汉译英翻译赏析：散文诗《大自然的口哨》

散文汉译英翻译佳作(27)尺素寸心(节选)

　　余光中

　　回信，固然可畏，不回信，也绝非什么乐事。书架上经常叠着百多封未回之信，"债龄"或长或短，长的甚至一年以上，那样的压力，也绝非一个普通的罪徒所能负担的。一叠未回的信，就像一群不散的阴魂，在我罪深孽重的心底幢幢作祟。理论上说来，这些信当然是要回的。我可以坦然向天发誓，在我清醒的时刻，我绝未存心不回人信。问题出在技术上。给我一整个夏夜的空闲，我该先回一年半前的那封信呢，还是七个月前的这封信？隔了这么久，恐怕连谢罪自谴的有效期也早过了吧。在朋友的心目中，你早已沦为不值得计较的妄人。“莫名其妙！”是你在江湖上一致的评语。

　　其实，即使终于鼓起全部的道德勇气，坐在桌前，准备偿付信债于万一，也不是轻易能如愿的。七零八落的新简旧信，漫无规则地充塞在书架上，抽屉里，有的回过，有的未回，“只在此山中，云深不知处”，要找到你决心要回的那一封，耗费的时间和精力，往往数倍于回信本身。再想象朋友接信时的表情，不是喜出望外，而是余怒重炽，你那一点决心就整个崩溃了。你的债，永无清偿之日。不回信，绝不等于忘了朋友，正如世上绝无忘了债主的负债人。在你惶恐的深处，恶魇的尽头，隐隐约约，永远潜伏着这位朋友的怒眉和冷眼，不，你永远忘不了他。你真正忘掉的，而且忘得那么心安理得，是那些已经得到你回信的朋友。

　　An Excerpt from Limited Words vs.Boundless Friendship

　　By Yu Guangzhong

　　Replying a letter does make me flinch;however, unreplied letters allow me no release at all. Dozens ofunreplied letters pile up on my bookshelf, like a sum of debtwaiting to be paid. Some have been waiting there for over one year,while some have newly arrived. The pressure from paying off thatdebt is far beyond what a junior debtor can endure. The stack ofunreplied letters are, like a group of haunting ghosts, continuallypestering my guilt-loaded soul. Conventionally, the letters willcertainly be replied. I can even swear by heaven that never do Ihave the intention not to reply when my mind is clear. The problemis how to reply. Even if I spared myself a whole summer night, Iwould be wavering on which letter to reply first, the 18-month-oldone or the 7-month-old? The reply has been delayed for so long thatI'm afraid even a heartfelt apology has already lost its power. Infriends' heart, I've been marginalized as a cocky man unworthy ofcare. "Unaccountable"! That is their unanimous comment onme。

　　In fact, even though I pull myselftogether and settle down at the desk, ready to pay off the debt, mydetermination will easily be split up by doubts. Old and newletters, replied or yet-to-be, cram the shelf and the drawer indisorder, which reminds me of two verses: "He's simply in the verymountain. In the depths of clouds, his whereabouts are unknown."(from Calling on a Hermit in Vain by Jia Dao). Picking out theletter I decide to reply from such a mess will cost multiplied timeand energy as replying the letter does. Moreover, on visualizingthe facial expression of friends when they receive the reply —reburned lingering anger rather than surprised delight — my tinyamount of determination dwindle into naught. Consequently, the datewhen my debt is paid off extends into eternity. Although I haven'treplied the letters, I can never forget my friends, any more than adebtor can forget his creditor. In the depth of my disturbed andapologetic heart looms the indelible angry and icy look of myfriends. Never can I forget them. Friends who really fall intooblivion, from which guilt is totally absent, are those who havereceived my reply。

　　BBS from China Daily

双语欣

　　尺素寸心(节选)

　　余光中

　　回信，固然可畏，不回信，也绝非什么乐事。书架上经常叠着百多封未回之信，"债龄"或长或短，长的甚至一年以上，那样的压力，也绝非一个普通的罪徒所能负担的。一叠未回的信，就像一群不散的阴魂，在我罪深孽重的心底幢幢作祟。理论上说来，这些信当然是要回的。我可以坦然向天发誓，在我清醒的时刻，我绝未存心不回人信。问题出在技术上。给我一整个夏夜的空闲，我该先回一年半前的那封信呢，还是七个月前的这封信？隔了这么久，恐怕连谢罪自谴的有效期也早过了吧。在朋友的心目中，你早已沦为不值得计较的妄人。“莫名其妙！”是你在江湖上一致的评语。

　　其实，即使终于鼓起全部的道德勇气，坐在桌前，准备偿付信债于万一，也不是轻易能如愿的。七零八落的新简旧信，漫无规则地充塞在书架上，抽屉里，有的回过，有的未回，“只在此山中，云深不知处”，要找到你决心要回的那一封，耗费的时间和精力，往往数倍于回信本身。再想象朋友接信时的表情，不是喜出望外，而是余怒重炽，你那一点决心就整个崩溃了。你的债，永无清偿之日。不回信，绝不等于忘了朋友，正如世上绝无忘了债主的负债人。在你惶恐的深处，恶魇的尽头，隐隐约约，永远潜伏着这位朋友的怒眉和冷眼，不，你永远忘不了他。你真正忘掉的，而且忘得那么心安理得，是那些已经得到你回信的朋友。

　　An Excerpt from Limited Words vs.Boundless Friendship

　　By Yu Guangzhong

　　Replying a letter does make me flinch;however, unreplied letters allow me no release at all. Dozens ofunreplied letters pile up on my bookshelf, like a sum of debtwaiting to be paid. Some have been waiting there for over one year,while some have newly arrived. The pressure from paying off thatdebt is far beyond what a junior debtor can endure. The stack ofunreplied letters are, like a group of haunting ghosts, continuallypestering my guilt-loaded soul. Conventionally, the letters willcertainly be replied. I can even swear by heaven that never do Ihave the intention not to reply when my mind is clear. The problemis how to reply. Even if I spared myself a whole summer night, Iwould be wavering on which letter to reply first, the 18-month-oldone or the 7-month-old? The reply has been delayed for so long thatI'm afraid even a heartfelt apology has already lost its power. Infriends' heart, I've been marginalized as a cocky man unworthy ofcare. "Unaccountable"! That is their unanimous comment onme。

　　In fact, even though I pull myselftogether and settle down at the desk, ready to pay off the debt, mydetermination will easily be split up by doubts. Old and newletters, replied or yet-to-be, cram the shelf and the drawer indisorder, which reminds me of two verses: "He's simply in the verymountain. In the depths of clouds, his whereabouts are unknown."(from Calling on a Hermit in Vain by Jia Dao). Picking out theletter I decide to reply from such a mess will cost multiplied timeand energy as replying the letter does. Moreover, on visualizingthe facial expression of friends when they receive the reply —reburned lingering anger rather than surprised delight — my tinyamount of determination dwindle into naught. Consequently, the datewhen my debt is paid off extends into eternity. Although I haven'treplied the letters, I can never forget my friends, any more than adebtor can forget his creditor. In the depth of my disturbed andapologetic heart looms the indelible angry and icy look of myfriends. Never can I forget them. Friends who really fall intooblivion, from which guilt is totally absent, are those who havereceived my reply。

