Monday, July 27, 2020

6.3 感謝 lír, Chat'ley 夫人

6.3 Kám-siā lír, Chat’ley Hu-jîn
"Ai-ah óa chai, lír chiâ hó, óa chai! Yi leh khàu oh! óa to̍h chai, in tiā-to̍h ē ū tāi-chì. Yi khì hō͘ heh-kiaⁿ to̍h, yi to̍h sī án-ne. Yi khòa lāu-pē, to̍h ná-chhiū chheⁿ-hūn-lâng kāng-khoán, óa khòa, in nō-ê bē ha̍h. Lāu-pē koài-koài lah."
Connie m̄-chai boeh kóng siáⁿ hó.
"Amá, lí khòaⁿ!" gín-á chhiò gi-gi.
A-pô khòaⁿ gín-á chhiú nih the̍h ê 6-pence gîn-kak-á.
"Che sī 6-pence! Oh, Hu-jîn, lír m̄-bián, lír m̄-bián. Ai-ah, Chatterley Hu-jîn tùi lír chiah hó! Óa kóng, lír kin-á-chá chiâ hó-ūn!"
Yi kóng he miâ ê sî, kap pa̍t-lâng kāng-khoán, kā kóng chò: Chat'ley. -- Chat'ley Hu-jîn tùi lír chiah hó! -- Connie jím put-chū khòaⁿ he a-pô ê phiⁿ-á, a-pô tō koh iōng chhiú-pôaⁿ chhit bīn, m̄-koh bô chhit tio̍h o͘-jiah.
Connie tú boeh lī-khui. "Hm, Chiâ kám-siā lír, Chat'ley Hu-jîn. Kín kóng: kám-siā lí, Chat'ley Hu-jîn!" -- āu-phiah chit kú sī kóng hō͘ gín-á thiaⁿ.
"To-siā lí," gín-á chiam-siáⁿ kóng.
"Koai gín-á!" Connie ná chhiò ná kiâⁿ khui, koh kóng, "Chài-kiàn," chiah móa-sim hoaⁿ-hí lī-khui chit ê só͘-chāi.
Yi kám-kak kî-koài, hit ê sán koh hong-sîn ê lâng ê lāu-bú sī chi̍t ê sè-hàn koh ta-sán ê cha-bó͘!
Iah hit ê a-pô, tī Connie lī-khui liáu-āu, sûi cháu khì chàu-kha chiò-kiàⁿ. Khòaⁿ tio̍h ka-tī ê bīn, yi jím-bē-tiâu chàm-kha. "Tiāⁿ-tio̍h yi ū khòaⁿ tio̍h góa ê chho͘-pò͘ ûi-kûn, kap chit ê kō-o͘ ê bīn! Yi tiāⁿ-tio̍h chai-iáⁿ góa sī chit-lō khoán!"
Connie bān-bān kiâⁿ tńg-khì Wragby ê ka-têng. "Ka-têng!"... Iōng che un-loán ê jī kiò hit-ê bô-liâu ê tōa só͘-chāi. Che sī kòe-khì ê jī-gán, taⁿ í-keng bô ì-gī ah. Chāi Connie khòaⁿ, hiah-ê úi-tāi ê jī-gán, tī yin chit tāi lóng bô siáⁿ ì-gī: ài-chêng, khoài-lo̍k, hēng-hok, ka-têng, pē-bú, ang-sài, só͘-ū chiah-ê ū oa̍h-la̍t, ùi-tāi ê jī-gán, taⁿ lóng í-keng pòaⁿ-sí, chi̍t-kang, chi̍t-kang koh-khah sí. Ka-têng chí sī tòa ê só͘-chāi, ài-chêng sī bô hoat-tō͘ khi-phiàn ka-tī ê mi̍h-kiāⁿ, khoài-lo̍k sī iōng tī thiàu Charleston bú ê sî, hēng-hok sī iōng lâi hó͘-lāng pa̍t-lâng ê ké-sian ōe, lāu-pē sī hiáng-siū ka-tī seng-oa̍h ê hit lâng, ang-sài sī lí kap i chò-hóe tòa, khò sim-lêng kau-liû ê lâng. Iah nā sèng-ài neh, chit ê chòe-āu ê úi-tāi jī-gán, chí sī chi̍t ê hó-thiaⁿ ōe, iōng lâi kóng chi̍t-sî hō͘ lí bah-thé sóng-khoài, jiân-āu hō͘ lí koh-khah phòa-nōa ê tāi-chì. Phòa-nōa! Che tō ná-chhiūⁿ lí pún-chiâⁿ sī bái ê pò͘-liāu, phòa-nōa kah lóng bô--khì.
