[活动] [b]亚当•扎加耶夫斯基访谈[/b]

本帖最後由牛遁之於 2013-10-14 15:26 編輯

亚当•扎加耶夫斯基访谈

访谈∕明迪
译∕牛遁之

   明迪：汉语有一个新词，海龟，指那些在海外生活多年后回到祖国的人，因为汉语中的“龟”和“归”谐音。这么说来，你也是一只“海龟”，因为你在海外漂泊20年后，又回到了波兰。居住在克拉科夫感觉如何？和70年代相比有什么不同？现在的波兰是一个民主国家，除此以外有什么变化？波兰的诗歌现状如何？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：一个大问题套了这么多小问题……是的，现在的波兰是一个民主国家，意味着它有较少的秘密。极权统治下的国家就不会揭开谜团。在新的开放性中，没有什么轰动的事情。要说“新”波兰与旧波兰有什么不同，也许为时尚早。有一点是肯定的：波兰人如今的生活比以往大为改善。天赋自由不是神话，而是现实。人们在学习，学着如何从这个令人不安的礼物中获益，这需要很长时间。
   至于克拉科夫，我喜欢它。这是一座中型城市，还没有完全被高速公路和汽车所窒息。古老的市中心绝对迷人，即使现在你必须和众多游客一起分享。这是我的大学城，留存着一层层的回忆，可以说，这个城市充满了记忆。

   明迪：在散文集《双城》中，你把人们划分为“定居，移民和无家可归”三种，并把自己界定为“无家可归者”。回归祖国后，你仍感到“无家可归”吗？正如我们所知道的，一个人在家里也会感到无家可归，反之亦然。什么动力把你拉回到克拉科夫？中国有句古话，“叶落归根”，但对于“无家可归者”来说，“回归”是唯一的宿命吗？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：我仍然有些无家可归的感觉。一旦没有了家，就永远无家可归。我一直想回到克拉科夫，在故土体验新的生活，离老朋友更近些；我离开巴黎的时候，我的父亲仍然健在。
   对于无家可归者来说，有几种选择，每一种都需要一点审慎。你可以呆在国外，审慎地，作为一个旁观者而不是参与者；也可以回来看看你的家乡——这同样需要审慎，因为隔了那么久才回来，你再也不会无条件地属于那里；每天醒来都会有片刻恍惚：我在哪里？但这没什么可怕的。

   明迪：除了利沃夫和格维里策这两座城市，一个是你的出生之地，一个是你在4个月时随父母迁徙之地，你还在柏林、巴黎、休斯敦、芝加哥和克拉科夫生活过。在所有这些地方，你觉得哪里更有家的感觉，为什么？居住在不同国家的经历对你的写作有怎样的影响？你怎样把每个地方和它背后的文学传统联系起来？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：克拉科夫是我最喜欢的地方；对我来说，它是一座适宜居住的城市。其次是利沃夫，它比实际情形更神秘，对于我和我的诗歌来说，意味很多。它是某种含义的容器，蕴含着许多可能性的寓意。其他城市带给我的，是故地重游时的快乐。突然意识到，这些地方在多年以前显然是“我的”①，我感到愉悦。当我回到巴黎半小时后，感觉好像从未离开过：一切都那样熟悉，不曾改变，我曾在下午散步的小径还在那里，等着我……

   明迪：20世纪初以来，波兰文学变得非常突出，你们已经有四位诺贝尔文学奖得主。这是一笔伟大的遗产，但同时，也给在他们阴影下写作的人们带来巨大的挑战。从个人和文学层面上对他们保持敬意的同时，又要设法拥有个人的声音，明显区别于他们，你是如何做到的？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：嗯，当你拥有自己写作和思考的时光（更准确地说是时分）——他们只是偶尔闯进来——你不会老想着“四位诺贝尔文学奖得主”，不会把任何“国际认可”当作目标，你独自呆在自己的房间，伴着所有自己的怀疑和梦想，还有想象。
   对于其它的问题，我不了解自己，不知道是否真的拥有自己的声音。我在某个地方写作，并且相信：我们听不见自己的声音，那毕竟不是传向自己的，我们在对着别人说话。

   明迪：当你还是一个年轻诗人时，米沃什对你的影响尤其巨大，在他最后的岁月里，你和他在克拉科夫交往密切，这是一件幸运的事。在庆祝他百年诞辰之际，你想和中国读者说点什么？20多年的交往，用几句话来概括，我知道很难，可我还是想提出这个请求，你知道，他对当代中国诗人产生了多大影响，恰如他的诗吸引了你一样，因为“一切都不同……有别于‘人民共和国’的话语”。

