The Notebook of Malte Laurids Brigge. Translated by John Linton (Extract)

Gossudar

From The Notebook of Malte Laurids Brigge
Rainer Maria Rilke
Page 119:
There are tapestries here, Abelone, wall tapestries. I imagine that you are here; six tapestries there are: come, let us pass slowly before them. But first step back, and see them all at once. How peaceful they are, are they not? There is little variety in them. There is always that oval, blue island, floating on a background of modest red, which is decked with flowers and inhabited by tiny animals busy with their own affairs. Only yonder, in the last hanging, the island rises a little, as if it had grown lighter. It has always one figure on it, a lady, in various costumes, but she is always the same. Sometimes there is a smaller figure beside her, a maid-servant; and heraldic animals are always there, large, also on the island, taking part in the action. On the left there is a lion, and, conspicuous on the right, a unicorn. They carry the same pennants which show high above them: three silver moons ascendant, in blue chevrons on a red field. Have you looked? Will you begin with the first?




    She is feeding a falcon. How sumptuous her raiment is! The bird is on her gloved hand and it stirs. She is watching it and at the same time plunging her hand into the bowl the handmaid brings, to offer it something. Below, on the right, a silken-haired dog is lying on the train of her dress, looking up and hoping it will be remembered. And, did you notice? a low rose-trellis shuts off the island at the back. The blazoned animals stand erect, with heraldic arrogance. The coat-of-arms is repeated as a mantle enveloping them. A handsome clasp holds it together. It floats.



    Do we not involuntarily approach the next tapestry more softly, when we see how profoundly the lady is absorbed? She is weaving a garland, a small, round crown of flowers. Thoughtfully she chooses the colour of the next carnation in the flat basin the servant holds for her, while she fastens the one just selected in its place in the wreath. Behind her on a seat there stands unused a basket full of roses, which a monkey has uncovered. But this time they must be carnations. The lion no longer takes part; but the unicorn on the right understands.



    Should not music enter into this stillness, is it not already there, subdued? Gravely and quietly adorned, she has gone forward (how slowly, has she not?) to the portable organ, and now stands playing it. The pipes separate her from the maid-servant who is blowing the bellows on the other side of the instrument. She has never yet been so lovely. Wonderfully her hair is brought forward in two plaits, fastened together over the head-dress in such a way that the ends rise out of the knot like a short crest. The lion, out of humour, unwillingly endures the sounds, biting back a howl. But the unicorn is beautiful, as with an undulating motion.



    The island has become broader. A tent has been set up. Of blue damask and flaming gold. The animals hold it open, and she is stepping forward, homely almost in her queenly attire. For what are her pearls compared with herself? The maid has opened a small casket, and now lifts from it a chain, a ponderous, magnificent ornament that has always been kept under lock and key. The little dog sits beside her on a high place prepared for it, and looks on. Have you discovered the motto on the upper edge of the tent? It is: A mon seul d閟ir.




    What has happened? Why is the little rabbit running down there, and why does one see at once that it is running? Everything is in such suspense. The lion has nothing to do. She herself holds the banner. Or is she leaning on it? With her other hand she has grasped the horn of the unicorn. Is this mourning? Can mourning stand so straight? And can a mourning garment be so mute as that green-black velvet with its lustreless folds?




    But here is yet another festival; no one is invited to it. Expectation plays no part in it. Everything is here. Everything for ever. The lion looks round almost threateningly: no one may come. We have never seen her weary before; is she weary? Or is she merely resting because she holds something heavy? A monstrance, one might say. But she curves her other arm towards the unicorn, and the flattered animal bridles and rears and leans against her lap. It is a mirror that she holds. See! She is showing the unicorn its likeness ?
    Abelone, I imagine that you are here. Do you understand, Abelone? I think you must understand.
*
Excerpt from The Notebook of Malte Laurids Brigge by Rainer Maria Rilke, Translated by John Linton. Published by Leonard and Virginia Woolf - The Hogarth Press, Tavistock Square, 1930.

傻按：采集自http://www.duinocastle.com/
里尔克关于壁毯Dame à la Licorne的描述，各色中文译本错得离谱至极。感兴趣的网友不妨找来比对上面的图片。汉语译本：
《马尔泰手记》方瑜译（台北: 志文出版社, 1972年[民61]）第129－131页
http://www.duxiu.com/book/000/00 ... 48F86BD840F12F7.htm
《上帝的故事：里尔克散文随笔集》叶廷芳，李永平编（北京: 中国广播电视出版社, 2000. 1）此段未译，但第353页随手将Dame à la Licorne译成“犀牛的女人”。
http://www.duxiu.com/book/000/00 ... 3B79449CC360F44.htm
《里尔克散文选》绿原, 张黎, 钱春绮译（天津: 百花文艺出版社, 2002. 1）第285－288页，2005年2月第二版在第272－274页
http://www.duxiu.com/book/000/00 ... B36E73EF0434CCE.htm
《里尔克精选集》李永平编选（北京: 北京燕山出版社, 2005. 4）第392－394页
http://www.duxiu.com/book/000/00 ... 80B371F645ACF10.htm

