Z. Shinagawa Kâu ê Kò-pe̍h | 品川𤠣 ê 告白 - 1. Tī 客棧拄著彼隻𤠣

Confessions of a Shinagawa Monkey /by Haruki Murakami (村上春樹) /Eng trans Philip Gabriel
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/06/08/confessions-of-a-shinagawa-monkey

Shinagawa Kâu ê Kò-pe̍h | 品川𤠣 ê 告白

- -

1. Tī kheh-chàn tú-tio̍h hit-chiah kâu

Liōng-iok gō͘ nî chêng, tī Gunma (群馬) Koān chi̍t-ê un-chôaⁿ-tìn ê Ji̍t-pún sió kheh-chàn, góa tú-tio̍h hit-chiah lāu kâu-san. He sī chi̍t-keng chng-kha kheh-chàn, khak-si̍t kóng, í-keng kū-àu kū-chhàu, kiông-boeh khiā bē-chāi, góa tú-hó tī hia kòe chi̍t-mê.

Góa sì-kè lí-hêng, sûi sim-ì kiâⁿ, lâi-kàu un-chôaⁿ-tìn lo̍h hóe-chhia ê sî, í-keng sī àm-sî 7 tiám gōa ah. Chhiu-thiⁿ ê bóe-liu, ji̍t-thâu chá tō lo̍h-soaⁿ, chit só͘-chāi tà tī soaⁿ-khu chiah ū ê khóng-sek àm-hun tang-tiong. Soaⁿ-téng chhoe lo̍h ê hong léng ki-ki, kā ke-lō͘ téng kûn-thâu-bó tōa ê hio̍h-á sàu kah sa-sa kiò.

Góa kiâⁿ kòe tìn tiong-sim, teh chhōe kòe-mê ê só͘-chāi, m̄-koh bô kah chi̍t-keng khah chiâⁿ-iūⁿ ê kheh-chàn khéng tī àm-tǹg liáu chiap-thāi lâng-kheh. Góa chhì gō͘/la̍k keng, in lóng ti̍t-chiap kă kī-choa̍t. Lo̍h-bóe, tī tìn-gōa ê pha-hng tē-khu, góa chiah tú tio̍h chi̍t-keng khéng chiap-la̍p góa ê kheh-chàn. He sī chi̍t-ê khòaⁿ khí-lâi hong-liâng, phòa-kū ê só͘-chāi, bē-su sī chhâ-liâu. He í-keng kó͘-ló͘ so̍k-kó͘, m̄-koh bô lí só͘ kî-thāi ê lāu kheh-koán ê kó͘-ngá bī-le̍k. M̄-sī chia oai tō-sī hia sió-khóa siâ, ká-ná sī ta̍k-pái ê ló-chhó siu-lí lóng bô chù-ì chéng-thé ê phòe-ha̍p. Góa hoân-ló i kám kham ē-khí tē-tāng, góa kan-ta hi-bāng tī hia ê sî, chhian-bān m̄-thang tē-tāng.

Chit-keng kheh-chàn bô àm-tǹg, m̄-koh ū pau-hâm chá-tǹg, kòe-mê ê liāu-kim sio̍k kah bô-siá-sì. Ji̍p-mn̂g tō sī it-poaⁿ ê kūi-tâi, āu-bīn chē chi̍t-ê bô thâu-mo͘ ê lāu-lâng -- sīm-chì bô ba̍k-bâi -- i seng siu góa chi̍t-mê ê liāu-kim. In-ūi bô ba̍k-bâi, lāu-lâng ê tōa ba̍k-chiu ká-ná ū chha̍k-ba̍k ê koài-kî siám-kng. Lāu-lâng piⁿ-á thô͘-kha ê chhu-pò͘ téng-bīn, chi̍t-chiah kap i pêⁿ lāu ê chang-sek tōa niau, tó tī hia khùn, khùn kah chin lo̍h-bîn. Niau ê phīⁿ tiāⁿ-tio̍h ū án-nóa, in-ūi he kôⁿ-siaⁿ tōa kah góa m̄-bat thiaⁿ kòe. Ū-sî he kôⁿ-siaⁿ koh ē tòe bē-tio̍h chiat-chàu. Chit-keng kheh-chàn ê ta̍k-hāng mi̍h-kiāⁿ ē-sái kóng lóng lāu koh àu.

