0920 2015 日曹永洋「」

1點多睡，牙竟然不痛。7點多醒。
YY見我在吃中午胡亂煮的水餃，說她們有都市之女，所以午餐之後繼之以午茶，她只吃柚子。
晚上約8點，牙之神經麻小轉到上排牙，剛拔完之旁者。

翻讀《蘭巴倫的篝火》 (史懷哲之友選集之三)，台北：志文，2006，很有意思：主編曹永洋為我勾選1/3篇，不過有許多驚喜處，譬如說，昨天我的筆記：康國維 1938-1999 契訶夫短篇小說選；臺灣鳥類指南 (合著)，而此書收入其白話"詞"「思鄉思親夢裡總成空」(頁168-73、包含「夢故鄉憶往事」1978/1983、「天上人間難相見」；曹永洋有其簡傳)和譯高爾基的散文詩「海燕之歌」(頁174-76)。


周五與曹永洋先生聚會的一些細節，我補充一下：他也推薦許多書與文章，最出乎我意外的是劉森堯學長的三篇大文：記母親、戀人.... (據說刊在劉森堯著 《天光雲影共徘徊》， 爾雅 出版社，2001)，待查。
天母書廬牆上有人題金言。這句話，我在初中的謝立沛老師的歷史課聽過。
我們應該每天聽一首歌、讀一首好詩、看一幅好畫；. 如果可能的話，再說幾句合理的話。 ─德國詩人歌德（Johann Wolfgang Goethe）
曹學長欣賞的譯文(天母書廬牆上題的金言)則是這樣的：

「一個人在自己的生活裡，每天要吟讀一首好詩，閱讀一本名著，聆聽一首名曲，欣賞一幅名畫，庶幾上蒼賦予你的美麗玲魂，才不致被塵俗的煩惱所蒙蔽。」---曹永洋「此情可待成追憶----編後記」，載《音樂界的騎士：曹永坤先生紀念文集》( The Taiwan knight of classical music : in memory of Tsao Yeong-Kun )， 曹永洋, 曹慧中編， 臺北市: 草根出版，2008，頁246，曹永坤（1929-2006）


廖振富 早上恰好讀到曹永洋老師寄贈的《八芝蘭天玉齋隨筆》，對曹賜固老先生、與曹永洋老師父子熱愛文學、電影、藝術的家學傳承，以及所散發的人文涵養，深感佩服。

Hanching Chung 周五與曹先生談，才知道有些人覺得父子文筆類似；永洋先生解釋他父親的某些經歷是無法代筆的。最有趣的是老先生推薦Henry James的The Portrait of a Lady，說是戀愛心理曲折的代表作，當初我以為是讀日文本的經驗談。不過，在新潮文庫我問此事，原來是文庫有漢譯本.....


廖振富 《八芝蘭天玉齋隨筆》收錄曹賜固老先生〈走過來時路〉一文，確實特別提到Henry James的The Portrait of a Lady這本書（頁61），他說：「我希望喜歡用囈語、浪漫、虛幻的詞藻歌頌愛情的作家們細讀這部小說」。

Portrait of a Lady
BY T. S. ELIOT

Thou hast committed —
Fornication: but that was in another country,
And besides, the wench is dead.
(The Jew of Malta) 

I

Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon

You have the scene arrange itself — as it will seem to do—

With "I have saved this afternoon for you";

And four wax candles in the darkened room,

Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead,

An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb

Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid.

We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole

Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and finger-tips.

"So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul

Should be resurrected only among friends

Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom

That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room."

—And so the conversation slips

Among velleities and carefully caught regrets

Through attenuated tones of violins

Mingled with remote cornets

And begins.

"You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,

And how, how rare and strange it is, to find

In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,

(For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind!

How keen you are!)

To find a friend who has these qualities,

Who has, and gives

Those qualities upon which friendship lives.

How much it means that I say this to you —

Without these friendships — life, what cauchemar!"

Among the winding of the violins

And the ariettes

Of cracked cornets

Inside my brain a dull tom-tom begins

Absurdly hammering a prelude of its own,

Capricious monotone

That is at least one definite "false note."

— Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance,

Admire the monuments,

Discuss the late events,

Correct our watches by the public clocks.

Then sit for half an hour and drink our bocks.

II

Now that lilacs are in bloom

She has a bowl of lilacs in her room

And twists one in her fingers while she talks.

"Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know

What life is, you who hold it in your hands";

(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks)

"You let it flow from you, you let it flow,

And youth is cruel, and has no remorse

And smiles at situations which it cannot see."

I smile, of course,

And go on drinking tea.

"Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall

My buried life, and Paris in the Spring,

I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world

To be wonderful and youthful, after all."

The voice returns like the insistent out-of-tune

Of a broken violin on an August afternoon:

"I am always sure that you understand

My feelings, always sure that you feel,

Sure that across the gulf you reach your hand.

You are invulnerable, you have no Achilles' heel.

You will go on, and when you have prevailed

You can say: at this point many a one has failed.

But what have I, but what have I, my friend,

To give you, what can you receive from me?

Only the friendship and the sympathy

Of one about to reach her journey's end.

I shall sit here, serving tea to friends ...."

I take my hat: how can I make a cowardly amends

For what she has said to me?

You will see me any morning in the park

Reading the comics and the sporting page.

Particularly I remark.

An English countess goes upon the stage.

A Greek was murdered at a Polish dance,

Another bank defaulter has confessed.

I keep my countenance,

I remain self-possessed

Except when a street-piano, mechanical and tired

Reiterates some worn-out common song

With the smell of hyacinths across the garden

Recalling things that other people have desired.

Are these ideas right or wrong?

III

The October night comes down; returning as before

Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease

I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door

And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.

"And so you are going abroad; and when do you return?

But that's a useless question.

You hardly know when you are coming back,

You will find so much to learn."

My smile falls heavily among the bric-à-brac.

"Perhaps you can write to me."

My self-possession flares up for a second;

This is as I had reckoned.

"I have been wondering frequently of late

(But our beginnings never know our ends!)

Why we have not developed into friends."

I feel like one who smiles, and turning shall remark

Suddenly, his expression in a glass.

My self-possession gutters; we are really in the dark.

"For everybody said so, all our friends,

They all were sure our feelings would relate

So closely! I myself can hardly understand.

We must leave it now to fate.

You will write, at any rate.

Perhaps it is not too late.

I shall sit here, serving tea to friends."

And I must borrow every changing shape

To find expression ... dance, dance

Like a dancing bear,

Cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape.

Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance—

Well! and what if she should die some afternoon,

Afternoon grey and smoky, evening yellow and rose;

Should die and leave me sitting pen in hand

With the smoke coming down above the housetops;

Doubtful, for quite a while

Not knowing what to feel or if I understand

Or whether wise or foolish, tardy or too soon ...

Would she not have the advantage, after all?

This music is successful with a "dying fall"

Now that we talk of dying—

And should I have the right to smile?

一位女士的畫像

BY艾略特

祢承諾，承諾 - 

淫亂：那是在球門評論另一個國家，

除此之外，絞車已經死了。

（馬耳他猶太人）

我

在12月的下午的煙和霧

你有szene安排本身 - 它必須做 - SCCM

隨著“我救了，今天下午你”;

而在黑暗的四房蠟燭，

四環光在天花板上的開銷，

朱麗葉的墓的氣氛

準備所有的事情可以說，左沒說金。

我們具備的，是我們也可以說，聽到最新的極

發送的前奏，他的頭髮和手指的技巧。

“那麼親密，這肖邦，那我想他的靈魂

應該只有復活朋友之間

一些二，三，誰也不會觸及綻放

這是擦，並質疑在演唱會的房間。“

-and所以談話內褲

在velleities仔細一抓遺憾

通過小提琴的衰減音

夾雜著遠程短號

並開始。

“你不知道多少，他們對我意味著什麼，我的朋友，

怎麼樣，這是多麼經常和陌生，找

在組成一個生命那麼多，那麼多零碎的，

（對於我確實不愛它...你知道嗎？你是不是瞎了！

如何敏銳的你！）

為了找到一個朋友，誰擁有的素質論文，

誰擁有，並給出

在魁友誼長存這些素質。

這多少均值聚類那我告訴你們 - 

如果沒有論文的友誼 - ！生活中，一場噩夢“

間的小提琴的捲繞

而ariettas

破解短號的

在我的腦子沉悶大鼓開始

荒謬的錘擊信息通信技術的序幕自己，

反复無常的單調

這是金MOINS聯合國確定的“假筆記。”

