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2015年11月16日星期一

观影手记:我是喑哑




文/安然


有的死亡是播音员的悲泣
有的死亡是战机呼啸过后失聪的耳膜
有的杀手姓恐怖
有的杀手姓正义
我从他们身上认出自己的
喑哑
如同正走去屠宰的路上的
喑哑

那个军营里的国家
或是自由世界治下的十三区
喧嚣
像隔离墙
也像偏执狂
撕裂文明的腔调
返回兽的
喑哑

那里没有正义

正义的杀手来自好莱坞
不要叫他西部牛仔
那太老套
他有一个泛着金属光泽的新名字:美国狙击手
发烫的枪口下跌倒的不再是印第安部落
而是伊拉克未成年的小恐怖分子
美国狙击手擅打活物
160名活物
正义在影院黑鸦鸦的阴影里尖声惊叫
喑哑
我的喉管里有被割断的
喑哑

正义的杀手来自法国新浪潮
那个杀手不太冷
只要肤色白一点儿
再掺进一些温情的桥段
那才是眼球经济的焦点
谁还会去讨论老左派的入侵轰炸占领文化歧视与法律的不公
没错,这是“自由、平等、博爱”的祖国
白人无神论的精英可以去画那个怪老头
是的,那是为了自由
人们有权利
这是“自由、平等、博爱”的祖国
但你没有
出门前你无权决定穿什么颜色的裙子戴什么样子的头饰
那无关自由
出台法律只为解放女性
在法律面前
在转基因的语言喧嚣里
你和我
只有喑哑

那里没有正义
那个世界没有我
最后审判一样的夜晚
绝望在闪耀
我内心沉默 悲伤
但我不是查理
我是喑哑









2015年11月1日星期日

诗人为难民说话:“没人会离开自己的家,除非家是鲨鱼的嘴”(Poets speak out for refugees: 'No one leaves home, unless home is the mouth of a shark')




The video is fronted by Cumberbatch who reads a poem called Home by Warsan Shire, starting with the sentence: “No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark…You have to understand no one puts children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land.”

这个短片是《The Road to Guantanamo》的导演Mat Whitecross为呼吁拯救难民危机中的孩子而制作,《神探夏洛特》的主演Benedict Cumberbatch在片头朗诵道:“没人会离开自己的家,除非家是鲨鱼的嘴……你必须明白没人会把他们的孩子放进船里,除非海面已比大地安全。”接下来,我发现这些诗句在线流传打动了很多人,它的作者曾经是一位难民,在她为那些遭家园抛弃在大地流浪的难民写下的这首诗里隐约可见她自己的经历。
在这个短片里回荡着一首Crowded House乐队十五年前的单曲《Help Is Coming》,这个世界从来多灾多难,如今更加满目疮痍,但我们还不得不怀着爱去面对它,因为它就是我们人类惟一的家园,我脆弱的神经忍受着创痛翻译了Warsan Shire的作品《Home》,祈祷Help Is Coming!






作者 Warsan Shire(旅英索马里裔诗人) 翻译 安然



没人会离开自己的家
除非家是鲨鱼的嘴
你只能向边境跑
当你看到整座城市都在跑

你的邻居跑得比你快
他们的喉咙里弥漫着血腥的空气
那个和你一起去上学的男孩
在破旧的罐头厂后面给你甜蜜一吻的男孩
现在正拿着比自己还高的枪
你也只有走了
家里已无处容身

没有人想离开家除非这个家把你逐出
烈火在脚下燃烧
热血在体内沸腾
那些匪夷所思的事正在成为现实
滚烫的刀片逼近你的脖颈
即使那时你正在低唱着国歌
只有在机场的洗手间撕碎你的护照
泪湿每一张纸巾
只为证明你再也无法回去

你必须明白
没人会把他们的孩子放进船里
除非海面已比大地安全
没有人愿意在火车车底
在车厢下
烫伤自己的手
没有人愿意在卡车的腹中日夜以报纸充饥
除非这不再是那种一般意义上的旅行
没有人愿意从铁篱下爬过
没有人愿意被殴打
被怜悯

没有人愿意选择难民的帐篷
和给身体带来伤痛的脱衣搜检
还有监狱
但监狱比一座燃烧着的城市更安全
在夜晚
一名监狱的看守也比一卡车看起来像父亲的男人倾泻在身上要好
没人能忍受
也没人能承受
没有什么人是钢筋铁骨

滚回家去,黑种人
难民
肮脏的移民
寻求庇护者
你们吸干了我们的国家
黑鬼,放开你的手
他们的味道闻起来怪怪的
野蛮人
搞砸了他们的国家
现在要来搞乱我们的国家
为什么这样的话
和那些下流的表情
在你身后如影随形
或许因为这种打击要比断臂残肢的伤痛更轻一些

或许这些话比你双腿间的那十四个男人更温柔
侮辱比乱石
比骨头
比你孩子破碎的身体
更易吞咽
我要回家
可家是一张鲨鱼的嘴
是一管枪
没人愿意离开家
除非家把我们赶到海边
逼着我们加快脚步
不顾一切地穿越沙漠 海洋
溺水
获救
饥饿
乞讨
忘记尊严
生存更为重要

没有人愿意离开自己的家园
直到它变成一个令你恐惧的声音
它说
出去
现在就离开我
我不知道出去后自己成为了什么
但我知道哪里都比这里更加安全







“Home” by Warsan Shire



no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here




Warsan Shire is a Kenyan-born Somali poet, writer and educator based in London. Born in 1988, Warsan has read her work extensively all over Britain and internationally–including recent readings in South Africa, Italy, Germany, Canada, North America and Kenya- and her début book, ‘TEACHING MY MOTHER HOW TO GIVE BIRTH’ (flipped eye), was published in 2011. Her poems have been published in Wasafiri, Magma and Poetry Review and in the anthology ‘The Salt Book of Younger Poets’ (Salt, 2011). She is the current poetry editor at SPOOK magazine. In 2012 she represented Somalia at the Poetry Parnassus, the festival of the world poets at the Southbank, London. She is a Complete Works II poet. Her poetry has been translated into Italian, Spanish and Portuguese. Warsan is also the unanimous winner of the 2013 Inaugural Brunel University African Poetry Prize.