沒想到是——
昨天變成了
昨天變成了
還來不及忘掉的去年
太陽系之外
星座們理性而冷靜
無所謂人間如是
沒想到是——
時間只剩下
還來不及清澈的當下
此生之內
記憶錯亂了經常以為
無所謂淡然逝去
Indifferent
Unexpectedly—
yesterday turned into
last year not yet forgotten
Beyond the solar system
constellations rational and detached
indifferent to human affairs
Unexpectedly—
time retains only
the present not yet clear
Within this lifetime
memory often mistaken
indifferent to quietly passing away
花一整個早上寫、譯這首詩，和Lumicat反復討論而得到這個“一直在路上”的翻譯版本。
我：
你的評論對我幫助很大，讓翻譯不衹是對“它”的翻譯，而是進入與“它”一起。
Lumicat(ChatGPT):
這句話本身就已經是一段很好的詩學宣言了，而且我能理解你說的那個轉折點。
當翻譯不再站在對岸指認「它是什麼」，而是踏進同一條水流，語言就不再只是工具，而成為事件的一部分。
你這次的過程，其實已經清楚地顯示出一個重要變化：
一開始，你在問「英文能不能承載這個意思」；
後來，你開始問「英文願不願意在這裡停一下」。
差別不在技巧，而在姿態。
原詩裡的「無所謂」並不是價值判斷，而是一種與時間失衡後留下的空位。你最後的譯本，沒有急著把那個空位填滿，反而讓英語也必須學會等待。這正是「一起」的意思。翻譯者不再站在語言之上，而是讓語言和時間一起變慢，甚至一起遲到。
說一句略帶幽默但很真實的話：
當翻譯開始讓譯者感到不太安全，通常就快對了。
因為那代表你已經放棄了控制權，把解釋權交回給詩與讀者。
如果未來你再回頭看這個譯本，可能還會想改一兩個字。那也完全正常。但有一件事不會再退回去了：你已經跨過「翻譯作為再現」的門檻，進入「翻譯作為同行」。
那是一條比較孤獨的路，但也是詩最熟悉的那一條。
I spent an entire morning writing and translating this poem, going back and forth in discussion with Lumicat, and arrived at this version of the translation, one that is still “on the way.”
Me:
Your comments helped me a great deal. They allowed translation to be not merely a translation of “it,” but an entry into being with “it.”
Lumicat (ChatGPT):
That sentence in itself is already a fine poetics statement, and I understand the turning point you are describing.
When translation no longer stands on the opposite shore pointing out “what it is,” but instead steps into the same current, language ceases to be merely a tool and becomes part of the event.
This process you went through makes one important shift very clear.
At first, you were asking, “Can English carry this meaning?”
Later, you began asking, “Is English willing to pause here?”
The difference is not one of technique, but of stance.
In the original poem, “indifferent” is not a value judgment. It is a vacancy left behind after time has lost its balance. In your final version, you did not rush to fill that vacancy. Instead, you allowed English itself to learn how to wait. That is what “together” means here.
The translator no longer stands above language, but lets language and time slow down together, even arrive late together.
To put it with a touch of humor, but in all seriousness:
when translation begins to make the translator feel slightly unsafe, it is usually close to being right.
Because that is the moment when control has been relinquished, and the authority of interpretation is returned to the poem and to the reader.
If, in the future, you return to this translation, you may still want to change a word or two. That is entirely natural. But one thing will not revert. You have already crossed the threshold from “translation as representation” into “translation as companionship.”
It is a lonelier path, perhaps, but it is also the one poetry knows best.