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課程來源:TED
     

 

Billy Collins 談及時捕捉每個時刻

Billy Collins: Everyday moments, caught in time

 

Photo of three lions hunting on the Serengeti.

講者:Billy Collins

2012年2月演講,2012年3月在TED2012上線

 

翻譯:TED

編輯:朱學恆、洪曉慧

簡繁轉換:洪曉慧

後製:洪曉慧

字幕影片後制:謝旻均

 

影片請按此下載

MAC及手持裝置版本請按此下載

閱讀中文字幕純文字版本

 

關於這場演講

Billy Collins將詼諧的機智與藝術深度結合,與大家分享了他與日舞頻道合作的計畫-將他的詩製作成美妙的動畫。在這場精彩、有趣且觸動人心的演講中,包含了其中五首-千萬別錯過最後一首幽默的精彩詩作!

 

關於Billy Collins

兩屆美國桂冠詩人Billy Collins以隱隱透出的智慧、深刻的洞察力及「賓至如歸」的感覺抓住讀者的心。

 

為什麼要聽他演講

淺顯易懂這個字眼通常跟偉大的詩作扯不上關係。然而,Billy Collins藉由他所謂令人「賓至如歸」的詩句,成功創造了一個詩的傳統。偏好在抒情的簡單詩句中蘊藏深奧智慧,Collins的詩作結合了謙遜、深度感知和隱隱的機智,在易理解的主題中參雜了灰暗色彩,有時則是一絲幽默。

 

Billy Collins以一種具幽默感的自嘲描述他的作品,稱他的詩相當「居家」及「中產階級」,John Taylor曾評論Collins說:「很少人能寫出這樣的詩,乍看之下淺顯易懂,然而,一旦讀者深度窺視時,卻變得如此曖昧、發人深省,或充滿智慧。」

 

他於2001年獲選為美國桂冠詩人,並保有這個頭銜直到2003年。Collins住在紐約薩默斯,擔任紐約城市大學英語教授已超過40年。

 

請為演講中的動畫評分:

 

「布達佩斯」「遺忘」「有時」-動畫製作者Julian Grey/Head Gear

 

「鄉下」-動畫製作者Brady Baltezor/Radium

 

「逝者」-動畫製作者Juan Delcan/Spontaneous

 

Billy Collins的英語網上資料

Home: billy-collins.com

Wow: Billy Collins Action Poetry

 

[TED科技‧娛樂‧設計]

已有中譯字幕的TED影片目錄(繁體)(簡體)。請注意繁簡目錄是不一樣的。

 

Billy Collins 談及時捕捉每個時刻

 

Billy Collins:我今天為大家推薦你每日應攝取的「詩」量,我的分享方法就是,向大家展示我五首詩製作成的五部動畫短片。讓我先簡單介紹一下這個由來,因為這兩種媒體的結合似乎並不是很自然或必須的事。

 

但當我還是美國桂冠詩人的時候-我很愛提這件事。(笑聲)因為這是一句很好的開場白。當我還是「他」的時候,智威湯遜廣告公司找上我,他們受雇於日舞頻道,他們有意讓我錄一些我的詩,然後讓動畫師將它們製作成影片。起初我有些不願,因為我一直認為詩可以是一種獨立個體,之前嘗試把我的詩與音樂結合在一起的結果都非常糟糕,無一例外。而且,如果一首詩是用耳朵「寫」的,當它被創作出來時,就已經有了屬於它的樂曲。當然,如果你讀一首詩,詩中提到了牛,你並不需要見到書頁上畫了一頭牛。我的意思是,就讓讀者自行想像吧!

 

但我還是同意了,因為這似乎是個很有意思的嘗試,而且我從小就對動畫相當著迷,我想相較於Emily Dickinson、Coleridge或Wordsworth(三者均為著名詩人)來說,對我想像力更有幫助的是華納兄弟動畫公司、Merrie Melodies(動畫系列)和兔寶寶卡通,兔巴哥是我的謬斯女神。這個方法也許會使詩歌出現在電視中。我十分支持在公共場所展示詩歌-公車上、地鐵裡、看板上、麥片盒上。當我還是桂冠詩人時,我又來了-但沒辦法,這是真的-(笑聲)我在達美航空開創了一個詩歌頻道,主持了幾年時間,所以你在飛機上也能聽到詩歌。

 