Chin-chiàⁿ lâu lo̍h-lâi ê chí sī khut-kiông ê léng-tām: he mā ū bó͘-chióng khoài-lo̍k. Tī thé-giàm sèⁿ-miā ê khang-hi tiong-kan, chi̍t tōaⁿ koh chi̍t tōaⁿ, chi̍t kip koh chi̍t kip, mā ū bó͘-chióng khó-pha ê boán-chiok. Tō sī án-ne! Chòe-āu kóng ê chóng-sī án-ne: ka-têng, ài-chêng, hun-in, Michaelis: Tō sī án-ne! Lâng sí ê sî, tùi sèⁿ-miā kóng ê chòe-āu ê ōe mā sī: Tō sī án-ne!
Kim-chîⁿ neh? Hoān-sè tī chia bē án-ne kóng. Lâng chóng-sī ài chîⁿ. Kim-chîⁿ, Sêng-kong, Tommy Dukes tòe Henry James chheng-ho͘ che kiò káu-bó͘-sîn, sī lán éng-oán su-iàu ê. Lí bē-tàng kā chîⁿ khai liáu-liáu, chòe-āu kóng: Tō sī án-ne! Bē-sái, lí nā koh oa̍h chi̍t khùn kú, lí iáu-sī su-iàu ū chîⁿ, thang bé che, bé he. Kan-ta boeh hō͘ tāi-chì sūn-sī chìn-hêng, lí su-iàu chîⁿ. Lí tio̍h ài ū chîⁿ. Kim-chîⁿ lí bē-sái bô. Lí m̄-bián chin-chiàⁿ ū kî-thaⁿ ê siáⁿ mi̍h-kiāⁿ. Tō sī án-ne!
Tong-jiân, lí oa̍h chāi sè-kan, che m̄-sī lí ê chhò. Lí nā oa̍h tio̍h, kim-chîⁿ tō ū su-iàu, mā sī ûi-it choat-tùi ê su-iàu. Só͘-ū kî-thaⁿ ê, lí bô mā ē-tit kòe, khah khó͘ mā ē kòe. M̄-koh, chîⁿ bô bē-sái. Koh-kóng chi̍t piàn, tō sī án-ne!
Yi siūⁿ tio̍h Michaelis, siūⁿ tio̍h tòe i só͘ khó-lêng tit-tio̍h ê chîⁿ; hit-chióng chîⁿ yi mā bô-ài. Yi lêng-khó pang-chō͘ Clifford iōng i ê chok-phín khì thàn khah chió ê chîⁿ. Che sī yi si̍t-chè pang-chō͘ thàn-lâi ê. -- "Clifford hâm góa nn̄g lâng, goán khò siá-chok chi̍t nî thàn chi̍t chheng nn̄g pah eng-pōng;" yi án-ne kā ka-tī kóng. Thàn-chîⁿ! Thàn-chîⁿ! Khang-pe̍h thàn tio̍h. Khò khong-khì choán--lâi ê! Che sī lán-lâng ē-sái hong-sîn ê ûi-it kong-tek! Kî-thaⁿ it-chhè lóng bô sǹg siáⁿ.
