牽 絲 戲

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6YobfNjeqc

        打小兒我就能看見些不同尋常的東西，旁人看不見的，見識這故事的時候，就是這樣，只不過那時我還年輕，一切都可以並不當作一回事。見鬼見神也好，獨自出遊也好，那時候覺得都沒什麼要緊，所以就這麼給阻在路上，好歹算有座破廟能擋一擋風雪。 我就是在那個大風雪的夜裡，在那座廟裡，遇見了他們——演傀儡戲的老人，和他的木偶。 那是一種很奇怪的感覺。 老爺子破衣爛衫，年紀足夠半截身子入土，隨身沒半點值錢玩意兒，除了那木偶——那木偶是個嬌貴女孩兒模樣，做工太好，嬌貴鮮艷得剛描畫出來似的，神情栩栩如生，眼角掛著一滴淚惹得我都心猿意馬，好險沒伸手去接。 自然接不到的。 偶遇也算有緣，夜深雪大無事可做，我同老爺子湊著一堆火邊烤邊聊，話匣子一開便合不攏，聽他嘮嘮叨叨多半個時辰，從前事講了個底兒。講他小時候何等貪玩，一聽見盤鈴聲就收不住腳，知道是演牽絲傀儡的賣藝人來了，就奔著那小戲台子去，給三尺紅棉台毯上木偶來來往往演出的傀儡戲勾了魂兒，一高興，乾脆學起了傀儡戲。家裡打也打了罵也罵了，見是真止不住，也只好由得他去。 也這麼入了行，也演了一輩子。 漂泊過多少山水，賣藝的到底都是賣藝的，除了年輕時一股逍遙浪蕩的勁兒，還能剩下什麼呢？ 沒個家，沒個伴兒。一輩子什麼都沒剩下，除了這麼個陪他一輩子的木偶。 老爺子沒說完就哭了，拿補丁摞補丁的袖子揩臉，揩了再揩也揩不凈。我也不知道該怎麼說，順著他口風哄了兩句，乾脆求老爺子亮亮手藝，想不到這招好使，老爺子擤擤鼻子止了哭，真給我演了一齣。 其實我看不太懂戲文裏咿咿呀呀悲欣交集，但那伴著盤鈴樂翩翩起舞的木偶美得觸目驚心，縱然知道只是絲線牽出的舉手投足，也活了似的叫人忍不住想挽手相攙，看完叫人不得不嘆一聲：真不愧演了一輩子。我由衷說：老爺子您可真不愧演了一輩子。 老爺子聽著這句，也抱著木偶笑了笑，笑完，臉色就變了。 一輩子啊，一輩子就幹了這麼一件事兒，活成這麼個慫樣，就這麼糟踐了自個兒這一輩子。 怪誰？還不是怪這玩意兒。 他盯著懷裡那精緻木偶看了半天：大雪滔天，棉衣都置備不上，這一冬眼看都要過不去了，還要你做什麼呢？都不如燒了——還能暖暖身子。 還沒等我回過神來，老爺子手一揚，木偶就進了火堆。 我攔也攔不住，話都說不出，滿腦子只剩一句可惜。 然後那一幕，我此生難忘，火光舔過木偶一身綺麗舞袖歌衫，燎著了椴木雕琢的細巧骨骼，燒出嗶嗶啵啵響動。那一瞬間它忽地動了，一骨碌翻身而起，活人似的悠悠下拜，又端然又嫵媚地對著老爺子作了個揖。 它揚起含淚的臉兒，突然笑了笑，咔一聲碎入炭灰。 那晚的火燃得格外久也格外暖，分明沒太多柴火，一堆火卻直到天光放亮才漸漸冷下去。 「拼盡全力， 暖了那麼一次，孤單了一輩子。」 到如今，我還記得老爺子放聲大哭的模樣，嚎啕得就像個當年被爹娘攔著阻著不准去看牽絲傀儡戲的那個孩子。