我的想法是,把詩歌從書架上搬下來,傳播到日常生活中是件很好的事。你也許會想以詩歌當作見面的開場白。當你在看板上看到、在收音機中聽到、從麥片盒上或其他地方讀到一首詩時,它們往往出現得太突然,讓你來不及戴上你高中時就配備好的詩歌防禦罩。

 

所以,讓我們從第一首開始吧!這是一首簡短的小詩,名叫「布達佩斯」,它展現,或試圖展現創作過程的奧秘。

 

(影片)旁白:「布達佩斯」

 

我的筆劃過紙頁

 

像是奇異動物的鼻子

 

形似人類的手臂

 

穿在寬大綠色毛衣的袖子裡

 

我看著它不停地嗅著紙張

 

像隻覓食的動物

 

別無它想

 

只為了尋蟲蟻果腹

 

讓它能再多活一天

 

它只想明天還留在這世上

 

或許穿在格子襯衫的袖子裡

 

鼻尖貼著紙頁

 

盡職地多寫幾行

 

而我,向窗外望去

 

想像著布達佩斯

 

或其他我還沒去過的城市

 

BC:所以,動畫似乎讓人更容易理解詩的含意。(掌聲)寫作對我來說其實並沒有那麼容易,但我喜歡假裝它很容易。我有位學生在一堂入門課後對我說:「你知道嗎?寫詩其實比寫作還難。」我覺得她的話雖然不正確,卻很有深度。(笑聲)總之,我寧願假裝自己下筆如流。我的一位詩人朋友有句座右銘,他說,「如果你一開始不成功,就把你所有嘗試過的痕跡都隱藏起來。」

 

(笑聲)

 

下首詩也很短。詩只是把某些事物用不同方式表達出來,但我認為下首詩可被總結為:「有時你吃熊,有時熊吃你。」它使用的意象是玩具屋中的傢俱。

 

(影片)旁白:「有時」

 

有時

 

我把人偶放在桌旁的座位裡

 

如果他們的膝蓋可以彎曲

 

我就讓他們曲腿而坐

 

將他們固定在小木椅上

 

整個下午,他們對望著彼此

 

那個身著棕色西服的男子

 

那個身穿藍色裙子的女子

 

一動不動,任你擺佈

 

但有時

 

我變成那個玩偶,身子被提起

 

放進玩具屋的餐廳中

 

和其它玩偶一起坐在長桌前

 

好笑吧

 

但你會如何面對

 

如果你不知道

 

自己哪天會像神明般闊步而行

 

聳立雲霄

 

或是坐在那兒

 

在壁紙的圍繞下

 

用小小的塑膠臉龐直視前方?

 

(掌聲)

 

BC:這首詩帶有恐怖片成分。下首詩叫做「遺忘」,它其實是一篇以遺忘為主題的散文詩。詩是以一種被人們稱作文學遺忘症的忘性開始,換句話說,就是忘記你讀過的內容。

 

(影片)旁白:「遺忘」

 

首先消失的是作者的名字

 

然後是標題、情節

 

心碎的結局

 

整本小說

 

突然變成你從未讀過

 

甚至從未聽過的東西

 

彷彿,一個接一個地

 

你珍藏的記憶

 

都退隱到腦海的南半球

 

到了一個沒有電話的小漁村

 

很久以前

 

你吻別了九個繆斯女神的名字

 

你看著二次方程式打包走人

 

即使是現在,你熟記了行星的順序

 

也有某些東西正悄悄溜走

 

也許是一朵州花

 

一位叔叔的地址

 

或是巴拉圭首都

 

不論你費力地回想什麼

 

它都無法停留在你的舌尖

 

也沒有潛伏在

 

你脾臟中某個隱蔽的角落

 

它已順著神話中的黑暗河流漂走

 

你只能回憶起它的名字以L開始

 

就在通往遺忘的路上

 

你將加入那些

 

甚至忘了如何游泳

 

如何騎自行車的人們

 

怪不得,你會在午夜起身

 

在一本關於戰爭的書中

查找一場著名戰役的日期

 

怪不得,窗口的月亮

 

似乎已飄出那首

 

你曾銘記於心的情詩

 

(掌聲)

 

BC:下首詩名叫「鄉下」,是關於我大學時的一位同學,也是我現在的一位朋友。他當時跟現在一樣住在佛蒙特郊區,而我住在紐約市,我們會拜訪彼此。我去鄉下找他時,他會教我獵鹿之類的事,對我來說,基本上就是帶著一把獵槍迷路。(笑聲)還有釣鱒魚等等。他也會來紐約,我會教他我所知道的,大多是抽煙和喝酒。(笑聲)我們用這種方式交換知識。下面這首詩與這位朋友有關。他曾試著向我解釋一則鄉下家庭的傳統生活習慣,但我開始時很難理解。這首詩名叫「鄉下」。

 

(影片)旁白:「鄉下」

 

我很不解

 

當你告訴我

 

不要把易燃的火柴

 

隨便扔在家裡

 

因為老鼠可能會爬進去

 

引起火災

 

但當你擰下裝火柴的圓罐蓋

 

說那是火柴的存放處時

 

你的表情如此坦誠

 

那晚誰能睡得著?

