GMovier - 极影客

查看原文　　 funny_v 于 2007-04-24 12:14:51 发表在豆瓣

　　第二次剑刺来的时候我迎了上去让它对准第一次的伤口
　　
　　那是我的痛处曾经鲜血淋淋你用爱包扎了它
　　
　　你给我疗伤时我就知道我还会受伤命中注定我不打算逃了
　　
　　爱情魔药吗我从没喝过你喝了吗
　　
　　我们的故事太简单了我替别人为你决斗却赢得了你不可思议后人都这么说是呀可我们本意并非如此
　　
　　潮湿的爱尔兰晨雾迷失了我的心
　　
　　我杀了你的情人战场上我是赢家我赢了却也受到重创受了只有爱情才能愈合的伤失去爱情伤口就会流血就像现在一样锯齿般的伤口鲜血淋漓浸湿了床
　　
　　我不在乎死可你出于怜悯收留了我因为你不知道我的名字我告诉你我叫坦特里斯你爱上了坦特里斯
　　
　　假如我是特里斯坦你会怎么样我有一天这样问你你的脸色苍白拿起了一把匕首你完全有权利杀我我迎向匕首深吸一口气在闭上眼睛之前我笑了
　　
　　等我睁开眼睛时你已放下匕首握住了我的手我觉得自己像个孩子不是英雄不是勇士也不是情人只是躺在大床上的小孩儿世界围着他转如梦如幻悠悠荡荡
　　
　　房间很高蓝色钴蓝色有橘黄的炉火你碧绿的眼睛爱情的颜色让人目眩神迷无法忘怀现在躺在这里血已把床单浸成褐色而我满眼却是钴蓝橘黄碧绿一个躺在大床上的小男孩儿
　　
　　你在哪里?
　　
　　沉默你在我旁边坐下这会儿你是强者我双膝无力你轻轻抚摩我的手似乎在触摸我的灵魂在那之前一回回战役一次次负伤都让我更清楚我是谁我是特里斯坦现在我的名字消失了我自己也消失了只有一个失魂落魄的男人
　　
　　在起锚返回康沃尔时你出来了站在一块窄窄的岩石上我们望着彼此渐行渐远远到只有我们才能分辨哪里是岩石哪里是船哪里是人
　　
　　海茫茫天到了尽头
　　
　　后来马克王派我来迎你成亲
　　
　　你说你要杀死我
　　
　　我再一次迎向匕首你再一次丢下匕首
　　
　　你的侍女端来饮料我知道你想毒死我康沃尔的峭壁下马克王在船上等候我们的到来我一饮而尽等待命运的安排侍女给的是水你喝了却倒下了我奔过去抱住你这时水手们落下了锚船倾向一侧我第一次把你抱在怀里你唤我的名字特里斯坦
　　
　　我应了伊索尔德
　　
　　伊索尔德那时起我的世界只有你了
　　
　　我们在夜晚才活过来你窗口的火烛是我的信号点燃时我藏秘熄灭时我就来找你穿过隐秘的门幽暗的走廊禁行的楼梯不顾恐惧和操守我进入了你你包容了我在床上我们可以昏睡可以做梦侍女的哀哭也只是小鸟和小狗在叫我从不愿醒来白天我是死的阳光不能给我温暖只有在这里没有太阳没有时间我们才是自由的囚禁在彼此的身体里我们自由了
　　
　　我的朋友梅洛特设下圈套时我想我是知道的我盼望死神正如我的身体渴望爱情让死神走近我正如你走近我你渗入我的伤口循着我的血液回游到我的心脏你在我的身体里流动让我在你臂弯中像处子一样赧然羞红你在我的心跳里在我的体液里在我的骨肉里如果我割开自己伤口里流出来的是你只要血还在流你又会重回我的心里
　　
　　那场混战中马克王发现了我们我死守住门口让你逃走之后我和梅洛特拔剑相向那是我的朋友我信任的朋友我扔下剑扑向他的剑锋剑从肋骨下穿入还未愈合的伤口撕裂了
　　
　　我醒来后发现我在这里隔着大海在我自己的城堡里是仆人护卫我来的他说已派人去接你海上该有船帆了吧它该像爱一样疾驰不是吗仆人爬到了望塔上海上没有船帆
　　
　　我把手伸进伤口里她的名字从我指间滴落伊索尔德你在哪里
　　
　　
　　
　　特里斯坦我也没有喝那东西没有什么爱情魔药只有爱我喝下的是你
　　
　　特里斯坦醒一醒别死让我们分享完黑夜明早再一起死
　　
　　他的目光已经空洞他的呼吸已经停止我最初看见他的时候他就是这样平静苍白我用吻给他注入生命他永远不会知道了
　　
　　特里斯坦这世界的存在只是让我们找到彼此世界正在消失海潮吞没陆地我的脉搏随着你一起衰竭死亡会把我们从分离的折磨中解救出来我不能和你分开我就是你
　　
　　这世界空无一物是爱造就了它
　　
　　当世界烟消云散
　　
　　只有爱还在
　　
　　______________
　　
　　以上是Jeanette Winterson写的Some wounds never heal我已经尽力了但原文那种悲伤和绝望的味道还是没翻出来
　　
　　Tristan & Isolde的传说起源于中世纪头一个版本是苏格兰国王Talorc的儿子Drust从海盗手里救的一位公主父子同时爱上她
　　