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：今年出版了第一本详尽的米沃什传记，还有许多新的随笔、评论——我对他理解得越多，他似乎越发变得无法穿越。他的伟大，在于他的作品具有不可思议的丰富性。他的作品如此丰富，今年在他百年诞辰之际，人们仅仅纠缠于他的形象。经过这一年，我们至少还需要5年时间梳理这些新的评论和发现。他的声音如此高邈，如此强劲，某种程度上是复合音；可以这么说，他从好几个音域发声。从他的作品得出最简短的教益是，如果没有思考，没有回应时代对你提出的重大问题，就无法写诗。在迷人的诗中，往往镶嵌着一座伦理时钟。

   明迪：由于相同或不同的原因，你的诗歌也影响了中国诗人。你知道，我们从小到大共享某些话语，比如党，阶级或者无阶级，还有C打头的大词。我最感兴趣的是，从美学意义上来说，你怎样从一个政治诗人转变为一个成熟诗人，你是怎样达成这种转变的？去巴黎使你和波兰保持了距离……是“距离”给了你更好的视角？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：不，我不认为是地理距离让我从精神上远离了C，运用你可爱的密码（就像卡瓦菲斯在他的诗中，厌恶地说起罗马皇帝尤里安②）。不，宁可说，我确信C在思想领域已经彻底死亡，远远早于它在务实的政治世界的灭亡，我用毕生的时间跟一个没有生命的怪物搏斗，这是一种可怕的浪费。我还感到，“政治诗歌”无法包含我的全部经验，与更多指向实际领域的诗歌相比，这种写作迟早（或者说总有一天）会产生庸常的套路。

   明迪：只有当你失去或者远离，家才成其为家。现在回到波兰，这会让你再次对它更加挑剔吗？2010年秋天，我在华沙看到巨大的列宁像，一刹那，感觉自己回到了中国。红色肖像让我想到毛的像章，时下中国，很多出租车司机都会把它挂在后视镜上，作为对毛时代的怀念，那时的中国是一个无阶级社会，每个人都是无产者，生活贫穷而“快乐”。当经济繁荣制造了贫富分化，中国的工人阶层有一种怀旧感。波兰怎么样？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：巨大的列宁像出现在2010年的华沙？这一定是反讽，嘲弄，或者类似当今西方艺术家搞的“装置艺术”。在今天的波兰，没有人（除了少数几个傻瓜）会把列宁当回事。波兰过分地右倾，也有相当的危险。我是说，在波兰政治力量的自由碰撞中，左翼软弱无力，竭力地重新定义自己，迄今为止都是徒劳。据我所知，没有多少人怀念C。感谢G③。

   明迪：那幅巨大的列宁像让我想到你的诗《老年马克思》。你在年轻时代抗议共产主义，也对布什政府感到失望，但你一直没有对另一些人信仰的马克思主义产生丝毫信任。世界纷繁复杂，不再有明确的东西方分界线，作为一个诗人，我们应该坚守什么？当然，我们的观察和写作来自内在的自我，可是怎么对待社会责任？你对年轻一代的诗人有什么忠告？

    亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：这是一个非常有趣的问题。的确，作为诗人，思想者和公民，没有普遍意义上的哲学，没有一套理念可以让我们轻易辨别和坚守。回顾历史，不管是西方历史还是中国历史，这样的情形是不寻常的。除了提供知识框架，通常会有许多教义和宗教供个体选择。那么，我们能做些什么呢？或许我们得比前人做更多的功课。我们需要阅读哲学和神学，在为自己形成一份综合地图之前，我想，我们应该有一个临时“框架”，需要关心道义，在宣扬任何强有力的体制时，比一些前人更加审慎。我们可以无需体制。
   对于这个问题，实际上我没有任何现成的答案。我本人相信个人探索，始终尊崇精神价值。我是一个基督徒，一个不完美的教徒……
   给年轻诗人一个忠告？尽可能多地去了解，但不要把你的灵魂出卖给任何教条。

