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【书籍搬运】The Alik’r 阿里克尔沙漠

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原文作者: Enric Milres
原文地址: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Tamriel:The_Alik%27r
翻译:yahoocom

如果没有在那个位于哨卫的小旅店遇见维尔丹的话,我想我这辈子都不会去阿克里尔沙漠.维尔丹是个红色守卫诗人;我曾拜读过他的作品,不过那都是翻译后的.因为他的作品所用的文字全是古老的红色守卫语,而不是现在的塔玛瑞尔语,我曾经问他为什么用这种语言来书写自己的作品.

“塔玛瑞尔语的词汇是给那些所谓神圣的富人用的,就像柔软的,腐败的,经过压缩的酸牛奶那样….对就是像奶酪那样.”维尔丹笑着说到,笑容就像潮水一般泼散在了他那张黝黑的脸上.“而我们古老的红卫语就要好的多了.告诉我,如果你精通这两门语言,那你会选哪一种来写你的作品呢?”

我是一个来自城市的孩子,我向他讲述了关于城市噪音,腐败,疯狂的夜晚,能量,文化以及堕落等故事.他认真地听了我的讲述并对我出生的城市感到敬畏:在用白卵石铺路的帝都,每个公民都有着他们自己的重要性,因为他们接近皇帝的居所并且生活在那整洁的街道.他们说那些在帝都林荫大道边的乞丐晚上就居住在皇宫里.在喝了一杯比较烈的麦芽酒后我又给他介绍了河堡城那拥挤的市场;那阴暗的哀伤之城;幼蛾城那些有坚硬外壳的别墅群; 赫尔斯托姆那些非同寻常而又危险的小巷以及在老独孤城的那些庄重的大道.他仔细地听着我讲述的事物,时而惊奇,时而又向我询问问题并给出自己的评论.

“我觉得我好像了解你的家乡,阿克里尔沙漠,不过这些都是从你的作品中了解的,我并没有去过那儿.”我告诉他.

“噢,那么你就不了解阿克里尔沙漠,因为没有一首诗是能够真正展现它的.或许你应该准备去阿克里尔沙漠旅行一下,这样总比你光从书本里了解要好.如果你想了解整个塔玛瑞尔大陆并且成为整个星球上真正的公民的话你就必须去沙漠亲身感受一下.”

后来为了这次旅行我准备了一年有余.在这一年多里,我存够了旅费(对我来说这个是最困难的),然后我就离开了那喧嚣的城市生活而开始向阿克里尔沙漠进发了.在临走前我随身带了几本维尔丹的诗集以作为我的旅行指南.

“一支神圣的火苗从火堆里窜了上来,那些伟大的无名的男人和女人的鬼魂,已经消亡的古城的兴盛与末落全都在火炎的折射下,迪俄斯科里之歌中那些能启发后人的围墙以及那些不朽的岩石,火一般炙热的沙石在破坏与恢复中不停地轮回.”

以上这些是我朋友那首"在那片不朽的沙漠中"的前六行文字,它让我有对阿克里尔沙漠有了一个初步的印象.但平心而论这些文字是不足以来表达阿克里尔沙漠的.阿克里尔沙漠让我看到了它的雄伟,永恒不变,凛冽的以及感受到我们人生的渺小,我的那支可怜的笔是远远不能把阿克里尔沙漠给描绘下来.

历史上曾经的公国以及国与国之间的边界都被那滚动的沙浪所吞噬.如果当我站在安提费洛斯或者伯伽玛中时,还有一些当地的居民可以来告诉我;但是我现在是在阿克里尔,它们开始向我靠拢了,我只是身在阿克里尔沙漠,不,我们现在已经成为了阿克里尔沙漠中的一部分了.我的这种想法应该很接近那些居住在沙漠里的人们吧.

我看见了维尔丹诗中描绘的那支神圣的火炎了:一大片红色的雾看起来好像是从塔玛瑞尔大陆深处那神秘的地方飘来的.在中午的太阳升起之前这片红雾便消失了.接着我就看见了维尔丹诗中所写的城市:一阵大风刮过了沙漠接着一片古城的遗迹便从沙漠的深处展现了出来,但很快它又被另一片流沙所淹没.在沙漠里没有东西可以留下,除了永远的死亡.

白天,我躲在了自己的帐篷内,思考着红色守卫们的性格特点.就是这种性格使得红色守卫能被这片荒蛮而永恒的土地所接受.他们是天生的战士,作为一个整体, 除了阿克里尔沙漠外没有人能比他们更懂得战斗.战斗还在继续.这是一场没有仇恨的战争,这是一场能用地上赞美之辞的伟大的圣战.

在夜晚,我在这片平静的土地上小心地察看着.那时四周是非常的宁静.地上的那些沙石就像燃烧着的一样,火烫火烫;但沙石上的热量并不是来自阳光,也不是来自琼恩和约得的月光.这些热量是直接来自于塔玛瑞尔大陆心脏的跳动.

我在阿克里尔沙漠呆了两年.

写到这里的时候,我已经回到了哨卫.我们正和匕落王国发生着战争,为的只是一块覆盖着绿草的岩石,而它则是属于骼骨湾的海水的.和我在一起的所有的诗人,作家和艺术家们都对那些因贪婪和"荣誉"所陷入战争的人们而感到悲哀.这是一个悲剧,用古红色守卫语来说就是an ajcea,盘旋直下的意思.

