静下心来读一读鲍勃·迪伦的回忆录，你或许会对他有更多理解

Standing in this room you could take it all for a joke. There were all types of things in here, books on typography, epigraphy, philosophy, political ideologies. The stuff that could make you bugged-eyed. Books like Fox’s Book of Martyrs, The Twelve Caesars, Tacitus lectures and letters to Brutus, Pericles’ Ideal State of Democracy.

站在这间房间里，你可以把上面的这些名字都当成笑话。这里有各种各样的书，类型学、铭文学、哲学和政治意识形态的书。这些东西能让你目瞪口呆。像《福克斯的烈士传》、《十二恺撒》，塔西佗的演讲稿和致布鲁图斯的书信，伯里克利的《理想的民主城邦》。

Thucydides’ The Athenian General—a narrative which would give you chills. It was written four hundred years before Christ and it talks about how human nature is always the enemy of anything superior. Thucydides writes about how words in his time have changed from their ordinary meaning, how actions and opinions can be altered in the blink of an eye. It’s like nothing has changed from his time to mine. 

修昔底德的《雅典将军》——一篇能让你战栗的叙述。它写于耶稣诞生前四百年，讨论人性是任何优秀事物永远的敌人。修昔底德写到他所在时代的文字是如何偏离了它们的原意，行动和观点是如何在一眨眼间改变的。感觉上好像从他的时代到我的时代什么都没变。

There were novels by Gogol and Balzac, Maupassant, Hugo and Dickens. I usually opened up some book to the middle, read a few pages and if I liked it went back to the beginning. Materia Medica (the causes and cures for diseases)—that was a good one. I was looking for the part of my education that I never got.

那里还有果戈理、巴尔扎克、莫泊桑、雨果和狄更斯的小说。我通常翻到书的中间，读几页，如果我喜欢就再从头读起。《疾病的形成和治疗》（Materia Medica）——是一本好书。我在找寻我从未得到过的教育。

Sometimes I’d open up a book and see a handwritten note scribbled in the front, like in Machiavelli’s The Prince, there was written, “The spirit of the hustler.” “The cosmopolitan man” was written on the title page in Dante’s Inferno. 

有时我打开一本书会看到前面有手写的笔记，像马基雅维里的《君主论》一书上写着“捣乱分子的精神”。“世界性的人”写在了但丁的《地狱篇》的书名页上。

Endless rows of books—Sophocles’ book on the nature and function of the gods—why there are only two sexes. Alexander the Great’s march into Persia. When he conquered Persia, in order to keep it conquered, he had all of his men marry local women. After that, he never had any trouble with the population, no uprisings or anything. Alexander knew how to get absolute control. There was Simón Bolívar’s biography, too.

那数不完的一排排书——索福克勒斯的关于神的本性和功能的书——为什么世界上只有两性。亚历山大大帝进军波斯。他攻下波斯后，为了维护其统治，他让军队同当地的妇女通婚。这之后再也没有人口、起义或其他麻烦了。亚历山大知道如何获得绝对的控制。还有西蒙•玻利瓦尔的传记。

I wanted to read all these books, but I would have to have been in a rest home or something in order to do that. I read some of The Sound and the Fury, didn’t quite get it, but Faulkner was powerful. I read some of the Albertus Magnus book…the guy who mixed up scientific theories with theology. It was lightweight compared to Thucydides. Magnus seemed like a guy who couldn’t sleep, writing this stuff late at night, clothes stuck to his clammy body. A lot of these books were too big to read, like giant shoes fitted for large-footed people.