我若为王
——聂绀弩
在电影刊物上看见一个影片的名字：《我若为王》(1)。从这影片的名字，我想到和影片毫无关系的另外的事(2)。我想，自己如果作了王，这世界会成为一种怎样的光景呢？这自然是一种完全可笑的幻想，我根本不想作王(3)，也根本看不起王，王是什么东西呢？难道我脑中还有如此封建的残物么？而且真想作王的人，他将用他的手去打天下，决不会放在口里说的。但是假定又假定，我若为王，这个世界会成为一种怎样的光景？
我若为王，自然我的妻就是王后了。我的妻的德性，我不怀疑，为王后只会有余的。但纵然没有任何德性，纵然不过是个娼妓，那时候，她也仍旧是王后。一个王后是如何地尊贵呀，会如何地被人们像捧着天上的星星一样捧来捧去呀，假如我能够想像，那一定是一件有趣的事情。
我若为王，我的儿子，假如我有儿子，就是太子或王子了。我并不以为我的儿子会是一无所知，一无所能的白痴(4)，但纵然是一无所知一无所能的白痴，也仍旧是太子或王子。一个太子或王子中如何地尊贵呀，会如何被人们像捧天上的星星一样地捧来捧去呀。假如我能想像，倒是件不是没有趣味的事。
我若为王，我的女儿就是公主，我的亲眷都是皇亲国戚。无论他们怎样丑陋，怎样顽劣，怎样……(5)也会被人们像捧天上的星星一样地捧来捧去，因为她们是贵人。
我若为王，我的姓名就会改作：“万岁”，我的每一句话都成为：“圣旨”。我的意欲，我的贪念，乃至每一个幻想，都可竭尽全体臣民的力量去实现，即使是无法实现的。我将没有任何过失，因为没有人敢说它是过失；我将没有任何罪行，因为没有人敢说它是罪行。没有人敢呵斥我，指摘我，除非把我从王位上赶下来。但是赶下来，就是我不为王了。我将看见所有的人们在我面前低头，鞠躬，匍匐(6)，连同我的尊长，我的师友，和从前曾在我面前昂头阔步耀武扬威的人们。我将看不见一个人的脸，所看见的只是他们的头顶或帽盔。或者所能看见的脸都是谄媚的，乞求的，快乐的时候不敢笑，不快乐的时候不敢不笑，悲戚的时候不敢哭，不悲戚的时候不敢不哭脸。我将听不见人们的真正的声音，所能听见的都是低微的，柔婉的，畏葸(7)的和娇痴的，唱小旦的声音：“万岁，万岁！万万岁！”这是他们的全部语言。“有道明君！伟大的主上啊！”这就是那语言的全部内容。没有在我之上的人了，没有和我同等的人了，我甚至会感到单调，寂寞和孤独。
为什么人们要这样呢？为什么要捧我的妻，捧我的儿女和亲眷呢？因为我是王，中他们的主子，我将恍然大悟：我生活在这些奴才们中间，连我所敬畏的尊长和师友也无一不是奴才，而我自己不过是一个奴才的首领。
我是民国的国民，民国国民的思想和生活习惯使我深深地憎恶一切奴才或奴才相(8)，连同敬畏的尊长和师友们。请科学家们不要见笑，我以为世界之所以还有待于改进者(9)，全因为有这些奴才的缘故。生活在奴才们中间，作奴才们的首领，我将引为生平的最大耻辱，最大的悲哀。我将变成一个暴君，或者反而是明君；我将把我的臣民一齐杀死，连同尊长和师友，不准一奴种留在人间。我将没有一个臣民，我将不再是奴才们的君主。
我若为王，将终于不能为王(10)，却也真地为古今中外最大的王了。“万岁，万岁，万万岁！”我将和全世界的真的人们一同三呼。

注释：
《我若为王》是中国现代杰出杂文家聂绀弩（1903－1986）写于1941年的一篇杂文，文字通俗易懂，内容讽刺辛辣，流露了对专制统治者和奴才的蔑视。
(1)“我若为王”译为If I Were King，其中King的前面省略了冠词a 。在职位、头衔、等级等的名词前面大多不用冠词a或an。
(2)“和影片毫无关系的另外的事”译为something entirely foreign to the film inquestion ，其中foreign to为成语，作having no relation to 或unconnectedwith解。又in question 是添加成分，作being talked about（正在讨论的）解。
(3)“我根本不想为王”译为being a king is the last thing I aspire to，其中last一词作least likely 或most unlikely（最不可能的）解。
(4)“一无所知，一无所能的白痴”译为ignorant or worthless in every way like anidiot，其中in every way作“完全”或“彻头彻尾”解。
(5)“无论他们怎样丑陋，怎样顽劣，怎样……”中的最后一个“怎样”意即“诸如此类的事”或“等等”，现译为orwhatnot。英语whatnot作other such things解，为what may not say? 的省略。
(6)“匍匐”在此指俯伏或拜倒动作（表示顺从），现译为prostrate。
(7)“畏葸”做“胆怯”解，现译为timid。
(8)“奴才相”译为servility。英语servility意即slavishness或slave-likedeference。
(9)“我以为世界之所以还有待于改进者”译为Methinks the world is very much in need ofreform，其中Methinks等于I think或It seems tobe，为无人称动词，本为古体词，现常作诙谐打趣用语。
(10)“我若为王，将终于不能为王”译为If I were king and ultimately ended up becomingno king at all，其中ended up是成语，作“告终”解。例如：He never dreamed that hewould end up owning such a big fortune.

If I Were King
——Nie Gannu
Recently ina movie magazine I came across the title of a film: If I Were King.It has put me in mine of something entirely foreign to film inquestion. I wonder what would become of this world if I myself wereking. This is of course a ridiculous fancy, for being a king is thelast thing I aspire to and also a thing I utterly despise. What thehell is a king? How can I still be so feudalistic in my mind?Moreover, if one is really bent on being a king, he will try tocarry out his design by deeds instead of by words. But, to put ithypothetically, suppose I were king, what would this world looklike?
If I were king, my wife would of course be queen. With all hermoral excellence, of which I make no doubt, she would be more thanqualified for being a queen. But even if she had no virtue to speakof, or were just a whore, she would be queen all the same. Imaginehow noble and dignified a queen would be and how people would keeplauding her to the skies like mad! It is indeed great fun for me tovisualize all of this.
If I wereking, my son, if any, would be crown prince or prince. I don’tthink my son will be ignorant or worthless in every way like anidiot. But, even if that were not the case, he would still be crownprince or prince. Imagine how noble and dignified a crown prince orprince would be and how people would keep lauding him to the skieslike mad! It is indeed great fun for me to visualize all ofthis.
If I were the king, my daughters would be princess, and myrelatives by marriage would all become members of the royal family.No matter how ugly or perverse or whatnot they
were, people would keep lauding them to the skies like mad just thesame because they were dignitaries.
If I wereking, I would be addressed as “Your Majesty” and every word of minewould become a “royal edict”. All my subjects would leave no stoneunturned to carry out every will, every avaricious desire and evenevery whim of mine, even though they were all beyond the possible.I would do no wrong simply because no one dared to call it a wrong.I would commit no crime simply because no one dared to call it acrime. No one would dare to berate or find fault with me unless Iwas removed from the throne, which meant that I was no longer theking. I would see all people hang their heads, bow low or prostratethemselves at my feet, including my respected elders, teachers,friends and even those who had used to swagger arrogantly in frontof me. I could see none of their faces; all I could see were thetops of their heads or hats or helmets on their heads. The onlyfaces I could see would be ingratiating or supplicating – facesthat dared not smile to express joy; faces that dared not refrainfrom a forced smile when there was no joy at all to justify asmile; faces that dared not cry to express sorrow; faced that darednot refrain from a feigned cry when there was no sorrow to justifya cry. I could hear no true voices of my people.All I could hear would be the feeble, soft, timid and affectedvoice, like that of a female Peking opera singer, chanting, “Longlive the King!” that would be their language in toto. “Great is theKing, our enlightened lord!” That would be the sole content oftheir language. There would be no one above me or on an equalfooting with me. I would even feel bored, lonely andisolated.
Why would people behave like

　　文：朱自清

　　燕子去了，有再来的时候；杨柳枯了，有再青的时候；桃花谢了，有再开的时候。但是，聪明的，你告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？--是有人偷了他们罢：那是谁？又藏在何处呢？是他们自己逃走了：现在又到了哪里呢？

　　　Swallows may have gone, but there is atime of return; willow trees may have died back, but there is atime of regreening; peach blossoms may have fallen, but they willbloom again. Now, you the wise, tell me, why should our days leaveus, never to return? - If they had been stolen by someone, whocould it be? Where could he hide them? If they had made the escapethemselves, then where could they stay at the moment?