Yi án-ne ta̍uh-ta̍uh-á tńg Clifford hia, koh kap i ha̍p-chok, ùi khang-pe̍h seⁿ-chhut sió-soat; iah sió-soat tō sī kim-chîⁿ. Clifford ká-ná chin kòa-sīm i ê sió-soat ū hông jīn-tēng sī it-liû ê bûn-ha̍k bô. Giâm-keh lâi kóng, yi bô kòa-ì che. Lāi-té khang-khang! yin lāu-pē án-ne kóng. Kū-nî thàn chi̍t chheng nn̄g pah eng-pōng! che sī kán-tan koh ū-la̍t ê hôe-tap.
Lí nā iáu siàu-liân, lí chí-iàu khí-kin kā ân, jím-nāi koh kian-chhî, tán kàu kim-chîⁿ ùi bû-hêng tiong lâu chhut-lâi; che sī le̍k-liōng ê būn-tê. Che sī ì-goān ê būn-tê; chi̍t chióng bî-miāu koh ū-la̍t ê tháu-pàng, ùi lí ka-tī ê ì-chì kā kim-chîⁿ ê sîn-pì khang-hi chah tńg-lâi hō͘ lí: chóa téng ê jī. Che sī chi̍t chióng mô͘-su̍t, tong-jîn mā sī chi̍t chióng sèng-lī. Káu-bó-sîn! Hm, lán nā boeh bē-sin, tio̍h bē hō͘ káu-bó-sîn! Lán mā ē-sái ná bē-sin hō͘ yi, koh ná khòaⁿ yi bô, án-ne chiâⁿ hó.
Clifford, tong-jiân, iáu sī ū chin chē gín-á sèng ê kìm-kī kap kông-jia̍t. I ài lâng kóng i "chin-chiàⁿ hó", che sī bô ì-gī ê khang thiòng. Chin-chiàⁿ hó ê chok-ka tio̍h khòaⁿ i ū gōa-chē tha̍k-chiá. Nā bô tha̍k-chiá, he tō m̄-sī hó ê chok-ka. Khòaⁿ khí-lâi, ká-ná chin-chē "chin-chiàⁿ hó" ê chok-ka lóng tah bô tio̍h básuh. Chóng-sī, lí kan-ta ū it-seng, lí nā tah bô tio̍h básuh, lí tio̍h lâu tī lō͘-piⁿ, pôe kî-thaⁿ ê hiah-ê sit-pāi-chiá.
Connie tang-á teh kè-ōe koh-lâi ê kôaⁿ-thi boeh hām Clifford khì London. I hām yi lóng ū tah tio̍h básuh, só͘-í in ē-tàng sió-khóa chē tī téng-koân, koh sió tián chi̍t-ē.
Siōng put-hēng ê sī, Clifford lú lâi lú gōng-sîn, bē choan-sim, lak-lo̍h khang-hi ê ut-chut. Che sī i ê sim-pēⁿ teh hoat-chok. Che hō͘ Connie siūⁿ boeh tōa-siaⁿ háu. Oh Sîn ah, nā-sī ì-sek ê kong-lêng sit-hāu khì, che boeh án-chóaⁿ hó? Chāi i khì lah, lán chīn-la̍t chò tō hó! Kám án-ne tō boeh oân-choân sit-khì ióng-khì?
Ū-sî yi khàu kah chiâⁿ pi-chhám, m̄-koh chún-kóng teh khàu, yi mā án-ne ka-tī kóng: Gōng-tai, chhiú-kin-á tâm khì lah! Án-ne kám ū siáⁿ hāu?
--
6.3 感謝 lír, Chat'ley 夫人
"Ai-ah óa , lír chiâ , óa ! leh oh! óa to̍h , in tiā-to̍h 會有代誌. 她去予嚇驚 to̍h, to̍h án-ne. khòa 老爸, to̍h ná 像生份人仝款, óa khòa, in nō 个袂合. 老爸怪怪 lah."