   明迪：你讲波兰语，俄语，德语，法语和英语，你曾在休斯顿和芝加哥教了那么多年书，有时你读自己的英译本诗歌，但你只用波兰语写诗。除了微妙的诗意只能在母语中获得之外，你用波兰语写诗还有别的原因吗？有些诗人通过母语写作来保持国家或民族认同，甚至爱国主义，也有诗人采用一种新的语言来摈弃国家。我知道你不是这样的——你更多是出于文学的选择。可是，你怎样把母语写作与民族主义区分开来？这对我来说是一个重要问题，因为，就算居住在美国而用中文写作，我也不觉得属于美国或中国。对于任何国家，我都不相信民族主义和爱国主义。我一直想知道，诗人如何坚守一种语言，而不迁就于“爱国”观念？这两个概念是否在某种意义上处于“永恒的敌意”呢？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：我不认为在母语写作和民族主义之间有什么关联。前者是形式，一个罐子可以用完全不同的东西填满。看看米沃什，从未丢掉母语，同时又是民族主义的劲敌。我用波兰语写作是因为了熟于心；不必查字典就能写诗文，就能从不同的波兰语诗歌中听到回音，这对我弥足珍贵。再者，我相信，我们是由我们的国家历史塑造成型的；过去几个世纪的胜利和屈辱，下意识地留存在我们的心里。我们可以通过写作从中解放出来，而不是跃入另一种语言。和米沃什一样，我憎恨民族主义，但可以在我的国家历史中找到参照，帮助我了解这个世界。你不需要去“爱”你的国家，你会自然而然地对它感兴趣，你可以对它不满，而它会给你力量。在我看来，你的情形显而易见：中华文明那么古老，那么丰富，一个人怎么会舍弃如此强大的资源？

   明迪：《永恒的敌意》中的《在路上》是那么美妙的一组短诗，你是在路上写的吗？嗯，我喜欢在路上这个想法。正是失去家园这个事实，给了我们生活的目标——当你写下“去利沃夫吧，毕竟∕它存在，宁静而纯洁，就像∕一只桃子。它无所不在。”每一首诗都是走在回家的路上。即使在克拉科夫，你现在有形的家园，也只是一个暂居之所，不是吗？还有，是利沃夫，让你欣赏每一座你生活和生活过的城市，不是吗？

   亚当•扎加耶夫斯基：你真是一个好读者。是的，利沃夫是我的理想城市，永远失去了，但在不同的生命维度里依旧汹涌。我此刻在芝加哥大学附近的海德公园写下这些，很快就会回到克拉科夫，几天后，我将会为另一件米沃什的事飞往柏林，的的确确，眼下，我仍在路上。

   2011月10-11月

译者注
   ①  “我的”，原文mine，也有“矿藏”的意思，此处双关。
   ②  罗马皇帝尤里安(Julian the Apostate, 331-363)，转引黄灿然为卡瓦菲斯《尤里安看到不敬》加的注：罗马皇帝尤里安绰号“叛教者”，因为他尽管本来是一个基督教徒，却徒劳地试图根据新柏拉图学派把异教徒当作一个严厉的宗教恢复过来，其组织原则比早期嫉妒教弥漫的禁欲尤甚。诗中引言乃来自尤里安写于公元363年月的一封任命狄奥多罗为亚细亚大祭师的信。从1896年至1933年，卡瓦菲斯写了七首有关罗马皇帝尤里安的诗：《尤里安疑神疑鬼》、《尤里安看到不敬》、《尤里安在尼科美底亚》、《由牧师和俗人组成的大行列》、《你不理解》和《在安条克郊外》。
   ③  “感谢G”，原文Thanks G，应该是ThanksGod（感谢上帝）的简写。明迪用了C，扎加耶夫斯基在这里幽默了一下，用G对应C，两个字母长得也很像。

附原文：
AnInterview with Polish PoetAdam Zagajewski
Interviewed by Ming Di

Ming Di: There is a new Chinese term, Sea Turtle,which refers to people who have returned to the homeland after living overseasfor a number of years, as “turtle” echoes “return” in Chinese. In this context,you are a “Sea Turtle” because you’ve returned to Poland after twenty years ofdrifting abroad. How do you feel like living in Krakow? How different is it nowcompared to the old one in the 70s?  And how different is the presentPoland besides being a democratic country? And howdifferent is the current Polish poetry scene?

Adam Zagajewski: So many smaller questions in the biggerone… Yes, the present Poland is a democratic country which means  ithas fewer secrets. Countries under totalitarian domination don’t reveal theirmysteries. Yet there’s nothing sensational in the new openness.It’s perhaps too early to say how much this “new” Poland differs from the olderone. One thing is certain: life in Poland now is much better than before. Thegift of freedom is not a myth, it’s reality. People are learning, and it takesages to learn how to profit from this uneasy gift. Living in Krakow? I like it.It’s a medium-size city, not (yet) totally strangled by highways and cars. Andthe old city center is absolutely charming, even if you have to share it withmany tourists these days. It was my college town so there are layers ofremembrances, the city is cushioned by memory, so to speak.

MD: In the “Two Cities”, you divide people into“the settled, the emigrants and the homeless” and you define yourself as “thehomeless”. Do you still feel “homeless” after having returned to your homecountry? As we all know that one can feel homeless at home and vise versa. Whatwas the primary force that drew you back to Krakow? Chinese has an old sayingthat “falling leaves return to their roots”, but is “return” the only destinyfor “the homeless”?