　　我不知道他们给了我多少日子；但我的手确乎是渐渐空虚了。在默默里算着，八千多日子已经从我手中溜去；象针尖上一滴水滴在大海里，我的日子滴在时间的流里，没有声音也没有影子。我不禁头涔涔而泪潸潸了。

　　　I don’t know how many days I have beengiven to spend, but I do feel my hands are getting empty. Takingstock silently, I find that more than eight thousand days havealready slid away from me. Like a drop of water from the point of aneedle disappearing into the ocean, my days are dripping into thestream of time, soundless, traceless. Already sweat is starting onmy forehead, and tears welling up in my eyes.

散文汉译英:《雨前》的三个英译版本比较

译文来源
< 1>译文1为张梦井、杜耀文译，选自张梦井、杜耀文编译，1999年,《中国名家散文精译》。青岛：青岛出版社。
< 2 > 译文2为RobertNeather译，选自《中国翻译》2002年第4期。
< 3>译文3为张培基译，选自张培基译注，2003年,《英译中国现代散文选》。上海：上海外语教育出版社。

【原文】
雨前
最后的鸽群带着低弱的笛声在微风里划一个圈子后，也消失了。也许是误认这灰暗的凄冷的天空为夜色的来袭，或是也预感到风雨的将至，遂过早地飞回它们温暖的木舍。
几天的阳光在柳条上撤下的一抹嫩绿，被尘土埋掩得有憔悴色了，是需要一次洗涤。还有干裂的大地和树根也早已期待着雨。雨却迟疑着。
我怀想着故乡的雷声和雨声。那隆隆的有力的搏击，从山谷反响到山谷，仿佛春之芽就从冻土里震动，惊醒，而怒茁出来。细草样柔的雨丝又以温存之手抚摸它，使它簇生油绿的枝叶而开出红色的花。这些怀想如乡愁一样萦绕得使我忧郁了。我心里的气候也和这北方大陆一样缺少雨量，一滴温柔的泪在我枯涩的眼里，如迟疑在这阴沉的天空里的雨点，久不落下。
白色的鸭也似有一点烦躁了，有不洁的颜色的都市的河沟里传出它们焦急的叫声。有的还未厌倦那船一样的徐徐的划行。有的却倒插它们的长颈在水里，红色的蹼趾伸在尾后，不停地扑击着水以支持身体的平衡。不知是在寻找沟底的细微食物，还是贪那深深的水里的寒冷。
有几个已上岸了。在柳树下来回地作绅士的散步，舒息划行的疲劳。然后参差地站着，用嘴细细地抚理它们遍体白色的羽毛，间或又摇动身子或扑展着阔翅，使那缀在羽毛间的水珠坠落。一个已修饰完毕的，弯曲它的颈到背上，长长的红嘴藏没在翅膀里，静静合上它白色的茸毛间的小黑眼，仿佛准备睡眠。可怜的小动物，你就是这样做你的梦吗?
我想起故乡放雏鸭的人了。一大群鹅黄色的雏鸭游牧在溪流间。清浅的水，两岸青青的草，一根长长的竹竿在牧人的手里。他的小队伍是多么欢欣地发出啾啁声，又多么驯服地随着他的竿头越过一个田野又一个山坡!夜来了，帐幕似的竹篷撑在地上，就是他的家。但这是怎样辽远的想象啊!在这多尘土的国度里，我仅只希望听见一点树叶上的雨声。一点雨声的幽凉滴到我憔悴的梦，也许会长成一树圆圆的绿阴来覆荫我自己。
我仰起头。天空低垂如灰色雾幕，落下一些寒冷的碎屑到我脸上。一只远来的鹰隼仿佛带着愤怒，对这沉重的天色的愤怒，平张的双翅不动地从天空斜插下，几乎触到河沟对岸的土阜，而又鼓扑着双翅，作出猛烈的声响腾上了。那样巨大的翅使我惊异。我看见了它两胁间斑白的羽毛。
接着听见了它有力的鸣声，如同一个巨大的心的呼号，或是在黑暗里寻找伴侣的叫唤。然而雨还是没有来。

【译文】

译文1--Before the Rain

Having made the last circle in the breeze, the last of the pigeonsdisappeared with a faint whistle. Perhaps they mistakingly thoughtthe dark and cold sky to be the coming dim light of night , orperhaps they predicted the coming wind and rain; thus they flew totheir warm wooden nest rather early.
A plaster of soft green cast on the willow branches after severaldays of sunlight now had become somewhat withered under the dust.It was in great need of a wash. And the cracked, parched earth andtree roots had long been waiting for rain. But still the rain wasslow in coming.
I thought of the sound of thunder and rain in my home village. Theviolent rumbling thunderclapse echoed from valley to valley. Itseemed as if spring shoots were shaken, awakened and broke outslender green from the frozen earth. The sound of the rain as softand thin as grass fondled them with gentle hands, making them shootup in clusters of glossy dark green branches that waved theirblossoming red flowers. This feeling of nostalgia hovered about me,making me feel melancholy in my heart. The weather in my heart feltjust like the immense land in the north that was also lacking rain.A soft tear drop hesitated before falling from my dull and heavyeyes just like the rain paused in the gloomy sky.
The white ducks looked a bit agitated, for theiranxious cries came from ditches in the city which had becomecontaminated and changed colour. Some were not weary, paddlingslowly along like boats ; others were putting their long necks intowater, stretching their red webbed toes behind and constantlystroking the water to keep their bodies balanced. I don’t knowwhether they were searching for small bits of food at the bottom orjust lingering in the coolness of the water below.
Some had climbed on to the banks and werewalking back and forth under a willow tree just like some gentlemenrelieving their fatigue of paddling. Then they stood thereirregularly, pluming their feathers carefully with their beaks.Sometimes , they swung their bodies or stretched their broad wingsout to shake off the water drops in their feathers. One of them hadfinished the pluming, curling its neck upon the back with its longred beak buried within its wing and little eyes(which were amongthe fine white soft hair) closed, as if it were going to sleep.Poor small animal , are you dreaming in this way?
Thus I recalled the duckling tenders in my home village. A greatswarm of yellowish crane ducklings floated in the streams , theshallow blue water beneath, the green grass on both banks, and thelong bamboo pole in the hands of the tender. How merrily when hissmall army was chirping and how timidly when it was passing by onefield to another hill slope! When the night fell, a tent-likebamboo cover was erected on the ground as his home. But how faraway these images appeared! In this dusty land I could only hopefor a bit rain pattering on the tree leaves. Here the coolness of adrop of rain dripping into my anxious dreams would grow into around and shady trees to cover myself.
Lifting my head, I saw the sky hung like a greycurtain of mist, and some chips of coldness fell upon my face. Aneagle from afar kept on flying down with its wings inclined, as ifit were expressing its angry feeling against the heavy weather.When it nearly touched the earth on the other bank of the ditch,and then shaking its wings violently, it soared high. Its two hugewings made me surprised, for under which I saw its greyishfeathers.
Then I heard its virgorous cry,just like the cryof a big heart or a call in search of its companion in thedark.
But still the rain was late in coming.

