Limbus Company-[ LCB 囚犯] 李箱

我是李箱。 我要说的便是我的名字。

[ LCB 수감자 ] 이상-[ LCB 囚犯] 李箱

이상이라고 하오. 소개는 이상이오.

사인검-(四寅劍)

四寅剑，原为古代道教所用之法剑，剑身的一面以北斗起首刻有二十八星宿，另一面刻有27个篆体字：

四寅剑：

乾降精，坤援灵；

日月象，冈澶形；

㧑雷电，运玄座；

堆山恶，玄斩贞。

后两行咒语出自唐・司马承祯的《景震剑文》。

所谓四寅，是指寅年、寅月、寅日、寅时，四寅剑即在四寅重合的一刻淬火打造之剑，有四重虎煞凝聚于剑体，会显得更加威力无比，更利于坛场上的法师驱魔克敌。

除了四寅剑，我们道教还有级别稍逊的三寅剑、二寅剑，都属于斩妖镇邪的法器。

四寅剑后来在韩国演变为三精剑（韩语：삼정검），作为一种荣誉的象征，是韩国总统授予将军的宝剑。三精既指韩国陆海空三军，也指护国、统一、繁荣三种精神。

其最早的传承来自于公元1542年，朝鲜中宗下令制造四寅剑。当年和今年一样，正是壬寅年，寅对应虎，中宗认为若在寅年寅月寅日寅时作四寅剑，就会有四支虎灵来帮助消灾避难。

“四寅剑”源自中国道教。所谓“四寅”，是指寅年、寅月、寅日、寅时。天干地支中，寅时代表老虎，象征军权，“四寅剑”在四寅时重合的一刻淬火打造，古人相信它有某种神秘的力量可以驱魔克敌。除了“四寅剑”，还有意义稍逊的“三寅剑”和“二寅剑”。
       此剑身背面有韩文书写的“乾降精 坤援灵 日月象 冈澶形 撝雷电 运玄座 堆山恶 玄斩贞”等文字（天降下精气，地生出灵气，精气与灵气变成日月、山川河流和雷电，运功除去天地间的恶，用玄妙的道法匡扶正义），这几句咒语也是出自唐朝司马承祯的《景震剑文》，往往与星宿图一起刻在道教作法的剑上，通过符咒剑镜的形式，来达到接天地灵气，运化日月精气，号令天地鬼神，斩恶除邪的作用。

「가외가전(街外街傳)」

으음··허파 속으로 쓰레기가막 붙고 있소.

嗯...肺里面沾满了垃圾。（这段是写当时箱哥肺结核的）

https://bombmagazine.org/articles/four-poems-by-yi-sang/（资料来源网址，该书已经出版）

（目前只有英文版）

BRAZIER

The freeze touches and desires to enter the room. The room endures. Holding on to the brazier, I struggle together with the book I am reading and pull on the house’s main pillar. The freeze pushes in and the room’s window caves in like a tumor. The brazier’s fire goes out. Frozen inside what is barely a room, I lose my mind. Tides must be ebbing and flowing on a distant ocean. Suddenly, my mother sprouts from the room’s finely tilled floor, takes the brazier from my wound, and carries it away into the kitchen. Outside, there was a tumult, I think, but a tree grows out of me. I stretch out my arms and block the window. Laundry clubs drum on my back—I am covered in rags. My mother carries off the freeze on her shoulders—it is a miracle. She brings back the brazier in her arms, warm like a cough medicine. She stands on my feverish body. My terrified book flees.

February 1936

MORNING

The midnight air ruins my lungs. Soot settles in. I make a fuss about my pain all night. Night comes and goes endlessly. Day breaks, when I can no longer remember what has been happening. Like a lamp inside my lungs, morning is turned on. I look around to see if anything has disappeared overnight. My habit has returned. I have ripped out many pages from my shamefully extravagant book. The early light carefully writes itself on my book’s exhausted conclusion. As if the noseless night will never return.

February 1936

FAMILY

Though I keep pulling, the gate does not open, because my family inside is barely alive. Night fiercely scolds me. You have no idea how annoyed I am before the gate, where hangs a plaque with my name on it. I burn like a straw effigy in the night. My family is trapped inside the sealed door, but I cannot trade myself in. Frost comes down on our roof; the sharp needlelike tips on the roof are colored with moonlight. They tell me my family is suffering. One of them might be taking out a loan against the house. My family members are being pawned off one by one. I hang on to the gate’s knobs like a drooping iron chain. Because I am trying to open the unopenable gate because I am trying.

February 1936

STREET OUTSIDE STREET

Clamor grinds my body to nothing. Everyone says I am a boy, but I have an old face. Like an abacus bead punished for leaping out of its line, I barely hang on to my bridge and look down on a tranquil world below. Children as old as me giggle, gang up, and attempt to cross my bridge. Already, moonlight’s weight is wobbling my bridge. Strangers’ shadows are huge at first, then grow fainter, until they all collapse. Cherries ripen. Seedlings fade into smoke. 

My investigation leads nowhere—where is the applause I deserve? Perhaps this is a treason against my father. Silence—when I try to speak through my blocked pharynx, my speech sounds like a dialect. No—silence is clamor’s dialect. I try to spill it all—my tongue’s sharp edge probes my fresh bridge’s center. Every day I rot, and my rotting follows a path, and an alley miraculously opens inside this path. My rotting flows in and comes upon a door of opulence. Inside the door are golden teeth. Surrounded by the golden teeth, a degenerate tongue dangles from diseased lungs. O—O—. I can enter this alley, but I cannot escape its depth. Its depth begins to resemble my internal organs. A switched pair of shoes stagger over. Germs make my lower abdomen ache. Watery.