- 讓我們的空氣，在煙草恍惚，

欣賞古蹟，

討論晚期事件，

公眾鐘錶糾正我們的手錶。

然後坐了半個多小時，喝我們的bocks。

二

現在，紫丁香盛開

她：在她的房間裡一碗紫丁香

而扭轉之一，她的手指，而她說話。

“啊，我的朋友，你不知道，你不知道

生命是什麼，你是誰在你的手中持有它“;

（慢慢扭轉丁香莖）

“你讓它從你流，你讓它流，

而青春是殘酷的，悔恨有否

而微笑情況魁還看不出來。“

我微笑，當然，

並繼續喝茶。

“然而，隨著論文四月日落，莫明召回

我埋葬的生活，巴黎春天，

我覺得沒法比的和平，並找到世界

要精彩和青春，後全部。“

語音返回類似應力亂調

一個破碎的小提琴上月的下午：

“我總是安全的，你了解

我的感情，確保您始終覺得，

當然跨越的鴻溝，你伸出你的手。

你是無敵的，您，沒有致命弱點。

你會去的，當你-佔了上風

你可以說：在這一點上，許多一失敗。

目的是什麼有我，我有什麼打算，我的朋友，

為了給你，你能收到我？

只有友誼和同情

一個即將達到她的旅程的結束。

`要我坐在這裡，服務茶的朋友......“

我把我的帽子：我怎樣才能使一個懦弱的賠償

為什麼她對我說？

你會看到我的任何早晨在公園裡

讀漫畫和體育頁面。

特別是我的話。

一位英國女伯爵去完成課程。

一名希臘被謀殺在波蘭舞曲，

另一家銀行違紀者供認不諱。

我把我的面容，

我仍然自重

除了當街頭鋼琴，機械，累了

重申有些破舊的普通歌曲

隨著風信子穿過花園的氣味

回顧這 - 其他所需的東西的人，都有。

難道這些觀點對還是錯？

III

十月夜幕降臨;在返回的前

除了被白色局促不安輕微的感覺

我安裝了樓梯，打開車門的把手

而且感覺好像我已經安裝在我的手和膝蓋。

“所以，你要出國，什麼時候你回來？

目的這是一個無用的問題。

你知道幾乎沒有，當你回來，

你會發現太多東西要學。“

我的笑容屬於重金磚四-一個古玩。

“也許你可以寫信給我。”

我的修養燃起一秒鐘;

這是因為我有不可忽視。

“我有，經常被懷疑晚

（但是，我們的起點永遠不知道我們的目的！）

我們為什麼窮國發展成為朋友。“

我覺得一個人笑，並把'應此言

突然間，他在玻璃演講。

我自管溝;我們真的是在黑暗中。

“對於每個人都這麼說了，我們所有的朋友，

他們都酸酸的是我們的感情會重新計票

如此緊密！我自己也很難理解。

我們現在必須離開它的命運。

你會寫，在任何脾臟。

也許這是不是太晚了。

`要我坐在這裡，服務茶的朋友。“

我必須借用每個造型多變

為了找到表達......舞蹈，舞蹈

像跳舞熊，

哭得像一隻鸚鵡，喋喋不休像猿。

讓我們以空氣中，煙草trance-

好吧！如果她不宜有些模具下午什麼，

下午灰色，煙熏火燎，晚上黃色和玫瑰;

應該死，讓我的手坐在筆

隨著濃煙灌進上面的房頂;

可疑，相當長一段時間

不知道是什麼感覺，或者如果我理解

或者是否聰明或愚蠢的，遲到或太早...

難道她不具備的優勢，後呢？

這音樂是成功的一個“垂死的秋天”

現在我們所講dying-的

而且我有權利不宜微笑？