(44)梦境中的梦境
───致G.P
人生若梦，转眼百年。梦中是梦，梦中的梦还是梦， 梦魇中的梦魇，
还是梦魇。只有泪湿襟巾，才是梦留下的痕迹，我们生活的现实又何尝
不是梦？在梦中笑醒了的人，何尝不曾泪湿襟巾，反之亦然。不知道哭
的人，不可能知道笑，余者，只是傻笑。
当子夜正浓，睡意正浓
当炉膛的余烬已经熄灭
荒地的野猫开始喵喵地嗥叫
老鼠在阁楼里窸窸窣窣
布满灰尘的座钟嘀嘀嗒嗒忙个不停
夜风中的幽灵在山林间曳步前行
于是
黑夜从我敝开的门扉涌入
梦的流沙开始迷漫
那些轻盈的水晶鞋
静静地在潜流着的河水上
密林的荫翳里
新月初霁的苍穹间
密密地奔波、徜徉
在窗棂上
残破的墙垣上
屋顶和塔巅
款步依依
那蓓蕾、草叶、苔藓上
一颗颗阴郁欲滴的水珠
凝聚着哀怨的叹息和惘怅的呻吟
在夜色中闪烁着
梦幻的霓光
漾起祈望和思念的轻莎
编织起梦的维帐
那么轻盈
缥缥渺渺
迷迷离离
遮裹着我疲惫的躯体
堕入深深的梦乡
你从冥冥的梦中飘来
你从凄凉的孤寂中飘来
披一件悲哀的斗篷
飘飘欲仙，步履轻盈
踩着梦的云朵
涉过漾着夜光的春水
踏上这爱恋的行程
衣襟上沾满梦的夜露
来到我的斗室
嘴里喃喃地低声絮语
轻轻地撩开我梦的维帐
你俯在我的胸前
一双素手捧起我的头颅
披肩的秀发垂洒在我的脸庞
拂拂撩撩
我的灵魂在馨香的飘溢中酣醉
你脉脉含情的双眸
闪射着淡淡的夜光
凝视我酣睡的憨姿
禁不住会心的窍笑
脸上浮出骄昵的笑靥
两排皓齿粼粼闪闪
眼波里流溢着幽会的欢欣和爱怜
你轻摇我的头颅
把我摇入更深的梦境
用你纤纤的手儿梳理我的秀发
仿佛要把你的希冀
揉入我的脑海
你睁大眼睛
凝视我安祥的脸庞
仿佛要透过我恬闭的眼睑
看到我梦的世界
那些幽密而又遥远的冥思遐想
那些鬃毛飘荡蹄声杂沓的狂驰
还有那些不可逾越的壕涧
──里边的城堡
和不可亵渎的书筒
──上面那些我的符号
你俯下脸庞
用你那些拂拂撩撩的秀发掩埋了我的脸庞
唇贴着唇，狂热的吻
魂扭着魂，恋恋不舍
你在我的梦里漫游
我在我的梦里徜徉
布满灰埃的座钟仍在黑夜的静谧中嘀嘀嗒嗒忙个不停
几只黑色的蝙蝠飞来飞去
凸出的驼背里藏着阴毒的念头
煽动的翅膀搅来阵阵幽谷的阴风
吱吱的尖嘶荡起深涧的回波
它们总想蹂躏这梦境里的梦境
这冷酷世界里一个温暖的角落
它们在那梦的帐幔上扑扑地鼓翼
用尖利的爪子撕开一道道缝隙
窥视这帐幔中我的和你的梦境
它们何尝知道那梦大都是用
痛苦和绝望编织
当窗棂上飘来第一丝晨曦的寒光
你从梦魇中惊起
发出频频的叹息
在我心里停留片刻
才提了一个竹篮离去
你踩着我梦的云朵
穿过我梦的流沙
衣襟上沾满我梦的夜露
随后就悄无声息
仿佛一切都没有发生
仿佛梦不是白昼所思
仿佛你没有在我梦里留下足迹依稀
我从梦中的梦里醒来
又从梦中醒来
已是双眼朦胧，疲惫不堪
那些迷离飘渺的梦的帐幔
那些闪射着彩光的梦的流沙
那些星星点点亮晶晶漾洒着灵光的我那梦的夜露
那些回荡着的深涧里的蝙蝠的吱吱尖嘶声
那些梦中幽谷里的深渊
消逝了
破灭了
超升了
……
我从梦中的梦里醒来
又从梦中醒来
从你拂拂撩撩馨香飘溢的秀发中醒来
从你喃喃的絮语中醒来
从你唇际的温馨中醒来
从你捧着我头颅那双手中醒来
已是泪湿衣襟
那是我从你井中背走的一桶
还是你从我花园中撷走的一篮
剩下的那些
含苞欲放的花蕾
颤抖的花径上
沁出的
──汁液?
