《渺小一生》:“唱一首給我聽聽吧?！?/h1>

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2020年03月16日

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　 Harold snorted. “Trust me,” he said. “You are.”

哈羅德嗤之以鼻，“相信我，”他說，“你夠?！?

　 But when he went to Washington for his interview the following year, Sullivan had talked about the law—and political philosophy—with much less vigor and specificity than he had anticipated. “I hear that you sing,” Sullivan said instead after an hour of conversation about what he had studied (the judge had attended the same law school), and his position as the articles editor on the law review (the same position the judge himself had held), and his thoughts on recent cases.

但是次年，當(dāng)他去華盛頓跟法官面談時(shí)，沙利文談起法律和政治學(xué)，卻遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)不如他預(yù)料的那么熱心或明確。法官一開始問了有關(guān)他的求學(xué)過程（法官也讀同一所法學(xué)院）、他在法學(xué)評(píng)論學(xué)報(bào)擔(dān)任的論文編輯的職位（法官也擔(dān)任過同樣的職位）的問題，還有他對(duì)最近幾個(gè)案子的看法。大約一小時(shí)后，沙利文說：“我聽說你愛唱歌?！?

　 “I do,” he replied, wondering how the judge had learned that. Singing was his comfort, but he rarely did it in front of others. Had he been singing in Harold’s office and been overheard? Or sometimes he sang in the law library, when he was re-shelving books late at night and the space was as quiet and still as a church—had someone overheard him there?

“是的?！彼卮穑芗{悶法官怎么會(huì)知道。唱歌帶給他安慰，但他很少在別人面前唱。是他在哈羅德辦公室唱的時(shí)候被別人聽到了嗎？他在法學(xué)院圖書館打工，夜里將書重新上架時(shí)，就會(huì)在靜寂如教堂的空間里唱起來——當(dāng)時(shí)有人聽到了？

　 “Sing me something,” said the judge.

“唱一首給我聽聽吧?！狈ü僬f。

　 “What would you like to hear, sir?” he asked. Normally, he would have been much more nervous, but he had heard that the judge would make him do a performance of some sort (legend had it that he’d made a previous applicant juggle), and Sullivan was a known opera lover.

“您想聽什么，法官？”他問。通常狀況下他會(huì)很緊張，但之前他已經(jīng)聽說這位法官會(huì)要他表演特殊才藝（傳說他還曾逼一名申請(qǐng)者表演拋接雜耍），而且沙利文是出了名的歌劇愛好者。

　 The judge put his fat fingers to his fat lips and thought. “Hmm,” he said. “Sing me something that tells me something about you.”

法官的胖手指放在胖嘴唇上，思索著。“嗯?！彼f，“唱一首能代表你這個(gè)人的歌吧。”

　 He thought, and then sang. He was surprised to hear what he chose—Mahler’s “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen”—both because he didn’t even really like Mahler that much and because the lied was a difficult one to perform, slow and mournful and subtle and not meant for a tenor. And yet he liked the poem itself, which his voice teacher in college had dismissed as “second-rate romanticism,” but which he had always thought suffered unfairly from a poor translation. The standard interpretation of the first line was “I am lost to the world,” but he read it as “I have become lost to the world,” which, he believed, was less self-pitying, less melodramatic, and more resigned, more confused. I have become lost to the world / In which I otherwise wasted so much time. The lied was about the life of an artist, which he was definitely not. But he understood, primally almost, the concept of losing, of loosing oneself from the world, of disappearing into a different place, one of retreat and safety, of the twinned yearnings of escape and discovery. It means nothing to me / Whether the world believes me dead / I can hardly say anything to refute it / For truly, I am no longer a part of the world.

他想了想，然后開始唱。他有點(diǎn)驚訝自己選了馬勒的《我已被世界遺棄》（Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen），因?yàn)樗皇悄敲聪矚g馬勒，而且這首德語獨(dú)唱曲并不好唱，緩慢、悲傷又微妙，不適合男高音。不過他喜歡歌詞，他大學(xué)的聲樂老師曾不屑地說那歌詞是“二流的浪漫主義”，但他一直覺得是翻譯不好的關(guān)系。一般把歌詞的第一句翻譯為“我已被世界遺棄”，但他認(rèn)為應(yīng)該是“我逐漸被世界遺棄”，他相信這樣比較沒那么自艾自憐、沒那么感傷，也比較認(rèn)命、困惑一點(diǎn)。我逐漸被世界遺棄／我已在其中浪費(fèi)了太多光陰。這首獨(dú)唱曲是關(guān)于一個(gè)藝術(shù)家的人生，他當(dāng)然不是藝術(shù)家。但他幾乎是出于本能地了解迷失，以及被世界遺棄的概念，也了解消失后會(huì)進(jìn)入另一個(gè)隱秘又安全的地方，了解那種逃避和被發(fā)現(xiàn)的雙重渴望。這世界是否相信我已死去／對(duì)我了無意義／我難以出言辯駁／因?yàn)槲业拇_再也不屬于這世界。

　 When he finished, he opened his eyes to the judge clapping and laughing. “Bravo,” he said. “Bravo! But I think you might be in the wrong profession altogether, you know.” He laughed again. “Where’d you learn to sing like that?”

