柯尔律治《忽必烈汗》重译
傅正明译
S. T. 柯尔律治（Samuel Taylor Coleridge）
忽必烈汗：或梦中的一个幻象。一段残诗
（Kubla Khan: Or, a Vision in a Dream• A Fragment）[1]
刊行这段残诗，实乃应一位当之无愧的伟大诗人(拜伦爵士)的请求。就作者本人的观点而言，与其说它富于何种潜在的诗意，倒不如说它可以视为一份珍贵的心理学资料。
1797年夏，健康欠佳的作者，回到萨默塞特郡与德文郡的埃克摩边界地带波罗克与林东之间孤独的农舍。他因身体不适服用了一点镇痛剂，药性发作之后，睡眼朦胧中读到普卡斯 (Purchas ) 的《朝圣》( Pilgrimage )：“忽必烈汗诏令营造宫殿，修建御花园，十里沃野被高墙围隔。”不知不觉沉沉入睡约三小时，当此外部感觉最少之时，他最明确地相信自己可以写作－－至少能写两三百行诗，如果这真能称为写作的话。在这一过程中，所有的意象像事物一样在他眼前浮上来，有一种与表现相应的类似的创造，没有任何苦心经营的感觉或意识。醒来时，他尚有完整而清晰的回忆。他取出笔墨纸张，立即奋笔疾书，写下这些诗行。此刻，他不幸被一个从波罗克来的办事员叫出来，耽搁了一个多小时。回到书房后，他十分惊异而沮丧地发现，尽管他仍然模糊地记得幻景的大致内容，却仅仅写下散乱的八到十行残诗和意象，其余的就像一石击破溪流之后，水面的意象消失得无影无踪，而且再也无法复原了！
迷人之境
皆被弄碎 ――美不胜收的魔幻世界
化为乌有，一千只圆环展开，
一只只递相扭曲变形。略停片刻，
可怜啊青年！你简直未敢抬起眼睛 －－
溪流将很快恢复它的光滑，很快
幻景将重现！啊，他停下来，
很快，可爱的形式模糊的残片
颤抖着回归，联结，现在
小池再度成为一面明镜。
( 摘自柯尔律治<图画，或，情人的决心>,第91-100行)
但是，从依旧残留于他心中的回忆，作者已多次想为他自己完成在灵启中得到原初意象。“明天我将给你唱首更甜美的歌”:[2] 明天还会来的。作为这个幻景的一个对比，我附录了一个特色颇为不同的残篇，以同样的忠实来描绘这个痛苦的病态的梦。
忽必烈汗立上都，
诏令建造金碧辉煌安乐宫。
神河阿尔佛[3]，訇然穿岩洞，
奔流直下，深不可测，
汇入不见天日地下海洋中。
方圆十哩，一片沃野，
楼台亭阁，辅以城阕。
溪流穿花园，蜿蜒闪光泽，
溪边植香木，鲜花开不谢；
四山拱卫寿比丘壑林间树
环抱明媚大草地，一片青葱色。
噫吁嚱！蓦见天崩地开裂，急转直下青山侧，
上有浓荫覆盖之杉树，下有幽深莫测之罅隙。
其险也如此，其神也难说――
但闻寒月下，神出鬼没一女郎
只缘情人化魔怪，泪汪汪。
又闻罅隙一片喧嚣翻波浪。
仿佛大地垂危间，气喘喘。
一股地泉，汹涌喷射，
巨石碎沙，腾上云天，
或如列缺霹雳之中冰雹之倒落，
或如农夫连枷之下稻谷之反弹。
庞然大岩石，飞舞何蹁跹！
神河夹石出深渊，倒流上青山，
流过峡谷，流过森林，
迷迷茫茫，蜿蜒五哩长，
直入深不可测岩洞间，
一片喧嚣沉入死寂大海洋。
喧嚣间，忽必列汗遥闻祖先
吐真言，预言一场大恶战。
雕梁画栋之殿堂，
水中倒影泛波澜；
悲喜交加之曲调
来自岩洞和地泉。
其乎怪哉！鬼斧神工为世所罕见，
阳光映照逍遥宫，闪烁冰窟雪窖间！
忆昔朦胧生幻象，
飘然飞来一女郎，
自言本为异邦女，[4]
蝴蝶古琴[5] 抱身上，
为我一挥手，仙山 [6] 飘绝响。
婉转歌喉，从此不再闻，
和谐音韵，而今在何方？
若能摹写销魂之仙曲，
定能以乐音之悠远高扬，
重建雾里楼台，云中仙邦，
阳光灿烂安乐宫，耸立冰窟雪窖上！
如此海外奇谈，凡能耳闻目睹者，
定然高声呼喊：提防！提防！
他那眼光闪亮，他那发丝飘荡！
织一圆环，绕他三匝，只缘他以人间蜜露为食，
以天国乳泉为浆。
1798年
译注
[1] 译自柯尔律治的《克丽斯特贝尔》（Christabel, 1816)。
[2] 原文为希腊文，引自古希腊诗人特俄克里特 ( Theocritus ) 的《牧歌》( Idylls I. 145 )。
[3] 诗人想象中的一条河流。
[4] 原文为阿尔比西尼亚 ( 埃塞俄比亚旧称 ) 姑娘。
[5] 或音译为德西玛琴， 一种以小锤敲击、类似于中国扬琴的乐器。
[6] 原文为阿拉伯山，诗人想象中的一座仙山。
柯尔律治原文：
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Kubla Khan: Or, a Vision in a Dream• A Fragment
The following fragment is here published at the request of a poet of pt and deserved celebrity, and, as far as the author's own opinions are concerned, rather as a psychological curiosity, than on the grounds of any supposed poetic merits.
In the summer of the year 1797, the author, then in ill health, had retired to a lonely farmhouse between Porlock and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devonshire. In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he fell asleep in his chair at the moment that he was reading the following sentence, or words of the same substance, in Purchas's Pilgrimage: "Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built, and a stately garden thereunto. And thus ten miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall." The author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of effort. On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment he was unforunately called out by a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone has been cast, but, alas! without the after restoration of the latter!
Then all the charm
Is broken — all that phantom world so fair
Vanishes, and a thousand circlets spread,
And each misshape[s] the other. Stay awhile,
Poor youth! who scarcely dar'st lift up thine eyes —
The stream will soon renew its smoothness, soon
The visions will return! And lo, he stays,
And soon the fragments dim of lovely forms
Come trembling back, unite, and now once more
The pool becomes a mirror.
[From Coleridge's The Picture; or, the lover's Resolution, lines 91-100]
Yet from the still surviving recollections in his mind, the author has frequently purposed to finish for himself what had been originally, as were, given to him. [I shall sing a sweeter song tomorrow]: but the tomorrow is yet to come. As a contrast to this vision, I have annexed a fragment of a very different character, describing with equal fidelity the dream of pain and disease.
In Xanadu did KubIa Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chafly grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And `mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And `mid this tumult KubIa heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight `twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honeydew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
1798