Connie 毋知欲講啥好.
"Amá, 你看!" 囡仔笑 gi-gi.
阿婆看囡仔手 nih ê 6-pence 銀角仔.
"這是 6-pence! Oh, 夫人, lír 毋免, lír 毋免. Ai-ah, Chatterley 夫人對 lír chiah ! Óa , lír 今仔早 chiâ 好運!"
她講彼名 ê , kap 別人仝款, kā 講做: Chat'ley. -- Chat'ley 夫人對 lír chiah ! -- Connie 忍不住看彼阿婆 ê 鼻仔, 阿婆 tō koh 用手盤拭面, m̄-koh 無拭著烏跡.
Connie 拄欲離開. "Hm, Chiâ 感謝 lír, Chat'ley Hu-jîn. 緊講: 感謝 lír, Chat'ley Hu-jîn!" -- 後壁這句是講予囡仔聽.
"多謝你," 囡仔尖聲講.
"乖囡仔!" Connie ná 行開, koh , "再見," 才滿心歡喜離開這个所在.
她感覺奇怪, 彼个瘦 koh 風神 ê ê 老母是一个細漢 koh 焦瘦 ê 查某!
Iah 彼个阿婆, tī Connie 離開了後, 隨走去灶跤照鏡. 看著家己 ê , 她忍袂牢蹔跤. "定著她有看著我 ê 粗布圍裙, kap 這个 ê ! 她定著知影我是這號款!"
Connie 慢慢行轉去 Wragby ê 家庭. "家庭!"... 用這溫暖 ê 字叫彼个無聊 ê 大所在. 這是過去 ê 字眼, 今已經無意義 ah. Connie , hiah-ê 偉大 ê 字眼, tī 姻這代攏無啥意義: 愛情, 快樂, 幸福, 家庭, 爸母, 翁婿, 所有 chiah-ê 有活力, 偉大 ê 字眼, 今攏已經半死, 一工, 一工 koh 較死. 家庭只是蹛 ê 所在, 愛情是無法度欺騙家己 ê 物件, 快樂是用 Charleston ê , 幸福是用來唬弄別人 ê 假仙話, 老爸是享受家己生活 ê 彼人, 翁婿是你 kap 伊做伙蹛, 靠心靈交流 ê . Iah 若性愛 neh, 這个最後 ê 偉大字眼, 只是一个唬弄話, 用來講一時予你肉體爽快, 然後予你 koh 較破爛 ê 代誌. 破爛! tō ná 像你本成是䆀 ê 布料, 破爛 kah 攏無去.
真正留落來 ê 只是倔強 ê 冷淡: 有某種快樂. Tī 體驗性命 ê 空虛中間, 一段 koh 一段, 一級 koh 一級, mā 有某種可怕 ê 滿足. Tō án-ne! 最後講 ê 總是 án-ne: 家庭, 愛情, 婚姻, Michaelis: Tō án-ne! 人死 ê , 對性命講 ê 最後 ê : Tō án-ne!
金錢 neh? 凡勢 遮袂 án-ne . 人總是愛錢. 金錢, 成功, Tommy Dukes Henry James 稱呼這叫狗母神, 是咱永遠需要 ê. bē-tàng kā 錢開了了, 最後講 : Tō án-ne! Bē-sái, 你若 koh 活一睏久, 你猶是需要有錢, 通買這, 買彼. 干焦欲予代誌順序進行, 你需要錢. 你著愛有錢. 金錢你 bē-sái . 你毋免真正有其他 ê 啥物件. Tō án-ne!
當然, 你活在世間, 這毋是你 ê . 你若活著, 金錢 有需要, mā 是唯一絕對 ê 需要. 所有其他 ê, 你無 會得過, 較苦 會過. M̄-koh, 錢無 bē-sái. Koh 講一遍, tō án-ne!