AZ: I still am a little homeless. Once homeless,always homeless. I wanted to return to Krakow to taste the new life in my oldcountry, to be nearer my old friends; my father was still alive when we leftParis for good.
For the homelessthere are several options, all of them demanding a bit of philosophicalresolve. You can stay abroad, philosophically, being an observer rather than aparticipant, or you can return and look at your native realm—philosophically aswell. Because when you return after a long break you’ll never beunconditionally there; each day you’ll wake up and have a moment of hesitation:where am I. But there’s nothing terrible in it.

MD: Besides the two cities where you were born and whereyou moved to with your parents at the age of four months, Lvov and Gilwitz,you’ve lived in Berlin, Paris, Houston, Chicago, and Krakow. Of all the places,where do you feel most at home in your heart and why? How does the experienceof living in different countries impact your writing? How do you associateeach geographical  location with theliterary tradition behind it?

AZ: Krakow is the place which I cherish most; it’s alivable city for me. Then comes Lvov as a city which is more mystical than realbut which means a lot for me, for my poetry. It’s a kind of a reservoir ofmeaning, of many possible meanings. The other citiesoffer me, when I revisit them, a kind of conviviality. I find it pleasant torecognize right away places which, years before, were so obviously “mine”. WhenI’m back in Paris, after half an hour it feels as if I had never left it:everything seems so familiar, unchanged, the paths of my afternoon walks arethere, waiting for me…

MD: Polish literature has become very prominent sincethe beginning of the 20th century and you’ve had four Nobel laureates inliterature. It’s a great heritage but at the same time it brings greatchallenge to the ones who are writing in their shadows. While maintaininghighest respect for them on personalas well as literary levels, how have you managed to keep a personal voicedistinctively different from them?

AZ: Well, when you have your days (or rather hours) ofwriting, of thinking—and they only come from time to time--you don’t have onyour mind the “four Nobel laureates in literature”, you don’t target any“international recognition”, you’re alone in your room, with all your doubtsand dreams, with the imagination.
And, for the otherquestion, I can’t know myself, I can’t know whether indeed I’ve kept my ownvoice. I’ve written somewhere and I believe in it: we don’t hear our own voice,it’s not, after all, destined for us, We speak to other people.

MD: Czeslaw Milosz among otherswas a great influence to you as a young poet and it was a blessing that youwere close to him in Krakow in his final years. In celebrating the 100 years ofhis birth, what would you like to share with Chinese readers? With over twentyyears of acquaintance, I know it will be difficulty for you to say a few wordsbut I would still make the request as you know how much he has influencedcontemporary Chinese poets in exactly the same way how his poetry attracted youbecause of “everything that was different from… ‘people'srepublic’ language.”

AZ: The more I know about Milosz— andthis year has brought his first detailed biography plus many new essays, insights,etc.— the more impenetrable he seems to become. His greatness must lie in theincredible richness of his work. This richness is such that this year of hishundredth anniversary only complicated his image. After this year we’ll need atleast five years to put some order into the newobservations, new discoveries. His voice was so sovereign, so strong, and, in away, plural; he spoke with several sub-voices, so to say. The shortest lessonto draw from his work is that you can’t write poetry without thinking andresponding to important questions the time you live in is asking you. There’san ethical clock built into ecstatic poetry.

MD: For the same and other reasons your poetry hasinfluenced Chinese poets too. You know we share certain vocabulary from our childhoodand youth such as Party, class or classless, and the big word thatstarts with C.  What interests me most is how you evolved from apolitical poet to a mature poet in terms of aesthetics. How did you manage tomake that transition? Going to Paris put you in a distance from Poland… Did the“distance” give you a better perspective?

AZ: No, I don’t think it was the geographical distancewhich gave me spiritual distance to C., to use your lovely cipher (it’s like Cavafyspeaking in his poems, with disgust, about Julian the Apostate). No, it ratherwas my conviction that C. was already completely dead in the realm of ideas,much before it died in the pragmatic world of politics, and that it would havebeen a terrible waste to spend all my life combating a dead monster. It alsowas my feeling that “political poetry” wasn’t able to embrace the totality ofmy experience. And, also, the feeling that this kind of writing produced sooneror later (rather sooner than later) conventional forms, more so than poetryaiming at more substantial realms.

