劝谏书——致过剩的科幻作者
|| 译自：C. S. Lewis, "An Expostulation: Against too many writers of science fiction" ||
为何要引诱我们如此大费周章， 穿越深渊，光年累加光年， 去建造（仿佛我们在乎大小似的！） 覆盖宇宙各个星系的帝国； 万一，在旅程的尽头，我们最终找到的 不过是曾被留在身后的老旧物什， 那些关于骗子，间谍，阴谋或爱情的， 可以设置在布朗克斯，蒙马特或者 随便什么地方的，烂熟俗套的地球人故事？ 我又为何要离开这间栖身的牢房， 蓝天房顶，绿地为床 除非在铁门之外，长久以来幻想的 超自然世界正在等待： 那名叫奇异的，比恐惧更动人， 唤作美丽的，却以尖矛刺痛我们， 亦或是惊奇，用指尖抚摸我们的起点 玉体横陈在人的心窝 仿佛某种迅疾而羞赧的想法 刚刚逃脱理性的掌握？
涵 译于深圳 2020.8.11
An Expostulation: Against too many writers of science fiction
by C. S. Lewis
Why did you lure us on like this, Light-year on light-year, through the abyss, Building (as though we cared for size!) Empires that cover galaxies If at the journey's end we find The same old stuff we left behind, Well-worn Tellurian stories of Crooks, spies, conspirators, or love, Whose setting might as well have been The Bronx, Montmartre, or Bedinal Green? Why should I leave this green-floored cell, Roofed with blue air, in which we dwell, Unless, outside its guarded gates, Long, long desired, the Unearthly waits Strangeness that moves us more than fear, Beauty that stabs with tingling spear, Or Wonder, laying on one's heart That finger-tip at which we start As if some thought too swift and shy For reason's grasp had just gone by?
