世紀文學經典:《百年孤獨》第20章Part8 End

Aureliano, had never been more lucid in any act of his life as when he forgot about his dead ones and the pain of his dead ones and nailed up the doors and windows again with Fernanda’s crossed boards so as not to be disturbed by any temptations of the world, for he knew then that his fate was written in Melquíades?parchments. He found them intact among the prehistoric plants and steaming puddles and luminous insects that had removed all trace of man’s passage on earth from the room, and he did not have the calmness to bring them out into the light, but right there, standing, without the slightest difficulty, as if they had been written in Spanish and were being read under the dazzling splendor of high noon, he began to decipher them aloud. It was the history of the family, written by Melquíades, down to the most trivial details, one hundred years ahead of time. He had written it in Sanskrit, which was his mother tongue, and he had encoded the even lines in the private cipher of the Emperor Augustus and the odd ones in a Lacedemonian military code. The final protection, which Aureliano had begun to glimpse when he let himself be confused by the love of Amaranta ?rsula, was based on the fact that Melquíades had not put events in the order of man’s conventional time, but had concentrated a century of daily episodes in such a way that they coexisted in one instant. Fascinated by the discovery, Aureliano, read aloud without skipping the chanted encyclicals that Melquíades himself had made Arcadio listen to and that were in reality the prediction of his execution, and he found the announcement of the birth of the most beautiful woman in the world who was rising up to heaven in body and soul, and he found the origin of the posthumous twins who gave up deciphering the parchments, not simply through incapacity and lack of drive, but also because their attempts were premature. At that point, impatient to know his own origin, Aureliano skipped ahead. Then the wind began, warm, incipient, full of voices from the past, the murmurs of ancient geraniums, sighs of disenchantment that preceded the most tenacious nostalgia.
He did not notice it because at that moment he was discovering the first indications of his own being in a lascivious grandfather who let himself be frivolously dragged along across a hallucinated plateau in search of a beautiful woman who would not make him happy. Aureliano recognized him, he pursued the hidden paths of his descent, and he found the instant of his own conception among the scorpions and the yellow butterflies in a sunset bathroom where a mechanic satisfied his lust on a woman who was giving herself out of rebellion. He was so absorbed that he did not feel the second surge of wind either as its cyclonic strength tore the doors and windows off their hinges, pulled off the roof of the east wing, and uprooted the foundations. Only then did he discover that Amaranta ?rsula was not his sister but his aunt, and that Sir Francis Drake had attacked Riohacha only so that they could seek each other through the most intricate labyrinths of blood until they would engender the mythological animal that wasto bring the line to an end. Macondo was already a fearful whirlwind of dust and rubble being spun about by the wrath of the biblical hurricane when Aureliano skipped eleven pages so as not to lose time with facts he knew only too well, and he began to decipher the instant that he was living, deciphering it as he lived it, prophesying himself in the act of deciphering the last page of the parchments, as if he were looking into a speaking mirror. Then he skipped again to anticipate the predictions and ascertain the date and circumstances of his death. Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude didnot have a second opportunity on earth.