我想读一读所有这些书，但那样我就不得不待在养老院或其他什么地方了。我读了一部分《喧哗与骚动》，不是很懂，但福克纳很有力。我还读了一些“尊者”阿尔伯特（Albertus Magnus）的书……他把科学理论和神学结合在一起。和修昔底德的东西相比，它属于轻量级。“尊者”好像不能入睡，在深夜写出了这些东西，衣服贴在冷冰冰潮腻腻的身体上。有很多这样的书都太厚而无法阅读，就像是些巨型鞋子，只适合天生大脚的人。

I read the poetry books, mostly. Byron and Shelley and Longfellow and Poe. I memorized Poe’s poem “The Bells” and strummed it to a melody on my guitar. There was a book there on Joseph Smith, the authentic American prophet who identifies himself with Enoch in the Bible and says that Adam was the first man-god. This stuff pales in comparison to Thucydides, too. The books make the room vibrate in a nauseating and forceful way. The words of “La Vita Solitaria” by Leopardi seemed to come out of the trunk of a tree, hopeless, uncrushable sentiments. 

我读的最多的是诗集。拜伦、雪莱、朗费罗和爱伦• 坡。我背下了坡的诗歌《钟》并在吉他上拨弄着给它配了曲。那儿还有一本关于约瑟夫•史密斯的书，这位真正的美国先知说自己就是圣经里的以诺，并说亚当是第一个人神。这东西跟修昔底德比起来也显得苍白。这些书让整个房间都有力地震动起来，让人晕眩。莱奥帕尔迪所说的“孤独的生活”（La Vita Solitaria）好像是从某棵树的树干里蹦出来的，有种无望又无法摧毁的伤感情。

I did read a biography about Robert E. Lee, though, read about how his father had been disfigured in a riot, had lye poured into his eyes and then abandoned his family and went to the West Indies. Robert E. Lee had grown up without a father. Lee had made something out of himself, nevertheless. Not only that, but it was on his word and his word alone that America did not get into a guerrilla war that probably would have lasted ’til this day. The books were something. They were really something.

但我还实实在在读过一本罗伯特•E•李的传记，读到他的父亲在一次暴动里毁了容，他的眼睛里倒入了碱液，然后抛弃了家庭去了西印度群岛。罗伯特•E•李是在没有父亲的环境里长大的。不管怎样，李靠自己闯出了名堂。不仅如此，而且正是因为他的一句话，仅仅是因为他的一句话，美国才没有陷入一场可能一直持续到现在的游击战中。这些书挺厉害的。它们真的很厉害。

I read a lot of the pages aloud and liked the sound of the words, the language. Milton’s protest poem, “Massacre in Piedmont.” A political poem about the murder of innocents by the Duke of Savoy in Italy. It was like the folk song lyrics, even more elegant.

很多页书我都高声朗读出来，我喜欢那些文字的声音，喜欢这种语言。比如弥尔顿的抗议诗《皮埃蒙特大屠杀》。这首政治诗讲的是意大利萨伏伊公爵杀害无辜的事件。它就像民谣的歌词，甚至更高雅。 

The Russian stuff on the shelves had an especially dark presence. There were the political poems of Pushkin, who was considered revolutionary. Pushkin was killed in a duel in 1837. There was a book by Count Leo Tolstoy, whose estate I’d visit more than twenty years later—his family estate, which he used to educate peasants. It was located outside of Moscow, and this was where he went later in life to reject all his writings and renounce all forms of war. One day when he was eighty-two years old he left a note for his family to leave him alone. He walked off into the snowy woods and a few days later they found him dead of pneumonia. A tour guide let me ride his bicycle. 

那书架上的俄国书显得特别灰暗。有普希金的政治诗集，他被认为是革命性的。普希金死于1837年的一场决斗。有一本书是列奥•托尔斯泰伯爵写的，我在二十多年后参观了他的庄园——那是他的家族庄园，他曾经在那儿教育农民。它坐落于莫斯科郊外，他晚年就来到这里，厌弃他自己所有的作品并谴责任何形式的战争。他八十二岁时留了张条子给家里人说不要管他，然后走进了下着雪的森林，几天后人们发现他死于肺炎。一个导游让我骑了他的自行车。

Dostoyevsky, too, had lived a dismal and hard life. The czar sent him to a prison camp in Siberia in 1849. Dostoyevsky was accused of writing socialist propaganda. He was eventually pardoned and wrote stories to ward off his creditors. Just like in the early ’70s I wrote albums to ward off mine.

