阿赫玛托娃长诗《安魂曲》（野里译）

安魂曲
不，我并非在异域他邦，
也不是在别人的羽翼下躲藏，——
我当时是和我的人民一起，
处在我的人民不幸而在的地方。
（1961）
代序
在那令人担惊受怕的叶若夫年代，有十七个月我是在排队探监中度过的。一天，有人把我“认出来了”。排在我身后那个嘴唇毫无血色的女人，她虽然从未听说过我的名字，却突然从我们大家特有的麻木状态中苏醒过来，在我耳边低声问道（在那个地方人人都是悄声说话的）: “您能把这个都写出来吗？” “能。”我说。于是，在她那曾经是一张脸的部分掠过一丝似乎是微笑的表情。
　　
（1957年4月1日于列宁格勒）
　　
献词
在这哀痛面前高山会低头，
滔滔的江水也会静止不流，
但重重牢门依然紧紧地关闭，
门后是“苦役犯阴暗的炕头”，
还有那致人死命的哀愁。
和风究竟为谁轻轻吹拂，
夕阳究竟给谁舒开眉头——
对此我们概不知晓，
我们到处听见的声音
只是钥匙在门锁上刺耳的转动，
还有士兵的皮靴声声沉重。
我们像赶晨祷一样早起，
穿过变得野性的都城，
在那儿聚集，比死人还缺乏生气，
太阳低低，涅瓦河雾气蒙蒙，
然而希望却在远方歌唱。
宣告判决……当即泪水夺眶，
我已经远离了一切人，
仿佛有一种挖心般的剧痛，
仿佛是被粗野地推倒在地，
可依然前行……步履蹒跚……孤孤单单。
在那两年险恶时光中的女难友们，
如今又都流落在何处何方？
她们有什么幻觉，
在那西伯利亚的暴风雪中？
她们又仿佛看到了什么，
在那月亮圆圆的时候？
我把惜别的情意送到她们心头。
（1940.3.）
序曲
这事情发生的时候，
唯有死人才会高兴，
高兴他获得了安宁。
列宁格勒像多余的废物，
在自己的监狱周围彷徨，
被判罪的人走着，成队成行，
苦难的折磨使他们神情癫狂，
火车的汽笛短促地
把离情别绪吟唱。
在沾满鲜血的皮靴下，
在囚车黑色的轮胎下，
无辜的罗斯在痛苦挣扎，
死亡的星辰高悬在我们头上。
1 　
你被带走正是黎明时分，
我跟在你的身后，像送殡一样。
小儿女在狭窄的房内啼哭，
神龛前是一支滴泪的烛光。
圣像在你双唇上留下一丝凉意，
临终的冷汗在你的额角上流淌……
不能忘啊不能忘！——
我要像弓箭手的妻子那样，
哭倒在克里姆林塔楼之旁。
（1935.秋.莫斯科） 　
2
静静的顿河静静地流，
昏黄的月色照入楼。
　　
昏黄的月色歪戴着帽，
走进屋来照见人身影。
　　
这个女人身染疾病，
这个女人孤苦伶仃。
　　
丈夫已去儿入狱，
请为我祈祷上帝。
3
不，这并不是我，
这是受苦受难的另一个。
假如是我怎能忍受，
那简直是祸从天落，
让黑色的呢绒将它遮住，
让人们拿走所有的灯火……
只留下茫茫夜色。
　　
4
你是爱取笑别人的人，
你是所有朋友的宠儿，
你是皇村开心的犯戒者，
如今要让你明白，
你一生的境遇又将如何——
你要站在克列斯特铁窗旁边，
排在三百号，手托探监的物品，
滴下你滚滚的热泪，
烤化新年的冰层。
像监狱的那株白杨摇曳，
无声无息——而大墙里
有多少无辜的生命在死去……
（1938）
5
我高声哀号十七个月，
千呼万唤你回家，
我匍伏在刽子手的脚下，
我的儿子啊，你使我担惊受怕。
一切似乎都永远黑白颠倒，
现在我已无法分得一点不差，
谁个是人，谁个是兽，
死刑究竟还要等待多久。
只有摇炉散香之声，
还有鲜花团团簇簇，
脚印一个又一个，
伸向某个茫然不知的去处。
一颗巨大的星星
以行将毁灭相威胁
直眉瞪眼地把我看住。
（1939）
6
一周一周轻轻掠过。
发生了什么，总是一片迷茫，
儿子啊，他们日夜盯着你
如何进入牢房，
他们又以怎样的凶恶目光
像鹰隼一样把你张望。
说着你那高高的十字架，
议论着你的死亡。 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　
（1939.春.）
7
判决
巨石般的词句压向
我一息尚存的胸膛，
没什么，我已经有了准备，
无论怎样我都能承当。
今天我有很多事要做，
我要让记忆断根绝蒂，
我要使心灵变成石头，
我要把生活重新学习。
可是……夏日炎炎的噪音，
好像过节在我窗前声声不断。
我早已预感会有这晴朗的一天，
