迪倫回擊質疑說「搖滾不是文學」的站出來

娛樂 12-18

諾貝爾頒獎禮進行，迪倫有事不能前往參加，但是擬定好了一份感謝詞，由美國駐瑞典大使Azita Raji宣讀。

迪倫的感言平易近人但又言之有物，搞出「四點回應」等笑話的某些專家恐怕一輩子編不出這麼好的文字。

迪倫一方面謙虛地了表達了自己的感謝，另一方面通過莎士比亞的例子，也暗中回擊了那些質疑「搖滾不是文學」、「歌不是詩」的小白。

以下就是迪倫獲獎感言的全文。

楊昊/譯

大家晚上好。我向瑞典文學院，以及今晚到場的其他高貴的客人致以最熱烈的問候。

很抱歉我不能親自前來，但請知曉，我在精神上絕對和你們在一起，獲得如此聲望卓著的大獎，深感榮耀。被授予諾貝爾文學獎是我之前完全不敢想像或預料的事情。很久以前，我就熟悉並閱讀、吸收著吉卜林、蕭伯納、托馬斯-曼、賽珍珠、加繆、海明威等，他們獲得這一榮譽實至名歸。這些文學巨人的作品在教室被講授，在全世界的圖書館被收藏並受到無數人景仰，對我影響至深。如今我加入了這樣一個名單，實在難以言表。

我不知道這些男女是否曾想過他們會得諾貝爾，但我認為在這個世界上，任何一個寫書、寫詩或寫劇本的人，在他們的心底，都揣著這樣一個秘密夢想。或許藏得太深，他們自己都意識不到。

如果過去有人跟我說我有一點點機會獲得諾貝爾，我的想法一定會是：其幾率就和我登上月球差不多。實際上，在我出生的那一年以及之後的好幾年，世界上沒有任何人被認為足夠優秀，可以得到這個諾貝爾。（這裡指的是1941年之後幾年，諾貝爾文學獎空缺，譯者注）所以，我意識到自己屬於一個罕見的群體，至少可以這麼說。

得知這個驚人的消息時，我正在巡演路上。用了好一會兒時間，我才能夠冷靜下來思考。我開始想到莎士比亞，那位偉大的文學人物。我姑且認為他把自己看作一個劇作家。「正在寫文學」一類的想法，從來都沒有進入過他的頭腦。他的句子都是為舞台而寫，是用於言說而不是閱讀。當他寫《哈姆雷特》的時候，我相信他在思考很多和文學不同的事情：「誰是最適合這些角色的演員？」「這個場景舞台怎麼設計？」「我真的打算把這個設定在丹麥嗎？」毫無疑問，在他的所有念頭中，創作的想像力和野心處於最重要的位置，但是也有更多瑣事要思考和處理。「資金都到位了嗎？」「給我的贊助人留的好座位還夠嗎？」「從哪兒能弄到一個骷髏？」我猜距離莎士比亞的心靈最為遙遠的一件事，就是如下的問題：「這算是文學嗎？」

當我還是一個剛開始寫歌的少年，甚至當我小有名氣的時候，我的理想最遠不過如此。我希望可以在咖啡館或酒吧聽到它們，或者是以後能在卡內基音樂廳, 帕拉斯劇院一類的地方聽到它們。如果真的有更大的夢，或許我會想像一下製作唱片，可以在廣播里聽到我的歌。這真的就是最大的獎賞了。製作唱片，在電台聽到你的歌，意味著你獲得了眾多的聽眾，並且你或許可以繼續從事你之前打算做的事情了。

嗯，如今，我從事一開始打算做的事情已經很久了。我出了很多唱片，在世界辦了成百上千的音樂會。但是，在我所做的幾乎一切事情中，居於最重要的中心地位的，還是我的歌曲。它們似乎在很多不同的文化中，在很多人的人生中，找到了屬於自己的位置。對此我深表感激。

不過有一件事我必須說明。作為一個歌手我曾經為5萬個人表演，也曾經為50個人表演，我可以告訴你，為50個人表演要難多了。5萬人，只有一個單一的人格，但50個人就不是如此了，每一個人都有獨特的、與眾不同的自我，一個自成一體的世界，他們能更清楚地辨明是非。你的誠意，以及你的誠意和你的才華是否對得上，會被嚴格檢驗。諾貝爾評委會的人數是如此少，這個事實我深諳於心。

