https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/literature/2012/ceremony-speech/ 6park.com
Google 翻译的，原文在后。
Per Wästberg，作家、瑞典学院院士、诺贝尔委员会主席，2012 年 12 月 10 日发表演讲。 6park.com
作家佩尔·韦斯特伯格在斯德哥尔摩音乐厅发表 2012 年诺贝尔文学奖颁奖演讲。 版权所有 © Nobel Media AB 2012
照片：Alex Ljungdahl 6park.com
陛下、殿下、尊敬的诺贝尔奖获得者、女士们、先生们：
莫言是一位诗人，他撕毁了刻板的宣传海报，将个体从无名的大众中提升出来。莫言用嘲笑和讽刺来攻击历史及其伪造以及剥夺和政治虚伪。他顽皮地、带着不加掩饰的喜悦，揭示了人类存在中最阴暗的一面，几乎无意中发现了具有强烈象征意义的图像。
高密东北部的县城体现了中国的民间故事和历史。很少有真正的旅程能够超越这些，到达这样一个境界：驴子和猪的喧闹声淹没了人民委员的声音，爱与邪恶都呈现出超自然的比例。
莫言的想象力飞越整个人类存在。他是自然的精彩描绘者。他几乎了解所有关于饥饿的知识，而中国20世纪的残酷可能从未被如此赤裸裸地描述过，有英雄、情人、酷刑者、强盗——尤其是坚强、不屈不挠的母亲。他向我们展示了一个没有真理、没有常识、没有同情心的世界，一个人们鲁莽、无助、荒唐的世界。
这种苦难的证明就是中国历史上反复出现的食人行为。在莫言那里，它代表着无节制的消费、过度、垃圾、肉欲的享乐以及只有他才能超越所有禁忌的限制来试图阐明的难以形容的欲望。
在他的小说《酒国》中，最精致的美食就是烤三岁。男孩已经成为专属食物。被忽视的女孩们幸存下来。讽刺的是中国的家庭政策，导致女性胎儿流产的数量达到天文数字：女孩连饭都吃不上。莫言为此写了一整部小说《青蛙》 。
莫言的故事带有神话和寓言的色彩，颠覆了所有的价值观。我们从来没有遇到过毛泽东时代中国的标准特征的理想公民。莫言笔下的人物充满活力，甚至采取最不道德的步骤和措施来充实自己的生活，冲破命运和政治禁锢他们的牢笼。
莫言所描述的不是共产主义海报上喜人的历史，而是通过夸张、戏仿以及对神话和民间故事的演绎，描述了一段过去，是对五十年宣传的令人信服且严厉的修正。
莫言在其最著名的小说《丰胸阔臀》中以女性视角为主导，他以尖锐的细节描述了1960年的大跃进和大饥荒。他嘲笑试图用兔子精子让绵羊受精的革命性伪科学，同时将怀疑者视为右翼分子。小说以 90 年代的新资本主义结束，骗子靠美容产品致富，并试图通过异花受精培育出凤凰。
在莫言的作品中，一个被遗忘的农民世界出现在我们眼前，生机勃勃，即使在最刺鼻的蒸汽中也充满了感性的气味，令人惊讶的无情，但又充满了快乐的无私。从来没有闷的时候。作者无所不知，无所不述——各种手工业、锻造、建筑、挖沟、畜牧、游击队的伎俩。他的笔尖似乎承载着人类的全部生命。
在拉伯雷和斯威夫特之后——在我们这个时代，在加西亚·马尔克斯之后，他比大多数人更搞笑、更令人震惊。他的混合香料是胡椒味的。在他描绘的中国近百年的广阔画卷上，既没有跳舞的独角兽，也没有跳跃的少女。但他以这样一种方式描绘了猪圈里的生活，让我们觉得自己已经在那里呆得太久了。意识形态和改革运动可能会来来去去，但人类的利己主义和贪婪仍然存在。因此，莫言捍卫小人物免受一切不公正的侵害——从日本占领到毛主义恐怖，再到今天的生产狂潮。
对于那些冒险前往莫言家乡的人来说，那里丰富的美德与最卑鄙的残酷作斗争，一场令人震惊的文学冒险正在等待着。曾经有过如此大规模的春季洪水吞没中国和世界其他地区吗？在莫言的作品中，世界文学的声音盖过了大多数同时代人的声音。
瑞典学院向您表示祝贺。我呼吁您从国王陛下手中接受 2012 年诺贝尔文学奖。 6park.com
Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Esteemed Nobel Laureates, Ladies and Gentlemen,
Mo Yan is a poet who tears down stereotypical propaganda posters, elevating the individual from an anonymous human mass. Using ridicule and sarcasm Mo Yan attacks history and its falsifications as well as deprivation and political hypocrisy. Playfully and with ill-disguised delight, he reveals the murkiest aspects of human existence, almost inadvertently finding images of strong symbolic weight.
