watchman. But Mother, who had bound feet, could not run; she was caught and slapped so hard by the

9、 watchman, a hulk of a man, that she fell to the ground. The watchman confiscated the wheat wed gleaned and walked off whistling. As she sat on the ground, her lip bleeding, Mother wore a look of hopelessness Ill never forget. Years later, when I encountered the watchman, now a gray-haired old man,

10、in the marketplace, Mother had to stop me from going up to avenge her.“Son,” she said evenly, “the man who hit me and this man are not the same person.”我記憶中最痛苦的一件事,就是跟隨著母親去集體的地里撿麥穗,看守麥田的人來了,撿麥穗的人紛紛逃跑,我母親是小腳,跑不快,被捉住,那個身材高大的看守人搧了她一個耳光。她搖晃著身體跌倒在地?？词厝藳]收了我們撿到的麥穗,吹著口哨揚長而去。我母親嘴角流血,坐在地上,臉上那種絕望的神情讓我終生難忘。多年之后

11、,當(dāng)那個看守麥田的人成為一個白發(fā)蒼蒼的老人,在集市上與我相逢,我沖上去想找他報仇,母親拉住了我,平靜地對我說:“兒子,那個打我的人,與這個老人,并不是一個人?！盡y clearest memory is of a Moon Festival day, at noontime, one of those rare occasions when we ate jiaozi at home, one bowlapiece. An aging beggar came to our door while we were at the table, and when I tried to send him

12、 away with half a bowlful of dried sweet potatoes, he reacted angrily: “Im an old man,” he said. “You people are eating jiaozi, but want to feed me sweet potatoes. How heartless can you be?” I reacted just as angrily: “Were lucky if we eat jiaozi a couple of times a year, one small bowlful apiece, b

13、arely enough to get a taste! You should be thankful were giving you sweet potatoes, and if you dont want them, you can get the hell out of here!” After (dressing me down reprimanding me, Mother dumped her half bowlful of jiaozi into the old mans bowl.我記得最深刻的一件事是一個中秋節(jié)的中午,我們家難得地包了一頓餃子,每人只有一碗。正當(dāng)我們吃餃子時,

14、一個乞討的老人,來到了我們家門口。我端起半碗紅薯干打發(fā)他,他卻憤憤不平地說:“我是一個老人,你們吃餃子,卻讓我吃紅薯干,你們的心是怎么長的?”我氣急敗壞地說:“我們一年也吃不了幾次餃子,一人一小碗,連半飽都吃不了!給你紅薯干就不錯了,你要就要,不要就滾!”母親訓(xùn)斥了我,然后端起她那半碗餃子,倒進老人碗里。My most remorseful memory involves helping Mother sell cabbages at market, and me overcharging an old villager one jiao intentionally or not, I can

15、t recall before heading off to school. When I came home that afternoon, I saw that Mother was crying, something she rarely did. Instead of scolding me, she merely said softly, “Son, you embarrassed your mother today.”我最后悔的一件事,就是跟著母親去賣白菜,有意無意地多算了一位買白菜的老人一毛錢。算完錢我就去了學(xué)校。當(dāng)我放學(xué)回家時,看到很少流淚的母親淚流滿面。母親并沒有罵我,只是輕

16、輕地說:“兒子,你讓娘丟了臉?！盡other contracted a serious lung disease when I was still in my teens. Hunger, disease, and too much work made things extremely hard on our family. The road ahead looked especially bleak, and I had a bad feeling about the future, worried that Mother might take her own life. Every day

17、, the first thing I did when I walked in the door after a day of hard labor was call out for Mother. Hearing her voice was like giving my heart a new lease on life. But not hearing her threw me into a panic. Id go looking for her in the side b uilding and in the mill. One day, after searching everyw

18、here and not finding her, I sat down in the yard and cried like a baby. That is how she found me when she walked into the yard carrying a bundle of firewoodon her back. She was very unhappy with me, but I could not tell her what I was afraid of. She knew anyway. “Son,” she said, “dont worry, there m

