21. To-hûn ê Thiⁿ | 多雲 ê 天

21. To-hûn ê Thiⁿ

É-châng chhiū-á tī chio̍h-thâu phāng khui-hoe. Góa tó leh, khòaⁿ boeh-àm ê thiⁿ, thiⁿ-téng chit kúi tiám-cheng lâi bān-bān khàm tio̍h sè-sè, tiām-tiām, kat-kat ê hûn. Hia it-tēng teh chhoe-hong, m̄-koh góa chia lóng bô kám-kak tio̍h. Hong kā hûn-si chhoe-kah ná mî-se.

Ná-chhiūⁿ sip-tō͘ giâ-koân, tō tòe leh lo̍h-hō͘ chit-chióng ūn-lu̍t, ná-chhiūⁿ kùi-chiat, thè-lâu kap móa-lâu, lóng ū tńg-thè ê sî-chūn kap sūn-sī, lán ê ta̍k-hāng tāi-chì mā lóng ū i ê kui-chek kap ūn-lu̍t. Ū chi̍t ê Flies Kàu-siū, i kè-sǹg bó͘ chióng sò͘-jī ê kip-sò͘ lâi soeh-bêng chi̍t-kóa tōa tāi-chì ê chiu-kî-sèng hoán-ho̍k. Che thiaⁿ tio̍h ná-chhiūⁿ Iû-thài-kàu ê sîn-pì thiat-ha̍k Kabala, m̄-koh Kabala mā sī chi̍t-chióng tì-sek. Tek-kok kàu-siū goān-ì sńg che, tō-sī chin hó ê soeh-bêng ah.

Góa só͘ kiaⁿ ê, góa sèⁿ-miā tiong ê o͘-àm pho-lōng, mā i-chiàu bó͘ chi̍t-chióng kui-lu̍t chhut-hiān. Góa m̄-chai i ê ji̍t-chí a̍h-sī sò͘-jī, in-ūi góa bô teh liân-sio̍k siá ji̍t-kì. Góa m̄-chai mā bē-chai, i sī-m̄-sī kap 23, 27, a̍h-sī kî-thaⁿ ê sò͘-jī ū koan-hē. Góa kan-ta chai: ū sî-chūn góa ê lêng-hûn tō bô-iân-bô-kò͘ khí o͘-àm pho-lōng. O͘-iáⁿ tō ná-chhiūⁿ hûn ê iáⁿ cháu-phiàn choân sè-kài. Hoaⁿ-hí piàn khang-hi, im-ga̍k piàn bô-bī. Ta̍k-hāng lóng ut-chut, sí khah hó kòe oa̍h. Ná tú tio̍h kúi, chit chiong ut-chut kóng lâi tō lâi, góa m̄-chai keh gōa kú, i ē kā góa ê thiⁿ khàm o͘-hûn. Chi̍t khai-sí, sim bē tiāⁿ, ū chhau-hoân a̍h-sī khó-lêng àm-sî kāu bîn-bāng ê chiân-tiāu. Pún-lâi góa kah-ì ê lâng, chhù, sek-chhái, siaⁿ-im, piàn-chiâⁿ khó-gî, khòaⁿ--khí-lâi hi-ké. Im-ga̍k hō͘ góa thâu-thiàⁿ. Góa chiap tio̍h ê phoe-sìn lóng bô hó-mi̍h, koh ē chhàng àm-chìⁿ. Tī hit khoán sî-chūn, kap lâng kóng-ōe chin kan-khó͘, chin kín tō ē jiá-tāi-chì. In-ūi ū chit khoán sî-chūn, lán bô khǹg chhèng; mā in-ūi bô chhèng, ū sî iū siūⁿ-boeh ū chhèng. Siū-khì, siū-khó͘, kap bâi-oàn lóng sì-kè hoat-chok, tùi lâng, tùi tōng-bu̍t-á, tùi thiⁿ-khì, tùi Sîn, tùi tha̍k ê chheh-chóa, tùi chhēng ê saⁿ-á châi-liāu. M̄-koh siū-khì, put-nāi, bâi-oàn, kap oàn-hūn, tùi mi̍h-kiāⁿ bô chok-iōng, in lóng hoán-siā tó-tńg lâi góa ka-tī ê sin--siōng. Sī góa ài hông oàn-hūn lah. Sī góa tòa hūn-loān kap oàn-hūn lâi hō͘ sè-kài ê lah.