在自己的一生中，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞的行爲從來不象這天早晨如此理智：他忘記了死去的親人，忘記了對死者的悲痛，重新把菲蘭達的那些木十字架釘在所有的門窗上，不讓人世間的任何一種誘惑擾亂他。奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞已經知道，梅爾加德斯的羊皮紙手稿也指明瞭他的命運；在遠古的植物、冒氣的水塘以及光閃閃的昆蟲（這些昆蟲消滅了菲蘭達房間里人的足跡）中間，他找到了這些依然完整無損的羊皮紙手稿；他無法剋制自己迫不及待的心情，還沒把它們拿到光亮的地方，就仁立在那兒嘀嘀咕咕地破譯起來——他沒有碰到任何困難，彷彿這些手稿是用西班牙文寫的，彷彿他是在晌午令人目眩的陽光下閱讀的。這是布恩蒂亞的一部家族史，在這部家族史中，梅爾加德斯對這個家族裏的事件提前一百年作了預言，並且陳述了一切最平常的細節。梅爾加德斯先用他本族的文字——梵文——記下這個家族的歷史，然後把這些梵文譯成密碼詩，詩的偶數行列用的是奧古斯都皇帝（奧古斯都（公元前63年——公元14年），羅馬第一位皇帝。）的私人密碼，奇數行列用的是古斯巴達的軍用密碼。至於梅爾加德斯採取的最後一個防範措施，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞早在自己迷戀阿瑪蘭塔·烏蘇娜的時候就已經開始思索了，那就是老頭兒並沒有按照人們一般採用的時間順序來排列事件，而是把整整一個世紀裏每一天的事情集中在一起，讓它們同時存在於一瞬之間。奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞對這個發現入了迷，一口氣地讀完了改成樂譜的“教皇通諭”——這些通諭是梅爾加德斯從前打算念給阿卡蒂奧聽的，實際上是預言阿卡蒂奧將被處死；接着，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞發現了世上最美的一個女人誕生的預言，她的軀體和靈魂都將昇天；然後，奧雷連諾。 布恩蒂亞還查明瞭一對孿生兄弟的誕生，他們是在自己的父親死後出世的，他們未能破譯羊皮紙手稿，不僅是由於他們缺乏能力和韌勁，也是因爲他們的嘗試爲時過早。讀到這兒，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞急於想知道自己的出身，不由得把羊皮紙手稿翻過去幾頁。剎那間吹來一陣微風，在這剛剛開始的微風中，夾雜着往日的聲響——老天竺葵發出的沙沙聲和頑固的懷舊病之前失望的嘆息聲。.
奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞沒有覺察到這陣微風，因爲此刻他正好在他那好色的祖父身上發現了自己出身的初步跡象，這個祖父曾經輕率地闖到海市蜃樓的一片沙漠中去找一個不會使他幸福的美女，查明自己的祖父以後，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞繼續順着本族血統的神祕小徑尋去，突然碰上了小蠍子和黃蝴蝶在半明不暗的浴室裏剎那間交配的情景，就在這間浴空裏，一個女人開頭是一種抗拒心情，後來向一個工人屈服了，滿足了他的情慾。奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞全神貫注地探究，沒有發覺第二陣鳳——強烈的颶風已經刮來，颶風把門窗從鉸鏈上吹落下來：掀掉了東面長廊的屋頂，甚至撼動了房子的地基。此刻，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞發現阿瑪蘭塔，烏蘇娜並不是他的姐姐，而是他的姑姑，而且發現弗蘭西斯·德拉克爵士圍攻列奧阿察，只是爲了攪亂這裏的家族血統關係，直到這裏的家族生出神話中的怪物，這個怪物註定要使這個家族徹底毀滅。此時，《聖經》所說的那種颶風變成了猛烈的龍捲風，揚起了塵土和垃圾，團團圍住了馬孔多。爲了避免把時間花在他所熟悉的事情上，奧雷連諾·布恩蒂亞趕緊把羊皮紙手稿翻過十一頁，開始破譯和他本人有大的幾首詩，就象望着一面會講話的鏡子似的，他預見到了自己的命運，他又跳過了幾頁羊皮紙手稿，竭力想往前弄清楚自己的死亡日期和死亡情況。可是還沒有譯到最後一行，他就明白自己已經不能跨出房間一步了，因爲按照羊皮紙手稿的預言，就在奧雷連諾。 布恩蒂亞譯完羊皮紙手稿的最後瞬刻間，馬孔多這個鏡子似的（或者蜃景似的）城鎮，將被颶風從地面上一掃而光，將從人們的記憶中徹底抹掉，羊皮紙手稿所記載的一切將永遠不會重現，遭受百年孤獨的家族，往定不會在大地上第二次出現了。