19、ay be no joy in my life, but I wont leave you till the God of the Underworld calls me.”我十幾歲時,母親患了嚴重的肺病,饑餓,病痛,勞累,使我們這個家庭陷入困境,看不到光明和希望。我產(chǎn)生了一種強烈的不祥之感,以為母親隨時都會自尋短見。每當(dāng)我勞動歸來,一進大門,就高喊母親,聽到她的回應(yīng),心中才感到一塊石頭落了地,如果一時聽不到她的回應(yīng),我就心驚膽顫,跑到廂房和磨坊里尋找。有一次,找遍了所有的房間也沒有見到母親的身影。我便坐在院子里大哭。這時,母親背著一捆柴草從外邊走進來。她對我的哭很不滿,但我又不能對她說出我的

20、擔(dān)憂。母親看透我的心思,她說:“孩子,你放心,盡管我活著沒有一點樂趣,但只要閻王爺不叫我,我是不會去的?！盜 was born ugly. Villagers often laughed in my face, and school bullies sometimes beat me up because of it. Id run home crying, where my mother would say, “Youre not ugly, Son. Youve got a nose and two eyes, and theres nothing wrong with y our arm

21、s and legs, so how could you be ugly? If you have a good heart and always do the right thing, what is considered ugly becomes beautiful.” Later on, when I moved to the city, there wereeducated people who laughed at me behind my back, some even to my face; but when I recalled what Mother had said, I

22、just calmly offered my apologies.My illiterate mother held people who could read in high regard. We were so poor we often did not know where our next meal was coming from, yet she never denied my request to buy a book or something to write with. By nature hard working, she had no use for lazy childr

23、en, yet I could skip my chores as long as I had my nose in a book.我生來相貌丑陋,村子里很多人當(dāng)面嘲笑我,學(xué)校里有幾個性格霸蠻的同學(xué)甚至為此打我。我回家痛哭,母親對我說:“兒子,你不丑。你不缺鼻子不缺眼,四肢健全,丑在哪里?而且,只要你心存善良,多做好事,即便是丑,也能變美?！焙髞砦疫M入城市,有一些很有文化的人依然在背后甚至當(dāng)面嘲弄我的相貌,我想起了母親的話,便心平氣和地向他們道歉。A storyteller once came to the marketplace, and I sneaked off to listen to

24、 him. She was unhappy with me for forgetting my chores. But that night, while she was stitching padded clothes for us under the weak light of a kerosene lamp, I couldnt keepfrom retelling stories Id heard that day. She listened impatiently at first, since in her eyes professional storytellers were s

25、mooth-talking men in a dubious profession. Nothing good ever came out of their mouths. But slowly she was dragged into my retold stories, and from that day on, she never gave me chores on market day, unspoken permission to go to the marketplace and listen to new stories. As repayment for Mothers kin

26、dness and a way to demonstrate my memory, Id retell the stories for her in vivid detail.我母親不識字,但對識字的人十分敬重。我們家生活困難,經(jīng)常吃了上頓沒下頓,但只要我對她提出買書買文具的要求,她總是會滿足我。她是個勤勞的人,討厭懶惰的孩子,但只要是我因為看書耽誤了干活,她從來沒批評過我。有一段時間,集市上來了一個說書人。我偷偷地跑去聽書,忘記了她分配給我的活兒。為此,母親批評了我。晚上,當(dāng)她就著一盞小油燈為家人趕制棉衣時,我忍不住地將白天從說書人那里聽來的故事復(fù)述給她聽,起初她有些不耐煩,因為在她心目中,

27、說書人都是油嘴滑舌、不務(wù)正業(yè)的人,從他們嘴里,冒不出什么好話來。但我復(fù)述的故事,漸漸地吸引了她。以后每逢集日,她便不再給我排活兒,默許我去集上聽書。為了報答母親的恩情,也為了向她炫耀我的記憶力,我會把白天聽到的故事,繪聲繪色地講給她聽。It did not take long to find retelling someone elses stories unsatisfying, so I began embellishing my n arration. Id say things I knew would please Mother, even changed the ending on

28、ce in a while. And she wasnt the only member of my audience, which later included my older sisters, my aunts, even my maternal grandmother. Sometimes, after my mother had listened to one of my stories, shed ask in a care-laden voice, almost as if to herself: “What will you be like when you grow up,