MD: Home is home only when you’ve lost it or areaway from it. Now that you are back to Poland, does it make you morecritical of it again? I saw a huge portrait of Lenin in Warsaw in August 2010,and for a moment I thought I was back in China. The red portrait reminded me ofthe Mao badges that many taxi drivers in China nowadays hang on their rearviewmirrors as they miss the Mao regime when China was a classless society andeveryone was proletarian living poorly but “happily”. There has been anostalgia feeling among the working class in China when the economic boomingcreated separation of the rich and the poor. How is Poland doing?

AZ: A huge portrait of Lenin in Warsaw in 2010? It musthave been irony, a jest or an “installation” in the sense of what modernartists do these days. No one (except for a handful of jerks) would today takeseriously Lenin in Poland. Poland runs rather a danger of beingtoo much to the right. I mean, in the free interplay of politicalforces in Poland it’s the left which is weak, which tries, unsuccessfully sofar, to redefine itself. But, as far as I know, there’s not much nostalgia forC., thanks G.

MD: That huge portrait of Lenin reminded me ofyour poem “Old Marx”. You were protesting communism in your youth and you weredisappointed with the Bush administration too, yet stillyou have not acquired any faith in Marxism as some other people have. The worldiscomplicated with no clear dividing line of East and West anymore,what is there that we can hold on to as poets? Of course the inner self is whatwe observe and write about, but what about social responsibility? What advisewould you give to poets of younger generation?

AZ: That’s a very interesting question. It’strue, there’s no general philosophy, no set of ideas that we could easilydiscern and cling to—as poets, as thinkers, as citizens. When we look back atour history, probably both the Western and the Chinese history, a situationlike this is unusual. Usually there were doctrines and religions than furnishedintellectual frames for the individuals. So, what can we do? We probably haveto do more homework than our predecessors had to. We need to read philosophers,theologians, but even before we can form a comprehensive map for ourselves weshould have, I think, a provisional “frame”, we need to heed morality, to bemore cautious than some of our predecessors in preaching any strongsystem. We can live without systems.
ActuallyI don’t have any ready answer to this question. I myself believe in anindividual quest, done with a huge respect for spiritual values. I’m aChristian, an imperfect one…
And an advice foryounger poets? Try to know as much as possible but don’t sell your soul to anydoctrine.

MD: You speak Polish, Russian, German, Frenchand English, you have done teaching in Houston and Chicago for so many yearsand you read your poems in English sometimes but you write poetry only inPolish. Besides the fact that poetic subtlety can only be achieved in thenative language, is there any other reason you write poetry in Polish? Somepoets maintain a national or ethnical identity or even patriotism throughwriting in the mother tongue, or denounce the nationality by adopting a new language.But I know it’s not the case with you— yours is more of a literary choice. Yet,how do you separate the use of mother tongue and nationalism? This is animportant question for me as I don’t feel belonging to any country even thoughI write in Chinese while living in America. I don’t believe in nationalism orpatriotism to any country. And I always wonder how poets can maintain alanguage without yielding to the idea of “love” of a country.Are these two notions also sort of “eternal enemies” in a sense?

AZ: I don’t think there’s a link between writing in yourmother tongue and nationalism. The former is a formal thing, a pot which can befilled with very different content. Look at Milosz who never deserted hisnative language and at the same time was a ferocious enemy of nationalism.
I write in Polish because I know it so well; Ican write my poems or essays without consulting a dictionary andhearing echoes from different poems in Polish, dear to me. Plus Ibelieve we’re formed by the history of our countries; successes and/orhumiliations from previous centuries exist subliminally in our minds. We canliberate themselves from them by writing but not by leaping to anotherlanguage. I hate nationalism as much as Milosz did but can find in the historyof my country references which help me to understand the world. You don’t needto “love” your country, you’re naturally interested in it, you can (should) becritical of it and it gives you strength. In your case it’s seems to me soobvious: the Chinese civilization is so old, so rich, how could one renounce onsuch a powerful resource?

MD: “En Route” from the “EternalEnemies” is such a lovely set of short poems. Did you write themwhile en route? Well, I like the idea of being en route. It is the very fact oflosing home that gives us a goal in life— every poem is a step on the roadtowards home as you wrote that “go to Lvov, after all/it exists, quiet and pureas/a peach. It is everywhere.” Even Krakow, your physical homeat the present, is a temporary place, isn’t it?  At the same time itis Lvov that makes you appreciate every city you live and have lived in, isn’tit?

AZ: You’re such a good reader. Yes, Lvov is the idealcity for me, lost for ever and yet very potent in a different dimension oflife. I’m writing this in Chicago, in Hyde Park, which is the universityneighborhood, soon I’ll be going back to Krakow, after a few days I’m supposedto fly to Berlin for yet another Milosz thing, so yes, I’m still en route, forthe time being.

2011