译文2--Before the Rain

With a faint whistling, the last flock of pigeons etched a circlein the light breeze, then disappeared. Perhaps they mistook thedarkness of this chilly, lowering sky for the onset of night, orperhaps they sensed the arrival of a storm, and so returned earlyto the warmth of their wooden pigeonry.
The few days' sunlight had splashed the willow twigs with thetender green of new growth,but the dust that now covered them madethem seem tired and withered, in need of a wash. And the parched,split earth and tree-roots had long since been awaiting rain. Butthe rain hesitated.
I remember fondly the sounds of my birthplace---the sounds ofthunder and of rain. Those mighty crashes rumbled and reverberatedfrom mountain valley to mountain valley, as if the new shoots ofspring were shaking in the frozen gound, awakening, and burstingforth with a terrifying vigour. Threads of rain, soft as finegrass, would then caress them with a tender hand, so that clumps ofglossy green leaves would sprout forth and red flowers burst open.These fond recollections lingered with me like a kind ofhomesickness, leaving me dejected. Within my heart, the climateseemed as parched of rain as this northern continent; and like theraindrops, still hesitating in this leaden sky, for a long time nota single tear of tenderness had fallen from my arid eyes.
Even the white ducks seemed a little unsentted, their anxious criesrising from the dirty city stream. Some had not yet wearied oftheir gentle boat-like paddling. But others had stuck their longnecks into the water, their red webbed feet stretching out behindtheir tails, continually thrashing at the water in an attempt tokeep their bodies balanced. Perhaps they were searching for morselsof food on the stream-bed; or maybe they sought the chill cold ofthe deep water.
Some had come up onto the bank. They swaggered back and forth underthe willow trees, enjoying a rest from the fatigue of paddling.Thenthey stood still, in ungainly disarray, smoothing each whitefeather carefully into place with their beaks; now and then theywould shake their bodies or spread their wings, scattering thedrops of water caught in their feathers. One that had alreadyfinished preening curled its neck up over its back, buried its redbeak under its wing, and quietly closed its little blackeye,surrounded by soft white down, as if it were preparing tosleep. You poor little creature, is this the way you dream yourdreams?
I thought of the person in my birthplace whoused to release the ducklings. A great crowd of light yellowducklings would be taken to the waters of the creek---limpid water,lush green grass on the banks, and a long bamboo staff in theherder's hand. How happy his little army was, cheeping with noisydelight! And how meekly they followed his staff, over a field andthen a mountain slope! When night came, the bamboo shelter proppedup on the ground like a tent was his home. Yet what a distant imagethis is now! In this country of dust, all I hope for is to hear thesound of raindrop on leaves. The dark cool of the sound ofraindrops,dripping into my parched and weary dreams, might grow arounded canopy of tree-green shade to cover me.
I raised myhead. The sky loomed like a grey curtain of fog, dropping a fewcold shards upon my face. A lone hawk from afar swooped down fromthe sky, as if angered, angered by the these leaden skies, itsspread wings unmoving, until it almost hit the earthen slope of thestream’s opposite bank; then it beat its wings and soared back upwith a savage stridor. Those huge wings startled me. I could seethe greyish feathers of its flanks.
And when Iheard its piercing cry, it was like a terrible cry from the heart;or perhaps it was calling its mate amid the darkness.
Yet still the rain didn’t come.

译文3--Praying for Rainfall

The last flock of pigeons have also gone out of sight after doingtheir final circling in the soft breeze, the sound of theirwhistles barely audible. They are hastening back to their warmwooden dovecote earlier than usual perhaps because they havemistaken the bleak leaden sky for nightfall or because of theirpresentiment of a storm.
The willow twigs, daubed with a light green by several days ofsunshine, are now covered all over with the dust and look so sicklythat they need to be washed. And the perched soil and tree rootshave likewise been dying for rainfall. Yet the rain is reluctant tocome down.
I can never forget the thunderstorm we often had in my home town.Over there, whenever the rumble of thunder reverberated across thevalley, the buds of spring would seem to sprout freely after beingdisturbed and roused up from their slumber in the frozen soil. Thentenderly stroked by the soft hands of fine rain, they would putforth bright green leaves and pink flowers. It makes me nostalgicand melancholy to think about the old times and my mind is asdepressed as the vast expanse of North China is thirsty. A tearstands in my dull eye and, like the rain lingering in the murkysky, is slow to roll down.
White ducks have also become somewhat impatient. Some are sendingout irritated quacks from the turbid waters of an urban creek. Somekeep swimming leisurely and tirelessly like a slow boat. Some havetheir long necks submerged headfirst in the water while sticking uptheir webbed feet behind their tails and splashing them desperatelyso as to keep their balance. There is no knowing if they aresearching for tiny bits of food from the bottom of the creek orjust enjoying the chill of the deep water.
Some of them stagger out of the water and, to relieve theirfatigure, begin to saunter up and down with a gentleman-likeswagger in the shade of the willow trees. Then, they stand about topreen their white plumage carefully. Occasionally they givethemselves a sudden shake or flap their long wings to let off waterdrops from among their feathers. One of them, after groomingitself, turns round its neck to rest on the back, then buries itslong red beak under its wings and quietly closes its small blackeyes tucked away among the white find hair. Apparently it isgetting ready to sleep. Poor little creature, is that the way yousleep?
The scene recalls to my mind the duckling raiser in my home town.With a long bamboo pole in hand, he would look after a large flockof gosling-yellow ducklings moving about on the limpid water of ashallow brook flanked on both sides by green grass. How the littlecreatures jig-jigged merrily! How they obediently followed thebamboo pole to scamper over field after field, hillside afterhillside! When night fell, the duckling raiser would make his homein a tent-like bamboo shed. Oh, that is something of the distantpast! Now, in this dusty country of ours, what I yearn for is tohear the drip-drip of rain beating against leaves.
When I look up at a gray misty pall of a low-hanging sky, some dustparticles feel chilly on my face. A hawk, seemingly irked by thegloomy sky, swoops down sideways out of nowhere, with wingswidespread and immovable, until it almost hits the hillock on theother side of the brook. But it soars skywards again with a loudflap. I am amazed by its tremendous size of its wings. And I alsocatch sight of the grizzled feathers on its underside.
Then I hear its loud cry----like a powerful voice from the bottomof its heart or a call in the dark for its comrades in arms.
But still no rain.

我可能是天津人 侯宝林

还是从火车上说起吧!大约在我四岁多的时候，我坐过火车。当时带我坐车的人，是我的舅舅，叫张全斌。我记得那时我的打扮挺滑稽的，穿着蓝布大褂、小坎肩，戴瓜皮小帽。那时候，小孩子打扮成那个样子，够不错了。在我的童年中，也就只：有过这么一次。在火车上，因为小，没坐过火车，也很少见过家里以外的人，觉得挺新鲜。也许人在幼年时代终归想要些温暖吧!那时舅舅抱着我，哄着我，我觉得很温暖。一路上吃了半斤炒栗子，睡了一会儿觉，就到了北京。根据这个情况，现在估计起来，我可能是从天津来的。我现在对我原来的父母还有个模糊不清的印象，父亲、母亲的形象还能回忆起一点儿，但很模糊。究竟家里姓什么?哪里人?不知道。我只知道自己的生日和乳名。生日是自己长大以后听家里大人说的，是农历十月十五酉时生人。所以我的乳名叫“酉”，北京人爱用儿化韵，前面加个小，后面加“儿”，就叫“小酉儿”。关于我个人的历史情况，我就知道这一些，再多一点都记不起来了。

