友情提示:如果本网页打开太慢或显示不完整,请尝试鼠标右键“刷新”本网页!阅读过程发现任何错误请告诉我们,谢谢!! 报告错误
聚奇塔 返回本书目录 我的书架 我的书签 TXT全本下载 进入书吧 加入书签

my name is red-我的名字叫红-第17部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!



and they sold his belongings。 Thanks to the master storyteller who purchased 
me; I’ve e all the way to Istanbul。 Now; I’m most happy; and honored to 
be  here  tonight  among  you;  the  Ottoman  Sultan’s  miraculously  inspired; 
eagle…eyed;  iron…willed;  elegant…wristed;  sensitive…spirited  miniaturists  and 
calligraphers—and  for  Heaven’s  sake;  I  beg  of  you  not  to  believe  those  who 
claim I’ve been hastily sketched onto coarse paper by some master miniaturist 
as a wall prop。 
56 
 
But hear yet what other lies; slander and brazen untruths are being spread! 
You  might  remember  how  last  night  my  master  nailed  the  picture  of  a  dog 
here on the wall and recounted the adventures of this crass beast; and how at 
the same time he told of the adventures of Husret Hoja of Erzurum! Well now; 
the  admirers  of  His  Excellency  Nusret  Hoja  have  pletely  misunderstood 
this story; they think he was the target of our account。 Could we have possibly 
said that the great preacher; His Esteemed Excellency; was of uncertain birth? 
God  forbid!  Would  it  have  even  crossed  our  minds?  What  mischief;  what  a 
crude  lie!  Clearly;  Husret  of  Erzurum  is  being  confused  with  Nusret  of 
Erzurum; so let me proceed to tell you the story of Cross…Eyed Nedret Hoja of 
Sivas and the Tree。 
Besides denouncing the wooing of pretty boys and the art of painting; this 
Cross…Eyed Nedret Hoja of Sivas maintained that coffee was the Devil’s work 
and  that  coffee  drinkers  would  go  to  Hell。  Hey;  you  from  Sivas;  have  you 
forgotten how this enormous branch of mine was bent? Let me tell you about 
it;  then;  but  swear  you  won’t  tell  anyone;  and  may  Allah  protect  you  from 
baseless  slander。  One  morning;  I  awoke  to  find  that  a  giant  of  a  man—God 
protect him; he was as tall as a minaret with hands like a lion’s claws—had 
climbed  up  onto  this  branch  of  mine  and  hidden  beneath  my  lush  leaves 
together with the aforementioned Hoja and; excuse the expression; they were 
going  at  it  like  dogs  in  heat。  While  the  giant;  whom  I  later  realized  was  the 
Devil; attended to his business with our hero; he was passionately kissing 
his  lovely  ear  and  whispering  into  it;  “Coffee  is  a  sin;  coffee  is  a  vice…” 
Accordingly; those who believe in the harmful effects of coffee; believe not in 
the mandments of our good religion; but in the Devil himself。 
And  finally;  I  shall  make  mention  of  Frank  painters;  so  if  there  are 
degenerates among you who have pretensions to be like them; may you heed 
my  warning  and  be  deterred。  Now;  these  Frank  painters  depict  the  faces  of 
kings; priests; noblemen and even women in such a manner that after gazing 
upon  the  portrait;  you’d  be  able  to  identify  that  person  on  the  street。  Their 
wives roam freely on the streets anyway—now; just imagine the rest。 As if this 
weren’t enough; they’ve taken matters even further。 I don’t mean in regard to 
pimping; but in regard to painting。 
A  great  European  master  miniaturist  and  another  great  master  artist  are 
walking through a Frank meadow discussing virtuosity and art。 As they stroll; a 
forest  es  into  view  before  them。  The  more  expert  of  the  two  says  to  the 
other: “Painting in the new style demands such talent that if you depicted one 
57 
 
of the trees in this forest; a man who looked upon that painting could e 
here; and if he so desired; correctly select that tree from among the others。” 
I thank Allah that I; the humble tree before you; have not been drawn with 
such intent。 And not because I fear that if I’d been thus depicted all the dogs 
in Istanbul would assume I was a real tree and piss on me: I don’t want to be a 
tree; I want to be its meaning。 
 
