泰特作品

◎董继平 译

金色黎明的旅馆

我们很清楚，这家旅馆的真正主人是蜘蛛。它们无处不在，你不得不小心翼翼地加以注意。它们用巧妙的方式来伪装自己，除了旅客登记柜台的那位职员。他显然是蜘蛛，一只半透明的浅红色蜘蛛，一只亲切友好的蜘蛛。在我的经历中，这家旅馆的所有蜘蛛实际上都心肠很好。当我躺在床上试图睡觉时，一只蜘蛛就轻抚我的眉毛。早晨，另一只蜘蛛从我要吃的蛋中飞出来。我在大厅里看到的很多客人似乎都非人类，或至少没有牙齿，被抽光了血。这是某种类型的会议，纽扣制造商、天文学家、喜剧演员、卖花者、监狱看守、点灯人、编辑各色人等，正在享受非常美好的时光。那柜台蜘蛛和大门蜘蛛骄傲地注视着他们。

HOTEL OF THE GOLDEN DAWN

It was clear to us that the real owners of the hotel were spiders.They were everywhere but you had to look carefully.They had ingenious ways of disguising themselves，except for the clerk at the check-in desk.He was clearly a spider，a pale pink translucent spider，a kindly one.In fact，in my experience，all the spiders in the hotel were benevolent.One stroked my brow as I lay in bed trying to sleep.Another kept flies off of my eggs in the morning.Many of the guests I saw in the lobby seemed to me inhuman，or at least toothless and drained of their blood.It was a convention of some kind，button makers，astronomers，comedians，florists，prison guards，lamplighters，editors，whatever，and they were having a very good time.The desk-spider and the door-spider eyed them proudly.

记忆宫殿

在夜间，那个地方没有一盏灯亮着。我绕到后面，试图打开门。当然，门是锁着的。一片浓密的藤蔓沿着这幢建筑的侧边生长上去，因此我就顺着藤蔓向上攀爬。就在我几乎快要爬上去的时候，藤蔓开始摇晃不定，从建筑物上分离，脱落下来。我猛然跌下去，割伤了额头和手臂。我在前面找到了一道太平梯，爬了上去。我闯进二楼的窗户，惊奇地发现了一摞又一摞相册和卷宗堆满了地面。尽管我知道开灯有危险，我也把灯打开。那里的一切似乎都杂乱无章。我拉来一把椅子，捡起一本相册——一身牛仔装束、骑在矮马上的孩子，抓着他们捕获的鱼、生日蛋糕的孩子，参加聚会，荡秋千、跳舞，让孩子们其乐无穷，但在某种程度上，他们似乎全都是同一种童年的一部分。然后是一本临死的人的相册，插着呼吸管，挂着灌食袋，那几乎死了的人的呆滞无神、遥远的表情。在记忆宫殿里，一切东西都没丢失，只是放错了地方而已。我在那里度过了大半夜，累得精疲力尽，以至于眼睛都几乎睁不开了。正当我翻阅诸多专门收藏年轻情侣照片的相册之际，我突然呆呆地怔住了：那里有一张严重褪色的照片，上面是我的父母，他们几乎还不到二十岁，也许甚至还没有结婚，手牵着手，朝着相机微笑，世界在短短的一秒中抑制其狂怒，给予他们阳光的一刻，那阳光如此虚弱而稀薄。我把那张照片从相册的口袋中取下来，放进我的衣兜。我走到窗口往下看。一个穿制服的老头站在那里，说：“小子，赶快下来吧，我们将不得不逮捕你。”我说：“警官，但我都是老头了。”他说：“记忆宫殿里没有记忆。瞧吧，它就是那么不在意的。”

THE MEMORY PALACE

There wasn’t a light on in the place at that time of night.I walked around in back and tried the door.Of course it was locked.There was a thick vine growing up the side of the building，so I tried climbing that.I was almost up when it started to wobble and detach itself from the building.I came crashing down and cut my forehead and arms.I found a fire escape in front and climbed that.I broke into the second-story window and was amazed to find stacks and stacks of photo albums and files overflowing on the floor.I turned on a light，though I knew the dangers of that.There seemed to be no order to anything.I pulled up a chair and picked up an album—children on ponies in cowboy outfits，children holding fish they caught，birthday cakes，parties，swings，dances，no end to the fascination with children，but somehow they all seemed to be a part of the same childhood.Then there was the album of the near-dead，breathing tubes，feeding bags，the glazed，faraway looks of the nearly departed.In the Memory Palace nothing is lost，just misplaced.I spent most of the night there until I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open.While going through the many albums devoted to young lovers，I suddenly froze.There was a photo of my mother and father，badly faded，barely twenty years old，perhaps not even married yet，holding hands and smiling into the camera，the world holding back its fury for one brief second，giving them their moment of sunshine，so fragile and tenuous.I removed the photo from its pocket and stuck it in mine.I went to the window and looked down.An old man in a uniform stood there.“Come on down，son，we’re going to have to arrest you，”he said.“But，officer，I’m an old man，”I said.“The Memory Palace has no memory.See，it just doesn’t care，”he said.