我和我的大提琴
Six years ago I, then a fellow of 35, was struck by an impulse of the romantic and irreducible sort, which I have since compared to a torrid scene in The Godfather except that it was not a Sicilian virgin who fired my thoughts but a shapely descendant of the violin family, the cello.Straightaway I obtained a rental instrument of heavy plywood and appeared before Wendell Margrave, professor of musical instruction. It was winter. "You can be as good as you want to be," Margrave said rather mysteriously. On a scrap of paper he drew a staff with the notes E and F. He showed me where to put my fingers on the neck and how to draw the bow. Then he entered my name in his book: 10 a.m. Tuesday. Tuesday followed Tuesday, and soon it was spring.
六年前，我已是35歲的人了，心裏卻突然產生壹種浪漫卻又無法減弱的沖動，我把這種沖動比作電影《教父》裏熱烈的壹幕。不過，激起我這種想法的，不是西西裏島上的少女，而是提琴家族中外形優美的後裔——大提琴。我立刻租了壹具厚膠合板制作的大提琴，然後來到音樂教授溫德爾·馬格瑞夫面前。那是冬天的事。“妳想拉得多好就可以有多好，”馬格瑞夫的話說得很玄妙。他在壹張紙上畫出五線譜，標上E和F兩個音調符。他向我示範手指應放在琴頸的什麽部位，怎樣運弓。然後，他在記事簿上記下我的姓名：星期二上午10時。壹個又壹個星期二過去，很快就到了春天。
Thus began my voyage out of ignorance and into the dream. Is there one among us who has not had this dream? Who has not picked up a friend's guitar and felt the songs locked inside? Who has not wondered if he could learn to play the Moonlight Sonata, at least the easy beginning part? It was most remarkable to have a teacher again. E-F, E-F, we played together - and moved on to G. It was a happy time. I was again becoming, and no longer trapped in what I had become.Surely the most abominable recognition of middle life is that we are past changing. Oh, we switch – switch salad dressings and mutual funds -- but we don't change. We do what we can already do. The cello was something I demonstrably couldn't do. Yet each Tuesday I could not do it slightly less.No one was watching, and a good thing. In an upstairs room of my city house, at midnight, I would send out through the open windows long, tortured fragments of Alwin Schroeder's 170 Foundation Studies for Violoncello to mingle with the squeals of cats. The footfalls of unseen passers-by would curiously stop, and then resume in haste.Riding home on the bus one snowy night and perusing the score of Mozart's C-Major Quintet, I felt the page burst into music in my hands. I could by then more or less read a score, and was humming the cello line, when suddenly all five parts blossomed harmonically in my head. The fellow across the aisle stared. I met his glance with tears, actually hearing the music in my head for the first time. Could he hear it too, perhaps? No, he got off at the next stop.
我就是這樣開始了從無知駛向夢想的航行。我們當中有誰沒做過這樣的夢？誰沒拿起過朋友的吉他而感覺到其中所藏著的妙歌仙曲？誰沒有思忖著自己能否學會演奏《月光》奏鳴曲，哪怕是開頭容易的那部分？再次有個老師真是再好不過了。E——F，E——F，我們壹起拉，然後移到G調。這是壹段愉快的時光。我再次有了變化，變得不再深陷在已成形的自我裏了。當然，中年人最不願承認的，就是自己已經錯過了能改變的時候。噢，我們也改變——變變色拉的調料，換換互惠基金——但我們自己並無變化。我們做已經會做的事情，拉大提琴是我顯然不會做的事情，不過，每星期二，我多少總得學會壹點。沒有人看我拉琴，這是件好事。午夜時分，我在城裏住宅的樓上房間裏，經常拉阿爾溫·舒羅德的《大提琴基本練習曲170首》，從敞開的窗戶傳出長時間折磨人的練習曲片段，和貓的*聲混在壹起。看不見過路人，但聞其腳步聲好奇地停下，然後又匆匆走開。在壹個飄雪的夜晚，我乘公***汽車回家，在車上仔細閱讀莫紮特C大調五重奏的總譜。我覺得樂譜在我手中突然變成了音樂。當時，我已多少能閱讀總譜，小聲哼著大提琴的調子，突然，那五個部分如花壹般很和諧地在我腦中開放。坐在我對面的人盯著我看。我迎著他的目光時，眼裏含著淚，這的確是我第壹次在心中聽到了音樂。也許他也能聽到？不，他第二站就下車了。
As the years slipped by, my daughter passed into the teen-age vale, developing a youthful proficiency on the piano. My goal was that she and I would one day perform together. I also wanted to perform in public with and for my peers, and to be secretly envied.I continue to play, to perform, but it is not the same. Fantasy, it turns out, is debased in the attainment. Before, when I heard a cello, it was all beauty and light. Now, as the TV camera pushes in close to Rostropovich's face, I recognize that charismatic grin as a mask of fierce determination. Even for him, the cello is an intractable instrument, unforgiving of ambition. I picked up my cello, screw tight the hairs of the bow and soar once more into Belle Nuit, the vibrato still wobbling like an unbalanced tire. As good as I wanted to be, I am as good as I'm going to get. It is good enough.
時間壹年年地過去，我女兒已是十幾歲的少女，成長為熟練的青年鋼琴手。我的目標是有朝壹天能和女兒壹起演奏。我還向往能同像我壹樣的音樂愛好者們在公***場所演奏，而且有人在暗中羨慕我。我繼續練琴、演奏，但情形和從前大不壹樣了。結果是，幻想在實現後魅力大減。從前我聽到大提琴，覺得那聲音是美麗和光彩的組合。現在，電視鏡頭放出羅斯特羅波維奇的面部特寫時，我發現他那充滿魅力的笑臉其實是堅定決心的面具。即使對他來說，大提琴也是難以駕馭的樂器——它對雄心萬丈的人也壹樣鐵面無情。我拿起我的大提琴，擰緊弓毛，再壹次悠揚地奏起《夜色美麗》，顫音仍然顫抖如同不平衡的輪胎。以前我想拉壹手好琴，現在我已做到了，我和我想的壹樣好。這就已經夠了。