I Might Have Come fromTianjinHou Baolin

Translated by LIU Shi-cong
Let me begin with my trip on the train. When I was about four yearsold I had traveled by train. The man I traveled with was my uncleZhang Quanbin. I still remember how funny I looked the way I wasdressed - in a blue cloth gown with a short sleeveless jacket overit and a skullcap on the head. In those days it was good enough forsmall kids to be dressed like that. However, it was my onlyexperience to boast about in my childhood. As I had never traveledby train or met anyone outside my family before, I felt everythingon the train was new to me. Probably in childhood, one always needssome comfort. Sitting in my uncle's lap, being humored all the way,I was very happy. We ate half a jin of roast chestnuts, had a napand soon arrived in Beijing. With the hints mentioned above Iassume

I might have come from Tianjin. Even today Ican recollect what my own parents looked like but, of course, myimpression is blurry. As for what my family name was and where myparents came from, I really don't know. I only remember my birthdayand my infant name. I was told about my birthday by myfoster-parents when I grew up. I was born in the “you" period(between 5-7 p.m.), 15th of the 10th lunar month. So I was namedYou. Prefixed with xiao-young, and suffixed with a diminutiveer--an intimate way of addressing young and small things byBeijingers, my name, therefore, became Xiao You'r. This is all Iknow about my childhood and beyond that I do not remember muchelse.

侯宝林是难得的相声演员，是天才的艺术家。他己于l993年去世，中国文化的一大损失。1982年，他写了一本《我的青少年时代》，由北京出版社出版，这段文字为该书的第一段。侯宝林是一个有多方面才能的艺术家。他的相声说得好，也有多种因素，其一是他的语言好。他使用民间流行的口语，语言里有丰富的社会内容和文化内涵，有很强的生命力。话由他说出来，特别有味道。他的语言普通百姓喜欢，文化程度高的人也欣赏，所以他生前被北京大学请去作兼职教授。

One Third of Our Lifetime

一个人的生命究竟有多大的意义，这有什么标准可以衡量吗？提出一个绝对的标准当然很困难；但是，大体上看一个人对待生命的态度是否严肃认真，看他对待劳动、工作等等的态度如何，也就不难对这个人的存在意义做出适当的估计了。

What is the significance of life? Is there any gauge to measureit? It would be very difficult, of course, trying to advance anabsolute standard.However,the significance of one's existence canmore or less be uated by examining his attitude toword life andwork.

古来一切有成就的人，都很严肃的对待自己的生命，当他活着一天，总要尽量多劳动、多工作、多学习，不肯虚度年华，不让时间白白的浪费掉。我国历代的劳动人民以及大政治家、大思想家等等都莫不如此。

Since ancient times all people of accomplishment are veryserious about their lives.While they are alive,even if there isonly one day left to live,they try to work as hard as they can andlearn as much as possible,never letting a single day slip bywithout any gain.This is true of the working people as well as ofthe great statemen and great thinkers in our history.

班固写的《汉书·食货志》上有下面的记载：“冬，民既人；妇人同巷相从夜绩，女工一月得四十五日。”

In the chapter"Foods and Goods" of The Chroniclesof the Han Dynasty, the great historian Ban Gu states:"In winterpeople stay indoors.Women get tohether to spin hemp threads atnight. They manage to work forty-five days in a month."

这几句读起来很奇怪，怎么一月能有四十五天呢？再看原文底下颜师古做了注解，他说：“一月之中，又得夜半为十五日，共四十五日。”

It sounds strange.How come there are forty_five days in a month?Let us look at its annotations given by Yanshigu:"They gain half aday 's time every night and, they have forty-five days in amonth."

这就很清楚了。原来我国的古人不但比西方各国的人更早地懂得科学地、合理地计算劳动日；而且我们的古人老早就知道对于日班和夜班的计算方法。

Now ot's clear.Our ancestors had, earlier thanthe westerners,learned how to calculate workdays accurately andreasonably.They had also learned how calculate day shift and nightshife as well.

一个月本来只有三十天，古人把每个夜晚的时间算作半天，就多了十五天。从这个意义张说来，夜晚的时间实际上不就等于生命的三分之一吗？

It os common knoeledge that there are onlythirty days in a month. Counting the time of one night for half aday,our forefathers managed to expend the month by fifteen days.Inthis sense the night time gained amounts to one third of ourlives,doesn't it?

对于这三分之一的生命，不但历代的劳动者如此重视，而且有许多大政治家也十分重视。班固在《汉书·刑法志》里还写道：

This one third of life is not only treasured by the workingpeople but also by the great statesmen in our history.In thechapter "Criminal Law" of The Chronicles of the Han Dynasty, Ban Gualso states:

“秦始皇躬操文墨，昼断狱，夜理书。”

"The First Emperor of the Qin Dynasty set agood example in being industrious_disposing of lawsuits during theday and reading at night ,"This is about how hetried to find time to read at night.

有的人一听说秦始皇就不喜欢他，其实秦始皇毕竟是中国历史上的一个伟大的人物，班固对他也还有一些公平的评价。这里写的是秦始皇在夜间看书学习的情形。

To some people the The First Emperor of theQin isn't a pleasant name to recall but there isno denying that he was a great figure in the history of China. EvenBanGu has an impartial opinion of him.

据刘向的《说苑》所载,春秋战国时有许多国君都很注意学习。

Liu Xiang, the great schilar of the HanDynasty ,cites in his historical Anecdotes many princes of theSpring and Autumn period and Warring States period who paid greatattention to learning.

为什么古人对于夜晚的时间都这样重视，不肯轻易放过呢？我认为这就是他们对待自己生命的三分之一的严肃认真的态度，这正是我们所应该学习的。

Why did the people in the set such great store by the nighttime? I think this is positive proof of theirattude toward the one third of their lives.This is exactly what weshould learn from them.

我之所以想利用夜晚的时间，向读者同志们做这样的谈话，目的也不过是要大家引起注意珍惜这三分之一的生命，是大家在整天的劳动，工作以后，以轻松的心情，领略一些古今有用的知识而已。

My intention of writing this little essay tonight is to call thereaders'attention to the one third of his lifetime so that , afterworking for a whole day, he can sit relaxed at home,browsingthrough and appreciating the useful knowledge of the past and ofthe present.

秋天的怀念 Fond Memories of Autumn

史铁生 Shi Tiesheng

双腿瘫痪后，我的脾气变得暴怒无常。望着望着天上北归的雁阵，我会突然把面前的玻璃砸碎；听着听着李谷一甜美的歌声，我会猛地把手边的东西摔向四周的墙壁。母亲就悄悄的躲出去，在我看不见的地方偷偷地听着我的动静。当一切恢复沉寂，她又悄悄地进来，眼边红红的，看着我。

When my legs were paralyzed, my temper became out of control.Looking at the wild geese flying back north in the sky, I wouldsuddenly smash the window glass in front of me. Listening to thesweet songs sang by Li Guyi, I would thrust everything in handsinto surrounding walls. Mother then hid herself quietly, watchingmy behavior out of my view secretly. Until everything turned still,she came in again quietly, watching me with her sad eyes.

“听说北海的花儿都开了，我推着你去走走。”她总是这么说。母亲喜欢花，可自从我的腿瘫痪后，她侍弄的那些花都死了。

“I’ve heard that all flowers are in blossom in Beihai, let me pushyou to have a look.” She always (used to say)said that to me.Mother loves flowers, but since my legs broken, the flowers grownby her all withered.

