（代阿德梅托斯受死的阿尔克斯提斯 Alcestis gives her life for Admetus / 海因里奇 Heinrich Friedrich Füger）
阿尔克斯提斯
突然地 信使就出现在他们当中
就像是扔进婚礼这口沸腾的大锅里的
一件新的食材 喝酒的人们没有留意到
神的了无痕迹的进入 他把自己的灵气紧紧地
贴在身上 毫无间隙地 像是裹紧一件湿漉漉的斗篷
他从人们的身边经过 看上去跟他们
一模一样 这个人或者那个人
但是一个客人突然看见了 在话说到一半的时候
坐在桌子的头上的年轻的新郎 像是被突然弹射起来
不再歪歪扭扭无精打采 然后 他的整个人 上上下下 都映射出一种陌生感
他在跟他讲话 面带恐惧 然后立刻 嘈杂消失了
一片静寂 只余了底部一些浑浊的噪音
那是零零碎碎的人声的跌落和沉淀 停滞已经开始 笑声正在腐变
突然地 他们就觉察到了神的存在 纤细的神
他坚定地站在那里 内心负载着所有的使命- 他们几乎就要知道了
可是当那个消息被正式宣布时 它还是超出了所有人的认知 没有人想象得到
阿德墨托斯必须得死 什么时候？ 就在这个时辰
但是阿德墨托斯冲破了自己恐惧的外壳
从支离破碎中向外伸出双手，与神讨价还价：
请再多给我点时间，几年？ 就一年的青春时光？
几个月？几周？几天。
好吧，不要天了，就晚上吧，就一晚上，
今天晚上，这一个，这里。
神拒绝了他的请求 他大声痛哭
他哭喊着 没有任何保留地 就像是
他母亲分娩生下他时发出的喊叫
他的母亲出现了 来到他身边 那个年老的妇人
他的父亲也来了 他的老父亲
他们站在那里 老态龙钟 疲惫不堪 茫然无助
在他们嚎叫的儿子身边 男人突然看到了他们
就好像以前从来没有见过他们一样 这么近地看着他们
他断断续续 吞吞吐吐：
“ 父亲，
余生对于你来说还有什么意义 渣滓呢
几乎能阻塞你下咽的食物
来吧 把它倒掉丢弃吧。
还有你 年老的妇人 母亲！
你为什么还要存在呢： 你已经生过养过了”
他一下子把他们紧紧地抓在手中 像祭祀用的牲畜一样
然后又突然松手 猛地把他们推开
心中只剩下一个念头 他目光炯炯，呼吸急促，大声叫着 “克里昂! 克里昂！'
他的心中只剩下这个念头 别无他物 只剩下这个名字
但是在他的脸上 明明写着另外的一个名字
他说不出口 只是无名地期待着
他热情高涨 隔着一桌的混乱 向他的朋友伸出手 他所挚爱的朋友
“那些老家伙们 （站在那儿的那些）， 你看，
他们已经不能当作赎金了 他们已经被用完了
完蛋了，没有任何价值了，
而你不一样，你，看看你，你正当最美丽的年华” -
但是他已经看不到他的朋友了 朋友就那么消失了
他抽身后退， 看到有人走过来， 是她，她
几乎比记忆中的她还要小一些
纤弱的 悲痛的 女人穿着漂白过的嫁衣
人们站成了窄窄的甬道 顺着这条甬道 她来了 来了-
（很快她就会扑进他的双臂 那饱含痛苦张开的双臂）
但是在他等待的时候 她开口了 没有对他。 她在
向神说话 神在倾听 所有的人都听到了 就像
那来自神的内心：
“没有别人能够成为他的替代品。我可以。
我是他的赎金。因为没有人像我一样
已经完结，我人生的剩余跟已经过去的有什么区别？
只有死了。就是这样的 是的 我就要赴死了
阿尔忒弥斯神没有告诉过你吗 当她下达这样的命令的时候
她没有告诉你 那张床 在屋里面等待的那张床，
属于下面的那个世界？
我是真的要走了 这是离别的时刻
没有谁死去会获得更多 我真的要离开了
这样 这所有的一切 都会在他的身下埋葬，
他 我现在的丈夫，在他的身下自我融化和消逝 —-
所以带我去吧： 让我真正地为他而死
就像是开阔海面上的风转了方向
神灵开始向她靠近 就仿佛她已经是死人中的一员
一下子便到了她身边—-
一下子 便跟她的丈夫拉开了距离
在一个秘不可宣的轻微姿态里
神把几百条生命 仍给了他
他踉踉跄跄地向两人扑过去
紧紧抓住他们 仿佛是在梦里
他们已经走向了出口，女人们挤在那里
抽泣着，他又一次看到 那个女孩的脸
微笑着转向他 如同希望一样明亮
那几乎是一个承诺：已经兑现了的
带着他从死亡的深处返回 生命 —-
活着 确确实实地 他跪在那里
手捂住了脸 以致于 除了那张笑脸之外
他再也不到其他东西了
～～～～～～
阿尔克斯提斯（英語：Alcestis）。[1]古希腊女性人物之一。由古希腊欧里庇得斯相关悲剧作品之中所反映并闻名。为国王珀利阿斯之女，曾代替患病的丈夫阿德墨托斯受死，后为人所救出。其事迹亦于艺术作品中得到广泛反映，如歐里庇得斯寫成同名的古希臘悲劇。
（维基百科）
阿尔克提斯的丈夫阿德墨托斯被命运女神判了死刑，但阿波罗出面求情，如果能有另外一个人替他去死，阿德墨托斯便可以幸免于难。于是阿德墨托斯去求自己的父母，兄弟姐妹和朋友，没有人愿意替他去死。最后阿尔克提斯站了出来，愿意代替他赴死。 离别前神问阿德墨托斯，你愿意你的妻子替你去死吗。阿德墨托斯说他愿意。
后来被阿尔克提斯感动，阿尔克大力神赫拉克勒斯将她从地狱解救了出来，让她死而复生。回到阿德墨托斯身边的可阿尔克提斯却永远保持了沉默，再也没有说过一句话。
～～～～～～
Alcestis
Suddenly the messenger was there among them,
thrown into the simmer of the wedding-feast
like a new ingredient. The drinkers did not sense
the god’s secret entrance, holding his divinity
so close to himself, like a wet mantle,
and seeming one of them, this man or that,
as he passed through. But one of the guests
suddenly saw, in mid-speech, the young bridegroom,
at the table’s head, as if snatched up into the heights,
no longer reclining there, and, with his whole being,
mirroring, all over, a strangeness, that spoke to him, with terror.
And immediately after, as though a mixture cleared,
there was silence, only with a residue at the bottom
of clouded noise, and a precipitate
of fallen babbling, already offering the corruption
of musty laughter that has begun to turn.
Suddenly they were aware of the slender god,
and as he stood there, filled inwardly with his mission
and unyielding – they almost knew.
And yet, when it was spoken, it was greater
than all knowledge, none could grasp it.
Admetus has to die. When? This very hour.