John Linton英译里尔克The Notebook of Malte Laurids Brigge节选，可下载Dasha整理的PDF：
http://www.myrilke.com/anders/John_%20Linton_MLA.pdf

zhoukaijian

能否把Hogarth Press 出全本传上来看看，以前对叶廷芳，李永平的译本还算信任的。张佩芬译的黑塞应该还不错，至今还能回忆起初读时的美妙感受，宁静而愉悦。虽然知道黑塞在德语文学史中的地位不算高，可是还是比较喜欢，他的命运有点象法国的加谬，虽然他们两人都得了诺贝尔文学奖，却免不了被有些论者讥讽为浅薄。

Gossudar

嗳，全本电子版Gossudar只有德文的，英译本纸本的M. D. Herter Norton和Stephen Mitchell也有，这John Linton本，Gossudar已经托人购买，似乎已经到手，但在英国
《上帝的故事：里尔克散文随笔集》里的Malte是魏育青译的；《里尔克精选集》里的Malte是徐畅译的：徐畅的译文中，“die Wasserstrahlen”（水柱）译成“火柱”（第321页）、“von Abend bis Morgen”（从傍晚到清晨）译成“从早到晚”（第328页）……这样的事故比比皆是，是能力问题还是态度问题，Gossudar不知如何论断。

既然对叶廷芳、李永平开始不信任，又何必信任英译本呢？英译本的错误未必就比汉译本少。此外，Gossudar读原文不懂的句子，英译本此刻似乎也语焉不详，比如：http://bbs.poemlife.com:1863/for ... 47482162&page=1 zhoukaijian兄如有闲暇，还请拨冗为Gossudar指点迷津，不胜感激。

zhoukaijian

我自己的英语也就是可以阅读，根本算不上好，哪里谈得上指教。德语不懂。你提出的那段译文中的问题，我可以问问我的朋友。有了结果一定回复！

Gossudar

嘿嘿，那就先谢谢啦。

zhoukaijian

诗生活里那段英文看过了，回家后又找来百花文艺2002版227页最末两段与228页上的中译文，从全篇的意思来看，果肉与果核的比喻比较关键，果肉，也就是侍从官（职业角色）与德特勒夫（个体）（可朽的）－果核，他的死亡（不朽的）。这里主要讲了一个在日常生活中我们与死亡共存，却未必觉察的问题。侍从官的死唤醒了它（或它们），才招致如此巨大的恐惧！这里也有人的自我区分的问题 ：侍从官－德特勒夫—他的死亡（另一个自我或非我），中译文与英文，我觉得没有问题，主要是一个意义的理解，Dasha起初的字面理解没有错。我还没问过懂德语的朋友，就草率给出了自己的理解，见笑了！我想你也考虑到我说的那层意思了吧！读了一遍中译文，一定有理解错误或不当之处指出，请指正！

bibliomaniac

原来这里还有更精彩的，差点错过了。

D兄说的那个句子我初看时也有同样的感觉，怪怪的，现在看了好多遍之后，好像有点眉目，试分析一下：

It was not Christoph Detlev to whom this voice belonged, but Christoph Detlev's death.

这大概是个强调句，it无实义。去掉枝节就是This voice belonged to Christoph Detlev，变成强调句可以是：It was Christoph Detlev that/whom this voice belonged to。可以把to前移，但很奇怪，用whom和用that时，to前移的位置好像不同。用whom时，就是It was Christoph Detlev to whom this voice belonged；用that时，似乎应该是It was to Christoph Detlev that this voice belonged。    看来这是个很特别的句子，可能跟belong这个词语法主动而意义被动有关。

Gossudar

引用第6楼bibliomaniac于2006-09-09 21:50发表的“”:
原来这里还有更精彩的，差点错过了。

D兄说的那个句子我初看时也有同样的感觉，怪怪的，现在看了好多遍之后，好像有点眉目，试分析一下：

It was not Christoph Detlev to whom this voice belonged, but Christoph Detlev's death.
.......

旋久兄，似乎是Norton的英译错误。德语“Nicht Christoph Detlev war es, welchem diese Stimme geh鰎te, es war Christoph Detlevs Tod.”直译成英语似乎该是“he, whom this voice belonged to, was not Christoph Detlev, he was Christoph Detlev's death.”