也不知道為什麼?只是突然有一天就迷上作皂....“一些些冒險犯難的精神+期待皂化過程的小焦慮”就這樣一發不可收拾....
持續、緩慢、製皂中...沒作品時,整理整理過去或現在出走的紀錄,當成自己的回憶錄;或者把看過、挺有感覺的書分享分享心得...還沒設置留言版,如果有話想跟Jess說的,任何一篇文章下面回應,Jess都看得到哦~


2011/06/17

小王子 Le Petit Prince‧Chap25

小王子說:「那些人擠進快車裡,卻不曉得自己在找尋什麼,他們一次又一次地奔波著,並藉此獲得興奮的感覺...」
然後他接著說:「這一點也不值得...」


我們找到的那口井,不像是撒哈拉沙漠裡的井。沙漠裡的井通常只是一個從沙地上窪下去的洞而已,而這口井卻像是鄉間裡的井,但是那裡並沒有任何村落,我想我該不是在做夢吧。

我對小王子說:「真奇怪,什麼都備好了,滑輪、水桶和繩子...」

小王子笑了,碰了碰繩子和轉動的滑輪。那滑輪滾動的聲音,就好像被風遺忘的古老的風向器所發出的聲響。

小王子說:「你聽到了嗎?我們叫醒了這口井,它在唱歌......」

我不希望他太累,我對他說:「讓我來吧!這對你來說太重了。」

我慢慢地把水桶拉到井欄上面,我也累了,這已超過我的現有的極限,滑輪滾動的歌聲仍在我耳裡響著,我看到陽光在波動的水面上閃爍。

小王子說:「我口渴,給我一些水喝...」

我這才醒悟到他在找尋什麼!

我把水桶提到他的嘴邊,小王子閉著眼睛喝。就好像甜蜜的特別節日一樣,這些水不僅僅是喝的水,它的甜蜜是來自星光底下的跋涉、來自滾輪的歌聲、來自我的臂膀,就像一份有益心靈的禮物。就像我還是孩子的時候,聖誕樹上的燭光、午夜彌撒的音樂,和那些甜蜜的微笑,都讓我收到的聖誕禮物變得更加光彩。

小王子說:「在你住的地方,有一個花園種了五千株的玫瑰...然而他沒找到他所尋找的...」

「他沒找到。」我回答。

「但是如果他仔細找的話,也許在一株玫瑰花或者是一點水裡可以找到。」

「是的,這倒是真的。」我說。

小王子接著說:「眼睛是盲目的,必須要用心靈來尋找。」

我喝了水,呼吸變得舒暢,當沙漠在曙光下呈現蜂蜜的顏色時,這蜂蜜的顏色也讓我感到幸福,對於這些,我有什麼好悲傷的...

「你應該實現你的諾言。」小王子重新坐在我的旁邊,輕輕地對我說。

「什麼諾言?」我說。

「你知道....給我的綿羊一個嘴套....我對那朵花是有責任的!」小王子說。

我從口袋裡掏出畫稿。

小王子看了笑著說:「你的猢猻樹看起來像白菜...」

「哦!」我本來還挺滿意我的猢猻樹的!

「你的狐狸...他的耳朵看起來像角...太長了!」小王子說。

「你太不公平了,小王子。我只會畫大蟒蛇跟大蟒蛇內部的畫。」我說。

「哦!這就夠了,小孩子懂的。」小王子說。

於是我用鉛筆畫了一個嘴套,拿給他的時候,我的心被撕扯著。

「你有些計畫沒讓我知道....」我對小王子說。

但他沒有回答我,他告訴我:「你知道嗎,我掉到地球來...到明天就滿一年了...」

他沈默了一會之後又說:「我就掉在這附近...」

他臉紅了。

我感到又一陣莫名的憂傷。我想起一件事:「一週前,我第一次見到你的那個早晨,你獨自一個人在杳無人煙的地方走來走去…這不是偶然的!其實你是想要回到你掉下來的地方?」

小王子的臉又紅了。

我猶豫了一會兒又問:「也許是因為週年的緣故?」

小王子又臉紅了。他從來不回答問題,但是當一個人臉紅,就表示「是」,不是嗎?