Góa tòa ê pâng-keng chin e̍h, ná chhiūⁿ sī khǹg mî-phōe ê chhng-khò͘; thian-pông ê teng àm-sàm, múi ta̍h chi̍t-pō͘, tatami ē-bīn ê pang tō kiⁿ-kiⁿ koāiⁿ-koāiⁿ. M̄-koh, í-keng to chiah àm ah, bô siáⁿ thang kau-peⁿ ah. Góa kā ka-tī kóng, ū chhù-kòa khàm, ū mî-phōe kah, án-ne tio̍h ài hoaⁿ-hí ah.

Góa khǹg-lo̍h tan-kiāⁿ hêng-lí: keng-thâu phāiⁿ ê kha-báng, sûi tō chhut-hoat kiâⁿ tńg tìn-siōng. (Che m̄-sī góa kah-ì siau-mô͘ sî-kan ê hit-chióng pâng-keng.) Góa kiâⁿ-ji̍p chi̍t-keng soba mī-tiàm, chia̍h chi̍t-ê kán-tan ê àm-tǹg. Mā kan-ta ē-tàng án-ne, in-ūi bô pa̍t-keng chhan-thiaⁿ khui-mn̂g. Góa tiám chi̍t-ê bihlù, kúi-lō͘ sió-chhài, koh chi̍t-óaⁿ sio soba. Soba phó͘-thong, thng bô-kàu sio, m̄-koh kāng-khoán, góa bô-siáⁿ thang hiâm lah. Án-ne chóng-sī khah iâⁿ iau-pak-tó͘ khùn. Lī-khui soba mī-tiàm liáu-āu, góa siūⁿ boeh bé chi̍t-kóa tiám-sim hām chi̍t sió-kan wiski, m̄-koh góa chhōe bô piān-lī tiàm. Hit-chūn í-keng peh-tiám gōa, khui-mn̂g ê tiàm kan-ta sī it-poaⁿ tī un-chôaⁿ-khu chhōe ē-tio̍h ê siā-kek iû-hì tiûⁿ. Chū án-ne góa koh kiâⁿ tńg kheh-chàn, ōaⁿ hó e̍k-phâu, tō lo̍h-lâu khì chìm un-chôaⁿ.

Pí khí kiàn-bu̍t hām siat-pī ê àu-kó͘, kheh-chàn ê un-chôaⁿ hó kah kiaⁿ-lâng. sio kah puh-ian ê chúi chheⁿ-lin, bô thàu-lām, liû-hông khì-bī pí góa tú-kòe ê lóng khah chha̍k-phīⁿ, tī hia góa chìm leh, kui-sin sio kàu kut-thâu. In-ūi bô pa̍t-lâng chìm un-chôaⁿ (góa sīm-chì m̄-chai, kheh-chàn kám ū kî-thaⁿ ê lâng-kheh), góa ē-tàng chìm kú-kú, hó-hó hiáng-siū un-chôaⁿ-e̍k. Kòe chi̍t-ē-á, góa sió-khóa kám-kak thâu-hîn, tō khí-lâi liâng chi̍t-ē, chiah koh lo̍h e̍k-tî. Góa siūⁿ, hoān-sè chit-keng phòa kheh-chàn chiah-sī chèng-khak ê soán-te̍k. Chia, ke chin chheng-chēng, bián chhiūⁿ tī khah tōa ê kheh-chàn án-ne, hām chhá-nāu ê koan-kong-thoân chò-hóe chìm un-chôaⁿ.