29、son? Might you wind up prattling for a living one day?”很快的,我就不滿足復(fù)述說書人講的故事了,我在復(fù)述的過程中,不斷地添油加醋。我會投我母親所好,編造一些情節(jié),有時候甚至改變故事的結(jié)局。我的聽眾,也不僅僅是我的母親,連我的姐姐,我的嬸嬸,我的奶奶,都成為我的聽眾。我母親在聽完我的故事后,有時會憂心忡忡地,像是對我說,又像是自言自語:“兒啊,你長大后會成為一個什么人呢?難道要靠耍貧嘴吃飯嗎?”I knew why she was worried. Talkative kids are not well thought of in our v

30、illage, for they can bring trouble to themselves and to their families. There is a bit of a young me in the talkative boy who falls afoul of villagers in my story “Bulls.” Mother habitually cautioned me not to talk so much, wanting me to bea taciturn, smooth and steady youngster. Instead I was posse

31、ssed of a dangerous combination remarkable speaking skills and the powerful desire that went with them. My ability to tell stories brought her joy, but that created a dilemma for her.我理解母親的擔(dān)憂,因為在村子里,一個貧嘴的孩子,是招人厭煩的,有時候還會給自己和家庭帶來麻煩。我在小說牛里所寫的那個因為話多被村里人厭惡的孩子,就有我童年時的影子。我母親經(jīng)常提醒我少說話,她希望我能做一個沉默寡言、安穩(wěn)大方的孩子。但在

32、我身上,卻顯露出極強的說話能力和極大的說話欲望,這無疑是極大的危險,但我的說故事的能力,又帶給了她愉悅,這使她陷入深深的矛盾之中。A popular saying goes “It is easier to change the course of a river t han a persons nature.” Despite my parents tireless guidance, my natural desire to talk never went away, and that is what makes my name Mo Yan, or “dont speak” an iro

33、nic expression of self-mockery.俗話說“江山易改,本性難移”,盡管有我父母親的諄諄教導(dǎo),但我并沒改掉我喜歡說話的天性,這使得我的名字“莫言”,很像對自己的諷刺。After dropping out of elementary school, I was too small for heavy labor, so I became a cattle- and sheep-herder on a nearby grassy riverbank. The sight of my former schoolmates playing in the schoolyard w

34、hen I drove my animals past the gate always saddened me and made me aware of how tough it is for anyone even a child to leave the group.我小學(xué)未畢業(yè)即輟學(xué),因為年幼體弱,干不了重活,只好到荒草灘上去放牧牛羊。當(dāng)我牽著牛羊從學(xué)校門前路過,看到昔日的同學(xué)在校園里打打鬧鬧,我心中充滿悲涼,深深地體會到一個人哪怕是一個孩子離開群體后的痛苦。I turned the animals loose on the riverbank to graze beneatha sky

35、 as blue as the ocean and grass-carpeted land as far as the eye could see not another person in sight, no human sounds, nothing but bird calls above me. I was all by myself and terribly lonely; my heart felt empty. Sometimes I lay in the grass andwatched clouds float lazily by, which gave rise to al

36、l sorts of fanciful images. That part of the country is known for its tales of foxes in the form of beautiful young women, and I would fantasize a fox-turned-beautiful girl coming to tend animals with me. She never did come. Once, however, a fiery red fox bounded out of the brush in front of me, sca

37、ring my legs right out from under me. I was still sitting there trembling long after the fox had vanished. Sometimes Id crouch down beside the cows and gaze into their deep blue eyes, eyes that captured my reflection. At times Id have a dialogue with birds in the sky, mimicking their cries, while at

38、 other times Id divulge my hopes and desires to a tree. But the birds ignored me, and so did the trees. Years later, after Id become a novelist, I wrote some of those fantasies into my novels and stories. People frequently bombard me with compliments on my vivid imagination, and lovers of literature