44) Dreams Within a Dream
——to GP
Life is but a dream. One hundred years are but an instant. A dream is a dream, so are dreams within a dream. Nightmares are no exception. The only traces of dreams are the teardrops that have wet the pillowcase. Is it not the same in real life? Anyone that awakes laughing from a dream has wet the pillowcase with tears before. It would be the same with one who awakes from a dream, crying. If you have not cried, you do not know how to laugh. And even if you laugh, it must be out of silliness.
Midnight, I can’t resist falling into sleep
The fire begins to die
Wildcats outside begin to yowl as if they had heard
The rats moving about in the attic
The dust-covered clock ticks along tirelessly
While the spirits wander in the hills, the trees, and the wind.
The darkness rushes in
Through my open door
The sand from my dream begins to flow
The crystal shoes tiptoe lightly
And run above the underflow of the river
Through the shade of the trees
And across the new crescent moon
The shoes walk leisurely
On the window frame
On top of the broken wall
The roof and the tower
The buds, grass tips, leaves, and the moss
Clung with drops of dew on the verge of falling
That sigh and moan glimmering
In the night
The surreal neon lights
Unveil the curtain of wish and thought
And weave into dreams
So light
So unreal
So distant in mist
That I feel my exhausted from being shrouded
And put into a deep slumber
You flow to me from the void of my dream
And from the sorrowful solitude
In a sad cloak
Light-footed as a fairy
On the floating clouds
You slowly walk over the spring water
On the journey of love
Cloak dripping with night dew
To my small dwelling
You softly open the net of my dream
Murmuring and mumbling
You bend down and hold my head
With your soft and pretty hands
Your long hair falling upon my face
Tickling my being and making my
Heart drunk with your fragrance
Your eyes of love have the reflection
Of the night
You cannot help smiling at my
Clumsy poses in sleep
Your teeth are so purely white
Your face beams with happiness
And your eyes flow with the joy of this secret meeting
Softly you shake my head
And shake me into a deeper slumber
Your delicate fingers comb my hair
As if to put your hope
Into my head
Your eyes wide open gaze
At my peaceful face
As if to see through my lids
Into the world of my dreams
The remote and hidden thoughts
That may gallop wildly
Over the impassable trenches
— that lead to the inner castle
And the books that cannot be blasphemed
— notes and symbols that belong to me
You bent down to me
Hair falling to cover my face
Your lips on mine, your kisses are wild
Connecting two as one, inseparable
You wander in my dream
As I did
The dust-covered clock still ticks in the still of the night
Bats fly around
Carrying an evil plan in the hunch of their backs
Their wings stir up a cold wind like one from a dead valley
Their shrill echo in a cave