But he broke through the shell of his terror
and stretched his hands from the fragments
outwards from them, to bargain with the god.
For years, for only one more year of youth,
for months, for weeks, for a few days,
oh, not days, for nights, for only one,
for one night, for just this one, for this.
The god refused, and then he cried out,
and cried out, and held nothing back, and cried
as his mother cried out in childbirth.
And she appeared near him, an old woman,
and also his father came, his old father
and both stood there, old, worn out, helpless,
by the howling man, who suddenly saw them,
as never before, so close, broke off, swallowed, said:
‘Father,
does it matter to you then what’s left, the dregs,
that will almost stop you from cramming your food?
Come: pour them away. And you, you, old woman,
Mother,
what are you still doing here: you’ve given birth?’
And held them both like sacrificial beasts
in his single grasp. All at once he loosed them
and thrust the old people away, filled with an idea,
gleaming, breathing hard, calling: ‘Creon! Creon!’
And nothing but that: and nothing but that name.
Yet in his face stood the other name,
he could not say, namelessly expected,
as he held it out, glowing, to his young friend,
that beloved friend, through the table’s confusion.
‘These old ones (it stood there), you see, are no ransom,
they are used up, and done for, and almost worthless,
but you, you, in all your beauty’ –
But then he no longer saw his friend.
He hung back, and that which came, was her,
a little smaller almost than he knew her,
and slight, and sorrowful, in her bleached wedding-dress.
All the others are only her narrow path
down which she comes, and comes – ( soon she’ll be
there in his arms, that have opened in pain)
But as he waits, she speaks: not to him.
She speaks to the god, and the god listens,
and all hear, as it were, within the god:
‘No other can be a substitute for him. I am.
I am his ransom. For no one else is finished,
as I am. What remains to me then of that
which I was, here? That is it, yes, that I’m dying.
Didn’t she tell you, Artemis, when she commanded this,
that the bed, that one which waits inside,
belongs to the other world below? I’m really taking leave.
Parting upon parting.
No one who dies takes more. I truly depart,
so that all this, buried beneath him
who is now my husband, melts and dissolves itself –
So take me there: I die indeed for him.
And as the wind changes, over the open sea,
so the god approached as if she were almost one of the dead,
and he was all at once far from her husband,
to whom, concealed in a slight gesture,
he threw the hundred lives of Earth.
He plunged, staggering, towards the two,
and grasped at them as if in dream. They were already
going towards the entrance, into which the women
crowded, sobbing. Once more he still saw
the girl’s face, that turned towards him
with a smile, bright as hope,
that was almost a promise: fulfilled,
to come back up from the depths of Death
to him, the Living –
At that, indeed, he threw
his hands over his face, as he knelt there,
so as to see nothing more than that smile.
（Translated by A. S. Kline）
