AI算命大師
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To Josephine, 1796
I have not spent a day without loving you; I have not spent a night without embracing you; I have not so much as drunk one cup of tea without cursing the pride and ambition which force me to remain apart from the moving spirit of my life. In the midst of my duties, whether I am at the head of my army or inspecting the camps, my beloved Josephine stands alone in my heart, occupies my mind, fills my thoughts. If I am moving away from you with the speed of the Rhone torrent, it is only that I may see you again more quickly. If I rise to work in the middle of the night, it is because this may hasten by a matter of days the arrival of my sweet love. Yet in your letter of the 23rd and 26th ventose, you all me vous. Vous yourself! Ah! Wretch, how could you have written this letter? How cold it is! And then there are those four days between the 23rd and the 26th; what were you doing that you failed to write to you husband?...Ah, my love, that vous, those four days make me long for my former indifference. Woe to the person responsible! May he, as punishment and penalty, experience what my convictions and the evidence (which is in your friend’s favour) would make me experience! Hell has no torments great enough! Nor do the Furies have serpents enough! Vous! Vous! Ah! How will things stand in two weeks?...My spirit is heavy; my heart is fettered and Iam terrified by my fantasies…You love me less; but you will get over the loss. One day you will love me no longer; at least tell me; then I shall know how I have come to deserve this misfortune…Farwell, my wife:the torment, joy, hope and moving spirit of my life; whom I love, whom I fear, who fills me with tender feelings which draw me close to Nature, and with violent impulses as tumultuous as thunder. I ask of you neither eternal love, nor fidelity, but simply…truth, unlimited honesty. The day when you say ‘I love you less’, will mark the end of my love and the last day of my life. If my heart were base enough to love without being loved in return I would tear it to pieces. Josephine! Josephine! Remember what I have sometimes said to you:Nature has endowed me with a virile and decisive character. It has built yours out of lace and gossamer. Have you ceased to love me ? Forgive me, love of my life, my soul is racked by conflicting forces.
My heart, obsessed by you, is full of fears which prostrate me with misery…I am distressed not to be calling you by name. I shall wait for you to write it.
Farwell! Ah! If you love me less you can never have loved me. In that case I shall truly be pitiable.
Bonaparte
PS-The war this year has changed beyond recognition. I have had meat, bread and fodder distributed; my armed cavalry will soon be on the march. My soldiers are showing inexpressible confidence in my; you alone are a source of chagrin to me; you alone are the joy and torment of my life. I send a kiss to your children, whom you do not mention. By God! If you did, your letters would be half as long again.
The visitor at ten o’clock in the morning would not have the pressure of seeing. Woman!!!
I have not spent a day without loving you; I have not spent a night without embracing you; I have not so much as drunk one cup of tea without cursing the pride and ambition which force me to remain apart from the moving spirit of my life. In the midst of my duties, whether I am at the head of my army or inspecting the camps, my beloved Josephine stands alone in my heart, occupies my mind, fills my thoughts. If I am moving away from you with the speed of the Rhone torrent, it is only that I may see you again more quickly. If I rise to work in the middle of the night, it is because this may hasten by a matter of days the arrival of my sweet love. Yet in your letter of the 23rd and 26th ventose, you all me vous. Vous yourself! Ah! Wretch, how could you have written this letter? How cold it is! And then there are those four days between the 23rd and the 26th; what were you doing that you failed to write to you husband?...Ah, my love, that vous, those four days make me long for my former indifference. Woe to the person responsible! May he, as punishment and penalty, experience what my convictions and the evidence (which is in your friend’s favour) would make me experience! Hell has no torments great enough! Nor do the Furies have serpents enough! Vous! Vous! Ah! How will things stand in two weeks?...My spirit is heavy; my heart is fettered and Iam terrified by my fantasies…You love me less; but you will get over the loss. One day you will love me no longer; at least tell me; then I shall know how I have come to deserve this misfortune…Farwell, my wife:the torment, joy, hope and moving spirit of my life; whom I love, whom I fear, who fills me with tender feelings which draw me close to Nature, and with violent impulses as tumultuous as thunder. I ask of you neither eternal love, nor fidelity, but simply…truth, unlimited honesty. The day when you say ‘I love you less’, will mark the end of my love and the last day of my life. If my heart were base enough to love without being loved in return I would tear it to pieces. Josephine! Josephine! Remember what I have sometimes said to you:Nature has endowed me with a virile and decisive character. It has built yours out of lace and gossamer. Have you ceased to love me ? Forgive me, love of my life, my soul is racked by conflicting forces.