但是，就和莎士比亞一樣，我忙於自己的創作勞動，忙於處理生活中的種種瑣事。「誰是最適合這些歌的樂手？」「我找對錄音室了嗎？」「這首歌的音調對嗎？」有些事情從沒改變，即使400年過去了。

我從來都沒有時間問：「我的歌算文學嗎？」一次都沒有。

所以，非常感謝瑞典文學院，你們不僅花時間考慮了這個問題，而且最終給出了一個如此美好的答案。

衷心祝福你們。

鮑勃-迪倫

以下是英文原文：

Good evening, everyone. I extend my warmest greetings to the members of the Swedish Academy and to all of the other distinguished guests in attendance tonight.

I"m sorry I can"t be with you in person, but please know that I am most definitely with you in spirit and honored to be receiving such a prestigious prize. Being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature is something I never could have imagined or seen coming. From an early age, I"ve been familiar with and reading and absorbing the works of those who were deemed worthy of such a distinction: Kipling, Shaw, Thomas Mann, Pearl Buck, Albert Camus, Hemingway. These giants of literature whose works are taught in the schoolroom, housed in libraries around the world and spoken of in reverent tones have always made a deep impression. That I now join the names on such a list is truly beyond words.

I don"t know if these men and women ever thought of the Nobel honor for themselves, but I suppose that anyone writing a book, or a poem, or a play anywhere in the world might harbor that secret dream deep down inside. It"s probably buried so deep that they don"t even know it"s there.

If someone had ever told me that I had the slightest chance of winning the Nobel Prize, I would have to think that I"d have about the same odds as standing on the moon. In fact, during the year I was born and for a few years after, there wasn"t anyone in the world who was considered good enough to win this Nobel Prize. So, I recognize that I am in very rare company, to say the least.

I was out on the road when I received this surprising news, and it took me more than a few minutes to properly process it. I began to think about William Shakespeare, the great literary figure. I would reckon he thought of himself as a dramatist. The thought that he was writing literature couldn"t have entered his head. His words were written for the stage. Meant to be spoken not read. When he was writing Hamlet, I"m sure he was thinking about a lot of different things: "Who"re the right actors for these roles?" "How should this be staged?" "Do I really want to set this in Denmark?" His creative vision and ambitions were no doubt at the forefront of his mind, but there were also more mundane matters to consider and deal with. "Is the financing in place?" "Are there enough good seats for my patrons?" "Where am I going to get a human skull?" I would bet that the farthest thing from Shakespeare"s mind was the question "Is this literature?"

When I started writing songs as a teenager, and even as I started to achieve some renown for my abilities, my aspirations for these songs only went so far. I thought they could be heard in coffee houses or bars, maybe later in places like Carnegie Hall, the London Palladium. If I was really dreaming big, maybe I could imagine getting to make a record and then hearing my songs on the radio. That was really the big prize in my mind. Making records and hearing your songs on the radio meant that you were reaching a big audience and that you might get to keep doing what you had set out to do.

Well, I"ve been doing what I set out to do for a long time, now. I"ve made dozens of records and played thousands of concerts all around the world. But it"s my songs that are at the vital center of almost everything I do. They seemed to have found a place in the lives of many people throughout many different cultures and I"m grateful for that.

But there"s one thing I must say. As a performer I"ve played for 50,000 people and I"ve played for 50 people and I can tell you that it is harder to play for 50 people. 50,000 people have a singular persona, not so with 50. Each person has an individual, separate identity, a world unto themselves. They can perceive things more clearly. Your honesty and how it relates to the depth of your talent is tried. The fact that the Nobel committee is so small is not lost on me.

But, like Shakespeare, I too am often occupied with the pursuit of my creative endeavors and dealing with all aspects of life"s mundane matters. "Who are the best musicians for these songs?" "Am I recording in the right studio?" "Is this song in the right key?" Some things never change, even in 400 years.

Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, "Are my songs literature?"

So, I do thank the Swedish Academy, both for taking the time to consider that very question, and, ultimately, for providing such a wonderful answer.

My best wishes to you all,

Bob Dylan