接受诺贝尔文学奖时的演说
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Speech Accepting the Nobel Prize In Literature
William Faulliner
I feel that this award was not made to me as a man,but to my-work’s life work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit,not for glory and least of all for profit,but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before.So this award is only mine in trust.It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin.But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too,by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail,among whom is already that one who will some day stand where I am standing.
Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it.There are no longer problems of the spirit.There is only the question:When will I be blown up?Because of this,the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about,worth the agony and the sweat.
He must learn them again.He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid;and,teaching himself that,forget it forever,leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart,the universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice.Until he does so,he labors under a curse.He writes not of love but of lust,of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value,of victories without hope and,worst of all,without pity or compassion.His griefs grieve on no universal bones,leaving no scars.He writes not of the heart but of the glands.
Until he learns these things,he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man.I decline to accept the end of man.It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure:that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening,that even then there will still be one more sound:that of his puny inexhaustible voice,still talking.I refuse to accept this.I believe that man will not merely endure:he will prevail.He is immortal,not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice,but because he has a soul,a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
The poet,the writer’s duty is to write about these things.It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heary,by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past.The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man,it can be one of the props,the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
威廉・福克纳
我感到这份奖赏不是授予我个人，而是授予我终生的工作――人类精神呕心沥血的工作。我从事这项工作，不是为了追名逐利，而是为了从人的精神原料中创造出一些先前没有的东西。因此，这份荣誉只不过是托我保管而已。要作一个与这份荣誉原先的目的和意义相符，又与其奖金等价的献词并不困难。但我还是愿意利用这个时刻，利用这个举世瞩目的讲坛，向那些可能听到我讲话，并已献身于同一艰苦劳动领域的男女青年致敬。他们中肯定有人有一天也会站到我现在所处的地方来。
我们今天的悲剧是人们普遍存在的一种生理上的恐惧，这种恐惧由来已久，以致我们已经习惯了。现在不存在精神上的问题，唯一的问题是：“我什么时候会被炸得粉身碎骨？”正因为如此，今天从事写作的男女青年已经忘记了人类内心的冲突，而这种冲突本身就能产生好作品，因为这是唯一值得写，值得呕心沥血的题材。
他一定要重新认识这些问题。他必须使自己明白世间最可鄙的事情莫过于恐惧。他必须使自己永远忘却恐惧，在他的工作室里除了心底古老的真理之外，任何东西都没有容身之地。没有这古老的普遍真理，任何小说都只能是昙花一现，不会成功；这些真理就是爱、荣誉、怜悯、自尊、同情与牺牲等情感。如果他不能做到这些，那么他的努力终究是徒劳。他不是写爱情而是写，他写的失败是未曾有人失去过的可贵东西的失败，他写的胜利是没有希望、更糟的是没有怜悯或同情的胜利。他的悲伤不是为了世上万物，所以不能留下深刻的痕迹。他不是在写心灵而是在写器官。
在他重新懂得这些之前，他写作时，就犹如站在处于世界末日的人类中观察末日的来临。我不接受人类末日的说法。人们常认为，人类之所以不会灭亡，仅仅是因为他能够延续，即便当他生命的表钟敲响又渐渐消失在沧海桑田和落日余晖中时，他的声音仍在延续――即便十分微弱，这种逻辑未免太过于简单。我相信人类不仅能延续。而且能战胜一切而永存。人类不朽不是因为在万物中唯有他能永远发言、而是因为他有灵魂，有同情心、有牺牲和忍耐精神。
诗人和作家的责任就是把这些写出来。诗人和作家的特权就是去鼓舞人的斗志，使人记住过去曾经有过的光荣――人类曾有过的勇气、荣誉、希望、自尊、同情、怜悯与牺牲精神――以达到永恒。诗人的声音不应只是人类的记录，而应成为使人类永存并得到胜利的支柱和栋梁。