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ๆ‘ไธŠ ๆ˜ฅๆจนใ€ใ€Œๅคœไธญใฎๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใซใคใ„ใฆใ€ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ„ใฏ็‰ฉ่ชžใฎๅŠน็”จใซใคใ„ใฆใ€

siiky

2023/01/06

2023/01/15

ja

ไฝ•ๆœˆใ‹ๅ‰ใซใ€ŒNew Penguin Parallel Text: Short Stories in Japaneseใ€ใจใ„ใ†ๆœฌใ‚’่ฒทใฃใŸใ€‚ๆ˜จๆ—ฅใ‚„ใฃใจๆœ€ๅˆใฎ่ฉฑใ‚’่ชญใ‚“ใ ใ€‚

ๆ„ๅ‘ณใฏใ‚ใ‹ใฃใŸใจๆ€ใ†ใ€‚่‹ฑ่ชžใฎ็ฟป่จณใฎไธ€ใคไบŒใคใฎ็ดฐใ‹ใ„็‚นใซใ™ใ‚Œ้•ใ†ใŒใ€ๅคงไฝ“ใ„ใ„ใ€‚ๆ—ฅๆœฌ่ชžใฎๆ›ธๅ†™ใฏๅ…จ้ƒจใงๆฌกใซๆ›ธใ„ใฆใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€‚ใใฎๆฌกใฏ่‹ฑ่ชžใ€‚

