野草 Wild Grass3 / 22

影的告别 The Shadow's Farewell

人睡到不知道時候的時候，就會有影來吿別，說出那些話——When a person has slept until they no longer know the time, a shadow will come to bid farewell, uttering these words—

人睡到不知道时候的时候，就会有影来吿别，说出那些话——

有我所不樂意的在天堂裏，我不願去；There is something I dislike in heaven, and I do not wish to go there;有我所不樂意的在地獄裏，我不願去；There is something I dislike in hell, and I do not wish to go there;有我所不樂意的在你們將來的黃金世界裏，我不願去。There is something I dislike in your future golden world, and I do not wish to go there.

有我所不乐意的在天堂里，我不愿去；有我所不乐意的在地狱里，我不愿去；有我所不乐意的在你们将来的黄金世界里，我不愿去。

然而你就是我所不樂意的。And yet you are the very thing I dislike.

然而你就是我所不乐意的。

朋友，我不想跟隨你了，我不願住。Friend, I no longer wish to follow you, I do not wish to stay.

朋友，我不想跟随你了，我不愿住。

我不願意！I do not wish it!

我不愿意！

嗚乎嗚乎，我不願意，我不如彷徨于無地。Alas, alas, I do not wish it—I would rather wander lost in no-place.

呜乎呜乎，我不愿意，我不如彷徨于无地。

我不過一個影，要別你而沈沒在黑暗裏了。I am, after all, only a shadow, and I shall part from you and sink into the darkness.然而黑暗又會吞倂我，然而光明又會使我消失。Yet the darkness will swallow me, yet the light will make me vanish.

我不过一个影，要别你而沈没在黑暗里了。然而黑暗又会吞倂我，然而光明又会使我消失。

然而我不願彷徨于明暗之間，我不如在黑暗裏沈沒。Yet I do not wish to wander between light and dark—I would rather sink into the darkness.

然而我不愿彷徨于明暗之间，我不如在黑暗里沈没。

然而我終于徬徨于明暗之間，我不知道是黃昏還是黎明。Yet in the end I wander between light and dark; I do not know if it is dusk or dawn.我姑且舉灰黑的手裝作喝乾一杯酒，我將在不知道時候的時候獨自遠行。For now let me raise a hand, ash-gray, as if drinking dry a cup of wine; I shall set off alone on my journey when I no longer know the time.

然而我终于徬徨于明暗之间，我不知道是黄昏还是黎明。我姑且举灰黑的手装作喝干一杯酒，我将在不知道时候的时候独自远行。

嗚乎嗚乎，倘若黃昏，黑夜自然會來沈沒我，否則我要被白天消失，如果現是黎明。Alas, alas—if it is dusk, then night will naturally come to swallow me; otherwise I shall be made to vanish by the day, if this is now dawn.

呜乎呜乎，倘若黄昏，黑夜自然会来沈没我，否则我要被白天消失，如果现是黎明。

朋友，時候近了。Friend, the time draws near.

朋友，时候近了。

我將向黑暗裏徬徨于無地。I shall go groping toward the darkness, into no-place.

我将向黑暗里徬徨于无地。

你還想我的贈品。You still hope for my parting gift.我能獻你甚麽呢？What can I offer you?無已，則仍是黑暗和虛空而已。Nothing else—only darkness and emptiness, then, after all.但是，我願意只是黑暗，或者會消失于你的白天；But I would wish to be only darkness, so that I might vanish in your daylight;我願意只是虛空，決不佔你的心地。I would wish to be only emptiness, so that I shall never occupy your heart.

你还想我的赠品。我能献你甚么呢？无已，则仍是黑暗和虚空而已。但是，我愿意只是黑暗，或者会消失于你的白天；我愿意只是虚空，决不占你的心地。

我願意這樣，朋友——This is what I wish, friend—

我愿意这样，朋友——

我獨自遠行，不但沒有你，並且再沒有別的影在黑暗裏。I go alone on my journey, and not only are you not there, but no other shadow is there in the darkness either.只有我被黑暗沈沒，那世界全屬於我自己。Only I am swallowed by the darkness, and that world will belong wholly to myself.

我独自远行，不但没有你，并且再没有别的影在黑暗里。只有我被黑暗沈没，那世界全属于我自己。

（一九二四年九月二十四日。）(September 24, 1924.)

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What it’s about

A shadow comes to take leave of the sleeping man it belongs to, and the piece is what it says to him. It will not go to heaven, because there are things in heaven it does not like; nor to hell, for the same reason; nor to the golden world of the future that is being promised, because there are things it does not like there either. And then the line the whole page is built to reach: and you, my friend, are also what I do not like. So it will not follow him and it will not stay. It would rather have nowhere at all to be than be kept.

What it walks into is a trap of its own kind. It is only a shadow: the darkness it wants to sink into will swallow it, and the light would make it disappear altogether. It does not want to hover between the two, so it chooses the dark — and admits in the next breath that hovering between light and dark is exactly what it is doing, and that it cannot tell whether this is dusk falling or dawn coming. It raises a grey hand as if draining a cup, and will set out alone at the hour when the hour cannot be known. As a parting gift it has nothing but darkness and emptiness, and that is what it wants to be: darkness, which his daylight may dissolve, and emptiness, which will take up no room in his heart. It wants to go with no one, and with no other shadow, in the dark — because then that world will belong to it entirely.

When it was written 背景

Dated 24 September 1924, the same day as 求乞者, and among the first pieces of 野草 to reach print in 語絲 that winter. It is short, spoken and heavily repetitive, which makes it one of the easiest ways into the book: the sentences are built out of 我不願意, 然而 and 我姑且, and the words that matter — 影, 黃昏, 黎明, 彷徨, 沈沒, 虛空 — come back often enough that one careful pass teaches them. Note that this edition prints the title with the simplified 别. Read it against 過客, which is the same refusal stretched into a play, and against 希望, which is the same neither-light-nor-dark seen from the other side.

Words in this chapter 生词