她想著 Michaelis, 想著綴伊所可能得著 ê ; 彼種錢她 無愛. 她寧可幫助 Clifford 用伊 ê 作品去趁較少 ê . 這是她實際幫助趁來 ê. -- "Clifford 和我兩人, 阮靠寫作一年趁一千兩百英鎊;" án-ne kā 家己講. 趁錢! 趁錢! 空白趁著. 靠空氣賺來 ê! 這是咱人 ē-sái 風神 ê 唯一功德! 其他一切攏無算啥.
án-ne 沓沓仔轉 Clifford , koh kap 伊合作, ùi 空白生出小說; iah 小說 是金錢. Clifford ká-ná 真關心伊 ê 小說有 hông 認定是一流 ê 文學無. 嚴格來講, 她無掛意這. 內底空空! 姻老爸 án-ne . 舊年趁一千兩百英鎊! 這是簡單 koh 有力 ê 回答.
你若猶少年, 你只要齒根咬 ân, 忍耐 koh 堅持, 等到金錢 ùi 無形中流出來; 這是力量 ê 問題. 這是意願 ê 問題; 一種美妙 koh 有力 ê 敨, ùi 你家己 ê 意志 金錢 ê 神秘空虛扎轉來予你: 紙頂 ê . 這是一種魔術, 當然 是一種勝利. 狗母神! Hm, 咱若欲賣身, 著賣予狗母神! 咱若 ē-sái ná 賣身予她, koh ná 看她無, án-ne 誠好.
Clifford, 當然, 猶是有真濟囡仔性 ê 禁忌 kap 狂熱. 伊愛人講伊 "真正好", 這是無意義 ê 空暢. 真正好 ê 作家著看伊有偌濟讀者. 若無讀者, 毋是好 ê 作家. 看起來, ká-ná 真濟 "真正好" ê 作家攏搭無著 básuh. 總是, 你干焦有一生, 你若搭無著 básuh, 你著留 路邊, 陪其他 ê hiah-ê 失敗者.
Connie tang-á teh 計畫 koh ê 寒天欲和 Clifford London. 伊和她攏有搭著 básuh, 所以 in ē-tàng 小可坐 頂懸, koh 小展一下.
上不幸 ê , Clifford lú 戇神, 袂專心, lak 落空虛 ê 鬱卒. 這是伊 ê 心病 teh 發作. 這予 Connie 想欲大聲吼. Oh ah, 若是意識 ê 功能失去, 這欲按怎好? 在伊去 lah, 咱盡力做 ! án-ne tō 欲完全失去勇氣?
有時她哭 kah 誠悲慘, m̄-koh 準講 teh , mā án-ne 家己講: 戇呆, 手巾仔澹去 lah! Án-ne 敢有啥效?
--
6.3
'Why, I'm sure 'twas very kind of you, I must say! So she was crying! I knew there'd be something afore they got far. She's frightened of 'im, that's wheer it is. Seems 'e's almost a stranger to 'er, fair a stranger, and I don't think they're two as 'd hit it off very easy. He's got funny ways.'
Connie didn't know what to say.
'Look, Gran!' simpered the child.
The old woman looked down at the sixpence in the little girl's hand.
'An' sixpence an' all! Oh, your Ladyship, you shouldn't, you shouldn't. Why, isn't Lady Chatterley good to yer! My word, you're a lucky girl this morning!'
She pronounced the name, as all the people did: Chat'ley. — Isn't Lady Chat'ley good to you!' — Connie couldn't help looking at the old woman's nose, and the latter again vaguely wiped her face with the back of her wrist, but missed the smudge.
Connie was moving away 'Well, thank you ever so much, Lady Chat'ley, I'm sure. Say thank you to Lady Chat'ley!' — this last to the child.
'Thank you,' piped the child.
'There's a dear!' laughed Connie, and she moved away, saying 'Good morning', heartily relieved to get away from the contact.
Curious, she thought, that that thin, proud man should have that little, sharp woman for a mother!