 

誰能不去想

 

那隻不大可能出現的老鼠

 

順著印花壁紙後的水管攀爬

 

用尖銳的牙齒叼起一根火柴?

 

誰會看不到牠拐過牆角

 

藍色的火柴頭劃過粗糙的屋樑

 

和突如其來的火焰?

 

在一個閃耀的瞬間,這隻生物

 

突然穿越時代

 

成了一個縱火者

 

一個火炬手

 

在一場被遺忘的祭典上

 

那小小的棕色祭司點燃了某個古老的夜晚

 

誰會注意不到

 

被熾熱光芒照亮的其他老鼠的小小臉龐

 

帶著驚異的目光

 

那些曾住在你鄉下家中的居民?

 

(掌聲)

 

BC:謝謝。(掌聲)謝謝,最後一首詩叫「逝者」,是我參加一場朋友的葬禮後所作,但這與大家所說關於我朋友的讚美之詞不大相同。他們總是這麼說,逝者在天上看到我們齊聚在這裡時是多麼快樂。對我來說,這是死後非常不好的開始,因為得目睹自己的葬禮並感到心滿意足,所以這首詩叫做「逝者」。

 

(影片)旁白:「逝者」

 

逝者一直在天上看著我們

 

他們這麼說

 

當我們穿鞋或是做三明治時

 

他們會透過天堂裡一艘透明底船向下望

 

當他們緩緩駛向永恆時

 

他們看著我們的頭頂在人間移動

 

當我們躺在草地或沙發上

 

或許沉溺在溫暖午後的嘈雜中

 

他們認為我們也看著他們

 

於是他們舉起船槳

 

悄悄地

 

像父母一樣

 

等著我們閉上眼睛

 

(掌聲)

 

BC:我不確定別的詩會不會配動畫,這花了很長時間-我的意思是,這是個很不尋常的結合,需要長時間來使彼此融合。但同樣的,我們也花了很長時間才把輪子和行李箱結合在一起。(笑聲)我是說,我們很久以前就有輪子,生拉硬拽是一項古老而崇高的藝術。

 

(笑聲)

 

我還有些時間給你們讀一首我近期的作品。如果說這首詩有個主題,這個主題就是青春。這是為了某人所寫,詩名叫「致我最愛的17歲女高中生」。

 

妳知道嗎?

 

如果妳從出生那天就開始建帕特農神廟

 

只要再一年就完工了

 

當然

 

單憑妳一個人是無法完成這項任務的

 

所以沒關係

 

妳只要做自己就好

 

會有人愛這樣的妳

 

但妳知道嗎?

 

像妳這麼大的時候

 

茱蒂.加蘭(影星)拍一張照片就可以賺15萬美元

 

聖女貞德正帶領法國大軍邁向勝利

 

巴斯卡(數學家)打掃了他的房間-

 

不,等等,我是說發明了計算器

 

當然,妳將來也有時間做這些

 

在妳踏出房門,開始綻放後

 

或至少把妳的襪子收拾好

 

不知怎麼的

 

我總是想起英國的格雷郡主

 

她15歲就當上女王

 

但她最後被砍了頭

 

所以還是別以她為榜樣

 

(笑聲)

 

幾世紀後

 

當舒伯特像妳這麼大的時候

 

就會幫家人洗碗

 

即使這樣

 

他依然在少年時就譜寫了兩首交響曲

 

四部歌劇和兩首完整的彌撒曲

 

(笑聲)

 

不過,當然

 

那是在奧地利浪漫抒情主義的巔峰時期

 

不是我們所在的克利夫蘭郊區

 

(笑聲)

 

說真的

 

誰會在乎安妮.奧克利15歲時就是神槍手

 

或瑪麗亞.卡拉斯17歲時便首次演唱《托斯卡》(歌劇)?