但是我不会因此而悲伤.在阿克里尔沙漠的那段光荣的岁月里,我看见了那些永不会磨灭的石头生活在那里,而人类则在不断地消亡.我内心的那双眼睛更是看透了那片没有道路,没有定形的以及永不会改变的土地.我内心被鼓舞而且充满了希望,就像那些在沙漠中的石头那样,它们是永恒的,但人类不是.

新手注释:
阿克里尔沙漠——————位于落锤行省西部的一片沙漠,属于骼骨湾地区.就在哨卫王国的南部.

河堡城———————-埃斯维尔行省北部的一个城市.

哀伤之城—————-晨风行省的首都.

幼蛾城——————黑沼泽南部的一个城市.

赫尔斯托姆————————黑沼泽中部的一个城市.

独孤城——————-天际行省北部的一个城市.

安提费洛斯和伯伽玛—————-位于阿克里尔沙漠东部的沙漠.

琼恩和约得——————分别被称为大月亮和小月亮.

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The Alik'r
by Enric Milres
A description of time spent in the Alik'r Desert


I might never have gone to the Alik'r Desert had I not met Weltanin a little tavern in Sentinel. Weltan is a Redguard poet whose verse I had read, but only in translation. He chooses to write in the old language of the Redguards, not in Tamrielic. I once asked him why.
"The Tamrielic word for the divinely rich child of rot, silky, pressed sour milk is ... cheese," said Weltan, a huge smile spreading like a tide over his lampblack face. "The Old Redguard word for it is mluo. Tell me, if you were a poet fluent in both languages, which word would you use?"
I am a child of the cities, and I would tell him tales of the noise and corruption, wild nights and energy, culture and decadence. He listened with awed appreciation of the city of my birth: white-marbled Imperial City where all the citizenry are convinced of their importance because of the proximity of the Emperor and the lustration of the streets. They say that a beggar on the boulevards of the Imperial City is a man living in a palace. Over spiced ale, I regaled Weltan with descriptions of the swarming marketplace of Riverhold; of dark, brooding Mournhold; of the mold-encrusted villas of Lilmoth; the wonderful, dangerous alleys of Helstrom; the stately avenues of grand old Solitude. For all this, he marvelled, inquired, and commented.
"I feel as if I know your home, the Alik'r Desert, from your poems even though I've never been there." I told him.
"Oh, but you don't. No poem can express the Alik'r. It may prepare you for a visit far better than the best guide book can. But if you want to know Tamriel and be a true citizen of the planet, you must go and feel the desert yourself."
It took me a little over a year to break off engagements, save money (my greatest challenge), and leave the urban life for the Alik'r Desert. I brought several books of Weltan's poems as my travel guide.
"A sacred flame rises above the fire, The ghosts of great men and women without names, Cities long dead rise and fall in the flame, The Dioscori Song of Revelation, Bursting walls and deathless rock, Fiery sand that heals and destroys."
These first six lines from my friend's "On the Immortality of Dust" prepared me for my first image of the Alik'r Desert, though they hardly do it justice. My poor pen cannot duplicate the severity, grandeur, ephemera and permanence of the Alik'r.
All the principalities and boundaries the nations have placed on the land dissolve under the moving sand in the desert. I could never tell if I was in Antiphyllos orBergama, and few of the inhabitants could tell me. For them, and so it came to me, we were simply in the Alik'r. No. We are part of the Alik'r. That is closer to the philosophy of the desert people.
I saw the sacred flame of which Weltan wrote on my first morning in the desert: a vast, red mist that seemed to come from the deep mystery of Tamriel. Long before the noon sun, the mist had disappeared. Then I saw the cities of Weltan. The ruins of the Alik'r rise from the sand by one blast of the unbounded wind and are covered by the next. Nothing in the desert lasts, but nothing dies forever.
At daylight, I hid myself in tents, and thought about the central character of the Redguards that would cause them to adopt this savage, eternal land. They are warriors by nature. As a group, there are none better. Nothing for them has worth unless they have struggled for it. No one fought them for the desert, but the Alik'r is a great foe. The battle goes on. It is a war without rancor, a holy war in the sense the phrase should always imply.
By night, I could contemplate the land itself in its relative serenity. But the serenity was superficial. The stones themselves burned with a heat and a light that comes not from the sun, nor the moons Jone and Jode. The power of the stones comes from the beat of the heart of Tamriel itself.
Two years I spent in the Alik'r.
As write this, I am back in Sentinel. We are at war with the kingdom of Daggerfallfor the possession of a grass-covered rock that belongs to the water of the Iliac Bay. All my fellow poets, writers, and artists are despondent for the greed and pride that brought these people into battle. It is a low point, a tragedy. In the words of Old Redguard, an ajcea, a spiral down.
Yet, I cannot be sorrowful. In the years I spent in the glories of the Alik'r, I have seen the eternal stones that live on while men go dead. I have found my inner eye in the tractless, formless, changeless and changeable land. Inspiration and hope, like the stones of the desert, are eternal though men be not.

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