塞爾維亞詩人艾薇拉.辜柔維琪在台出版第一本著作。--《最後的咖啡 The Last Coffee》

2018/4/20  
  
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塞爾維亞詩人艾薇拉.辜柔維琪在台出版第一本著作。--《最後的咖啡 The Last Coffee》

「在萬事平靜之前/最後的火焰燃燒著,
煙慢慢熄滅,我的良知正在伸張,使我悲不自勝。」

誠如詩人艾薇拉.辜柔維琪在自序內所言,「世界告訴我們,人類歷史不斷重複,沒有什麼改變。然而,在我們目前經驗的人類苦難歷史中,發生奇妙的事。」詩人能夠凝視在世界遭受到苦難的人民,顯示她立足在人道立場的基點,從事詩創作。

《最後的咖啡》是第一本塞爾維亞詩人艾薇拉.辜柔維琪在台灣出版的著作,她的詩關懷世界人類的存在狀態,尤其是弱勢民族的悲慘困境,語句赤裸,沒有罪惡,也沒有悲傷,足見她的詩具有歷史意義和普世價值。全書收錄35首詩,中英文可前後參照,譯者李魁賢以他擅長的精煉文字重新詮釋,帶領讀者走入塞爾維亞的詩篇。

立即訂購《最後的咖啡 The Last Coffee》

 

內容試閱

【可能是最後的咖啡】

馬哈穆德.德維希
在轟炸下
在恨如雨下喝咖啡
唯一繼續持有
且快樂有趣的事是,
在他住宿的
混凝土瓦礫間
喝咖啡時
水慢慢開始煮開,
咖啡香味,
使他
感到幸福
這日子,
永遠
不會回來。
不再啦,
但他總是在
咖啡裡回味這些日子。
他甚至想
要做最後一件事
用炸彈
把他製成碎肉。

───

【It could be the last coffee】

Mahmud Dervish drank his coffee
under the bombardment
under the rain of hatred
but the only thing he still had
and what was his pleasure and fun,
was drinking of coffee
between the concrete ruin
in which he lived,
the water that slowly began to boil
and the smell of coffee,
which reminded him
of the happiness
and the days
which will never
came back,
never again,
but he always found
those days in his coffee.
Even wanted it to be
the last thing he had,
while the bombs
of him the mince made.

───

【敘利亞在哭泣】

如果我是老鷹
寬寬闊闊的翅膀
會帶我到那
沒有人想去的地方。
在那裡,每天早上黑暗如夜。
男人殘殺男人,男人呀。
淚流成河
血比各地還要紅。
孩子在哭父
母親在哭兒。
哲人為真理而哭泣
沒有人和和氣氣
或有好心情離開那裡。
大馬士革玫瑰不再芬芳
戀人也不會為愛嘆息。
靜靜的多馬之門*,
已毀於一旦。
那裡曾經是人民彼此
約會談情說愛地方,
門沒啦,再也沒有啦。
人民不見啦
他們都走掉啦。
無人找得到地方約會。
無人在清真寺
甚至在教堂裡禱告。
人的自尊被踐踏
傷不到任何人。
那裡有美目灰白
埋在土裡。
但我想去那裡
通過無人的街道
我想走到那裡
唱歌和祈禱。
請不要互相殘殺
請不要再殺我們。
請回家吧孩子,
因為沒有你
你母親
就心死了。
因為玫瑰
無刺就不能存在。
而你一定知道
最好是死在自家
門口
握著可愛的手,
勝於死在
異地。
敘利亞在哭泣
請回家吧,
失去孩子會傷害我
傷到我自己的心。

*註:多馬之門(Bab Tuma)是敘利亞首都大馬士革古城牆上的一座城門,也是早期基督教的地理地標,取名自耶穌十二門徒之一多馬。

───

【Syria is crying】

If I were an eagle
my wide wings
would carry me there,
where nobody wants to go.
There, were every morning dark is as an evening,
there were the man kills the man, oh man,
there were the tears are flowing as a river
and blood is more red as usual.
There were the child is crying for the father
and for her son, is crying a mother,
a wise man is crying for the truth
and nobody leaving there in the peace
or in the good mood.
Damascus roses are not smelling any more
and the lovers do not lovingly sigh,
there where the gate Bab –Tuma
silent is, and destroyed.
There, where once the people met
each other and loved,
but there is no one
and all the people are disappeared
they are all gone.
Nobody met each other nowhere,
not in the mosque
even in the church to pray.
There is human pride treading
and it, does not hurt anyone.
There, are nice eyes grey,
buried in the clay.
But I want to go there
through empty street
I want to walk there and sing
the love songs and prayer.
Please don’t kill each other
please don’t kill us any more.
Please come back at home my child,
because without you,
your mother’s heart
is already dead.
The roses can not exist
without briar,
and you have to know
that is better to die
on the doorstep of your own
holding a lovely hand,
than to die in the foreign land.
Syria cries and bags
please come back at home
without my children is hurting me
the heart of my own.

 

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