   
58 
 
I AM CALLED BLACK 
 
The snow began to fall at a late hour and continued till dawn。 I spent the night 
reading  Shekure’s  letter  again  and  again。  I  paced  in  the  empty  room  of  the 
empty  house;  occasionally  leaning  toward  the  candlestick;  in  the  flickering 
light of the dim candle; I y beloved’s angry 
letters;  the  somersaults  they  turned  trying  to  deceive  me  and  their  hip…
swinging right…to…left progression。 Abruptly; those shutters would open before 
my  eyes;  and  my  beloved’s  face  and  her  sorrowful  smile  would  appear。  And 
when  I  saw  her  real  face;  I  forgot  all  of  those  other  faces  whose  sour…cherry 
mouths had increasingly matured and ripened in my imagination。 
In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  lost  myself  in  dreams  of  marriage:  I  had  no 
doubts about my love or that it was reciprocated—we were married in a state 
of  great  contentment—but;  my  imaginary  happiness;  set  in  a  house  with  a 
staircase;  was  dashed  when  I  couldn’t  find  appropriate  work  and  began 
arguing with my wife; unable to make her heed my words。 
I knew I’d appropriated these ominous images from the section on the ills 
of marriage in Gazzali’s The Revival of Religious Science; which I’d read during 
my nights as a bachelor in Arabia; at the same time; I recalled that there was 
actually advice on the benefits of marriage in that same section; though now I 
could remember only two of these benefits: first; having my household kept in 
order (there was no such order in my imagined house); second; being spared 
the guilt of self…abuse and of dragging myself—an even deeper sense of guilt—
behind pimps leading me through dark alleyways to the lairs of prostitutes。 
The thought of salvation at this late hour brought masturbation to mind。 
With a simple…minded desire; and to rid my mind of this irrepressible urge; I 
retired to a corner of the room; as was my wont; but after a while I realized I 
couldn’t jack off—proof well enough that I’d fallen in love again after twelve 
years! 
This struck such excitement and fear into my heart that I walked around the 
room nearly atremble like the flame of the candle。 If Shekure meant to present 
herself at the window; then why this letter; which put the opposite belief into 
play? Why did her father call for me? As I paced; I sensed that the door; wall 
and  squeaky  floor;  stuttering  as  I  myself  did;  were  trying  to  creak  their 
responses to my every question。 
I looked at the picture I’d made years ago; which depicted Shirin stricken 
with  love  upon  gazing  at  Hüsrev’s  image  hanging  from  a  branch。  It  didn’t 
59 
 
embarrass me as it would each time it came to mind in subsequent years; nor 
did it bring back my happy childhood memories。 Toward morning; my mind 
had  mastered  the  situation:  By  returning  the  picture;  Shekure  had  made  a 
move in an amatory chess game she was masterfully luring me into。 I sat in 
the candlelight and wrote her a letter of response。 
In the morning; after sleeping for a spell; I went out and walked a long way 
through the streets; carrying the letter upon my breast and my light pen…and…
ink  holder;  as  was  my  custom;  in  my  sash。  The  snow  widened  Istanbul’s 
narrow streets and freed the city of its crowds。 All was quieter and slower; as 
it’d  been  in  my  childhood。  Crows  seemed  to  have  beset  Istanbul’s  roofs; 
domes and gardens just as they had on the snowy winter days of my youth。 I 
walked swiftly; listening to my steps in the snow and watching the fog of my 
breath。 I grew excited; expecting the palace workshop that my Enishte wanted 
me to visit to be as silent as the streets。 Before I entered the Jewish quarter; I 
sent word by way of a little street urchin to Esther; who’d be able to deliver my 
letter to Shekure; telling her where to meet me before the noontime prayers。 
I  arrived  early  at  the  royal  artisans’  workshop  located  behind  the  Hagia 
Sophia。 Except for the icicles hanging from the eaves; there was no change in 
the  building  where  I’d  often  visited  my  Enishte  and  for  a  time  worked  as  a 
child apprentice。 
Following  a  handsome  young  apprentice;  I  walked  past  elderly  master 
binders  
返回目录 上一页 下一页 回到顶部 0 0
未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!
温馨提示: 温看小说的同时发表评论,说出自己的看法和其它小伙伴们分享也不错哦!发表书评还可以获得积分和经验奖励,认真写原创书评 被采纳为精评可以获得大量金币、积分和经验奖励哦!