Góa tē-saⁿ pái lo̍h e̍k-tî teh chìm, hit-sî kâu-san katra chi̍t-siaⁿ thoah-khui po-lê mn̂g ji̍p-lâi.

"Pháiⁿ-sè," i kē-siaⁿ kóng. Góa gāng chi̍t-khùn chiah ì-sek tio̍h, he sī chi̍t-chiah kâu. Kāu-kāu ê sio-chúi í-keng hō͘ góa sió-khóa teh hîn, góa m̄-bat siūⁿ kòe kâu ē kóng-ōe, só͘-í góa bô hoat-tō͘ kā góa só͘ khòaⁿ tio̍h ê liân-kiat kàu che sī chi̍t-chiah chin-chiàⁿ ê kâu chit-ê sū-si̍t. Kâu-san koaiⁿ hó sin-āu ê mn̂g, chéng-lí loān-phiaⁿ ê tháng-á, koh tu̍h chi̍t-ki tō͘-chiam kàu e̍k-tî, kiám-cha un-tō͘. I chù-ì siòng tō͘-chiam ê khek-tō͘, ba̍k-chiu bui-bui án-ne, kài sêng chi̍t-ê sè-khún ha̍k-ka hoat-hiān tio̍h siáⁿ pēⁿ-goân ê sin khún-tu. 

"Chìm tio̍h án-nóa?" kâu-san mn̄g góa.

"Chiâⁿ hó. To-siā," góa kóng. Góa ê siaⁿ-im tī chúi-khì nih chùn-tāng, ki̍t-ki̍t, jiû-jiû. He thiaⁿ-tio̍h oán-jiân chhiūⁿ sîn-ōe án-ne, m̄-sī góa ka-tī ê siaⁿ, sī ká-ná ùi chhiū-nâ chhim-chhù tò tńg-lâi ê, kòe-khì ê hôe-im. Iá, hit-ê hôe-im ... tán chi̍t-ē. Kâu-san tī chia teh chhòng-siáⁿ ah? I thái ē kóng góa kóng ê ōe ah?

- -

1. Tī 客棧拄著彼隻𤠣

量約五年前, tī Gunma (群馬) 縣一个溫泉鎮 ê 日本小客棧, 我拄著彼隻老猴山. 彼是一間庄跤客棧, 確實講, 已經舊漚舊臭, 強欲徛袂在, 我拄好 tī 遐過一暝.

我四界旅行, 隨心意行, 來到溫泉鎮落火車 ê 時, 已經是暗時 7 點外 ah. 秋天 ê 尾溜, 日頭早 tō 落山, 這所在罩 tī 山區才有 ê 紺色暗昏當中. 山頂吹落 ê 風冷 ki-ki, kā 街路頂拳頭母大 ê 葉仔掃甲 sa-sa 叫.

我行過鎮中心, teh 揣過暝 ê 所在, 毋過無甲一間較成樣 ê 客棧肯 tī 暗頓了接待人客. 我試五六間, in 攏直接 kă 拒絕. 落尾, tī 鎮外 ê 拋荒地區, 我才拄著一間肯接納我 ê 客棧. 彼是一个看起來荒涼, 破舊 ê 所在, 袂輸是柴寮. 彼已經古魯 so̍k 古, 毋過無你所期待 ê 老客館 ê 古雅魅力. 毋是遮歪就是遐小可斜, 敢若是逐擺 ê 潦草修理攏無注意整體 ê 配合. 我煩惱伊敢堪會起地動, 我干焦希望 tī 遐 ê 時, 千萬毋通地動.

這間客棧無暗頓, 毋過有包含早頓, 過暝 ê 料金俗甲無捨世. 入門就是一般 ê 櫃台, 後面坐一个無頭毛 ê 老人 -- 甚至無目眉 -- 伊先收我一暝 ê 料金. 因為無目眉, 老人 ê 大目睭敢若有鑿目 ê 怪奇閃光. 老人邊仔塗跤 ê 苴布頂面, 一隻 kap 伊平老 ê 棕色大貓, 倒 tī 遐睏, 睏甲真落眠. 貓 ê 鼻定著有按怎, 因為彼鼾聲大甲我毋捌聽過. 有時彼鼾聲 koh 會綴袂著節奏. 這間客棧 ê 逐項物件會使講攏老 koh 漚.