North-eastern Gaomi county embodies China’s folk tales and history. Few real journeys can surpass these to a realm where the clamour of donkeys and pigs drowns out the voices of the people’s commissars and where both love and evil assume supernatural proportions.
Mo Yan’s imagination soars across the entire human existence. He is a wonderful portrayer of nature; he knows virtually all there is to know about hunger, and the brutality of China’s 20th century has probably never been described so nakedly, with heroes, lovers, torturers, bandits – and especially, strong, indomitable mothers. He shows us a world without truth, common sense or compassion, a world where people are reckless, helpless and absurd.
Proof of this misery is the cannibalism that recurs in China’s history. In Mo Yan, it stands for unrestrained consumption, excess, rubbish, carnal pleasures and the indescribable desires that only he can attempt to elucidate beyond all tabooed limitations.
In his novel Republic of Wine, the most exquisite of delicacies is a roasted three-year-old. Boys have become exclusive foodstuff. The girls, neglected, survive. The irony is directed at China’s family policy, because of which female foetuses are aborted on an astronomic scale: girls aren’t even good enough to eat. Mo Yan has written an entire novel, Frog, about this.
Mo Yan’s stories have mythical and allegorical pretensions and turn all values on their heads. We never meet that ideal citizen who was a standard feature in Mao’s China. Mo Yan’s characters bubble with vitality and take even the most amoral steps and measures to fulfil their lives and burst the cages they have been confined in by fate and politics.
Instead of communism’s poster-happy history, Mo Yan describes a past that, with his exaggerations, parodies and derivations from myths and folk tales, is a convincing and scathing revision of fifty years of propaganda.
In his most remarkable novel, Big Breasts and Wide Hips, where a female perspective dominates, Mo Yan describes the Great Leap Forward and the Great Famine of 1960 in stinging detail. He mocks the revolutionary pseudo-science that tried to inseminate sheep with rabbit sperm, all the while dismissing doubters as right-wing elements. The novel ends with the new capitalism of the ‘90s with fraudsters becoming rich on beauty products and trying to produce a Phoenix through cross-fertilisation.
In Mo Yan, a forgotten peasant world arises, alive and well, before our eyes, sensually scented even in its most pungent vapours, startlingly merciless but tinged by joyful selflessness. Never a dull moment. The author knows everything and can describe everything – all kinds of handicraft, smithery, construction, ditch-digging, animal husbandry, the tricks of guerrilla bands. He seems to carry all human life on the tip of his pen.
He is more hilarious and more appalling than most in the wake of Rabelais and Swift — in our time, in the wake of García Marquez. His spice blend is a peppery one. On his broad tapestry of China’s last hundred years, there are neither dancing unicorns nor skipping maidens. But he paints life in a pigsty in such a way that we feel we have been there far too long. Ideologies and reform movements may come and go but human egoism and greed remain. So Mo Yan defends small individuals against all injustices – from Japanese occupation to Maoist terror and today’s production frenzy.
For those who venture to Mo Yan’s home district, where bountiful virtue battles the vilest cruelty, a staggering literary adventure awaits. Has ever such an epic spring flood engulfed China and the rest of the world? In Mo Yan’s work, world literature speaks with a voice that drowns out most contemporaries.

The Swedish Academy congratulates you. I call on you to accept the 2012 Nobel Prize for Literature from the hand of His Majesty the King.