My heart, obsessed by you, is full of fears which prostrate me with misery…I am distressed not to be calling you by name. I shall wait for you to write it.
Farwell! Ah! If you love me less you can never have loved me. In that case I shall truly be pitiable.
Bonaparte
PS-The war this year has changed beyond recognition. I have had meat, bread and fodder distributed; my armed cavalry will soon be on the march. My soldiers are showing inexpressible confidence in my; you alone are a source of chagrin to me; you alone are the joy and torment of my life. I send a kiss to your children, whom you do not mention. By God! If you did, your letters would be half as long again.
The visitor at ten o’clock in the morning would not have the pressure of seeing. Woman!!!
當兵時最渴望收到心上人的來信，即使三言兩語都彌足珍貴。拿破崙的心情，我理解。
這封情書我的翻譯如下，懇請高手們賜教。
給 約瑟芬 1796年
我没有一天不愛着妳，没有一夜不在夢裡擁妳入眠。甚至每次舉杯時，總是忍不住譴責自己那該死的榮譽和野心促使我離開了妳這個心肝寶貝。在行軍作戰或視察營地時，只有約瑟芬妳，一直在我心中盤旋不去。滿腦子想的都是妳。如果說，我像羅納河急流那樣奔馳離妳而去，那只是為了能儘早與妳相聚。如果說，我半夜起床工作，那也只是為了等待黎明而能早點迎接妳的到來。可是，妳在23~26日間的一封信上竟稱我為【您】，妳竟然很有禮貌地稱呼我為【您】。【您自己】，渾蛋，妳怎麼寫得出這樣的信？它是多麼令人心寒。另外，從23~26日，有整整4天時間，妳都幹啥去了，怎麼不給妳的丈夫多寫寫信？唉，我的寶貝，這個【您】和一連4天沒再給我寫信，會使我嚮往早年我不為愛情沉迷的歲月。讓造成這一切的那個渾蛋倒霉去吧。讓她在懲罰中感受一下我的痛苦吧。什麼叫地獄的酷刑？什麼是復仇女神的蛇蝎？妳的冷淡。兩週後又會是什麼樣子？我内心沉重煎熬。我的心靈被束縛到喘不過氣，我的想像讓我不寒而慄。妳不那麼愛我了，可能妳已經找到了另一個愛。有朝一日，妳不再愛我時，告訴我，我至少可以知道怎樣去承受這種打擊。
别了，我的愛妻。我生命中的折磨、快樂、希望和主宰。我對妳又愛又怕。妳激起我柔軟的本性也造成了我天雷地火般的感情風暴。我不祈求妳永遠愛我，也没有要求妳的忠真，我只要個事實真相和坦率。當有一天妳對我說【我不那麼愛你了】，那將是我的愛情末日也是我生命的結束。要是我的心竟卑賤到只投入愛卻不求回報，只是在單相思，那麼我將憤怒難耐而不惜砸碎了它。約瑟芬。約瑟芬。妳記得有幾次我對妳說過，老天給了我堅毅、果決的意志，妳却是用花邊和薄紗製造了另一個我。妳已不再愛我了？對不起，我生命的主宰，我的腦子被不安的想像搞得得一團亂，裝滿了妳的心則被恐懼深深地折磨著，我痛苦到無法言語。請儘快給我回信。
再見了。天啊，如果妳不再那麼愛我，或者妳從來就沒有愛過我，我就真的太可憐了。
波拿巴
附筆：今年打仗，已不同往日。我已差人給軍隊配發肉食、麵包和飼料。我的裝甲騎兵即將開拔，我的士兵們對我顯示出難以言喻的信任。只有妳始終讓我擔心著，只有妳，我生命的歡樂和折磨。
代我親吻妳的孩子們，雖然妳信上没有提到他們。妳為什麼不提一下他們呢，這樣不是可以讓妳寫的信增加上半倍長度嗎？當然，那樣一來，妳的訪客可要失去上午10點就能見到妳的歡樂了。唉，女人。
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