Tú tio̍h chit-chióng ji̍t-chí liáu, góa taⁿ teh hioh-khùn. Góa chai, su-iàu hó-hó hioh chi̍t chūn. Góa chai, sè-kài chiâⁿ bí-lē; chit ê sî-chūn, i tùi góa pí tùi pa̍t-lâng koh-khah bí-lē; sek-chhái iông-ha̍p kah chiâⁿ iù-siù, khong-khì lâu-tāng koh-khah khin-jiû, kng-sòaⁿ chiò kah koh-khah un-loán. Góa mā chai, chiah-ê sī kúi-ā kang seng-oa̍h thòng-khó͘ ê tāi-kè. Ū tùi-khòng ut-chut ê hó io̍h-hng: chhiùⁿ-koa, khiân-sêng, lim-chiú, chàu-ga̍k, siá-si, liû-lōng. Iōng chiah-ê io̍h-hng góa oa̍h tio̍h, tō ná-chhiūⁿ ún-ki-chiá iōng kî-tó oa̍h tio̍h. Ū sî-chūn, góa kám-kak góa ê thian-pêng khi--khì, góa ê hó sî-chūn siuⁿ bān, siuⁿ chió, tú bē-kòe pháiⁿ sî-chūn. Āu--lâi góa koh hoat-hiān, tian-tò-péng ah, góa í-keng ū chìn-pō͘, hó sî-chūn teh cheng-ka, pháiⁿ sî-chūn teh kiám-chió. Sīm-chí siōng pháiⁿ ê sî , góa m̄a bē ǹg-bāng pòaⁿ-hó pòaⁿ-bái, bē ǹg-bāng la-lûn-sio, bē ǹg-bāng iáu lún-ē-tiâu ê tiong-sim só͘-chāi. Góa bô ài che, góa lêng-khó ū khah tōa ê tùi-pí, khah chha ê chiat-bôa -- in-ūi án-ne, sî-chūn hó ê sî, góa ē ū khah bêng-liāng ê kng-tō͘.

Bān-bān choa̍t-bōng lī-khui góa, seng-oa̍h koh-chài sóng-khoài, thiⁿ-khong koh-chài bí-lē, liû-lōng koh-chài chhiong-móa ì-gī. Tī chit khoán tńg-lâi ê ji̍t-chí, góa kám-kak tio̍h hôe-ho̍k ê sim-chêng: phî-lô m̄-koh bô pi-siong, pàng-lo̍h m̄-koh bô thòng-khó͘, kám-un m̄-koh bô chū-pi. Bān-bān, sèⁿ-miā-sòaⁿ iū-koh peh koân. Góa iū-koh chhiùⁿ chi̍t tōaⁿ koa. Goa iū-koh at chi̍t lúi hoe. Góa iū-koh lāng góa ê koái-á. Góa í-keng koh khek-ho̍k ah. Góa ài koh khek-ho̍k chi̍t pái, sīm-chì chē-chē pái.

Tàu-té chit chióng to-hûn, ut-chut, khui-khoah ê thiⁿ-khong sī hoán-siā góa ê lêng-hûn, a̍h-sī tian-tò-péng, sī-m̄-sī góa tī chit chióng thiⁿ-khong tha̍k tio̍h góa ka-tī sèⁿ-miā lāi-bīn ê hêng-siōng? Ū-sî-chūn tāi-chì tō-sī chiah-nī bô hoat-tō͘ khak-tēng! Ū sî góa ē siong-sìn, sè-kài siōng bô lâng ē-tàng chhiūⁿ góa án-ne, iōng góa chò-ûi si-jîn kap lōng-chú ê láu-liān kap kòe-bín ê kám-kak, hiah-nī siông-sè, hiah-nī chèng-khak, hiah-nī tiong-si̍t ê, khòaⁿ-bat khong-khì kap hûn ê bó͘-chióng khì-hun, sek-chhái ê bó͘-chióng chêng-tiāu, sip-tō͘ ê bó͘-chióng phang-bī kap iû-tāng. M̄-koh, chhiūⁿ kin-á-ji̍t, góa koh hoâi-gî tàu-té góa sī-m̄-sī ū khòaⁿ tio̍h, thiaⁿ tio̍h, kap phīⁿ tio̍h siáⁿ, sī-m̄-sī ta̍k-hāng góa tòng-chò chûn-chāi--ê, kan-ta sī tâu-siā chhut-lâi ê hêng-siōng, sī góa sèⁿ-miā lāi-bīn ê hêng-siōng?

