阿特伍德作品

◎董繼平 譯

草 莓

當我最初想起草莓， 它們并非紅色， 而是藍色， 是那種在電線的白熱部分前面的藍色閃光， 太陽在波浪尖上的閃耀。 正是熱量使得事物變成那樣， 憤怒， 我走進荒蕪的果園， 因為我不想對你說話， 甚至不想看到你， 相反， 我想干一些我所擅長的有用的小事。

這是六月， 蚊蟲滋生， 當我把高高的梗莖推到一邊， 我就驚起了蚊蟲， 但我毫不在乎， 我有避開蚊蟲的能力， 所有的腎上腺素會趕走它們， 如果趕不走， 我就把心情集中于較小的劃傷上面。 我再也不會那樣生氣。 我幾乎錯過了它。

我要說， 我透過一片紅色的煙霾看見了萬物， 這不是真的。一切都不朦朧。 萬物都很清晰， 比平常要清晰， 我那染過指甲的手， 透過蘋果樹枝落到地面上的陽光， 每一片葉子， 每一朵五瓣黃心的花， 還有圓錐形、 長滿細毛、 暗紅色的多籽矮漿果， 在干燥的平地上展現出兩維細節， 猶如在發明照相機之前， 一個維多利亞時代的更瘋狂的畫家畫出的背景上的葉簇。 在那個時辰的某些時候，盡管不是整個時辰， 我忘記了事物的稱呼， 卻看見它們是什么。

STRAWBERRIES

The strawberries when I first remember them are not red but blue， that blue flare， before the white hot part of the wire， sun glancing from the points of waves. It was the heat that made things blue like that， rage， I went into the waste orchard because I did not want to talk to you or even see you， I wanted instead to do something small and useful that I was good at. It was June， there were mosquitoes， I stirred them up as I pushed aside the higher stems， but I didn’t care， I was immune， all that adrenalin kept them away， and if not I was in the mood for minor lacerations. I don’t get angry like that anymore. I almost miss it.

I’d like to say I saw everything through a haze of red; which is not true. Nothing was hazy. Everything was very clear， clearer than usual， my hands with the stained nails， the sunlight falling on the ground through the apple-tree branches， each leaf， each white five petalled yellow centred flower and conical fine-haired dark red multiseeded dwarf berry rendering itself in dry flat two dimensional detail，like background foliage by one of the crazier Victorian painters， just before the invention of the camera; and at some time during that hour， though not for the whole hour， I forgot what things were called and saw instead what they are.

勝利滑稽娛樂劇場①

我去過勝利滑稽娛樂劇場兩次， 或許只有一次， 另一次是我的一位朋友去了告訴我的。 兩次我都喜歡。 人們認為年輕女人去那樣的地方相當大膽， 可我們覺得那樣的地方很有趣， 幾乎就像教堂一樣有趣。

你觀賞到了一場單口喜劇， 一場電影， 一個唱歌或雜耍盤子的人， 還有脫衣舞表演。 他們使用了很多彩色照明， 紅、 藍、紫。 每個女孩都有假名： 塔克小姐、 畢哈維小姐、 勒魯火焰。 因為那些名字和服裝獨出心裁， 我喜歡它們， 我還喜歡技巧更為嫻熟的女孩， 那些能快速旋轉流蘇或讓腹部和臀部旋轉成圓圈的女孩。 那是在她們不得不脫下一切物之前， 脫衣有一種藝術， 幾乎就像雜耍盤子。 我喜歡她們在一汪汪彩色光芒中漂浮的方式， 她們移動， 仿佛在游動， 玻璃后面的美人魚。

一個女人背對觀眾開始表演， 聚光燈落在她的身上。 她戴著白色長手套， 穿著黑色晚禮服， 當她展開雙臂， 那薄紗的黑袖子看起來就像薄膜狀的翅膀。 她用手臂和后背做了很多姿勢， 然而， 當她最終轉過身來， 她年老色衰。 她的臉用脂粉涂抹得死一般蒼白， 她的嘴涂抹著略帶紅色的鮮紫色， 但她年老色衰。 我能感到恥辱穿過我而涌流， 這不再有趣， 我不想這個女人脫掉她的衣服， 我不想看。 我感到是我而不是舞臺上的那個女人， 正在被暴露、 被羞辱。 他們肯定會譏笑她， 對她大叫什么， 他們肯定會感到自己被欺騙了。

那個女人拉開黑色晚禮服的拉鏈， 將其滑下， 開始移動臀部。她用她那張臉的白色面具和她那紫色的嘴唇微笑， 她的雙唇里面牙齒閃爍， 枯燥的白色鵝卵石， 這是一種嘲笑， 她并沒打算嘲笑， 她知道， 這是另一種詭計， 但我們不知道是誰在玩弄。 這種詭計就是突然沒有詭計： 那上面的軀體是真實的， 它在衰老， 它并沒漂浮在遠離我們的某處的聚光燈里， 它就像我們一樣卡在時間之中。

勝利滑稽娛樂劇場死了。 沒有人發出聲音。

①加拿大多倫多市區早年的脫衣舞劇場， 現已不存。

THE VICTORY BURLESK

I went to the Victory Burlesk twice， or maybe it was only once and one of my friends went the other time and told me about it. I enjoyed it both times. It was considered quite daring for young women to go to such a place， and we thought it was funny; it was almost as funny as church.

You got a stand-up comic， a movie and a man who sang or juggled plates， as well as the strip-tease act. They used a lot of coloured lighting， red and blue and purple. Each girl had a fake name: Miss Take， Miss Behave， Flame Le Rew. I liked the names and the costumes， for their ingenuity， and I liked the more skillful girls， the ones who could twirl tassels or make their bellies or buttocks rotate in a circle. That was before they had to take it all off， there was an art to it， it was almost like the plate juggling. I liked the way they floated in the pools of coloured light， moving as if they were swimming， mermaids behind glass.

One woman began with her back to the audience， the spotlight on her. She was wearing long white gloves and a black evening gown with gauzy black sleeves that looked like membranous wings as she stretched out her arms. She did a lot with her arms and back; but when she finally turned around， she was old. Her face was powdered dead white， her mouth was a bright reddish purple， but she was old. I could feel shame washing through me， it was no longer funny，I didn't want this woman to take off her clothes， I didn’t want to look. I felt that I， not the woman on the stage， was being exposed and humiliated. Surely they would jeer and yell things at her， surely they would feel they had been tricked.

The woman unzipped her black evening gown， slipping it down， and began to move her hips. She smiled with her white mask of a face and her purple mouth， inside her lips her teeth glinted，dull white pebbles， it was a mockery， she didn’t intend it， she knew it， it was a trick of another kind but we didn’t know who was playing it. The trick was that suddenly there was no trick: the body up there was actual， it was aging， it was not floating in the spotlight somewhere apart from us， like us it was caught in time.

The Victory Burlesk went dead. Nobody made a sound.