I ruminate. Because I am a crone. A sleep-inducing benefit of a disbanded government comes into view on a mirror in front of me. It is a dream—dream—dream that tramples on vain labor—this century’s fatigue and bloodthirst spread out like the grid of a baduk board. My voracious lips secretly pretend to dine above such maliciously crumpled mire. Sons—many sons—their heavy shoes kick over the crone’s wedding—the soles are made of iron.

When I climb down many stairs, wells become harder to find. I am a little late. Stale wind blows—school pupils’ maps change colors daily. Far from home, the roofs of the houses have no choice but to shake. The colony is in its season of acne. People stagger and pour hot water on those who are sleep-talking. Thirst—the thirst is unbearable.

This ground was once the bottom of a primal lake. Salty. The pillars holding back the curtains become damp. Clouds do not come near me. My tonsils swell in the humorless air. There is a currency scandal—my hand, looking like a foot, shamelessly holds the crone’s throbbing hand.

A rumor goes around about a tyrant’s infiltration. Babies constantly turn into little grave mounds. The grown-ups’ shoes hit other grown-ups’ shoes. I never want to see them again, but where can I escape to? In a state of emergency, quarantined neighbors mingle. The distant cannon blasts and the blisters on our skins soothe us.

All I have here now is the stifling trash that came out of sweeping my vast room. Crows as big as suffocated doves once flew into my thunderbolt-infested room. The stronger crows tried to get out, but they caught the plague, and fell one by one. The room was purified, ready to explode. However, everything I have put down here is just my recent trash.

I go. A train car carrying Sun Tzu avoids my room. A note written in shorthand is laid out on my desk. There is also a cheap dish, and on the dish is a boiled egg—my fork bursts the egg’s yolk. A bird, a medal, flies out—a wind from the bird’s clapping wings tears up the grid. A flock of prophetic documents dances wildly on a field of ice. My blood wets a cigarette. The red-light district burns through the night. Fake angels begin to breed, flying every direction, covering up the entire sky. However, everything I have put here in my room is heating up, clamoring all at once. The vast room rots from within. The wallpaper gets itchy. The trash wildly sticks to my walls.

March 1936

「가외가전（街外街傳）」

嘎，好像不止一点唉ε=(´ο｀*)))唉

거 울 — 이 상

镜子 — 李箱

거울속에는 소리가 없소.

镜子里没有声音。

저렇게까지 조용한 세상은 참 없을 것이오.

不会再有如此寂静的世界了。

거울속에도 내게 귀가 있소.

镜子里的我也长了耳朵。

내말을 못 알아듣는 딱한 귀가 두개나있소.

两只尴尬的耳朵听不懂我的话。

거울속의 나는 왼손잽이오.

镜子里的我是左撇子。

내 악수를 반을 줄 모르는 – 악수를 모르는 왼손잽이오.

不懂握住我伸出的手—不懂握手的左撒子。

거울 때문에 나는 거울속의 나를 만져 보지를못하는 구료마는

因为镜子我无法触摸镜中的我。

거울이 아니었던들 내가 어찌 거울속의 나를 만져 보기만이라도했겠소.

即便没有镜了我怎么可能触摸镜中的我呢。

나는 지금 거울을 안 가졌소. 아는 거울속에는 늘 거울속의 내 가 있소.

我现在没有镜子，镜子里却总有镜子里的我。

잘은 모르지 만, 외로된 사업에 골몰할께요.

虽然不甚清楚，我要埋头于与世隔绝的工作，

거울속의 나는 참나와는 반대요마는

虽然镜中的我和真我正相反，

또꽤 닮았소.

却又极其相像。

나는 거울속의 나를 근심하고진 찰할 수 없으니 퍽 섭섭하오.

我为无法担忧和理解镜中的我而难过。

《카톨릭 청년》 1934년 10월

发表于(天主教青年)1934年10月

【作品分析】
   这首诗发表于1934年10月《天主教青年》，是一首描写人类内心矛盾冲突和自我意识的超现实主义诗歌。由于在形式上没有遵守韩国语的单词分写法，所有单词连接在一起使用，被认为是李箱否定和背叛所有形式的观念的外在表现。在内容上把各种形象加以变形并逐渐抹杀掉，从而凸显自我意识引发的内心的紧张冲突。

   镜子是关照自我的一个媒介，诗人通过观察镜中的“我”而发现了一个分裂的自我，可以看作是对现代人的不安和焦虑心理以及自我分裂的精神世界的探索。这两个分裂的自我一一镜中的我和现实中的真我—处于隔绝状态，即“我无法触摸镜中的我”。“镜中的我和真我正相反”则暗示了现实中的我和内在的我是两个全然不同的自我。尤其值得留意的是，本来在现实生活中再平常不过的客观事实—镜子里没有声音、镜子里的我不能握手—在诗人眼里却成了表现冲突和背离的依据，即现实中的我和镜中的我之间不可能逾越的鸿沟。

   李箱作品描写的人物大多是在现实社会中倍受压抑而无法实现欲望，在极度压抑下形成的自我精神分裂的知识分子形象，是李箱否定当时韩国社会的现代性和传统美学的重要装置。

啊，箱哥的名字和医生的名字一样

（还会更新，让我摸会鱼）