39、 often ask me to divulge my secret to developing a rich imagination. My only response is a wan smile.到了荒灘上,我把牛羊放開,讓它們自己吃草。藍天如海,草地一望無際,周圍看不到一個人影,沒有人的聲音,只有鳥兒在天上鳴叫。我感到很孤獨,很寂寞,心里空空蕩蕩。有時候,我躺在草地上,望著天上懶洋洋地飄動著的白云,腦海里便浮現(xiàn)出許多莫名其妙的幻像。我們那地方流傳著許多狐貍變成美女的故事。我幻想著能有一個狐貍變成美女與我來做伴放牛,但她始終沒有出現(xiàn)。但有一次,一只火紅色的狐貍從我面前的草叢中跳出來時,我

40、被嚇得一屁股蹲在地上。狐貍跑沒了蹤影,我還在那里顫抖。有時候我會蹲在牛的身旁,看著湛藍的牛眼和牛眼中的我的倒影。有時候我會模仿著鳥兒的叫聲試圖與天上的鳥兒對話,有時候我會對一棵樹訴說心聲。但鳥兒不理我,樹也不理我。許多年后,當(dāng)我成為一個小說家,當(dāng)年的許多幻想,都被我寫進了小說。很多人夸我想象力豐富,有一些文學(xué)愛好者,希望我能告訴他們培養(yǎng)想象力的秘訣,對此,我只能報以苦笑。Our Taoist master Laozi said it best: “Fortune depends on misfortune. Misfortune is hidden in fortune.” I left sc

41、hool as a child, often went hungry, was constantly lonely, and had no books to read. But for those reasons, like the writer of a previous generation, Shen Congwen, I had an early start on reading the great book of life. My experience of going to the marketplace to listen to a storyteller was but one

42、 page of that book.就像中國的先賢老子所說的那樣:“福兮禍所伏,禍兮福所倚”,我童年輟學(xué),飽受饑餓、孤獨、無書可讀之苦,但我因此也像我們的前輩作家沈從文那樣,及早地開始閱讀社會人生這本大書。前面所提到的到集市上去聽說書人說書,僅僅是這本大書中的一頁。After leaving school, I was thrown uncomfortably into the world of adults, where I embarked on the long journey of learning through listening. Two hundred years ago,

43、one of the great storytellers of all time Pu Songling lived near where I grew up, and where many people, me included, carried on the tradition he had perfected. Wherever I happened to be working the fields with the collective, in production team cowsheds or stables, on my grandparents heated kang, e

44、ven on oxcarts bouncing and swaying down the road, my ears filled with tales of the supernatural, historical romances, and strange and captivating stories, all tied to the natural environment and clan histories, and all of which created a powerful reality in my mind.輟學(xué)之后,我混跡于成人之中,開始了“用耳朵閱讀”的漫長生涯。二百多

45、年前,我的故鄉(xiāng)曾出了一個講故事的偉大天才蒲松齡,我們村里的許多人,包括我,都是他的傳人。我在集體勞動的田間地頭,在生產(chǎn)隊的牛棚馬廄,在我爺爺奶奶的熱炕頭上,甚至在搖搖晃晃地行進著的牛車上,聆聽了許許多多神鬼故事,歷史傳奇,逸聞趣事,這些故事都與當(dāng)?shù)氐淖匀画h(huán)境、家族歷史緊密聯(lián)系在一起,使我產(chǎn)生了強烈的現(xiàn)實感。Even in my wildest dreams, I could not have envisioned a day when all this would be the stuff of my own fiction, for I was just a boy who loved st

46、ories, who was infatuated with the tales people around me were telling. Back then I was, without a doubt, a theist, believing that all living creatures were endowed with souls. Id stop and pay my respects to a towering old tree; if I saw a bird, I was sure it could become human any time it wanted; a

47、nd I suspected every stranger I met of being a transformed beast. At night, terrible fears accompanied me on my way home after my work points were tallied, so Id sing at the top of my lungs as I ran to build up a bit of courage. My voice, which was changing at the time, produced scratchy, squeaky so

48、ngs that grated on the ears of any villager who heard me.我做夢也想不到有朝一日這些東西會成為我的寫作素材,我當(dāng)時只是一個迷戀故事的孩子,醉心地聆聽著人們的講述。那時我是一個絕對的有神論者,我相信萬物都有靈性,我見到一棵大樹會肅然起敬。我看到一只鳥會感到它隨時會變化成人,我遇到一個陌生人,也會懷疑他是一個動物變化而成。每當(dāng)夜晚我從生產(chǎn)隊的記工房回家時,無邊的恐懼便包圍了我,為了壯膽,我一邊奔跑一邊大聲歌唱。那時我正處在變聲期,嗓音嘶啞,聲調(diào)難聽,我的歌唱,是對我的鄉(xiāng)親們的一種折磨。I spent my first twenty-one y

