2011年10月10日 星期一

一隻狗的遺囑

有朋友的狗因病離世,我明白,那種傷痛真是難以形容。唯有在狗狗在生時,付出了愛和責任,有一天狗狗離去,即使傷痛,卻是無憾。以下是著名作家Eugene O’Neill家中狗狗離世時,寫給愛妻撫慰傷痛的一封信。

一隻狗的遺囑
文: 尤金.歐尼爾
譯: 莊靜君


我,席爾維丹«安伯倫«歐尼爾(家人、朋友和熟識我的人,都叫我伯萊明),衰老之於我的負擔,以及沈重地壓迫著我的病痛,讓我深刻地體認到自己已到了生命的盡頭,所以特此在主人的心裡,埋葬我最後的情感和遺囑。直到我死了之後,他才會知道這就埋藏在他心裡的某個角落。他在孤寂時想起我的那一刻,會突然體會到這份遺囑的內容,我盼望他能將此銘記在心,當作對我的紀念。

我可以留下的實質東西少得可憐。其實狗比人還聰明,牠們不會為了收藏雜七雜八的東西,設個大倉庫。也不會浪費時間儲存財務。更不會因為擔心如何保存既有的東西、如何得到沒有的東西,因而毁了自已的睡眠。

我沒有什麼值錢的東西可以留給他人,除了我的愛和信賴。我將這些留給所有愛過我的人,尤其是我的男主人和女主人,我知道他們會為我的離去獻上最深的哀悼。

期盼我的男主人和女主人能將我牢記在心,但不要為我哀傷太久。在我的有生之年裡,曾極盡所能地安撫他們悲傷的時光,只為了在他們的幸福裡增添喜悅。但一想到我的死會帶給他們的悲傷,便讓我痛苦不已。

讓他們記得,沒有任何的狗曾有過像我如此快樂的生活(這全都得歸功於他們對我的愛和照顧),如今我已經老得又瞎又聾又瘸,連我靈敏的嗅覺也已喪失殆盡,才會讓兔子得以在我鼻子底下恣意走動,我卻渾然不覺,我的尊嚴儼然消失在病痛和迷失方向的恥辱中,生命似乎在嘲弄我的到來。該是道別的時刻了,在我病到成了自己以及所有愛我的人的負擔之前。

我悲傷來自於即將離開所愛的人,而非死亡。狗不像人一樣懼怕死亡。我們接受死亡為生命的一部份,並非那些會毁掉生命的靈異或是可怕的東西。死亡之後會是什麼,誰會知道?

寧願相信那裡有個天堂。在那裡每個人都永遠年輕,吃得飽飽的。

那裡整天都有精彩和好玩的事情發生。每個快樂的時光都是享受美食的時刻。

每個漫長的夜晚,都有無數的壁爐,永無止盡地在那兒燃燒柴火,木柴一根根捲曲起來,閃爍著火焰的光芒,我們打著盹,進入夢鄉,憶起我們在人世間的舊日英勇時光,以及對男主人和女主人的愛。


要預期死亡這等事,即使是對我這樣的狗來說,恐怕都太難了。但安詳,至少是一定有的。給予疲倦殘老的心、頭和四肢和長久的休憩之所,讓我在人世間得以長眠。我愛已足夠,或許,這終是我最好的歸所。
我最後一個誠摯的要求。我曾聽到女主人說:「伯萊明死後,我再也不要養別狗了。我是這麼愛牠,再也不可能愛別的狗了。」
如今我要懇求她,再養一隻狗,將我的愛給牠。永不飼養其他的狗,將是對我的回憶最淺薄的貢獻。
我希望感受到的是,這個家庭一旦有了我之後,便無法過著沒有狗的生活。
我絕不是那種心胸狹窄、善妒的狗。我總是抱持著大部份的狗都是好的這樣想法。
我的接班人很難像我在壯年時,有那麼強的繁殖能力、那麼好的禮貌、那般的傑出和帥氣。我的男主人和女主人千萬別強求牠無法辦到的事。
但牠會盡全力做到最好,一定會的。而牠那些無法避免的缺陷,老會讓人把牠拿來和我做比較,反倒有助於他們對我的回憶常保如新。

我把我的頸圈、皮帶、外套和雨衣遺留給牠。過往大家總會帶著讚嘆的眼光看著我穿戴這些東西,雖然牠穿戴起來絕對無法像我那般帥氣出眾,但我深信牠一定會竭盡所能地不要表現得僅像個笨拙、沒見過世面的狗。

在這個牧場上,牠也許會在某些方面,證明自己是值得和我相媲美。我想,在長逐長耳大野兔這件事上,牠一定會表現得比我最後這幾年來得好。為了彌補牠全部的缺點,我特此希望牠在我的老家過得幸福快樂。
親愛的男主人和女主人,是我道別的最後一個請要求。
不論在甚麼時候,你們到我的墳前來看我時,請因著我長久、快樂的一生與你們相伴的回憶,以滿懷哀傷和滿心喜樂的口吻跟你們自己說:「這裡埋葬著愛著我們和我們所愛的朋友。」

不管我睡得多沈,依舊能聽到你們的呼喚,所有的死神都無力阻止我,興奮快活地對你們搖擺尾巴的心意。

Last Will and Testament of An Extremely Distinguished Dog

I, Silverdene Emblem O'Neill (familiarly known to my family,
friends and acquaintances as Blemie), because the
burden of my years is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my
life is near, do hereby bury my last will and
testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there
until I am dead. Then, remembering me in his
loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask
him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.

I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are
wiser than men. They do not set great store upon
things. They do not waste their time hoarding property. They do
not ruin their sleep worrying about objects they
have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing
of value I have to bequeath except my love and
my faith. These I leave to those who have loved me, to my Master
and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most,
to Freeman who has been so good to me, to Cyn and Roy and Willie
and Naomi and - but if I should list all those
who have loved me it would force my Master to write a book.
Perhaps it is in vain of me to boast when I am so
near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I
have always been an extremely lovable dog.

I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to
grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to
be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added
joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think
that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember
that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and
this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown
blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of
smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and
I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick,
bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having
over lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-by,
before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love
me.

It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a
sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as
part of life, not as something alien and terrible
which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I
would like to believe with those of my fellow
Dalmatians who are devout Mohammedans, that there is a Paradise
where one is always young and
full-bladdered; here all the day one dillies and dallies with an
amorous multitude of houris, beautifully spotted;
where jack-rabbits that run fast but not too fast (like the
houris) are as the sands of the desert; where each blissful
hour is mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million
fireplaces with logs forever burning and one curls
oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams,
remembering the old brave days on earth, and the
love of one's Master and Mistress.

I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to
expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long
rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleeps
in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all,
this is best.

One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say,
'When Blemie dies we must never have another
dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.' Now I
would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It
would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again.
What I would like to feel is that, having once
had me in the family, now she cannot live without a dog! I have
never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always
held that most dogs are good (and one cat, the black one I have
permitted to share the living-room rug during the
evenings, whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit,
and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a
trifle). Some dogs, of course, are better than others.
Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best.

So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as
well bred, or as well mannered or as distinguished
and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must
not ask the impossible. But he will do his
best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by
comparison to keep my memory green. To him I
bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made
to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can
never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the
Place Vendome, or later along Park Avenue, all
eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do
his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial
dog. Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of
comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume,
come closer to jackrabbits than I have been able to in recent
years. And, for all his faults, I hereby wish him the
happiness I know will be his in my old home.

One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you
visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret
but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my
long happy life with you: 'here lies one who
loved us and whom we loved.' No matter how deep my sleep I shall
hear you, and not all the power of death can
keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.

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