陀斯妥耶夫斯基的一生同样历经艰险。1849年沙皇把他流放到西伯利亚的劳改营。他被控撰写社会主义宣传物。他最终被赦免了，开始写作小说来抵挡他的债主们。就像70年代初我创作专辑来抵挡我的债主们一样。

In the past, I’d never been that keen on books and writers but I liked stories. Stories by Edgar Rice Burroughs, who wrote about the mythical Africa—Luke Short, the mythical Western tales—Jules Verne—H. G. Wells. Those were my favorites but that was before I discovered the folksingers. The folksingers could sing songs like an entire book, but only in a few verses. It’s hard to describe what makes a character or an event folk song worthy. It probably has something to do with a character being fair and honest and open. Bravery in an abstract way.

过去我从未这样热衷于书籍和作家，但我喜欢故事。埃德加• 莱斯•巴勒斯写的故事——他描写了神秘的非洲，卢克•肖特（Luke Short）——神秘的西部故事，凡尔纳，H•G•威尔斯。这些都是我最喜欢的作家，但那都是在我发现民谣歌手之前。民谣歌手寥寥数句便能把歌唱得像一整本书。很难讲究竟是什么使得关于一个人物或者一个事件的一首民谣歌曲变得有价值。也许是某种公正、诚实、开放的人格。一种抽象的勇敢。

Al Capone had been a successful gangster and was allowed to rule the underworld in Chicago, but nobody wrote any songs about him. He’s not interesting or heroic in any kind of way. He’s frigid. A sucker fish, seems like a man who never got out alone in nature for a minute in his life. He comes across as a thug or a bully, like in the song…“looking for that bully of the town.” He’s not even worthy enough to have a name—comes across as a heartless vamp.

阿尔•卡波内（Al Capone）是个成功的黑帮人物，他掌管着芝加哥的地下世界，但没人写过关于他的歌。他无论从哪个角度而言都不有趣，也不英勇。他是索然无味的。一条胭脂鱼，好像他一生都没有一个人单独出去过。他就是个恶棍、流氓，就像那首歌唱的……“寻找镇上的流氓。”他甚至不配有一个名字——看上去就是个没心肝的骗子。

Pretty Boy Floyd, on the other hand, stirs up an adventurous spirit. Even his name has something to say. There’s something unbound and not frozen in the muck about him. He’ll never rule over any city, can’t manipulate the machine or bend people to his will, yet he’s the stuff of real flesh and blood, represents humanity in general and gives you an impression of power. At least before they trapped him in the boonies. 

帅哥鲍伊•弗洛伊德（Pretty Boy Floyd）就完全相反，可以激起一种冒险精神。甚至他的名字就有东西可说。在他的恶名声里有一种无拘无束、没有定型的气质。他永远不会统治任何一座城市，也不能按照自己的意愿操纵机器或扭曲他人，但他有血有肉，代表了普遍的人性，并给你留下了一个有力的印象。至少他们在那个穷乡僻壤把他抓住前是这样。

I read The White Goddess by Robert Graves, too. Invoking the poetic muse was something I didn’t know about yet. Didn’t know enough to start trouble with it, anyway. In a few years’ time I would meet Robert Graves himself in London. We went out for a brisk walk around Paddington Square. I wanted to ask him about some of the things in his book, but I couldn’t remember much about it.

我还读了罗伯特• 格雷夫斯（Robert Graves）的《白色女神》。我还不太懂得如何召唤诗歌缪斯。不管怎样，我知道的那点货色都还不够去麻烦缪斯呢。多年后我将在伦敦和罗伯特•格雷夫斯本人见面。我们绕着帕丁顿广场散了一小会步。我想问问他书里的一些内容，但我记不起太多。