2017/7/15

今天，去送老师最后一程。

走近棺木，看老师最后一眼。

他安静地躺着，面目安详；手上有一串珠木。

只是没了生命的气息。

这是在病房里老师跟我探讨了无数次的死亡吗？

有点恍惚。

这双手，在两个星期前还曾握过，还暖和和的。

在一个月前，这双手还抚摸着书稿，跟我讲他的《宗教艺术》第三册出版事宜。

我历历在目我们的每次交谈，就象他清清楚楚记得我们之间的每次对话。电影艺术是我们的共同话题。

难道生命就这样说没有就没有了吗？！

我无法接受，也无法感受；痛苦似乎还在遥远的地方，等待着我的蓦然回首。

我坚持地看着他的棺木葬下的时刻，体验着他所说的决绝与死亡。

在教堂葬礼举行时，我常常盯着窗外摇曳的树枝；在墓地，我专注着天上漂浮的云彩，远处成片的树林，和身旁阵阵的微风。

当生命失去的时候，当我被死亡抛弃和割裂的时候，永恒成为哭泣的安慰。

Dante's The Divine Comedy

There's so much more to say. Not now, perhaps.
I can't go further speaking the sad truth,
For see, a new cloud rises from the sand:
People I mustn't meetwill soo arrive.
My book, called Treasure, is at your command:
"Read it. I ask no more. There, I'm alive."

He turned then, and he ran like one of those
Who in Verona's field race for the prize
Of green cloth. Like the first, the last man knows
He, too, will be marked out before all eyes.
But this one ran as if the race were his
To win, not lose. As his life was, and is.

(Translated by Clive James, Canto 15, in Brunetto Latini’s farview speech to his beloved student - Dante.)