「啊!」我對他說:「我有點害怕...」

小王子打斷我說:「你現在該去工作,回到你的引擎那裡,我在這裡等你。明天傍晚再見...」

但是我不放心。我想起了那隻狐狸,一個人如果讓自己被馴養了,有時就會禁不住想哭。


"Men," said the little prince, "set out on their way in express trains, but they do not know what they are looking for. Then they rush about, and get excited, and turn round and round . . ."
And he added:
"It is not worth the trouble . . ."
The well that we had come to was not like the wells of the Sahara. The wells of the Sahara are mere holes dug in the sand. This one was like a well in a village. But there was no village here, and I thought I must be dreaming . . .
"It is strange," I said to the little prince. "Everything is ready for use: the pulley, the bucket, the rope . . ."
He laughed, touched the rope, and set the pulley to working. And the pulley moaned, like an old weathervane which the wind has long since forgotten.
"Do you hear?" said the little prince. "We have wakened the well, and it is singing . . ."
I did not want him to tire himself with the rope.
"Leave it to me," I said. "It is too heavy for you."
I hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there--happy, tired as I was, over my achievement. The song of the pulley was still in my ears, and I could see the sunlight shimmer in the still trembling water.
"I am thirsty for this water," said the little prince. "Give me some of it to drink . . ."
And I understood what he had been looking for.
I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival treat. This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present. When I was a little boy, the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up, so, the radiance of the gifts I received.
"The men where you live," said the little prince, "raise five thousand roses in the same garden--and they do not find in it what they are looking for."
"They do not find it," I replied.
"And yet what they are looking for could be found in one single rose, or in a little water."
"Yes, that is true," I said.
And the little prince added:
"But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart . . ."
I had drunk the water. I breathed easily. At sunrise the sand is the color of honey. And that honey color was making me happy, too. What brought me, then, this sense of grief?
"You must keep your promise," said the little prince, softly, as he sat down beside me once more.
"What promise?"
"You know--a muzzle for my sheep . . . I am responsible for this flower . . ."
I took my rough drafts of drawings out of my pocket. The little prince looked them over, and laughed as he said:
"Your baobabs--they look a little like cabbages."
"Oh!"
I had been so proud of my baobabs!
"Your fox--his ears look a little like horns; and they are too long."
And he laughed again.
"You are not fair, little prince," I said. "I don't know how to draw anything except boa constrictors from the outside and boa constrictors from the inside."
"Oh, that will be all right," he said, "children understand."
So then I made a pencil sketch of a muzzle. And as I gave it to him my heart was torn.
"You have plans that I do not know about," I said.
But he did not answer me. He said to me, instead:
"You know--my descent to the earth . . . Tomorrow will be its anniversary."
Then, after a silence, he went on:
"I came down very near here."
And he flushed.
And once again, without understanding why, I had a queer sense of sorrow. One question, however, occurred to me:
"Then it was not by chance that on the morning when I first met you--a week ago--you were strolling along like that, all alone, a thousand miles from any inhabited region? You were on the your back to the place where you landed?"
The little prince flushed again.
And I added, with some hesitancy:
"Perhaps it was because of the anniversary?"
The little prince flushed once more. He never answered questions--but when one flushes does that not mean "Yes"?
"Ah," I said to him, "I am a little frightened--"
But he interrupted me.
"Now you must work. You must return to your engine. I will be waiting for you here. Come back tomorrow evening . . ."
But I was not reassured. I remembered the fox. One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed . . .

註:《小王子》是法國童話,法文原書名為Le Petit Prince,作者是聖艾修伯里,1943年在紐約出版,被譯成超過 180種語言,銷售量超過8千萬冊,還有拍成電影和動畫片、改編成話劇和音樂劇演出。
圖片出處:http://www.odaha.com

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