嘲笑誰恃美揚威  沒了心如何相配
盤鈴聲清脆  帷幕間燈火幽微
我和你  最天生一對

沒了你才算原罪  沒了心才好相配
你襤褸我彩繪  並肩行過山與水
你憔悴  我替你明媚

是你吻開筆墨  染我眼角珠淚
演離合相遇悲喜為誰
他們迂回誤會  我卻只由你支配
問世間哪有更完美

蘭花指捻紅塵似水
三尺紅台  萬事入歌吹
唱別久悲不成悲  十分紅處竟成灰
願誰記得誰  最好的年歲

你一牽我舞如飛  你一引我懂進退
苦樂都跟隨  舉手投足不違背
將謙卑  溫柔成絕對

你錯我不肯對  你懵懂我蒙昧
心火怎甘心揚湯止沸
你枯我不曾萎  你倦我也不敢累
用什麼暖你一千歲

風雪依稀秋白髮尾
燈火葳蕤  揉皺你眼眉
假如你舍一滴淚  假如老去我能陪
煙波裡成灰  也去得完美

        余少能視鬼，嘗於雪夜野寺，逢一提傀儡翁，鶴髮襤褸，唯持一木偶制作極精，宛如嬌女，繪珠淚盈睫，惹人見憐。
        時雲彤雪狂，二人比肩向火，翁自述曰：少時好觀牽絲戲，耽於盤鈴傀儡之技，既年長，其志愈堅，遂以此為業，以物像人自得其樂。奈何漂泊終生，居無所行無侶，所伴唯一傀儡木偶。
        翁且言且泣，余溫言釋之，懇其奏盤鈴樂，作牽絲傀儡戲，演劇於三尺紅綿之上，度曲咿嚶，木偶顧盼神飛，雖妝繪悲容，而婉媚絕倫。
        曲終，翁抱持木偶，稍作歡容，俄頃恨怒，曰：平生落魄，皆傀儡誤之，天寒，冬衣難置，一貧至此，不如焚，遂忿然投偶入火。吾止而未及，跌足嘆惋。忽見火中木偶婉轉而起，肅拜揖別，姿若生人，繪面淚痕宛然，一笑迸散，沒於篝焰。
        火至天明方熄。
        翁頓悟，掩面嚎啕，曰：暖矣，孤矣。

I could see spirits since I was small. On a snowy day I once met an old marionettist in a wild temple. His hair were white, his clothes were ragged, but he had an extremely exquisite marionette the appearance of a fair girl. Her eyes were painted with drops of tears, and roused the tenderest sympathy. The clouds were vermillion, the snow was howling. We warmed ourselves side by side by a fire, and the old man told his story: “When I was young I loved to watch marionette plays, and was charmed by handbells and string puppets. The older I grew, the more determined I got, and I decided to make a living of it. I delight when my marionette looks like human, but all my life I drift by the tide of fate, and have no home and no wife. The only one I get that stays by my side is my wooden marionette.” The old man talked and weeped. I tried to cheer him up and pleaded him to play for me. He played his handbell and performed marionette over a three feet red cotton. The melody sounded celestial and sad, the marionette moved beautifully. Despite her sorrowful looking, she was extremely breathtaking. The melody ended. The old man held his girl, delighted for a while, and then got angry. He said “I am miserable all my life because of string puppets. It is cold, and I can’t buy winter clothes. If I am so poor, it’s better to burn the puppet.” Then he angrily threw the marionette into the fire. I tried to stop him but was too late. I fell to the ground and sighed. Suddenly, there marionette rose up in the fire, stood solemnly, and bowed. She looked exactly like a living person, full of her painted tears. She smiled when the wood cracked, and she disappeared in the smoke and the fire. The fire did not go out until daybreak. The old man suddenly understood. He covered his face, cried: “I am warm. I am alone.”

我喜歡文言文！感覺像能跟祖先溝通。