回归广袤大地的旅途 @Fliad@musain.cafe

Lot's Wife
Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012)

They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
Struck by the silence, hoping God had changed his mind.
Our two daughters were already vanishing over the hilltop.
I felt age within me. Distance.
The futility of wandering. Torpor.
I looked back setting my bundle down.
I looked back not knowing where to set my foot.
Serpents appeared on my path,
spiders, field mice, baby vultures.
They were neither good nor evil now--every living thing
was simply creeping or hopping along in the mass panic.
I looked back in desolation.
In shame because we had stolen away.
Wanting to cry out, to go home.
Or only when a sudden gust of wind
unbound my hair and lifted up my robe.
It seemed to me that they were watching from the walls of Sodom
and bursting into thunderous laughter again and again.
I looked back in anger.
To savor their terrible fate.
I looked back for all the reasons given above.
I looked back involuntarily.
It was only a rock that turned underfoot, growling at me.
It was a sudden crack that stopped me in my tracks.
A hamster on its hind paws tottered on the edge.
It was then we both glanced back.
No, no. I ran on,
I crept, I flew upward
until darkness fell from the heavens
and with it scorching gravel and dead birds.
I couldn't breathe and spun around and around.
Anyone who saw me must have thought I was dancing.
It's not inconceivable that my eyes were open.
It's possible I fell facing the city.

Lot's Wife
Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966）

And the just man trailed God's shining agent,
over a black mountain, in his giant track,
while a restless voice kept harrying his woman:
"It's not too late, you can still look back

at the red towers of your native Sodom,
the square where once you sang, the spinning-shed,
at the empty windows set in the tall house
where sons and daughters blessed your marriage-bed."

A single glance: a sudden dart of pain
stitching her eyes before she made a sound . . .
Her body flaked into transparent salt,
and her swift legs rooted to the ground.

Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem
too insignificant for our concern?
Yet in my heart I never will deny her,
who suffered death because she chose to turn.

写作背景调查的时候发现绝大多数讲述“don't look back”的故事里遭受诅咒的都并非回头之人而是身后之人，譬如经典的俄耳甫斯与欧律狄刻，伊邪那岐与伊邪那美，但有一个例外是罗德的妻子，因回头看了一眼毁灭中的索多玛而被变成了盐柱（其实到这里已可以另起一行就为何遭受诅咒的总是女性角色而讨论了）但问题在于，回头这个行为本质有什么问题呢？无论是出于恐惧还是留念回头看一眼自己生活过的城市都是再正常不过的行为，如果仅仅是因为违抗了不要回头这点就要被惩罚遭到诅咒，那么上帝所要救的究竟是义人还是他的绝对服从者？
古往今来关于罗德与他女儿们的艺术作品极多，大多数都带着猎奇的意味，而关于罗德的妻子除却她变成盐柱这点之外却很少有人提及，我甚至没能找到她的确切名字，一些非正统经典里唤她为Edith或Ado。基于这点我开个串记录一下找到的有关罗德的妻子的作品，值得注意的是几乎都是女性作家之作。

# 抄诗
《赤色》

胡安·赫尔曼

雨下在拉普拉塔河上
差不多三十六年前他们杀了费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦但是
这有什么关系
那些国外现实与这些国内非现实？或者说
有什么关系那些国外非现实
与这些国内现实？

我不知道这河流的灰线是否
就像切开天空的刀子
就像切开童年的刀子在阿苏尔
切开童年在圣菲以及共和国的其他地方
有时候不会休止或者从来都不休止
这是国家痛苦之一

可以确定在西边
那里的晚霞不是被太阳染红
是孩子的血染红了共和国的晚霞
萨尔塔的孩子图库曼的孩子小天使
的血蒸发或滴下被晚霞回收
每一天每一天每一天

而这与费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦的斯有什么关系
与费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦被枪毙在1936年的格拉纳达有什么关系？
难道说西边的晚霞在西班牙
不是被太阳而是被诗人
费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦的血染红
每一天每一天每一天？

我不知道不知道
“孩子当心掉进河里！”费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦说道
“当他在水中消失时我明白了”费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦说
“在玫瑰里有另一条河流”费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦说道
但为什么他的血染红了
格拉纳达每一天每一天？

而阿苏尔圣菲图库曼萨尔塔的孩子
为什么染红了共和国的天空
在天空之下被遗忘或假装被遗忘？
为什么掉进河里消失
在水里奔向另一朵玫瑰的河流
脱离丑陋的贫穷？

这有什么关系
国外的现实与这国内的非现实？或者说
有什么关系那国外的非现实
与这国内的现实？
他们何时在图库曼杀了费德里科·加西亚·洛尔迦？
他们何时在阿苏尔圣菲萨尔塔枪毙了他？