49、ears in that village, never traveling farther from home than to Qingdao, by train, where I nearly got lost amid the giant stacks of wood in a lumber mill. When my mother asked me what Id seen in Qingdao, I reported sadly that all Id seen were stacks of lumber. But that trip to Qingdao planted in me

50、a powerful desire to leave my village and see the world.我在故鄉(xiāng)生活了二十一年,期間離家最遠的是乘火車去了一次青島,還差點迷失在木材廠的巨大木材之間,以至于我母親問我去青島看到了什么風(fēng)景時,我沮喪地告訴她:什么都沒看到,只看到了一堆堆的木頭。但也就是這次青島之行,使我產(chǎn)生了想離開故鄉(xiāng)到外邊去看世界的強烈愿望。In February 1976 I was recruited into the army and walked out of the Northeast Gaomi Township village I both loved an

51、d hated, entering a critical phase of my life, carrying in my backpackthe four-volume Brief History of China my mother had bought by selling her wedding jewelry. Thus began the most important period of my life. I must admit that were it not for the thirty-odd years of tremendous development and prog

52、ress in Chinese society, and the subsequent national reform and opening of her doors to the outside, I would not be a writer today.1976 年2 月,我應(yīng)征入伍,背著我母親賣掉結(jié)婚時的首飾幫我購買的四本中國通史簡編,走出了高密東北鄉(xiāng)這個既讓我愛又讓我恨的地方,開始了我人生的重要時期。我必須承認,如果沒有30 多年來中國社會的巨大發(fā)展與進步,如果沒有改革開放,也不會有我這樣一個作家。In the midst of mind-numbing military life

53、, I welcomed the ideological emancipation and literary fervor of the nineteen-eighties, and evolved from a boy who listened to stories and passed them on by word of mouth into someone who experimented with writing them down. It was a rocky road at first, a time when I had not yet discovered how rich

54、 a source of literary material my two decades of village life could be.I thought that literature was all about good people doing good things, stories of heroic deeds and model citizens, so that thefew pieces of mine that were published had little literary value.在軍營的枯燥生活中,我迎來了八十年代的思想解放和文學(xué)熱潮,我從一個用耳朵聆聽

55、故事,用嘴巴講述故事的孩子,開始嘗試用筆來講述故事。起初的道路并不平坦,我那時并沒有意識到我二十多年的農(nóng)村生活經(jīng)驗是文學(xué)的富礦,那時我以為文學(xué)就是寫好人好事,就是寫英雄模范,所以,盡管也發(fā)表了幾篇作品,但文學(xué)價值很低。In the fall of 1984 I was accepted into the Literature Department of the PLA Art Academy, where, under the guidance of my revered mentor, the renowned writer Xu Huaizhong, I wrote a series of

56、 stories and novellas, including: “Autumn Floods,” “Dry River,” “The Transparent Carrot,” and “Red Sorghum.” Northeast Gaomi Township made its first appearance in “Autumn Floods,” and from that moment on, like a wandering peasant who finds his own piece of land, this literary vagabond found a place

57、he could call his own. I must say that in the course of creating my literary domain, Northeast Gaomi Township, I was greatly inspired by the American novelist William Faulkner and the Columbian Gabriel García Márquez. I had not read either of them extensively, but was encouraged by the bol

58、d, unrestrainedway they created new territory in writing, and learned from them that a writer must have a place that belongs to him alone. Humility and compromise are ideal in ones daily life, but in literary creation, supreme self-confidence and the need to follow ones own instincts are essential.

59、For two years I followed in the footsteps of these two masters before realizing that I had to escape their influence; this is how I characterized that decision in an essay: They were a pair of blazing furnaces, I was a block of ice. If I got too close to them, I would dissolve into a cloud of steam. In my understanding, one writer influences another when they enjoy a profound spiritual kinship, what is ofte