九龍華仁書院安省舊生會

Wah Yan College Kowloon Alumni Association of Ontario

Welcome to WYKAAO

Contact Us

《父親的詩》__ 陳柏齡 (71)

父親的詩

一年多前,我為小兒子申請大學事情费煞心思。他要寫十二篇文章,申請十二間大學。自由選擇的作文題目令他絞盡腦汁。我提議;不如寫一下掛在客廳那幅畫和畫中的詩,那是你爺爺的作品。有點意思。
我的父親離世已久,晚年愛畫畫寫字。這一幅,我稱之為「雙鷺逐魚圖」,是我最喜歡的。暗綠色作背景,一片蒼茫肅殺景像,魚兒游曳水中,有兩隻白鷺凌空飛撲而下,水面浪花四,其中一隻嘴叼戰利品。突然間,動感打破沉寂,畫面充滿生機。擊水白鷺栩栩如生,好像可以飛出畫中。

畫中有無題詩,詩云:

「長江飛瀑不倒流,
漁郎不為水深愁,
磨刀霍霍男兒志,
等閒白了少年頭。」

我懇求江紹倫教授幫助翻譯成英文,好讓小兒明白。教授欣然答應,譯句如下:

The towering currents of Yangtze returns not,
A fisher confronts the deep fearing naught,
Brave in experience a man's will is reinforced,
A lazy life will end up in remorse。

父親的藝術基因傳給了他的大孫子,我則是不堪造就。我欣賞的貨色,是在樟木頭火車站擺地攤,叫賣一百元人民幣的大紅大綠鴛鴦兩浴圖。

這詩畫有一段故事。當年我在荷李活馬場賭馬,單Q五元exacta, 一注中的。六十倍行頭,二十三倍隨後。連贏位派彩二千七百美元。七十年代初期,二千七等於今天的二萬七。我大喜之下,用紅色信封發信告訴父親。現在想來,我實在不應該把事情讓他知道,令他擔心。他可能覺得兒子的行為不妥,故寫畫作詩勉勵。

父親下款寫道:「此無題材從未見世,余深愛之畫成接吾兒紅柬喜訊,百感交集,成詩以贈柏齡,時已深夜三時矣。
丁已放夏。 南海塵瀝。」

小兒明白了爺爺的詩句。
他問:「怎樣寫?」
我說:「借爺爺的詩畫發揮!」
繼續教仔:「寫東西要圍繞題目寫,要有內容,要溫馨,要想像。你爸爸喜歡加入一些幽默。增加趣味。你自己想吧。」

我讀了兒子的文章。覺得可以,反正我也不懂得修改他的英文。小孫子寫素未謀面的爺爺,因為爺爺留下了詩畫。看來我也應該多寫勤讀,把文章留給他們。將來我的孫子也來寫我。我在九泉之下,偷笑。

essay 寄去了 Amherst college, 這全美數一數二的 liberal arts 學校,拒絕了他的申請。兒子申請的多所大學,其中有金榜提名的,也有名落孫山的。送給 Amherst 的「爺爺的詩」是敗筆之作。小兒文章如下:

  #2. "Literature is the best way to overcome death. My father, as I said, is an actor. He's the happiest man on earth when he's performing, but when the show is over, he's sad and troubled. I wish he could live in the eternal present, because in the theater everything remains in memories and photographs. Literature, on the other hand, allows you to live in the present and to remain in the pantheon of the future. Literature is a way to say, I was here, this is what I thought, this is what I perceived. This is my signature, this is my name."
Ilan Stavans, Professor of Spanish, Amherst College
From "The Writer in Exile: an interview with Ilan Stavans" by Saideh Pakravan for the fall 1993 issue of The Literary Review

     I never thought much about the Chinese hanging scroll that hung discreetly behind my living room television. I frequently passed by it, but the scroll never caught my attention. As my family moved furniture one day, I happened to take down the framed scroll. My dad looked at me and asked, "Do you know who made all these paintings hanging in our house?"
     "No," I replied. He told me that the paintings and short poems that caption them were made by my grandfather. I never met my grandfather because he passed away before I was born. I stared at the fine detail of the painting and the dynamic brush strokes of the calligraphic poetry.
     I asked my dad if he could translate the poem on the scroll. He said he would do his best, but that many nuances would be lost in translation. Still, he was able to provide a translation that I deeply enjoyed. The poem was about the Yangtze River and a fisherman, but it was the last line that struck me.
     "A lazy life will end up in remorse." my grandfather writes. The veracity of the message and the eloquence of the phrase astounded me. I was in disbelief. "Did my own grandfather really write this?" I asked myself. He was telling me to work hard like the fisherman and not squander my time. This man whom I had never met was posthumously giving me advice. The eternal nature of literature enabled me to connect with someone I had never met. My grandfather is able to live on through his writing.      As I look at all his other poetry, I realize that they immortalize him. They are his signature, they are his mark on the world. Literature grants writers the power to transcend death.

You are here: Home Features 《父親的詩》__ 陳柏齡 (71)