不朽的失眠
Immortal Sleeplessness
杜南馨／譯
Translated by Nancy Du
既然無眠，他推枕而起，摸黑寫下「楓橋夜泊」四字。然後，就把
其餘二十八個字照抄下來。我說「照抄」，是因為那二十八個字在他心
底已像白牆上的黑字一樣分明凸顯：
月落烏啼霜滿天 江楓漁火對愁眠
姑蘇城外寒山寺 夜半鐘聲到客船
他落榜了！一千二百年前。
榜紙那麼大那麼長，
然而，就是沒有他的名字。啊！竟單單容不下他的名
字「張繼」那兩個字。
考中的人，姓名一筆一劃寫在榜單上，天下皆
知。奇怪的是，在他的感覺裡，考不上才更是天下皆
知，這件事，令他羞慚沮喪。
離開京城吧！議好了價，他踏上小舟。本來預期
的情節不是這樣的，本來也許有個插花遊街、馬蹄輕
疾的風流，有衣錦還鄉袍笏加身的榮耀。然而，寒窗
十年，雖有他的懸樑刺股，瓊林宴上，卻並沒有他的
一角席次。
船行似風。
He didn’t make it ! One thousand two hundred years
ago. On that big and lengthy scroll of names,
only his was missing. Why, could it not just hold the two simple
characters of his name, Chang Chi?
The ones that made it, their names were written stroke
for stroke on the public bulletin board. An announcement to
the world. Strangely, he felt, his failure was even more of an
announcement to the world. This shamed and depressed him.
Leave the imperial city! Once a price was fixed, he boarded a
small boat. This was not the way the story was supposed to evolve,
originally perhaps he would be adorned with flowers and he would
parade in the streets, ever so debonair while his horse trotted gently
in the wind. He would be filled with the glory of returning home
decorated and honored. But despite his ten years of careful study
1
and its share of struggle and pain, there was no seat for him at the
2
Chung Lin Feast.
The boat sailed as fast as the wind.
1.─In Chinese, this literally means to tie one’s hair on a house beam and jab at oneself
with an awl to keep oneself awake. It refers to the extreme hardships some examinees
experienced in order to prepare for their official examinations.
2.─The Chung Lin Feast was a feast hosted by the emperor in honor of the successful
examinees of the imperial examination.
江楓如火，在岸上舉著冷冷的爝焰，這天黃昏，
船，來到了蘇州。但，這美麗的古城，對張繼而言，
也無非是另一個觸動愁情的地方。
如果說白天有什麼該做的事，對一個讀書人而
言，就是讀書吧！夜晚呢？夜晚該睡覺以便養足精神
第二天再讀。然而，今夜是一個憂傷的夜晚，在異
鄉，在江畔，在秋冷雁高的季節，容許一個落魄的士
子放肆他的憂傷。江水，可以無限度的收納古往今來
一切不順遂之人的淚水。
這樣的夜晚，殘酷的坐著，親自聽自己的心正被
什麼東西囓食而一分一分消失的聲音。並且眼睜睜地
看著自己的生命如勁風中的殘燈，所有的力氣都花在
抗拒，油快盡了，微火每一剎那都可能熄滅。然而，
可恨的是，終其一生，它都不曾華美燦爛過啊！
The maples by the river bank appear as if on fire, its cold flames
lifted high. That day at dusk, the boat docked at Suchou. But to
Chang Chi, this beautiful ancient city was just another place that
touched his sorrow.
To a scholar, if there was one thing he had to do during the
day, it was to study. And at night? Nights were for sleeping so you
had enough stamina to continue studying the following day. But,
tonight was a melancholic evening. Tonight, in a faraway land, by
the river bank, during the cold season of autumn where wild geese
flew overhead, a down and out scholar was permitted to give full
vent to his sorrow. The river, throughout the years, had the capacity
to swallow infinitely the tears of the unblessed.
A night like this, he sat without any sympathy for himself,
listening to the sound of his own heart disintegrating bit by bit
as something gnawed at it. He look wide-eyed at his own life
dwindling like an old lamp in a strong wind, with every ounce
of energy spent resisting. The oil was almost out, the weak flame
would die any moment. But the hateful truth was, throughout his
life, the flame had never once shone brightly and resplendently!
江水睡了，船睡了，船家睡了，岸上的人也睡
了。唯有他，張繼，醒著，夜愈深，愈清醒，清醒如
敗葉落餘的枯樹，似樑燕飛去的空巢。
起先，是睡眠排拒了他（也罷，這半生，不是處
處都遭排拒嗎？）而後，是他在賭氣，好，無眠就
無眠，長夜獨醒，就乾脆徹底來為自己驗傷，有何不
可？
月亮西斜了，一副意興闌珊的樣子。有烏啼，粗
嗄嘶啞，是烏鴉。那月亮被牠一聲聲叫得更黯淡了。
江岸上，想已霜結千草。夜空裡，星子亦如清霜，一
粒粒冷絕悽絕。
江上漁火二三，他們在幹什麼？在捕魚吧？或
者，蝦？他們也會有撒空網的時候嗎？世路艱辛啊！
The river slept. The boat slept. The boatman slept. The people
on the shore also slept. Only he, Chang Chi, was awake. The
deeper night fell, the more awake he became. Awake as a dying tree
with very few leaves hanging; awake as an empty swallow’s nest
deserted on the roof beam.