ๆ—ฅๆœฌ่ชž

ๅฅณใฎๅญใŒ็”ทใฎๅญใซ่ณชๅ•ใ™ใ‚‹ใ€‚ใ€Œใ‚ใชใŸใฏใฉใ‚Œใใ‚‰ใ„็งใฎใ“ใจใ‚’ๅฅฝใ๏ผŸใ€
ๅฐ‘ๅนดใฏใ—ใฐใ‚‰ใ่€ƒใˆใฆใ‹ใ‚‰ใ€้™ใ‹ใชๅฃฐใงใ€ใ€Œๅคœไธญใฎๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใใ‚‰ใ„ใ€ใจ็ญ”ใˆใ‚‹ใ€‚
ๅฐ‘ๅฅณใฏ้ป™ใฃใฆ่ฉฑใฎ็ถšใใ‚’ๅพ…ใคใ€‚ใใ“ใซใฏใใฃใจไฝ•ใ‹ใŠ่ฉฑใŒใ‚ใ‚‹ใซ้•ใ„ใชใ„ใ€‚
ใ€Œใ‚ใ‚‹ใจใใ€ๅคœไธญใซใตใจ็›ฎใŒ่ฆšใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€ใจๅฝผใฏ่ฉฑใ—ๅง‹ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€‚ใ€Œๆญฃ็ขบใชๆ™‚ๅˆปใฏใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‰ใชใ„ใ€‚ใ ใถใ‚“ไบŒๆ™‚ใ‹ไธ‰ๆ™‚ใ‹ใ€ใใ‚“ใชใ‚‚ใฎใ ใจๆ€ใ†ใ€‚ใงใ‚‚ไฝ•ๆ™‚ใ‹ใจใ„ใ†ใฎใฏใใ‚Œใปใฉ้‡่ฆใชใ“ใจใ˜ใ‚ƒใชใ„ใ€‚ใจใซใ‹ใใใ‚Œใฏ็œŸๅคœไธญใงใ€ๅƒ•ใฏใพใฃใŸใใฎใฒใจใ‚Šใผใฃใกใงใ€ใพใ‚ใ‚Šใซใฏ่ชฐใ‚‚ใ„ใชใ„ใ€‚ใ„ใ„ใ‹ใ„ใ€ๆƒณๅƒใ—ใฆใฟใฆใปใ—ใ„ใ€‚ใ‚ใŸใ‚Šใฏ็œŸใฃๆš—ใงใ€ใชใซใ‚‚่ฆ‹ใˆใชใ„ใชใ€‚ใใ—ใฆๅƒ•ใฏ็ช็„ถใ€่‡ชๅˆ†ใŒ็Ÿฅใฃใฆใ„ใ‚‹่ชฐใ‹ใ‚‰ใ‚‚ใ€่‡ชๅˆ†ใŒ็Ÿฅใฃใฆใ„ใ‚‹ใฉใ“ใฎๅ ดๆ‰€ใ‹ใ‚‰ใ‚‚ใ€ไฟกใ˜ใ‚‰ใ‚Œใชใ„ใใ‚‰ใ„้ ใ้š”ใฆใ‚‰ใ‚Œใ€ๅผ•ใ้›ขใ•ใ‚Œใฆใ„ใ‚‹ใ‚“ใ ใจๆ„Ÿใ˜ใ‚‹ใ€‚่‡ชๅˆ†ใŒใ“ใฎๅบƒใ„ไธ–็•Œใฎไธญใง่ชฐใ‹ใ‚‰ใ‚‚ๆ„›ใ•ใ‚Œใšใ€่ชฐใ‹ใ‚‰ใ‚‚ๅฃฐใ‚’ใ‹ใ‘ใ‚‰ใ‚Œใšใ€่ชฐใซใ‚‚ๆ€ใ„ๅ‡บใ—ใฆใ‚‚ใ‚‚ใ‚‰ใˆใชใ„ๅญ˜ๅœจใซใชใฃใฆใ—ใพใฃใฆใ„ใ‚‹ใ“ใจใŒใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‹ใ€‚ใŸใจใˆๅƒ•ใŒใใฎใพใพๆถˆใˆใฆใ—ใพใฃใŸใจใ—ใฆใ‚‚่ชฐใ‚‚ๆฐ—ไป˜ใ‹ใชใ„ใ ใ‚ใ†ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใฏใพใ‚‹ใงๅŽšใ„้‰„ใฎ็ฎฑใซ่ฉฐใ‚ใ‚‰ใ‚Œใฆใ€ๆทฑใ„ๆตทใฎๅบ•ใซๆฒˆใ‚ใ‚‰ใ‚ŒใŸใ‚ˆใ†ใชๆฐ—ๆŒใกใชใ‚“ใ ใ‚ˆใ€‚ๆฐ—ๅœงใฎใ›ใ„ใงๅฟƒ่‡“ใŒ็—›ใใฆใ€ใใฎใพใพใตใŸใคใซใณใ‚Šใณใ‚Šใจๅผตใ‚Š่ฃ‚ใ‘ใฆใ—ใพใ„ใใ†ใชใƒผใƒผใใ†ใ„ใ†ๆฐ—ๆŒใกใฃใฆใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‹ใ‹ใช๏ผŸใ€
ๅฐ‘ๅฅณใฏใ†ใชใšใใ€‚ใŸใถใ‚“ใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‹ใจๆ€ใ†ใ€‚