“不，我不去！”我狠命地捶打着两条可恨的腿，喊着，“我活着有什么劲！”母亲扑过来抓住我的手，忍住哭声说:“咱娘儿俩在一块儿，好好儿活，好好儿活……”

“No, I don’t want to go.” I beat my cursed legs desperately,shouting, “What I am still living for?” Mother rushed to grasp myhands, inhibiting crying,(saying between subdued sobs) “We two aretogether and live a good life, live a happy life…”

可我却一直都不知道，她的病已经到了那步田地。后来妹妹告诉我，她常常肝疼得整宿整宿翻来覆去地睡不了觉。

I never aware that her illness cannot became even worse.Afterwards, Sister told me, Mother often could not fall asleep forthe whole night for her liver aching seriously( with pains inliver).

那天我又独自坐在屋里，看着窗外的树叶唰唰啦啦的飘落。母亲进来了，挡在窗前：“北海的菊花开了，我推着你去看看吧。”她憔悴的脸上现出央求般的神色。“什么时候？”“你要是愿意，就明天？”她说。我的回答已经让她喜出望外了。“好吧，就明天。”我说。她高兴得一会儿坐，一会站起：“那就赶紧准备准备。”“诶呀，烦不烦？几步路，有什么好准备的！”她也笑了，坐在我身边，絮絮叨叨地说着：“看完菊花，咱们就去‘仿膳’，你小时候最爱吃那儿得豌豆黄儿。还记得那回我带你去北海吗？你偏说那杨树花是毛毛虫，跑着，一脚踩扁一个……”她忽然不说了。对于“跑”和“踩”一类的字眼儿，她比我还敏感。她又悄悄地出去了。

Another day, I stayed at home alone again, witnessing outer leavesfollowing(watching the rustling fall of autumn leaves through thewindows). Then, Mother came in, standing at the window, “Thechrysanthemums in Beihai are blossoming. Let me take you there fora visit.” The pleading look showed on her haggard face.

“When?”

“If you’dlike, tomorrow is ok?” She felt surprised andexcited.“Ok, just tomorrow.”

She turned so delighted that she didn’t know whether to sit orstand.

“Let’s prepare at once.”

“Oh, whata bore! It’s very near, and do we need to get ready?” We bothburst into laughing and she sat beside me,murmuring, “Afterwards, we’ll go to Fang Shan Restaurant. When youwere young, you liked puree peas best. Do you still remember ourlast tour to Beihai? You insisted that the poplar flowers be wormsand ran to stamp on them one by one…” Suddenly, she broke off. Shewas more sensitive to words like “run” and “stamp” than I was.

她出去了，就再也没回来。

She came out , but never returned .

邻居们把她抬上车时，她还在大口大口地吐着鲜血。我没想到她已经病成那样。看着三轮车远去，也绝没有想到那竟是永远的诀别。

She was still vomiting blood when neighbors carried her onto cart.I never thought she was so seriously ill. I never thought that wasthe eternal departure, watching the three-wheel leaving far andfar.

邻居的小伙子背着我去看她的时候，她正艰难地呼吸着，像她那一生艰难的生活。别人告诉我，她昏迷前的最后一句话是:“我那个有病的儿子和我那个还未成年的女儿……”

The young man next door carried me on his back to see her. She wasstriving to grasp her last breath, just like her entire hard life.I was told that her last words were: “I have a paralyzed son and anunmarried daughter.”

又是秋天，妹妹推我去北海看了菊花。黄色的花淡雅，白色的花高洁，紫红色的花热烈而深沉，泼泼洒洒，秋风中正开得烂漫。我懂得母亲没有说完的话。妹妹也懂。我俩在一块儿，要好好生活……

It’s autumn again, Sister wheeled me to Beihai to see thechrysanthemums. The yellow ones showed simple and elegant; thewhite ones, pure and noble; the purple ones, warm and deep; allwere in full blossom in the autumn breeze. I totally understandMother’s unfinished words. So does Sister. We both live togetherfor a happy life…

菜坛子李汉荣
母亲从乡下来，住了十天。临走时，她老人家想为我们添置一件东西，目个纪念。
母亲说：“你们什么都有，又好像什么都没有。电视机是你们的，里面走来走去都是些陌生的人，有时候，杀人犯、贼、贪官、小偷也在里面出出进进；收录机是你们的，可尽是人家在唱歌；书架上的书是你们的，可那都是别人写的字；电冰箱是你们的，一年四季都装一箱不知从哪里落下的霜。方便是方便，可就是没有一样是你们自己的。”
走的那天，母亲起了个早，从街上抱回一个泡菜坛子。她说：“在坛子里腌一些菜吧，调调自家的口味。”
我们的家里，从此有了泡菜，有了自己的味道。朋友上门，我们时常以泡菜佐酒，微醉中，大家就会说：“乡下的味道，不错；不错，乡下的味道!”
于是我们大家都有了自己的味道。再看那泡菜坛子，静静地守在资阵里，在喧嚣的日子，在钢筋棍凝土的单元里，守着一坛平静的心情，酝酿着古老而纯朴的乡下味道。

A Pickle Pot LiHanrong
Mother came from our home village. She stayed with us for ten days.When she was about to leave, she wanted to buy us something as apresent.
"You've got everything," she said, "but you seem to have gotnothing. The TV set is yours, but the people who walk back andforth in it are all strangers, even murderers, corrupt officialsand thieves come in and out of it from bite to time. The radiocassette player is yours, but it's all others who sing in it. Thebooks on the shelf are yours, but they are all written fry others.The fridge is yours, but all the year round it's filled with frostthat comes from God knows where. Though they snake your life easyand comfortable, none of them BELONGS to you in the rest sense ofthe word. "
On the day she was to leave for home, she got up early in themorning and brought back a pickle pot from the market.
"Make some pickles in it," she said, "and have something that suitsyour own palate."
Since then pickles of our own taste had been added to our diet.When we had guests, we often had pickles to go with me. Slightlyintoxicated, everyone would comment, "A country flavor, not bad.Not bad, a country flavor."
So we had something to our own taste. When we looked at the pot, itwas standing quietly at the corner. . Amid the hustle and bustle ofour everyday life and in the apartment of reinforced concrete, thepot stood there by itself, brewing an old and simpleflavor. (刘士聪 译)

田水哗啦 姚景文

三十守寡起，十多年了，“招白眼”又一夜失眠：自家种的“责任田”搁开了鸡爪裂，大还是晴得不肯挂一根云线线。要是减产，全家四张嘴巴，还不吊了起来?
唉，17岁的女儿到底不知深浅，刚才还对娘嚷：“好愁勿愁!后半夜大水库放水，还怕那雪癫子不将水上足?”现在却挂着笑篇熟睡了。对推广“责任田”，“招白眼”是白着眼睛反对的。因为她小时候亲眼看到爷爷跟雪癫子的大爹，争田水打得血肉横飞，田缺流红。如今回想起来，还寒毛碜碜，心惊肉跳呢。雪癫子当了队里的管水员，能担保他不包藏祸心？
“招白眼”心神不宁，翻身起床，就提着锄头出门去。
“招白眼”叫阿招，自从死了男人，脸上从未挂笑，逢人见众，老是翻着白眼，惹得那老光棍雪癫子心里痒痒，有口难张。于是村里留着一个“话把”：雪癫子不哭，“招白眼”不笑。
“招白眼”转过岙口，隐隐传来吱呀吱呀的水车声，圆月下，车着池塘水的雪癫子，那铜勺样的后脑和起油的光背，在闪着银光。他雪瘫子要不是当了管水员，还不一样要等后半夜灌水？早一铺水，多一捧米，谁不望自家的饭碗满?
然而，“招白眼”傻了!她来到自家的“责任田”边，破天荒开了笑颜：怎么，田水哗啦哗啦地跳跃着，喧笑着，闪着粼粼的银光。这“甜水”像是流进了她的心窝。而她上坎雪滚子的“责任田”里，依然唇焦口燥。她不解地瞧着雪癫子，眼里噙着泪，终于鼓足了勇气，第一遭喊了声：“阿雪哥!’
水车“吱格”地停住，雪癫子转过身来，只见“招白眼”傻乎乎地笑，雪癫子也懵了，好像眼前不是日日开门相见的“招白眼”，而是从月亮上飘下来的嫦娥。瞧那一双乌黑的眸子，真还有点儿含情脉脉哩!
“嘿呀，是你，阿招妹妹，我，我是想，你的责任田，裂，裂得厉害，怕，伯后半夜灌水，来不及……”雪癫子有点语无伦次了。
“招白眼”觉得耳热，她也慌难择辞：“你的责任田也……”
“找是负责田水的，谁的田受旱，都是我的贵任。你，你不要放在心上……”雪癫子也感到浑身火热，连忙又回过头去，踩动水车。田水又哗啦地笑了。
“招白眼”悄悄地捡起田埂边的一件白小布衫，走过去披在雪液子的身上，一面也登上水车。雪癫子投过感激的一瞥。“招白眼”温存而体贴地说：“半夜露重，当心着凉。”
月光下，他俩挨得很近，她见白小布衫的领口破了，她想：“明天该给他补一补。”