 

我們認為正因為妳是妳

 

所以與眾不同

 

妳會亂攪食物,會發呆

 

(笑聲)

 

順便說一下

 

我說舒伯特洗碗是騙妳的

 

但不代表他從不幫忙做家事

 

(笑聲)

 

(掌聲)

 

謝謝,謝謝

 

(掌聲)

 

謝謝

 

(掌聲)

 

以下為系統擷取之英文原文

About this Talk
Combining dry wit with artistic depth, Billy Collins shares a project in which several of his poems were turned into delightful animated films in a collaboration with Sundance Channel. Five of them are included in this wonderfully entertaining and moving talk -- and don't miss the hilarious final poem!

About the Speaker

A two-term U.S. Poet Laureate, Billy Collins captures readers with his understated wit, profound insight -- and a sense of being "hospitable." Full bio »

Transcript

I'm here to give you your recommended dietary allowance of poetry. And the way I'm going to do that is present to you five animations of five of my poems. And let me just tell you a little bit of how that came about. Because the mixing of those two media is a sort of unnatural or unnecessary act.

But when I was United States Poet Laureate -- and I love saying that. (Laughter) It's a great way to start sentences. When I was him back then, I was approached by J. Walter Thompson, the ad company, and they were hired sort of by the Sundance Channel. And the idea was to have me record some of my poems and then they would find animators to animate them. And I was initially resistant, because I always think poetry can stand alone by itself. Attempts to put my poems to music have had disastrous results, in all cases.And the poem, if it's written with the ear, already has been set to its own verbal music as it was composed. And surely, if you're reading a poem that mentions a cow, you don't need on the facing page a drawing of a cow. I mean, let's let the reader do a little work.

But I relented because it seemed like an interesting possibility, and also I'm like a total cartoon junkie since childhood. I think more influential than Emily Dickinson or Coleridge or Wordsworth on my imagination were Warner Brothers, Merrie Melodies and Loony Tunes cartoons. Bugs Bunny is my muse. And this way poetry could find its way onto television of all places. And I'm pretty much all for poetry in public places -- poetry on buses, poetry on subways, on billboards, on cereal boxes. When I was Poet Laureate, there I go again -- I can't help it, it's true -- (Laughter) I created a poetry channel on Delta Airlines that lasted for a couple of years. So you could tune into poetry as you were flying.

And my sense is, it's a good thing to get poetry off the shelves and more into public life.Start a meeting with a poem. That would be an idea you might take with you. When you get a poem on a billboard or on the radio or on a cereal box or whatever, it happens to you so suddenly that you don't have time to deploy your anti-poetry deflector shields that were installed in high school.

So let us start with the first one. It's a little poem called "Budapest," and in it I reveal, or pretend to reveal, the secrets of the creative process.

(Video) Narration: "Budapest." My pen moves along the page like the snout of a strange animal shaped like a human arm and dressed in the sleeve of a loose green sweater. I watch it sniffing the paper ceaselessly, intent as any forager that has nothing on its mindbut the grubs and insects that will allow it to live another day. It wants only to be here tomorrow, dressed perhaps in the sleeve of a plaid shirt, nose pressed against the page,writing a few more dutiful lines while I gaze out the window and imagine Budapest or some other city where I have never been.

BC: So that makes it seem a little easier. (Applause) Writing is not actually as easy as that for me. But I like to pretend that it comes with ease. One of my students came up after class, an introductory class, and she said, "You know, poetry is harder than writing," which I found both erroneous and profound. (Laughter) So I like to at least pretend it just flows out. A friend of mine has a slogan; he's another poet. He says that, "If at first you don't succeed, hide all evidence you ever tried."

(Laughter)

The next poem is also rather short. Poetry just says a few things in different ways. And I think you could boil this poem down to saying, "Some days you eat the bear, other days the bear eats you." And it uses the imagery of dollhouse furniture.

(Video) Narration: "Some Days." Some days I put the people in their places at the table,bend their legs at the knees, if they come with that feature, and fix them into the tiny wooden chairs. All afternoon they face one another, the man in the brown suit, the woman in the blue dress -- perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved. But other days I am the onewho is lifted up by the ribs then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse to sit with the others at the long table. Very funny. But how would you like it if you never knew from one day to the next if you were going to spend it striding around like a vivid god, your shoulders in the clouds, or sitting down there amidst the wallpaper staring straight ahead with your little plastic face?

(Applause)

BC: There's a horror movie in there somewhere. The next poem is called forgetfulness,and it's really just a kind of poetic essay on the subject of mental slippage. And the poem begins with a certain species of forgetfulness that someone called literary amnesia, in other words, forgetting the things that you have read.