ๅฐ‘ๅนดใฏ็ถšใ‘ใ‚‹ใ€‚ใ€Œใใ‚ŒใฏใŠใใ‚‰ใไบบ้–“ใŒ็”Ÿใใฆใ„ใ‚‹ไธญใง็ตŒ้จ“ใ™ใ‚‹ใ„ใกใฐใ‚“่พ›ใ„ใ“ใจใฎใฒใจใคใชใ‚“ใ ใ€‚ใปใ‚“ใจใ†ใซใใฎใพใพๆญปใ‚“ใงใ—ใพใ„ใŸใ„ใใ‚‰ใ„ๆ‚ฒใ—ใใฆ่พ›ใ„ๆฐ—ๆŒใกใ ใ€‚ใ„ใ‚„ใ€ใใ†ใ˜ใ‚ƒใชใ„ใ€ใ€Žๆญปใ‚“ใงใ—ใพใ„ใŸใ„ใ€ใจใ„ใ†ใ‚ˆใ†ใชใ“ใจใ˜ใ‚ƒใชใใฆใ€ใใฎใพใพๆ”พใฃใฆใŠใ‘ใฐใ€็ฎฑใฎไธญใฎ็ฉบๆฐ—่–„ใใชใฃใฆใ€ŽๅฎŸ้š›ใซใ€ๆญปใ‚“ใงใ—ใพใ†ใฏใšใ ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใฏใ€ŽใŸใจใˆใ€ใชใ‚“ใ‹ใ˜ใ‚ƒใชใ„ใ€‚ใปใ‚“ใจใ†ใฎใ“ใจใชใ‚“ใ ใ‚ˆใ€‚ใใ‚ŒใŒ็œŸๅคœไธญใซใฒใจใ‚Šใผใฃใกใงใ€็›ฎใŒ่ฆšใพใ™ใ“ใจใฎๆ„ๅ‘ณใชใ‚“ใ ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใ‚‚ใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‹๏ผŸใ€
ๅฐ‘ๅฅณใฏใพใŸ้ป™ใฃใฆใ†ใชใšใใ€‚ๅฐ‘ๅนดใฏๅฐ‘ใ—้–“ใ‚’็ฝฎใใ€‚
ใ€Œใงใ‚‚ใใฎใจใใ™ใฃใจ้ ใใงๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใฎ้ŸณใŒ่žใ“ใˆใ‚‹ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใฏใปใ‚“ใจใ†ใซใปใ‚“ใจใ†ใซ้ ใ„ๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใชใ‚“ใ ใ€‚ใ„ใฃใŸใ„ใฉใ“ใซ้‰„้“ใฎ็ทš่ทฏใชใ‚“ใ‹ใŒใ‚ใ‚‹ใฎใ‹ใ€ๅƒ•ใซใ‚‚ใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‰ใชใ„ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใใ‚‰ใ„้ ใใชใ‚“ใ ใ€‚่žใ“ใˆใŸใ‹่žใ“ใˆใชใ„ใ‹ใจใ„ใ†ใใ‚‰ใ„ใฎ้Ÿณใ ใ€‚ใงใ‚‚ใใ‚ŒใŒๆฑฝ่ปŠใฎๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใงใ‚ใ‚‹ใ“ใจใฏๅƒ•ใซใฏใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‹ใ€‚้–“้•ใ„ใชใ„ใ€‚ๅƒ•ใฏๆš—้—‡ใฎไธญใงใ˜ใฃใจ่€ณใ‚’ๆพ„ใพใ™ใ€‚ใใ—ใฆใ‚‚ใ†ไธ€ๅบฆใ€ใใฎๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใ‚’่€ณใซใ™ใ‚‹ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใ‹ใ‚‰ๅƒ•ใฎๅฟƒ่‡“ใฏ็—›ใ‚€ใ“ใจใ“ใจใ‚’ใ‚„ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€‚ๆ™‚่จˆใฎ้‡ใฏๅ‹•ใๅง‹ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€‚้‰„ใฎ็ฎฑใฏๆตท้ขใธๅ‘ใ‘ใฆใ‚†ใฃใใ‚Šๆตฎใ‹ใณไธŠใŒใฃใฆใ„ใใ€‚ใใ‚Œใฏใฟใ‚“ใชใใฎๅฐใ•ใชๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใฎใ›ใ„ใชใ‚“ใ ใญใ€‚่žใ“ใˆใ‚‹ใ‹่žใ“ใˆใชใ„ใ‹ใ€ใใ‚Œใใ‚‰ใ„ๅพฎใ‹ใชๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใฎใ›ใ„ใชใ‚“ใ ใ€‚ใใ—ใฆๅƒ•ใฏใใฎๆฑฝ็ฌ›ใจๅŒใ˜ใใ‚‰ใ„ๅ›ใฎใ“ใจใ‚’ๆ„›ใ—ใฆใ„ใ‚‹ใ€
ใใ“ใงๅฐ‘ๅนดใฎ็Ÿญใ„็‰ฉ่ชžใฏ็ต‚ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€‚ไปŠๅบฆใฏๅฐ‘ๅฅณใŒ่‡ชๅˆ†ใฎ็‰ฉ่ชžใ‚’่ชžใ‚Šๅง‹ใ‚ใ‚‹ใ€‚