At first, sleep refused him (but then, most of his life, wasn’t
he constantly being refused wherever he went?) Then in anger,
his resolve strengthened. Fine, sleepless he would remain. Being
the only one awake in the long night, he would give his scars a
thorough examination. What was there to prevent him?
The moon slanted westward, appearing dispirited. A bird cawed
hoarsely. It was a crow. Cowering under the cries of the crow, the
moon looked even more crestfallen. He imagined frost forming
on the vast spread of grass on the bank. In the night sky, the stars
looked also like clear frost, each crystal cold and cutting to the
core.
There was a sparse scattering of light from the fishing boats
on the river. What were they doing? Catching fish? Or shrimp?
即使瀟灑的捕魚人，也不免投身在風波裡吧？
然而，能辛苦工作，也是一項幸福呢！今夜，月
自光其光，霜自冷其冷，安心的人在安眠，工作的人
去工作。只有我張繼，是天不管地不收的一個，是既
沒有權利去工作，也沒福氣去睡眠的一個……。
鐘聲響了，這奇怪的深夜的寒山寺鐘聲。一般寺
廟，都是暮鼓晨鐘，寒山寺卻敲「夜半鐘」，用以
警世。鐘聲貼著水面傳來，在別人，那聲音只是睡夢
中模糊的襯底音樂。在他，卻一記一記都撞擊在心坎
上，正中要害。鐘聲那麼美麗，但鐘自己到底是痛還
不是不痛呢？
既然無眠，他推枕而起，摸黑寫下「楓橋夜泊」
Do they ever cast out nets that return without any catch? Life was
hard. Even the carefree fishermen must sometimes get tangled in
the wind and waves, surely?
But to be able to work hard was also a blessing. Tonight, the
moon shone as moons do, the frost was cold as frost is generally,
the sleeping were asleep, the working were at work. There was only
he left. Chang Chi, a preson who was discarded by heaven and
jilted by earth. One who did not have the right to work, nor the
fortune to sleep...
A bell rang, late at night, eerily, from the Cold Mountain
Temple. Generally, temples tolled bells in the morning and beat
drums in the evening. But the Cold Mountain Temple rang its bell
in the middle of the night as a warning to the masses. The sound of
the bell rode on the water and travelled over. To others, the sound
was just a vague sort of background music in their dreams. To him,
the sound banged hard against his heart, right to his very hurt. The
bell sounded hauntingly beautiful, but did the bell itself feel pain?
As sleep eluded him, he pushed aside his pillow and rose. In
四字。然後，就把其餘二十八個字照抄下來。我說
「照抄」，是因為那二十八個字在他心底已像白牆上
的黑字一樣分明凸顯：
月落烏啼霜滿天
江楓漁火對愁眠
姑蘇城外寒山寺
夜半鐘聲到客船
感謝上蒼，如果沒有落第的張繼，詩的歷史上便
少了一首好詩，我們的某一種心情，就沒有人來為我
們一語道破。
一千二百年過去了，那張長長的榜單上（就是張
繼擠不進去那張金榜）曾經出現過的狀元是誰？哈！
誰管他是誰？真正被記得的名字是「落第者張繼」。
the dark, he wrote down the words ‘Mooring at Night by Maple
Bridge.’ Then, he copied the other twenty-eight characters down
one by one. I say copied because the other twenty-eight characters
were as clear as black ink on the white wall of his consciousness:
Moon setting, crow cawing, frost filling the sky.
Through river maples, fisherman flares confronting troubled
sleep.
Outside Kusu Cith, Cold Mountain Temple—
3
Late at night the sound of its bell reaches a traveler’s boat.
Thank god. Were it not for Chang Chi who failed his
examination, a great poem would be missing from the history of
poetry. There would be no one to hit a certain mood of ours right
in the eye.
One thousand two hundred years have since passed. Who was
the top examinee on that long public notice（that golden scroll
that Chang Chi could not squeeze into）? Ha, who cares? The
name that we really remember is Chang Chi, the one that failed.
3.─Adapted from the Columbia Book of Chinese Poetry-from Early Times to the
Thirteenth Centery, translated and edited by Burton Watson, N. Y. Columbia
University Press, 1984. Watson’s title of the poem: “Tying up for the Night at Maple
River Bridge’.
有人會記得那一年的狀元披紅遊街的盛況嗎？
不！我們只記得秋夜的客船上那個失意的人，以及他
那場不朽的失眠。
—原載一九九五年七月十日《中國時報》
收入九歌版《這杯咖啡的溫度剛好》（1996年）
Does any one recall the top scoring scholar of that year and the
festive occasion of his parade in the streets? No, we only remember
that autumn evening with the disillusioned man on the small boat.
And his immortal sleeplessness.
“The Chinese PEN” Autumn, 1995
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