布洛赫《维吉尔之死》书摘

[奇文共欣赏，疑义相与析——布洛赫关于夜晚，梦境和意识的描写] The night lay without motion, formfast in its near and far apparence, locked here into this room, locked into ever-widening spaces, extending from the vicinity of the tangible to always further frontiers, away over mountains and seas, extended in a constant outflow even unto the unreachable dream-caverns, and this flood, springing from the heart, breaking at the periphery of the dream-caverns and flowing back from there into the heart, received the yearning into itself wave upon wave, dissolving even the yearning for yearning, bringing to a standstill the shrouded swaying of the maternal star-cradle where it began, and encircled by flashes of the dark lightnings below, of the bright ones above, it parted into light and darkness, into murk and glare; two-toned the cloud, twofold the source, thunder-close, soundless, spaceless, timeless—oh, riven cave of the inner and outer life, oh, mighty on-going earth!—, thus the night yawned wide, being’s slumber was snapped, dusk and poetry had been silently rinsed away, their realm rinsed away, the echo-wall of dreams shattered, and mocked by the silent voices of memory, guilt-laden and hopeless, inundated by the flood, washed away on the flood, life’s over-great travail sank to sheer nothingness. It had become too late, there was nothing left but flight, the ship lay ready, the anchor was being lifted; it was too late.