่‹ฑ่ชž

็ฟป่จณ่€…ใฏMichael Emmerichใงใ€ใ‚ฟใ‚คใƒˆใƒซใฏใ€ŒConcerning the Sound of a Train Whistle in the Night, or On the Efficacy of Fictionใ€ใ€‚

The girl has a question for the boy: "How much do you love me?"
He thinks for a moment, then quietly replies, "As much as a train whistle in the night."
She waits in silence for him to go on. Obviously there has to be a story there.
"Sometimes, just like that, in the dead of night, I wake up," he begins. "I don't know what time it is, exactly. Maybe two or three, around then, I'd say. The time doesn't actually matter. The point is that it's the dead of night, and I'm totally alone, not a sould around. I want you to imagine that for me, okay? It's completely dark, you can't see anything. And there's not a sound to be heard. You don't even hear the hands of the clock, ticking out the time -- for all I know, the clock could well have stopped. And then all of a sudden, it hits me that I've become isolated, that I'm separated some unbelievable distance from everyone I know, from every familiar place. I realize that no one in this whole wide world loves me anymore, no one will talk to me, that I've become the kind of person no one even wants to remember. I could just disappear and no one would even notice. I feel like I've been pushed into a box with thick iron sides and sunk way down to the very bottom of the ocean. The pressure is so intense it makes my heart ache, I feel like I'm going to explode, to be torn in two -- you know that feeling?"
The girl nodes. She thinks she knows what he means.
The boy continues. "I think that's one of the most painful expereiences a person can have in life. I feel so sad and it hurts so much that I wish I could just go ahead and die, seriously. Actually I take that back, it's not that /I wish I could die/: I can tell that if things go on in this way, the air in the box is going to get so thin that I really /will/ die. It's not just a /metaphor/. It's reality. That's what it means to wake up all alone in the dead of night. You still following me?"
The girl nods again, saying nothing. The boy lets a moment go by.
"And then, way off in the distance, I hear a train whistle. It's really incredibly far off, this whistle. I don't even know where the train tracks could be. That's how far away the sound is. And it's so faint that it's right on the edge of being inaudible. Only I'm certain it's a train whistle. There's no doubt about that. So I lie perfectly still, in the darkness, listening as hard as I can. And then I heart it again. And my heart stops aching. The hands on the clock start moving. The iron box begins to rise up, nice and slow, toward the surface of the sea. And it's all thanks to that little whistle, you see. A whistle so faint I could barely hear it. And the point is, I love you as deeply as that whistle."
With that, the boy's brief story is over. And the girl begins telling her own.

ใ‚‚ใ†่จ€ใฃใŸใ‘ใฉใพใŸ่จ€ใ†ใ€‚ๅคงไฝ“ใ„ใ„็ฟป่จณใ ใจๆ€ใ†ใ€‚

ใ ใŒ๏ผใ€Œๅฐ‘ๅฅณใ€ใจใ€Œๅฐ‘ๅนดใ€ใฎใ€Œๅฅฝใใ€ใฃใฆใ€ๆœฌๅฝ“ใซใ€Œloveใ€ใจ่จ€ใ†่จ€่‘‰ใชใฎใ‹๏ผŸๅฐ‘ๅนดใฏใ€Œๆ„›ใ—ใฆใ„ใ‚‹ใ€ใจๆœ€ๅพŒใซ่จ€ใ†ใŒใ€ใใ‚Œใชใฎใซใ€Œๅฅฝใใ€ใฏใใ‚“ใชใใคใ„ๆฐ—ๆŒใกใงใฏใชใ„ใจๆ€ใ†ใ€‚ใ ใ‹ใ‚‰ใ€Œloveใ€ใ‚ˆใ‚Šใ€Œlikeใ€ใซใ™ใ‚Œใฐใ‚ˆใ‹ใฃใŸใ‚“ใ ใ‚ใ†ใ€‚

ใใ‚Œใ‚ˆใ‚Šใ€ใกใ‚‡ใฃใจใƒ€ใ‚ตใ„ๆฐ—ๅˆ†ใ™ใ‚‹ใช๏ฝก๏ฝก๏ฝกๅŽŸไฝœใฏใ“ใ‚“ใชๆฐ—ๆฅฝใชๆ‹็‰ฉ่ชžใ˜ใ‚ƒใชใ„ใ ใ‚ใ†๏ผŸ

ใชใฎใซใ€้‰„ใฎ็ฎฑใฎ้ƒจๅˆ†ใฏๆœ€ๅˆใฏใ‚ˆใใ‚ใ‹ใ‚‰ใชใ‹ใฃใŸใ€‚ใงใ‚‚่‹ฑ่ชžใง่ชญใ‚“ใ ใ‚‰ใ€Œใ‚ใ€ใใฃใ‹ใ€ใจใ€‚

ๆ‘ไธŠ ๆ˜ฅๆจน

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