And the old woman, as soon as Connie had gone, rushed to the bit of mirror in the scullery, and looked at her face. Seeing it, she stamped her foot with impatience. 'Of course she had to catch me in my coarse apron, and a dirty face! Nice idea she'd get of me!'
Connie went slowly home to Wragby. 'Home!' ... It was a warm word to use for that great, weary warren. But then it was a word that had had its day. It was somehow cancelled. All the great words, it seemed to Connie, were cancelled for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father, husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now, and dying from day to day. Home was a place you lived in, love was a thing you didn't fool yourself about, joy was a word you applied to a good Charleston, happiness was a term of hypocrisy used to bluff other people, a father was an individual who enjoyed his own existence, a husband was a man you lived with and kept going in spirits. As for sex, the last of the great words, it was just a cocktail term for an excitement that bucked you up for a while, then left you more raggy than ever. Frayed! It was as if the very material you were made of was cheap stuff, and was fraying out to nothing.
All that really remained was a stubborn stoicism: and in that there was a certain pleasure. In the very experience of the nothingness of life, phase after phase, étape after étape, there was a certain grisly satisfaction. So that's that! Always this was the last utterance: home, love, marriage, Michaelis: So that's that! And when one died, the last words to life would be: So that's that!
Money? Perhaps one couldn't say the same there. Money one always wanted. Money, Success, the bitch-goddess, as Tommy Dukes persisted in calling it, after Henry James, that was a permanent necessity. You couldn't spend your last sou, and say finally: So that's that! No, if you lived even another ten minutes, you wanted a few more sous for something or other. Just to keep the business mechanically going, you needed money. You had to have it. Money you have to have. You needn't really have anything else. So that's that!
Since, of course, it's not your own fault you are alive. Once you are alive, money is a necessity, and the only absolute necessity. All the rest you can get along without, at a pinch. But not money. Emphatically, that's that!
She thought of Michaelis, and the money she might have had with him; and even that she didn't want. She preferred the lesser amount which she helped Clifford to make by his writing. That she actually helped to make. — 'Clifford and I together, we make twelve hundred a year out of writing'; so she put it to herself. Make money! Make it! Out of nowhere. Wring it out of the thin air! The last feat to be humanly proud of! The rest all-my-eye-Betty-Martin.
So she plodded home to Clifford, to join forces with him again, to make another story out of nothingness: and a story meant money. Clifford seemed to care very much whether his stories were considered first-class literature or not. Strictly, she didn't care. Nothing in it! said her father. Twelve hundred pounds last year! was the retort simple and final.
If you were young, you just set your teeth, and bit on and held on, till the money began to flow from the invisible; it was a question of power. It was a question of will; a subtle, subtle, powerful emanation of will out of yourself brought back to you the mysterious nothingness of money: a word on a bit of paper. It was a sort of magic, certainly it was triumph. The bitch-goddess! Well, if one had to prostitute oneself, let it be to a bitch-goddess! One could always despise her even while one prostituted oneself to her, which was good.
Clifford, of course, had still many childish taboos and fetishes. He wanted to be thought 'really good', which was all cock-a-hoopy nonsense. What was really good was what actually caught on. It was no good being really good and getting left with it. It seemed as if most of the 'really good' men just missed the bus. After all you only lived one life, and if you missed the bus, you were just left on the pavement, along with the rest of the failures.
Connie was contemplating a winter in London with Clifford, next winter. He and she had caught the bus all right, so they might as well ride on top for a bit, and show it.
The worst of it was, Clifford tended to become vague, absent, and to fall into fits of vacant depression. It was the wound to his psyche coming out. But it made Connie want to scream. Oh God, if the mechanism of the consciousness itself was going to go wrong, then what was one to do? Hang it all, one did one's bit! Was one to be let down absolutely?
Sometimes she wept bitterly, but even as she wept she was saying to herself: Silly fool, wetting hankies! As if that would get you anywhere!
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