　　故事传到威尔士Drust变成了Drystan爱上了他的叔叔March国王March的意思是屁股的耳朵反正他身体有残疾就对了的王后Essyllt
　　
　　十三世纪一个英国作家让Tristan加入了圆桌骑士他自幼被送往法兰西在战斗中中了矛毒前往爱尔兰救治在那里得到安格西Iseult公主的治疗他教她弹竖琴后因种种原因被驱逐之后他替舅父玛尔克王向Iseult求婚为安格西王打败敌人甚至连安格西王也希望他娶自己的女儿但那个傻瓜为了遵守诺言而将她带回与舅父结婚之后他凭借自己的勇猛获得了许多荣誉引起玛尔克王的妒恨和陷害这对情人的关系也历经磨难Tristan被迫结婚不过他始终忠于Iseult对妻子守之以礼后来Tristan误会Iseult变心以致癫狂在旷野游荡她以为他已死而差点自刎最后他终于带她去了英格兰可以执手偕老了却在聆听爱人弹竖琴的时候被情敌谋杀一个有趣的事情是那时的人显然相信爱情必须借助魔力来催发所以Iseult的陪嫁就是有爱情魔药他们俩为误饮付出了一生
　　
　　这种爱情模式也套在亚瑟王身上就是著名的Lancelot和Guinevere的爱情在早期的版本中这两人挺清白后不断流传中才添了桃色甚至红过了Tristan和Iseult到19世纪它被德国剧作家Richard Wagner改编成歌剧Tristan and Isolde
　　
　　有兴趣的可以去这里看整个故事随时代的演绎
　　http://www.timelessmyths.com/arthurian/tristan.html
　　
　　Tristan & Isolde凄美哀婉它感动过很多同病相怜的艺术家Wagner肯定是一个Jeanette Winterson也应该是吧反正看她的文章就觉得她经历过的坎坷肯定不止一次还有好莱坞大导演Ridley Scott当年当两个剧本摆在他面前的时候他选择了异形功成名就
　　
　　20多年后大约一直午夜梦回念念不能忘终于把这个中世纪爱情故事搬上了银幕
　　
　　这部片子让人想起First Knight又名: 第一武士 / 剑侠风流 / 第一骑士 / 剑侠柔情Sean Connery和Richard Gere这两个好莱坞不同年代第一小生联手演绎Lancelot和Guinevere的故事也非常好看不输这部
　　http://www.douban.com/subject/1299363/
　　
　　先看评论再看电影完全左右了我的心情James Franco确实一副很少出太阳的忧郁表情和很早逝的James Dean一个模子James Dean我只看过一部他真的从头到尾一个表情居然火得不行巧合的是James Franco还出演过James Dean
　　http://www.douban.com/subject/1866354/
　　
　　
　　附守望灯塔原文有兴趣可以看看别忘了准备面巾纸
　　
　　Some wounds never heal
　　
　　Jeanette Winterson
　　
　　The second time the sword went in, I aimed it at the place of the first.
　　I am weak therethe place where I had been found out before. My weakness was skinned over by your love.
　　I knew when you healed me that the wound would open again. I knew it like destiny, and at the same time, I knew it as choice.
　　The love-potion? I never drank it. Did you?
　　
　　Our story is so simple. I went to bring you back for someone else, and won you for myself. Magic, they all said later, and it was, but not the kind that can be brewed.
　　
　　We were in Ireland. Was there ever a country so damp? I had to write out my mind to think clearly. I was a morning mist of confusion.