The Irrigation Water GameGurgling YaoJinwen

Black-brewed Zhao, widowed over ten years ago when she was thirty,was having another sleepless night. Her family's contracted landhad cracked because of drought, but there was still not a cloud inthe bright sky. If production dropped this year, what should herfamily of four do except go hungry?
It was a pity that her seventeen-year-old daughter didn't yet knowwhat worry was. Just a few minutes ago she was shouting to hermother, "Don't you worry 1 late at night the reservoir will let outwater. Scabby-headed Xue will certainly give us our full share ofwater, won’t he?" But now she was asleep with a smile still on herlips.
Black-browed Zhao didn't see eye to eye with the implementation ofcontracted land policy, because she had seen with her own eyes whenshe was still very young how her grandfather and Scabby-headedXue's uncle had fought tooth and nail over irrigation water. Shewould shudder even at the thought of it. Now Scabby-headed Xue wasin charge of the irrigation water in the brigade; who could say forsure that he bore no grudge against her?
Black-Mowed Dian became so agitated at thethought that she got off the bed, took a hoe and went out to thefield.
Black-browed Zhao used to he called Ah Zhao. After her husband'sdeath, she never smiled and always scowled at others. Tie oldbachelor Scabby-headed Xue could only bury his longings for her inhis heart. Thus there spread in the village a popular saying:"Scabby-headed Xue never wept; Black-browed Zhao neversmiled."
As she approached the field, Black-browed Zhao heard the faintcreaking of a waterwheel and saw Scabby-headed Xue pedalling waterunder the full moon. His bald head and his greasy bare back wereglistening like silver. Wouldn't he have to wait for the water tocome late at night like the rest of us if he had not been in chargeof the irrigation water? The earlier one got water, the more riceone would reap-who wouldn't like to see his own bowl full ofrice?
However, when she carne to her own contractedland, she got such a pleasant surprise that for the first time shebeamed with joy. Why, water came gurgling happily over her land,glittering like silver. The sweet water seemed to be flowing intoher heart. Yet Scabby-headed Xue's own land above hers was stillparched with thirst. She looked at Scabby-headed Xue withincomprehension. Tears welled up in her eyes. She plucked up hercourage to call him "Brother Ali Xue" for the first tithe.
The waterwheel carne to a stop with a creak and Scabby-headed Xuesaw Black-browed Zhao gazing at him with a foolish smile. He feltdazed as if she were not the Black-browed Zhao he met day in andday out, but rather Chang Er, the Moon Fairy coming down from themoon. Those black eyes of Black-browed Zhao seemed to be exudingtenderness and love.
"Why, it's you, Sister Ah Zhao? 1, I thought your contracted landmust have become parched and l was afraid it would be too late ifwater came at midnight." Scabby-headed Xue becametongue-tied.
Black browed Zhao blushed to her eats and waslost for words, "Your own contracted land also. . ."
"Never mind, I'm in charge of the irrigation water. It would be myfault if anyone's land got ruined because of drought. It's mypleasure to do my job well." Xue felt hot all over his body andhastily resumed pedalling. Irrigation water came gurgling again.Black-browed Zhao gently picked up the white shirt at the ridge ofthe field and put it on Xue's bare back, while joining him in thepedalling. Xue threw her a glance of gratitude. Black-browed Zhaosaid with affection and consideration, "It's midnight, take carenot to catch cold."
In the moonlight, the two kept close to each other. She saw thecollar of his white shirt was worn out and said to herself, "I mustmend it for him tomorrow."

In Memory of Mr. Lu Xun 鲁迅先生记By　Xiao　Hong

Mr.Lu　Xun　had　a　plant　pot　in　his sitting－room.It　looked　like　the　jar　European　women　fetched　water　with，asshown　in paintings.It　was　of　a　bluish　gray　with　a　couple　of　ripples　naturally　embossed　with　its　ownglaze. It　had　a　handle　on　each　side　near　the　top.Planted　in　it　were　a　few evergreens.

　　The first　time　I　visited Mr.Lu　Xun　I　asked:

　　“What is　the　name　of　this　plant？Thereis　no　fire　in　the　room，but it is　not frozen.”

　　It was toward　evening　one　winter day.The　sitting－room　downstairs　was dim. Mr.Lu　Xun　was　smoking　acigarette.When　he　took　it　away　from　his　lips，holding　it　between　his　fingers　at　the　corner　of　his　desk，smallpuffs　rose　as　high　as　the　top　of　his　grayish　hair　and，further　up，theywere　no　longer visible.

　　“It’scalled‘evergreen’. It　is　always　like this.”Heflicked　the　cigarette　ash　to　the　ashtray　next　to　the　pot　and　the　cigarette　glowed　redder　still　like　a　small　flower　glimmering　two　or　three　inches　from　the　cuff　of　his　sleeve.

　　“It is not　affected　by　the　cold，is it？”Iasked　another　time，not remembering　exactly when.

　　“No，it is not，”said Mrs.Lu Xun.“It’s a tough　plant.”Sheheld　the　pot　by　the　top，shaking　it　for　me　to see.I　noticed　there　were　some　pebbles　around　the　bottom.

　　Later，as I got　to　know　them　better，I wentonce　or　twice　up　to　the　pot，whichwas　placed　on　a　long　black　table，to examine　it　more closely.Coming　from　the　cold　north　I　always　wondered　why　this　plant　did　not　wither　even　inwinter.

　　The plant　was　now　still alive.Sometimes　it　stood　on　the　black　table，other times　in　front　ofMr.Lu　Xun’s photograph.

　　But ithad　been　transplanted　into　a　glass　pot　through　which　their　yellowish　roots　could　be　seen　at　thebottom.

　　Mrs.Lu　Xun　would　chat　with　us　while　moving　from　one　plant　to　another，checking　if　any　of　them　had　turned　yellow　and　which　one　needed　clipping　or　watering.She　always　kept　herself　busy　in　her room.Sometimes　she　examined　the　evergreens，sometimes　she　talked　ofMr.Lu　Xun，in front　of　his　photograph，as if of　someone　of　the　remotepast.

　　But where　is　the　pot　now？It is standing　in　the　graveyard，inthe grass，its bottom　missing. The　pot，empty，hasbeen　there　spring　through　autumn　when　the　pomegranate　at　the　head　of　the　neighboring　tomb　has　blossomed　and　bornefruit.