--

21. 多雲 ê 天

矮叢樹仔 tī 石頭縫開花. 我倒 leh, 看欲暗 ê 天, 天頂這幾點鐘來慢慢崁著細細, 恬恬, 結結 ê 雲. 遐一定 teh 吹風, m̄-koh 我遮攏無感覺著. 風 kā 雲絲吹 kah ná 棉紗.

Ná 像溼度夯懸, tō 綴 leh 落雨這種韻律, ná 像季節, 退流 kap 滿流, 攏有轉退 ê 時陣 kap 順序, 咱 ê 逐項代誌 mā 攏有伊 ê 規則 kap 韻律. 有一个 Flies 教授, 伊計算某種數字 ê 級數來說明一寡大代誌 ê 周期性反復. 這聽著 ná 像猶太教 ê 神祕哲學 Kabala, m̄-koh Kabala mā 是一種智識. 德國教授願意耍這, 就是真好 ê 說明 ah.

我所驚 ê, 我性命中 ê 烏暗波浪, mā 依照某一種規律出現. 我毋知伊 ê 日子抑是數字, 因為我無 teh 連續寫日記. 我毋知 mā 袂知, 伊是毋是 kap 23, 27, 抑是其他 ê 數字有關係. 我干焦知: 有時陣我 ê 靈魂 tō 無緣無故起烏暗波浪. 烏影 tō ná 像雲 ê 影走遍全世界. 歡喜變空虛, 音樂變無味. 逐項攏鬱卒, 死較好過活. Ná 拄著鬼, 這種鬱卒講來 tō 來, 我毋知隔偌久, 伊會 kā 我 ê 天崁烏雲. 一開始, 心袂定, 有操煩抑是可能暗時厚眠夢 ê 前兆. 本來我佮意 ê 人, 厝, 色彩, 聲音, 變成可疑, 看起來虛假. 音樂予我頭疼. 我接著 ê 批信攏無好物, koh 會藏暗箭. Tī 彼款時陣, kap 人講話真艱苦, 真緊 tō 會惹代誌. 因為有這款時陣, 咱無囥銃; mā 因為無銃, 有時又想欲有銃. 受氣, 受苦, kap 埋怨攏四界發作, 對人, 對動物仔, 對天氣, 對神, 對讀 ê 冊紙, 對穿 ê 衫仔材料. M̄-koh 受氣, 不耐, 埋怨, kap 怨恨, 對物件無作用, in 攏反射倒轉來我家己 ê 身上. 是我愛 hông 怨恨 lah. 是我帶混亂 kap 怨恨來予世界 ê lah.

拄著這種日子了, 我今 teh 歇睏. 我知, 需要好好歇一陣. 我知, 世界誠美麗; 這个時陣, 伊對我比對別人 koh 較美麗; 色彩融合 kah 誠幼秀, 空氣流動 koh 較輕柔, 光線照 kah koh 較溫暖. 我 mā 知, chiah-ê 是幾若工生活痛苦 ê 代價. 有對抗鬱卒 ê 好藥方: 唱歌, 虔誠, 啉酒, 奏樂, 寫詩, 流浪. 用 chiah-ê 藥方我活著, tō ná 像隱居者用祈禱活著. 有時陣, 我感覺我 ê 天平 khi 去, 我 ê 好時陣 siuⁿ 慢, siuⁿ 少, 拄袂過歹時陣. 後來我 koh 發現, 顛倒 péng ah, 我已經有進步, 好時陣 teh 增加, 歹時陣 teh 減少. 甚至上歹 ê 時, 我mā 袂 ǹg 望半好半䆀, 袂 ǹg 望拉圇燒, 袂 ǹg 望猶 lún 會牢 ê 中心所在. 我無愛這, 我寧可有較大 ê 對比, 較差 ê 折磨 -- 因為 án-ne, 時陣好 ê 時, 我會有較明亮 ê 光度.

慢慢絕望離開我, 生活 koh 再爽快, 天空 koh 再美麗, 流浪 koh 再充滿意義. Tī 這款轉來 ê 日子, 我感覺著回復 ê 心情: 疲勞毋過無悲傷, 放落毋過無痛苦, 感恩毋過無自卑. 慢慢, 性命線又 koh peh 懸. 我又 koh 唱一段歌. 我又 koh 遏一蕊花. 我又 koh 弄我 ê 枴仔. 我已經 koh 克服 ah. 我愛 koh 克服一擺, 甚至濟濟擺.