和那空空荡荡的房间。
（1934.夏.喷泉居）
　　
8
致死神
你迟早要来——为何不是现在？
我非常艰难地将你等待。
我熄灯灭火为你把门敞开，
你是如此普通，又是这般奇怪。
随便你采用什么形式进来，
是像一枚浸过毒汁的炮弹落下，
或是像手持哑铃的惯匪偷偷地进来，
或是化作伤寒的烟雾散开。
还是带着熟悉到令人恶心的
你编造出来的谎言——
让我在天蓝色的帽子上方
看见房管员那吓得苍白的脸。
如今这一切对我都无所谓。
叶尼塞河波涛滚滚，
北极星亮光熠熠。
心爱者双眸中那蓝色的火花
遮蔽住最后的畏惧。
（1939.8.19.喷泉居）
9
疯狂已用一侧翅膀
把心灵的一半遮住，
灌我以灼热的酒浆
招引我走向黑色的深谷。
　　
我心中非常清楚
我该把胜利让给它，
倾听着自己的呓语，
似乎是他人的胡话。
　　
（无论我如何哀求，
不管我怎样恳求）
它也不肯点头应允
我把任何东西带走：
无论是儿子恐惧的眼神——
那麻木不仁的痛苦，
还是那雷雨临头的日子，
和那监狱相会的时候。
无论是亲爱者双手留下的凉意，
无论是那动人心弦的菩提树荫，
还是那最后慰藉的话语——
从远方传来的轻微声音。
（1940.5.4.）
10
钉十字架
“母亲，不要为我哭泣，
我还呆在棺材里。”
１　　　　　　　　　
天使高歌赞颂伟大的时刻，
而苍穹却溶化在烈火之中。
我对父亲说：“为什么把我遗弃！”
而对母亲说：“啊，不要为我哭泣……”
1938
２　　　　　　　　　
马格达利娜捶胸痛哭，　　　　　
心爱的门徒化作了石头，　　
而母亲默默伫立的地方，　　
却无人敢把目光相投。　　
尾声
１
我知道，我的容颜是怎样的消瘦，
眼睑下闪现着何等的惊忧，
痛苦是如何在双颊上
描绘出粗硬的楔形纹皱，
满头浅灰色和浓黑色的卷发
如何突然变得白发满头，
微笑在柔顺的双唇上枯萎，
恐惧之情在干笑声中颤抖。
我不是只为我一个人祈祷，
而是为了所有的那些人们，
他们同我一起站在耀眼的红墙下，
无论是冬日的严寒
还是七月的酷暑。
　　
２
举哀的时刻又已临近。
我看着，听着，感觉着你们：
　　
既有那位被人扶到窗口的女人，
也有那位不能踏上故土的女性，
　　
还有那位摇着头的女子是多么美丽，
她曾经说过：“来这就像回到家里。”
　
我本想把她们的名字一一说出。
无奈名单已被夺去，无从得悉。
　　
我为她们织就一块宽大的裹尸布，
用偷偷听到的她们的只言片语。
　　
我随时随地都把她们回忆，
哪怕新的灾难临头也不会忘记，
　　
即使我历尽磨难的嘴被堵住，
亿万人民也会用我的呼喊抗议，
　　
在我命丧黄泉之日的前夕，
就让他们对我这样致悼念之意。
　　
如果有朝一日在这个国家里，
有人想为我把纪念碑竖立，
　　
但只有在这样一个条件之下，
我同意以此来纪念胜利——
　　
不要立在我出生的海边，
我与大海已经断绝联系，
　
不要立在皇村花园朝思暮想的树桩旁，
因为令人心碎的影子在那里把我寻觅，
　　
把它立在我站过三百小时的地方，
在那里门栓从来不曾为我开启。
　　
因为在获得解脱的死亡之中，
我害怕会把黑色囚车的嘶鸣忘记。
　　
我害怕忘却那令人可憎的牢门关闭声，
和那老妇人如负伤野兽般的哀泣。
　　
要让那不会转动的青铜眼帘，
流下溶化的雪水，像泪水滴滴，
　　
让监狱的鸽子到远方去飞翔，
让船只在涅瓦河上静静地游弋。
（1940.3.）
（野里　译）
英译：
REQUIEM
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected -
I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
[1961]
INSTEAD OF A PREFACE
During the frightening years of the Yezhov terror, I
spent seventeen months waiting in prison queues in
Leningrad. One day, somehow, someone 'picked me out'.