(Video) Narration: "Forgetfulness." The name of the author is the first to go, followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel, which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of. It is as if, one by one,the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain to a little fishing village where there are no phones. Long ago, you kissed the names of the nine muses good-bye and you watched the quadratic equation pack its bag.And even now, as you memorize the order of the planets, something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay. Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall, well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have forgotten even how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. No wonder the Moon in the window seems to have drifted out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

(Applause)

BC: The next poem is called "The Country" and it's based on, when I was in college I met a classmate who remains to be a friend of mine. He lived, and still does, in rural Vermont.I lived in New York City. And we would visit each other. And when I would go up to the country, he would teach me things like deer hunting, which meant getting lost with a gun basically -- (Laughter) and trout fishing and stuff like that. And then he'd come down to New York City and I'd teach him what I knew, which was largely smoking and drinking.(Laughter) And in that way we traded lore with each other. The poem that's coming up is based on him trying to tell me a little something about a domestic point of etiquette in country living that I had a very hard time, at first, processing. It's called "The Country."

(Video) Narration: "The Country." I wondered about you when you told me never to leave a box of wooden strike-anywhere matches just lying around the house, because the mice might get into them and start a fire. But your face was absolutely straight when you twisted the lid down on the round tin where the matches, you said, are always stowed. Who could sleep that night? Who could whisk away the thought of the one unlikely mouse padding along a cold water pipe behind the floral wallpaper, gripping a single wooden matchbetween the needles of his teeth? Who could not see him rounding a corner, the blue tip scratching against rough-hewn beam, the sudden flare and the creature, for one bright, shining moment, suddenly thrust ahead of his time -- now a fire-starter, now a torch-bearer in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid illuminating some ancient night? And who could fail to notice, lit up in the blazing insulation, the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces of his fellow mice -- one-time inhabitants of what once was your house in the country?

(Applause)

BC: Thank you. (Applause) Thank you. And the last poem is called "The Dead." I wrote this after a friend's funeral, but not so much about the friend as something the eulogist kept saying, as all eulogists tend to do, which is how happy the deceased would be to look down and see all of us assembled. And that to me was a bad start to the afterlife, having to witness your own funeral and feel gratified. So the little poem is called "The Dead."

(Video) Narration: "The Dead." The dead are always looking down on us, they say. While we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich, they are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven as they row themselves slowly through eternity. They watch the tops of our heads moving below on Earth. And when we lie down in a field or on a couch, drugged perhaps by the hum of a warm afternoon, they think we are looking back at them, which makes them lift their oars and fall silent and wait like parents for us to close our eyes.

(Applause)

BC: I'm not sure if other poems will be animated. It took a long time -- I mean, it's rather uncommon to have this marriage -- a long time to put those two together. But then again, it took us a long time to put the wheel and the suitcase together. (Laughter) I mean, we had the wheel for some time. And schlepping is an ancient and honorable art.

(Laughter)

I just have time to read a more recent poem to you. If it has a subject, the subject is adolescence. And it's addressed to a certain person. It's called "To My Favorite 17-Year-Old High School Girl."

"Do you realize that if you had started building the Parthenon on the day you were born,you would be all done in only one more year? Of course, you couldn't have done that all alone. So never mind; you're fine just being yourself. You're loved for just being you. But did you know that at your age Judy Garland was pulling down 150,000 dollars a picture,Joan of Arc was leading the French army to victory and Blaise Pascal had cleaned up his room -- no wait, I mean he had invented the calculator? Of course, there will be time for all that later in your life, after you come out of your room and begin to blossom, or at least pick up all your socks. For some reason I keep remembering that Lady Jane Grey was queen of England when she was only 15. But then she was beheaded, so never mind her as a role model. (Laughter) A few centuries later, when he was your age, Franz Schubert was doing the dishes for his family, but that did not keep him from composing two symphonies, four operas and two complete masses as a youngster. (Laughter) But of course, that was in Austria at the height of Romantic lyricism, not here in the suburbs of Cleveland. (Laughter) Frankly, who cares if Annie Oakley was a crack shot at 15 or if Maria Callas debuted as Tosca at 17? We think you're special just being you -- playing with your food and staring into space. (Laughter) By the way, I lied about Schubert doing the dishes,but that doesn't mean he never helped out around the house."

(Laughter)

(Applause)

Thank you. Thank you.

(Applause)

Thanks.

(Applause)


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