到底這種多雲, 鬱卒, 開闊 ê 天空是反射我 ê 靈魂, 抑是顛倒 péng, 是毋是我 tī 這種天空讀著我家己性命內面 ê 形象? 有時陣代誌 tō 是 chiah-nī 無法度確定! 有時我會相信, 世界上無人ē-tàng 像我 án-ne, 用我做為詩人 kap 浪子 ê 老練 kap 過敏 ê 感覺, hiah-nī 詳細, hiah-nī 正確, hiah-nī 忠實 ê, 看 bat 空氣 kap 雲 ê 某種氣氛, 色彩 ê 某種情調, 溼度 ê 某種芳味 kap 游動. M̄-koh, 像今仔日, 我 koh 懷疑到底我是毋是有看著, 聽著, kap 鼻著啥, 是毋是逐項我 tòng-chò 存在 ê, 干焦是投射出來 ê 形象, 是我性命內面 ê 形象?

--

21. Cloudy Sky

Dwarf shrubs blossom between the rocks. I lie and gaze into the evening sky, which for hours has been slowly covering itself with small, silent, tangled clouds. Winds must be blowing up there, though here one can't perceive a trace of them. They weave the cloud threads like yarn.

As the rising of moisture and the raining down of water on the earth follow each other in a certain rythm, as the seasons, and ebb tide and flood tide, have flexed times and sequences, so everything within us moves according to laws and rhythms. There is one Professor Flies, who calculated certain numerical progressions in order to indicate the periodic repetition and return of vital occurences. It sounds like the Cabala, but presumably the Cabala is also knowledge. The very fact that German professors make fun of it speaks well for it.

The dark waves in my life, which I fear, come also with a certain regularity. I don't know the dates and numbers, I have never kept a continuing diary. I do not and will not know whether the numbers 23 and 27 or any other numbers have anything to do with it. I only know: from time to time there rises in my soul, without external causes, the dark wave. A shadow runs over the world, like the shadow of a cloud. Joy sounds false, and music stale. Depression pervades everything, dying is better than living. Like an attack this melancholy comes from time to time, I don't know at what intervals, and slowly covers my sky with clouds. It begins with an unrest in the heart, with a premonition of anxiety, probably with my dreams at night. People, houses, colors, sounds that otherwise please me become dubious and seem false. Music gives me a headache. All my mail becomes upsetting and contains hidden arrows. At such times, having to converse with people is torture, and immediately leads to scenes. Because of times like this, one does not own guns; for the same reason, one misses them. Anger, suffering, and complaints are directed at everything, at people, at animals, at the weather, at God, at the paper in the book one is reading, at the material of the very clothing one has on. But anger, impatience, complaints, and hatred have no effect on things, and are deflected from everything, back to myself. I am the one who deserves hatred. I am the one who brings discord and hatred into the world.

I am resting after one such day. I know that for a while how rest is to be expected. I know how beautiful the world is; for the time being, it is more beautiful for me than for any other person; colors fuse more delicately, the air flows more blissfully, the light hovers more tenderly. And I know that I must pay for this with the days when life is unbearable. There are good remedies against depression: song, piety, the drinking of wine, making music, writing poems, wandering. By these remedies I live, as the hermit lives by his prayers. Sometimes it seems to me that the scales have tipped and that my good hours are too seldom and too few to make up for the bad ones. Then sometimes I find that, on the contrary, I have made progress, that the good hours have increased and the evil ones decreased. What I never wish, not even in the worst hours, is a middling ground between good and bad, a lukewarm, bearable center. No, rather an exaggeration of the curve -- a worse torment and, because of it, the blessed moments even richer in their brilliance.

Despair fades away from me, life is pleasing again, the sky is beautiful again, wandering is meaningful again. On such days of return, I feel something of the mood of recovery: weariness without any particular sorrow, resignation without bitterness, gratitute without self-contempt. Slowly the lifeline begins to rise. I hum a line of a song again. I pick a flower again. I toy with my walking stick again. I have overcome it again. And I will have to overcome it once more, perhaps many times.

It would be wholly impossible for me to say whether this cloudy, silently disturbed, unraveled sky is mirrored in my soul or the reverse, whether or not I read the image of my own inner life in this sky. Sometimes everything is so completely uncertain! There are days when I am convinced that no man on earth can recognize certain moods of air and cloud, certain tones of color, certain fragrances and movements of moisture as finely, as exactly, and as truly as I can, with my old, nervous senses of poet and wanderer. And then again, as today, it can become doubtful to me whether I have seen, heard, and smelled anything after all, whether everything that I took to be true is not merely an image cast outward, the image of my inner life.

--