等到他唱完睜開眼睛，法官拍手大笑?！俺锰昧耍彼f，“太好了！你知道嗎，我想你根本選錯(cuò)行了?！彼中Γ澳闶窃谀睦飳W(xué)唱歌的？”

　 “The brothers, sir,” he’d replied.

“跟修士們學(xué)的，法官?！彼卮?。

　 “Ah, a Catholic boy?” asked the judge, sitting up fatly in his chair and looking ready to be pleased.

“啊，你是天主教徒？”法官問，胖胖的身軀在椅子里坐直了，看起來很容易開心的樣子。

　 “I was raised Catholic,” he began.

“我小時(shí)候是。”他說。

　 “But you’re not now?” the judge asked, frowning.

“但現(xiàn)在不是了？”法官問，皺起眉頭。

　 “No,” he said. He had worked for years to keep the apology out of his voice when he said this.

“不是了。”他說。他已經(jīng)努力了好幾年，讓自己在說這件事時(shí)不帶著歉意的口吻。

　 Sullivan made a noncommittal grunting noise. “Well, whatever they gave you should have offered at least some sort of protection against whatever Harold Stein’s been filling your head with for the past few years,” he said. He looked at his résumé. “You’re his research assistant?”

沙利文發(fā)出一個(gè)態(tài)度不明的咕噥聲：“好吧，不管他們給了你什么，至少提供了某種保護(hù)，好對(duì)抗哈羅德·斯坦過去幾年塞在你腦袋里的那些玩意兒?！彼粗穆臍v，“你是他的研究助理？”

　 “Yes,” he said. “For more than two years.”

“是的，”他說，“兩年多了?！?

　 “A good mind, wasted,” Sullivan declared (it was unclear whether he meant his or Harold’s). “Thanks for coming down, we’ll be in touch. And thanks for the lied; you have one of the most beautiful tenors I’ve heard in a long time. Are you sure you’re in the right field?” At this, he smiled, the last time he would ever see Sullivan smile with such pleasure and sincerity.

“一個(gè)美好的心靈，就這么糟蹋掉了?！鄙忱恼f（但是沒講清楚是他的心靈，還是哈羅德的），“謝謝你趕來，我們會(huì)再跟你聯(lián)絡(luò)。另外謝謝你那首獨(dú)唱曲，我好久沒聽到過這么美的男高音了。你確定你沒入錯(cuò)行？”說到這里，他露出微笑，那是他最后一次看到沙利文這么開心而誠(chéng)摯的微笑。

　 Back in Cambridge, he told Harold about his meeting (“You sing?” Harold asked him, as if he’d just told him he flew), but that he was certain he wouldn’t get the clerkship. A week later, Sullivan called: the job was his. He was surprised, but Harold wasn’t. “I told you so,” he said.

回到劍橋市，他告訴哈羅德這次面試的過程（“你愛唱歌？”哈羅德問他，好像他剛剛跟他說自己會(huì)飛似的），又說他很確定他應(yīng)征不上。一星期后，沙利文打電話來：他被錄用了。他很驚訝，但哈羅德并不驚訝?！拔以缇透嬖V你了?！彼f。

　 The next day, he went to Harold’s office as usual, but Harold had his coat on. “Normal work is suspended today,” he announced. “I need you to run some errands with me.” This was unusual, but Harold was unusual. At the curb, he held out the keys: “Do you want to drive?”

次日，他如常去哈羅德的辦公室上班，但哈羅德穿上大衣。“正常工作今天先暫停?！彼迹拔乙闩阄胰マk點(diǎn)小事?！边@很不尋常，但哈羅德這個(gè)人本來就不太尋常。來到人行道邊緣，他遞出車鑰匙。“你想開車嗎？”

　 “Sure,” he said, and went to the driver’s side. This was the car he’d learned to drive in, just a year ago, while Harold sat next to him, far more patient outside the classroom than he was in it. “Good,” he’d said. “Let go of the clutch a little more–good. Good, Jude, good.”

“好啊。”他說，然后走到駕駛座那一邊。一年前，他就是用這輛車學(xué)會(huì)開車的。當(dāng)時(shí)哈羅德坐在旁邊教他，他在教室外遠(yuǎn)比在教室里有耐心?！昂芎?，”他會(huì)說，“離合器再稍微放松一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)。很好，很好，裘德，很好?！?

　 Harold had to pick up some shirts he’d had altered, and they drove to the small, expensive men’s store on the edge of the square where Willem had worked his senior year. “Come in with me,” Harold instructed him, “I’m going to need some help carrying these out.”

哈羅德說他得去拿一些他送去改的襯衫，然后他們開車到廣場(chǎng)邊那家小小的、昂貴的男裝店，威廉大四時(shí)在那打過工。“跟我進(jìn)去吧。”哈羅德跟他說，“我需要你幫我搬出來?！?