　　You had a lover. I killed him. It was war and your man was on the losing side. As I killed him, he fatally wounded me; that is, he gave me the wound that only love could repair. Love lost, and the wound would be as bloody as ever. As bloody as now,
　　
　　bed-soaked and jagged.
　　
　　I didn't care about dying. But you took me in out of pity because you didn't know my name. I told you it was Tantrist, and as Tantrist you loved me.
　　'What if I was Tristan?' I asked you one day, and I watched you grow pale, and take a dagger. You had every right to kill me.
　　
　　I turned my throat to you, Adam's apple twitching slightly, but before I closed my eyes, I smiled.
　　
　　When I opened them again, you had put down the dagger and you were holding my hand. I felt like a little child, not a hero, not a warrior, not a lover, only a boy in a big bed, the day turning round him, dreamy and slow.
　　The room was high and blue. Cobalt blue. There was an orange fire. Your eyes were green. Lost in the colours of our love I never forgot them, and now, lying here, where the sheets are brown with my blood, it is blue and orange and green I remember.
　　
　　A little boy in a big bed.
　　Where are you?
　　
　　We said nothing. You sat beside me. You were the strong one. I couldn't stand up. Holding my hand, and stroking it gently with your finger and thumb, you touched in me another world. Until then, through wounds and wreck, I had been sure of myself.
　　
　　I was Tristan. Now, my name gone backwards, I went backwards myself, unraveling into strands of feeling. This stranded man.
　　When it was time for me to sail back to Cornwall, you came out and stood on a narrow rock, and we watched each other so far that only we two knew what was rock or boat or human.
　　The sea was empty. The sky was shut.
　　
　　Then King Marke sent me to fetch you to be his wife.
　　You said you wanted to kill me.
　　Again I opened my body to you. Again you dropped the blade.
　　
　　When your servant brought the drink I knew you intended to poison me. Under the cliffs of Cornwall, the King in his boat ready to meet us, I drank the water, because that's what it was. Your servant had given me water. You drank too, and fell to the floor, and I went to catch you and hold you as the men dropped anchor and the ship lurched. You were in my arms for the first time, and you said my name, 'Tristan.'
　　I answered you: 'Isolde.'
　　Isolde. The world became a word.
　　
　　We lived for the night. The torch in your window was my signal. When it was lit, I stayed away. When you extinguished it, I came to yousecret doors, dark corridors, forbidden stairs, brushing aside fear and propriety like cobwebs. I was inside you. You contained me. Together, in bed, we could sleep, we could dream, and if we heard your servant's mournful cry, we called it a bird or a dog. I never wanted to wake. I had no use for the day. The light was a lie. Only here, the sun killed,
　　and time's hands bound, were we free. Imprisoned in each other, we were free.
　　
　　When my friend Melot set the trap, I think I knew it. I turned to death full face, as I had turned to love with my whole body.?I would let death enter me as you had entered me. You had crept along my blood vessels through the wound, and the blood that circulates returns to the heart. You circulated me, you made me blush like a girl in the hoop of your hands. You were in my arteries and my lymph, you were the colour just under my skin, and if I cut myself, it was you I bled. Red Isolde, alive on my fingers, and always the force of blood pushing you back to my heart.
　　
　　In the fight when Marke found us, I fought at the door until you escaped. Then I face Melot at last, my friend, my trusted friend, and I held my sword at him, red with blood. As he lifted his sword against me, I threw mine down and ran his through my body, at the bottom of my ribs. The skin, still shy of healing, opened at once.
　　When I woke, I was here, in my own castle, across the sea, carried and guarded by my servant. He told me he had sent for you, yes surely there was a sail? I could see it swift as love. He climbed into the watchtower, but there was no sail.
　　I put my hand into the bloody gap at the bottom of my ribs. Her name drips through my fingers: Isolde.
　　Where are you?
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　Tristan, I didn't drink it either. There was no love-potion, only love. It was you I drank.
　　Tristan, wake up. Don't die of the wound. Divide the night with me, and die together in the morning.
　　His eye is pale, his breathing is still. When I first saw him, he was still and pale, and I kissed him into life, though he never knew that was the art I used.
　　Tristan, the world was made so that we could find each other in it. Already the world is fading, returning to the sea. My pulse ebbs with yours. Death frees us from the torment of parting. I cannot part with you. I am you.
　　The world is nothing. Love formed it.
　　The world vanishes without trace.
　　What is left is love.