They plan to damage the dream within dreams
A warm corner in this wild cold world
They land on the curtain of the dream
Tearing it open with their claws
To see what is inside
Yet knowing not that most of the dream
Is woven with pain and despair
When the first ray of dawn enters the window
You startle from your dream
With sighs that linger for a while
In my heart
With a bamboo basket
You leave, on the clouds of my dream
Through the flowing sand
Your clothes wet with the night dew
There is then no sound as if
Nothing has ever happened
Not a dream in the daylight
Not a single trace of my dream
I awake from dreams of the dream
Then from the dream
Exhausted, eyes blurred
The curtain amidst the mist
The flowing sand glimmering in my dream
The night dew glistening under the stars
The shrill of the bats echoing in the deep
Deadly valley of my dream
All is gone
Out of illusion
Up to nothingness
…
I awake from dreams of the dream
Then from the dream
Where your long hair is drenched with fragrance
Where you murmur while
Holding my head and pressing your soft lips
Upon mine
Tears have wetted the pillowcase
Yet I can not tell if the water
Is from the pail I got from your well
Or from the basket you took from my garden
Which still has some flowers in it
With buds that squeeze juice from
Shaking
Stems
[44]关于别处——梦境中的梦境
舒扬阳
最初读到川沙先生的诗，为一首《忘情》惊艳，为一首《同类》震撼，而这一首《梦境中的梦境》，却令人落入缠绵，百味不休。
诗的起句是分外平实的。“当子夜正浓，睡意正浓/当炉膛的余烬已经熄灭……”接起的是娓娓道来的讲述。荒地的野猫，阁楼里的老鼠与座钟，山林间的黑夜、幽灵、水晶鞋与梦。如此随意而又如此天真的，不是诗，却是童谣。诗人从童话里入梦，于是“冥冥的梦中飘来”了一个“你”。童谣漫不经心的变调成小夜曲，如雾如烟，如痴如醉。“你俯在我的胸前/一双素手捧起我的头颅/披肩的秀发垂洒在我的脸庞/拂拂撩撩……”中篇的语句蕴含着流畅的乐感，从愁绪到甜蜜到悠远到狂烈，渐渐的，节奏趋于急促：“唇贴着唇，狂热地吻/魂扭着魂，恋恋不舍/你在我的梦里漫游/你在我的梦里徜徉……”蝙蝠的意象在这里出现，再一次如童话般的场景，却是将全诗转入了深沉而伤痛的咏叹调。“仿佛一切都没有发生/仿佛梦不是白昼所思/仿佛你没有在我梦里留下足迹依稀……”后篇的词句不断反复，那是一种反复的敲打，落处是述说者与倾听者心灵最底层的旧伤痕。
一首诗的动人之处，不在技巧，诗匠往往忘记。读诗人川沙的这一首《梦境中的梦境》里，不是不被那些优雅别致的句子拨动：“你从凄凉的孤寂中飘来/披一件悲哀的斗篷”，“你从梦魇中惊起/发出频频的叹息/在我心里停留片刻/才提了一个竹篮离去”，但所有美好的句子都在情韵中浑然一致起来，谱写出完整的音乐——句子成全了诗，这才是诗的原点与归宿。
但这些都还不是这场梦中的梦最动人的所在。
这一首诗里道尽了两个字眼：温柔、失落。十分普通的两个字眼，川沙先生让它们惊心摄魂了。
温柔是显而易见的。开篇时，这温柔是涣散而迷离的。潜流着的河水上，密林的荫翳里，新月初霁的苍穹间……那蓓蕾、草叶、苔藓上……诗情所到之处，世界随之入梦。然后是梦中人的出现，这梦中人来自何处？她来自梦境，来自无数道门的背后，来自诗人珍藏又珍藏的，几乎被现世的自己遗忘了的，灵魂最深沉的别处。寄存已久的，散发着陈酿幽香的温柔，由她的形象、她的一举一动绽放开来，无比浓郁、无比缠绵，又无比清澈、无比童真。她就是诗人的本心，是情的化身，既是幻像，也是真相。在梦境中，她是始终存在的。诗人说“你踩着我梦的云朵/穿过我梦的沙尘/衣襟上沾满我梦的夜露/随后就悄无声息。但”我“与梦中人注定的分别，并不在于她的离去，而在于”我“注定要离开这梦境，离开这温柔留存的别处。
“我从梦中的梦中醒来/又从梦中醒来/从你拂拂撩撩馨香飘溢的秀发中醒来/从你喃喃的絮语中醒来/从你唇际的温馨中醒来/从你捧着我头颅那双手中醒来/已是泪湿衣襟/那是我从你井中背走的一桶/还是你从我花园中撷走的一篮/剩下的那些/含苞欲放的花蕾/颤抖的花茎上/沁出的/–汁液？”
“我”注定要回归现世，注定失落。
但失落还远远不止在这结语的叹息里。
失落从一开始就与温柔同在。
再回到“我”与梦中人的世界。再问一次，梦中人从何而来？“你从凄凉的孤寂中飘来”。梦中人是从那被一道道门加重又加重、在灵魂里层层累叠了的孤寂中蕴生。那分外甜蜜的，从分外惘然中来，那分外轻盈的，从分外深重中来，愈是温柔的，就愈是孤寂的。而温柔也不能够彻底覆盖的，是灵魂中更为广阔而天真的一角：“那些幽密而又遥远的冥思遐想/那些鬃毛飘荡蹄声杂沓的狂驰/还有那些不可逾越的壕涧/–里边的城堡/和不可亵渎的书简/–上面那些我的符号”。这一角的世界，是梦境中的梦境，是别处的别处，是永远孤寂的来源。所有温柔与失落都在这里埋下了种子，温柔始终如一，失落也无法挣脱。这是一种绝望，也是一种执着。正是这绝望着的、执着着的，令结语的叹息显出孤傲与自恋的色彩，更令那妖娆的感伤之味尤为震撼了。
川沙先生在序里写道，只有泪湿襟巾，才是梦留下的痕迹，我们生活的现实又何尝不是梦？无论是别处还是此处，总忍不住去寻一丝痕迹，来印证其真实，来让生活得以继续，只因失落无处不在，而我们尚且眷恋我们的内心。