On that occasion there was a woman standing behind me,
her lips blue with cold, who, of course, had never in
her life heard my name. Jolted out of the torpor
characteristic of all of us, she said into my ear
(everyone whispered there) - 'Could one ever describe
this?' And I answered - 'I can.' It was then that
something like a smile slid across what had previously
been just a face.
[The 1st of April in the year 1957. Leningrad]
DEDICATION
Before this grief, bend mountains,
Stops the flow of the great river,
But can’t break strong prison bars
And behind them “prisoners’ burrows”
And deadly anguish.
For whom fresh wind blows
For whom the setting sun consoles; we don't know.
We are everywhere the same, listening
To the scrape and turn of hateful keys
And the heavy tread of marching soldiers.
Waking early, as if for early mass,
Walking through the capital run wild
There we met, lifeless dead;
Sun beneath and Neva foggy,
But hope still sings forever in the distance.
The verdict. Immediately, a flood of tears,
Followed by a total isolation,
As if a beating heart is painfully ripped out, or,
roughly overturned backwards,
But she still manages to walk, unsteady, alone.
Where are you, my nameless friends,
Captives of my two satanic years?
What miracle do you see in a Siberian blizzard?
What shimmering mirage around the circle of the moon?
I send each one of you my salutation, and farewell.
[March 1940]
INTRODUCTION
 
[PRELUDE]
It happened like this when only the dead
Were smiling, glad of their release,
That Leningrad hung around its prisons
Like a worthless emblem, flapping its piece.
Shrill and sharp, the steam-whistles sang
Short songs of separation
To the ranks of convicted, demented by suffering,
As they, in regiments, walked along -
Stars of death stood over us
As innocent Russia squirmed
Under the blood-spattered boots and tyres
Of the black marias.
I
You were taken away at dawn. I followed you
As one does when a corpse is being removed.
Children were crying in the darkened house.
A candle flared, illuminating the Mother of God. . .
The cold of an icon was on your lips, a death-cold sweat
On your brow - I will never forget this; I will gather
To wail with the wives of the murdered streltsy
Inconsolably, beneath the Kremlin towers.
[1935. Autumn. Moscow]
II
Quietly flows quiet Don,
Yellow moon enters the house.
Enters with crooked cap
The yellow moon sees a shadow
This woman is sick.
This woman is alone.
Husband in tomb, son in prison
Pray for me.
III
No, it isn’t me, it’s someone else’s suffering.
I can’t take what happened.
Cover it with a black cloth,
Let the lanterns be removed. . .
Night
IV
Giggling, poking fun,
The love of all friends,
The carefree sinner of Tsarskoye Selo ,
If only you could have foreseen
What life would do with you -
That you would stand, parcel in hand,
Beneath the Crosses, three hundredth in line,
Burning the new year's ice
With your hot tears.
Back and forth the prison poplar sways
With not a sound - how many innocent
Blameless lives are being taken away. . .
[1938]
V
For seventeen months I have been screaming,
Calling you home.
I've thrown myself at the feet of butchers
For you, my son and my horror.
Everything has become muddled forever -
I can no longer distinguish
Who is an animal, who a person, and how long
The wait can be for an execution.
There are now only dusty flowers,
The chinking of the thurible,
Tracks from somewhere into nowhere.