我蹛 ê 房間真狹, 若像是囥棉被 ê 倉庫; 天篷 ê 燈暗毿, 每踏一步, tatami 下面 ê 枋 tō kiⁿ-kiⁿ koāiⁿ-koāiⁿ. 毋過, 已經 to chiah 暗 ah, 無啥通 kau-peⁿ ah. 我 kā 家己講, 有厝蓋崁, 有棉被蓋, án-ne 著愛歡喜 ah.

我囥落單件行李: 肩頭揹 ê kha-báng, 隨 tō 出發行轉鎮上. (這毋是我佮意消磨時間 ê 彼種房間.) 我行入一間 soba 麵店, 食一个簡單 ê 暗頓. Mā 干焦會當 án-ne, 因為無別間餐廳開門. 我點一个 bihlù, 幾路小菜, koh 一碗燒 soba. Soba 普通, 湯無夠燒, 毋過仝款, 我無啥通嫌 lah. Án-ne 總是較贏枵腹肚睏. 離開 soba 麵店了後, 我想欲買一寡點心和一小矸 wiski, 毋過我揣無便利店. 彼陣已經八點外, 開門 ê 店干焦是一般 tī 溫泉區揣會著 ê 射擊遊戲場. 自 án-ne 我 koh 行轉客棧, 換好浴袍, tō 落樓去浸溫泉.

比起建物和設備 ê 漚古, 客棧 ê 溫泉好甲驚人. 燒甲 puh 煙 ê 水青 lin, 無透濫, 硫磺氣味比我拄過 ê 攏較鑿鼻, tī 遐我浸 leh, 規身燒到骨頭. 因為無別人浸溫泉 (我甚至毋知, 客棧敢有其他 ê 人客), 我會當浸久久, 好好享受溫泉浴. 過一下仔, 我小可感覺頭眩, tō 起來涼一下, 才 koh 落浴池. 我想, 凡勢這間破客棧才是正確 ê 選擇. 遮, 加真清淨, 免像 tī 較大 ê 客棧 án-ne, 和吵鬧 ê 觀光團做伙浸溫泉.

我第三擺落浴池 teh 浸, 彼時猴山 katra 一聲挩開玻璃門入來.

"歹勢," 伊低聲講. 我愣一睏才意識著, 彼是一隻猴. 厚厚 ê 燒水已經予我小可 teh 眩, 我毋捌想過猴會講話, 所以我無法度 kā 我所看著 ê 連結到這是一隻真正 ê 猴這个事實. 猴山關好身後 ê 門, 整理亂抨 ê 桶仔, koh 揬一支度針到浴池, 檢查溫度. 伊注意相度針 ê 刻度, 目睭 bui-bui án-ne, 蓋成一个細菌學家發現著啥病源 ê 新菌株. 

"浸著按怎?" 猴山問我.

"誠好. 多謝," 我講. 我 ê 聲音 tī 水氣 nih 顫動, ki̍t-ki̍t, 柔柔. 彼聽著宛然像神話 án-ne, 毋是我家己 ê 聲, 是敢若 ùi 樹林深處倒轉來 ê, 過去 ê 回音. 也, 彼个回音 ... 等一下. 猴山 tī 遮 teh 創啥 ah? 伊呔會講我講 ê 話 ah?

- -

1.

I met that elderly monkey in a small Japanese-style inn in a hot-springs town in Gunma Prefecture, some five years ago. It was a rustic or, more precisely, decrepit inn, barely hanging on, where I just happened to spend a night.

