翻譯來源: 福克納諾貝爾文學獎致答詞,臉譜,2001。 唐諾譯。 Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech / William Faulkner I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work -- a life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before.So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing. Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed -- love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands. Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail. 時間:1950.12.10 地點:瑞典斯德哥爾摩市政廳 我總覺得這個獎不是頒給我這個人的,而是給我的這份工作──這份工作是把人的一生,耗費在人類心靈的困頓和勞苦之中,既不為浮名,也不因虛利,而是以人的心靈做為原料,試圖創造出某些未曾有過的事物來。所以我說,這個獎只是暫時交由我託管罷了。有關這個獎所附贈的獎金部分,要為它找到和獎的原始宗旨和意義相稱的用途,這一點也不難,然而,我就連這個獎所附贈的榮耀這部分,也打算如法炮製一番。我想利用這個難能的機會,讓所有業已獻身同樣的苦難煎熬之中、且有朝一日也同樣有機會站上我此刻立身之地的年輕男女朋友說兩句話。 當今人類的悲劇,在於一種遍在的、無所遁逃的肉體恐懼持續太久了,久到讓我們居然能忍受得了,以致於變得根本沒什麼心靈問題這回事。我們變成只剩一個疑問:什麼時候我們會轟然一聲悉數化成碎片呢?正因為如此,今天年輕的男女寫作朋友,已經把人類心靈的自我矛盾衝突給遺忘了,然而,這才是美好作品的可能出處,因為只有矛盾衝突的心靈才真正值得一寫,值得我們為之嘔心,為之瀝血。 他必須重新學習這一點。他得讓自己明白,人世間最可鄙的莫過於恐懼;他得把恐懼永永遠遠丟開,讓他的工作室裡只存在著心靈的亙古真理,別無其他。沒有這些古老的普遍真理,任何小說皆如蜉蟻如朝露般朝生夕死──那是愛情、榮譽、悲憫、尊嚴、同情,以及犧牲。在他學會這一切之前,他的案牘勞形工作注定是失敗的,他所寫的不會是愛情,只能是肉欲;他所寫的挫折,看不到有誰喪失了什麼攸關價值之物;他所寫的勝利,其間不存在著希望,更可悲的是一無悲憫和同情;他所寫的哀傷,不是向著普遍意義的亡者哀痛,也就留不下任何的創痕;他所寫的不是心靈,而是腺體。 在他重新學會這一切之前,他的寫作,就像束手站立,看著人類的末日逼臨一般。我個人不願相信人類終歸劫滅的講法。說只因為人類能忍耐因此人是不朽的,這話容易;說當人類末日之鐘敲響,並從落日最後一抹餘暉中,從闇無潮音的死寂巖岸旁逐漸杳逝之時,終歸還是會有一種聲音留下:那是人類卑弱但永不停息的聲音,這也不難。這些說法我無法接受,我相信的是,人類不僅僅能忍耐而已,他也必將得勝;人的不朽,不來自他是萬物中唯一有著永不停息的聲音,而是因為他有靈魂,有著能同情、能犧牲、能忍耐的靈魂。 詩人和作家的責任就是書寫這個,詩人和作家的恩賜,在於提升人的心靈,在於重新喚醒人的勇氣、榮譽、希望、尊嚴、同情、悲憫和犧牲這些人類昔日一度擁有的榮光,以幫助人成為不朽。詩人的聲音不應只為人類留下紀錄,而是做為人類永存並且勝利的真正倚仗和柱石。