And, staring me in the face
And threatening me with swift annihilation,
An enormous star.
[1939]
VI
Weeks fly lightly by.
What happened, I cannot understand.
How, my son, into your prison
White nights stare so brilliantly.
Now once more they looked like a hawk
Apon your tall cross,
And speak about death.
[1939. Spring]
VII
THE VERDICT
The word landed with a stony thud
Onto my still-beating breast.
Nevermind, I was prepared,
I will manage with the rest.
I have a lot of work to do today;
I need to slaughter memory,
Turn my living soul to stone
Then teach myself to live again. . .
But how. The hot summer rustles
Like a carnival outside my window;
I have long had this premonition
Of a bright day and a deserted house.
[22 June 1939. Summer. Fontannyi Dom (4)]
VIII
TO DEATH
You will come anyway - so why not now?
I wait for you—it is too hard.
I have put out the lights and opened the door
For you, so simple and so marvellous.
Assume whatever shape you wish. Burst in like
A poisonous shot. Sneak up
like an experienced bandit with heavy weapons.
Poison me, if you want, with a typhoid exhalation,
Or, with a simple tale prepared by you
(And known by all to the point of nausea), take me
Before the commander of the blue caps and let me glimpse
The house administrator's terrified white face.
I don't care anymore. Yenisey Swirls on.
The Pole star blazes.
The blue sparks of those beloved eyes
Close over and cover the last horror.
[19 August 1939. Fontannyi Dom]
IX
Madness with its wings
Has covered half my soul,
It feeds me fiery wine
And lures me into the black abyss.
That's when I understood
While listening to my alien delirium
That I must hand the victory
To it.
However much I nag,
However much I beg,
It will not let me take
One single thing away:
Nor my son's frightening eyes -
A suffering set in stone,
Or prison visiting hours,
Or days that end in storms,
Nor the sweet coolness of a hand,
The agitated shade of lime trees,
Nor the light distant sound
Of final comforting words.
[14 May 1940. Fontannyi Dom]
X
CRUCIFIXION
“Weep not for me, mother.
I am alive in my grave.”
1.
A choir of angels glorified the greatest hour,
And heaven melted into flames.
To Father he said, 'Why hast thou forsaken me!'
And to Mother, 'Weep not for me. . .'
Magdalena smote herself and wept,
Favourite disciple turned to stone,
And there, where silent Mother stood,
Not one person dared to stare .
[1943. Tashkent]
EPILOGUE
1.
I have learned how faces fall,
How terror looks like under lowered eyelids,
How suffering can etch cold pages
Of cuneiform-like marks upon the cheeks.
I know how dark or ash-blond strands of hair
Can suddenly turn white,
How smile fades upon submissive lips,
How fears tremble inside a hollow laugh.
And I pray not for myself alone,
But for all of you who stood there with me
Through fiercest cold and scorching July heat
Under a towering, completely blind red wall.
2.
The hour has come to remember the dead.
I see you, I hear you, I feel you:
The one who resisted the long drag to the open window;
The one who could no longer feel the kick of familiar
soil beneath her feet;
The one shaking her beautiful head, replied,
'I arrive here as if I've come home!'
I'd like to call you all by name, but the list
Has been taken away and nowhere to learn.
So,I have woven you this wide shroud
out of the humble words I overheard you use.
Everywhere, forever and always,
I will never forget one single thing,
Even in new grief.
Even if they clamp shut my tormented mouth
Through which one hundred million people scream;
That's how I wish them to remember me when I am dead
On the eve of my remembrance day.
If someone someday in this country
Decides to raise a memorial to me,
I give my consent to this festivity
But only on this condition - do not build it
By the sea where I was born,
I have severed my last ties with the sea;
Nor in the Tsar's Park by the treasured stump
Where an inconsolable shadow searches for me;
Build it here where I stood for three hundred hours
And for me bars weren’t opened.
Listen, even in blissful death I fear
That I will forget the noise of Black Marias,
Forget how hatefully the door slammed and an old woman
Howled like a wounded beast.
Let the thawing ice flow like tears
From my immovable bronze eyelids.
And let the prison dove coo in the distance
While ships sail quietly along the river.
[March 1940. Fontannyi Dom]