I was travelling around, wherever the spirit led me, and it was already past 7 p.m. when I arrived at the hot-springs town and got off the train. Autumn was nearly over, the sun had long since set, and the place was enveloped in that special navy-blue darkness particular to mountainous areas. A cold, biting wind blew down from the peaks, sending fist-size leaves rustling along the street.

I walked through the center of the town in search of a place to stay, but none of the decent inns would take in guests after the dinner hour had passed. I stopped at five or six places, but they all turned me down flat. Finally, in a deserted area outside town, I came across an inn that would take me. It was a desolate-looking, ramshackle place, almost a flophouse. It had seen a lot of years go by, but it had none of the quaint appeal you might expect in an old inn. Fittings here and there were ever so slightly slanted, as if slapdash repairs had been made that didn’t mesh with the rest of the place. I doubted it would make it through the next earthquake, and I could only hope that no temblor would hit while I was there.

The inn didn’t serve dinner, but breakfast was included, and the rate for one night was incredibly cheap. Inside the entrance was a plain reception desk, behind which sat a completely hairless old man—devoid of even eyebrows—who took my payment for one night in advance. The lack of eyebrows made the old man’s largish eyes seem to glisten bizarrely, glaringly. On a cushion on the floor beside him, a big brown cat, equally ancient, was sacked out, sound asleep. Something must have been wrong with its nose, for it snored louder than any cat I’d ever heard. Occasionally the rhythm of its snores fitfully missed a beat. Everything in this inn seemed to be old and falling apart.

The room I was shown to was cramped, like the storage area where one keeps futon bedding; the ceiling light was dim, and the flooring under the tatami creaked ominously with each step. But it was too late to be particular. I told myself I should be happy to have a roof over my head and a futon to sleep on.

I put my one piece of luggage, a large shoulder bag, down on the floor and set off back to town. (This wasn’t exactly the type of room I wanted to lounge around in.) I went into a nearby soba-noodle shop and had a simple dinner. It was that or nothing, since there were no other restaurants open. I had a beer, some bar snacks, and some hot soba. The soba was mediocre, the soup lukewarm, but, again, I wasn’t about to complain. It beat going to bed on an empty stomach. After I left the soba shop, I thought I’d buy some snacks and a small bottle of whiskey, but I couldn’t find a convenience store. It was after eight, and the only places open were the shooting-gallery game centers typically found in hot-springs towns. So I hoofed it back to the inn, changed into a yukata robe, and went downstairs to take a bath.

Compared with the shabby building and facilities, the hot-springs bath at the inn was surprisingly wonderful. The steaming water was a thick green color, not diluted, the sulfur odor more pungent than anything I’d ever experienced, and I soaked there, warming myself to the bone. There were no other bathers (I had no idea if there were even any other guests at the inn), and I was able to enjoy a long, leisurely bath. After a while, I felt a little light-headed and got out to cool off, then got back into the tub. Maybe this decrepit-looking inn was a good choice after all, I thought. It was certainly more peaceful than bathing with some noisy tour group, the way you do in the larger inns.

I was soaking in the bath for the third time when the monkey slid the glass door open with a clatter and came inside. “Excuse me,” he said in a low voice. It took me a while to realize that he was a monkey. All the thick hot water had left me a bit dazed, and I’d never expected to hear a monkey speak, so I couldn’t immediately make the connection between what I was seeing and the fact that this was an actual monkey. The monkey closed the door behind him, straightened out the little buckets that lay strewn about, and stuck a thermometer into the bath to check the temperature. He gazed intently at the dial on the thermometer, his eyes narrowed, for all the world like a bacteriologist isolating some new strain of pathogen.

“How is the bath?” the monkey asked me.

“It’s very nice. Thank you,” I said. My voice reverberated densely, softly, in the steam. It sounded almost mythological, not like my own voice but, rather, like an echo from the past returning from deep in the forest. And that echo was . . . hold on a second. What was a monkey doing here? And why was he speaking my language?

- -