　　Since the　Japanese　bombardment　of　Shanghai，onlyMrs.Lu　Xun　has　visited　the　tomb，but none　of　the　others.The　tomb　must　have　been　overgrown　with　wild　grass　and　the　porcelain　bust　ofMr.Lu　Xun　buried　up　to　the　chest，not to mention　the pot.

　　As for us　over　here，thereis　not　much　we　can　do　but　write　memorial articles. However，whowill　go　and　trim　the　grass　on　his　tomb？We aregetting　further　and　further　away　from　him，but nomatter　how　far　away　we　are，we must　always　remember　the grass.

鲁迅先生记

　　□　萧　红

　　鲁迅先生家里的花瓶，好像画上所见的西洋女子用以取水的瓶子，灰蓝色，有点自然堆起的瓷釉纹痕，瓶口的两边，还有两个瓶耳，瓶里种的是几株万年青。

　　我第一次看到这花的时候，就问过:

　　“这叫什么名字？屋中不生火炉，也不冻死？”

　　第一次，走进鲁迅家里去，那是快近黄昏的时节，而且是个冬天，所以那楼下的房间稍微有一点暗，同时鲁迅先生的纸烟，当它离开嘴边而停在桌角的地方，那烟纹的卷痕一直升腾到他那有一些白丝的发梢那么高，而且再升腾就看不见了。

　　“这花，叫‘万年青’，永久这样！”他在花瓶旁边的烟灰盒中，抖掉了纸烟上的灰烬，那红的烟火，就越红了，好像一朵小红花似的和他的袖口相距离着。

　　“这花不怕冻？”以后，我又问过，不记得是在什么时候了。

　　许先生说:“不怕的，最耐久！”而且她还拿着瓶口给我摇着。

　　我看到那花瓶的底边有一些圆石子，以后，因为熟识了的缘故，我就自己动手看过一两次，加上这花瓶是常常摆在客厅的黑色长桌上；又加上自己是来自寒带的北方，对于这在四季里都不凋零的植物，总带着一点惊奇。

　　而现在这万年青依旧活着，每次到许先生家去，看到那花，有时仍站在那黑色的长桌子上，有时站在鲁迅先生像片的前面。

　　花瓶是换了，用一个玻璃瓶装着，看得到淡黄色的须根，站在瓶底。

　　有时候许先生一面和我们谈论着，一面检查着房中所有的花草。看一看叶子是不是黄了，该剪掉的剪掉，该洒水的洒水，因为不停地动作是她的习惯。有时候就检查着万年青，有时候就谈着鲁迅先生，就在他的像片前面谈着，但那感觉，却像谈着古人那么悠远了。

　　至于那花瓶呢，站在墓地的青草上面去了，而且瓶底已经丢失，虽然丢失了也让它空空地站在墓边。我所看到的是从春天一直到秋天，它一直站到邻旁墓头的石榴树开了花而后结成了石榴。

　　自日本侵略上海以后，只有许先生绕道去过一次，别人就没有去过。当然那墓草是长得很高了，而且荒了，别说什么花瓶，恐怕鲁迅先生的瓷半身像也要被荒了的草埋没到他的胸口了。

　　我们在这边，只能写纪念鲁迅先生的文章，而谁去努力剪齐墓上的荒草？我们是越走越远了，但无论多么远，那荒草是总要记在心上的。

　萧红(1911～1942)，原名张西莹，笔名萧红、悄吟，著有中篇小说《生死场》、长篇小说《呼兰河传》、短篇小说集《牛车上》等。《生死场》在鲁迅帮助下作为“奴隶丛书”之一出版，萧红由此取得了在现代文学史上的地位。马丁•路德•金（公元1929—1968年），美国黑人律师，著名黑人民权运动领袖。一生曾三次被捕，三次被行刺，1964年获诺贝尔和平奖。1968年被种族主义分子枪杀。他被誉为近百年来八大最具有说服力的演说家之一。1963年他领导25万人向华盛顿进军“大游行”，为黑人争取自由平等和就业。马丁•路德•金在游行集会上发表了这篇著名演说。

　　Five score years ago, a great American, in whosesymbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Thismomentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millionsof Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of witheringinjustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night ofcaptivity.
　　100年前，一位伟大的美国人——今天我们就站在他象征性的身影下——签署了《解放宣言》。这项重要法令的颁布，对于千百万灼烤于非正义残焰中的黑奴，犹如带来希望之光的硕大灯塔，恰似结束漫漫长夜禁锢的欢畅黎明。

　　But one hundred years later, we must face the tragicfact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, thelife of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles ofsegregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred yearslater, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midstof a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later,the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American societyand finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come heretoday to dramatize an appalling condition.
　　然而，100年后，黑人依然没有获得自由。100年后，黑人依然悲惨地蹒跚于种族隔离和种族歧视的枷锁之下。100年后，黑人依然生活在物质繁荣瀚海的贫困孤岛上。100年后，黑人依然在美国社会中间向隅而泣，依然感到自己在国土家园中流离漂泊。所以，我们今天来到这里，要把这骇人听闻的情况公诸于众。

　　In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital tocash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote themagnificent words of the Constitution and the declaration ofIndependence, they were signing a promissory note to which everyAmerican was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all menwould be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, andthe pursuit of happiness.
　　从某种意义上说，我们来到国家的首都是为了兑现一张支票。我们共和国的缔造者在拟写宪法和独立宣言的辉煌篇章时，就签署了一张每一个美国人都能继承的期票。这张期票向所有人承诺——不论白人还是黑人——都享有不可让渡的生存权、自由权和追求幸福权。

　　It is obvious today that America has defaulted on thispromissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned.Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given theNegro people a bad check which has come back marked “insufficientfunds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice isbankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds inthe great vaults of opportunity of this nation.
　　然而，今天美国显然对她的有色公民拖欠着这张期票。美国没有承兑这笔神圣的债务，而是开始给黑人一张空头支票——一张盖着“资金不足”的印戳被退回的支票。但是，我们决不相信正义的银行会破产。我们决不相信这个国家巨大的机会宝库会资金不足。

　　So we have come to cash this check —— a check thatwill give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security ofjustice.
　　因此，我们来兑现这张支票。这张支票将给我们以宝贵的自由和正义的保障。

　　We have also come to this hallowed spot to remindAmerica of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage inthe luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug ofgradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolatevalley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now isthe time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children.Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racialinjustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
　　我们来到这块圣地还为了提醒美国：现在正是万分紧急的时刻。现在不是从容不迫悠然行事或服用渐进主义镇静剂的时候。现在是实现民主诺言的时候。现在是走出幽暗荒凉的种族隔离深谷，踏上种族平等的阳关大道的时候。现在是使我们国家走出种族不平等的流沙，踏上充满手足之情的磐石的时候。现在是使上帝所有孩子真正享有公正的时候。

　　It would be fatal for the nation to overlook theurgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of theNegro. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontentwill not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom andequality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but abeginning.
　　忽视这一时刻的紧迫性，对于国家将会是致命的。自由平等的朗朗秋日不到来，黑人顺情合理哀怨的酷暑就不会过去。1963年不是一个结束，而是一个开端。

　　Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steamand will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nationreturns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nortranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenshiprights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake thefoundations of our nation until the bright day of justiceemerges.
　　如果国家依然我行我素，那些希望黑人只需出出气就会心满意足的人将大失所望。在黑人得到公民权之前，美国既不会安宁，也不会平静。反抗的旋风将继续震撼我们国家的基石，直至光辉灿烂的正义之日来临。

　　But there is something that I must say to my peoplewho stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace ofjustice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must notbe guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirstfor freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness andhatred.
　　但是，对于站在通向正义之宫艰险门槛上的人们，有一些话我必须要说。在我们争取合法地位的过程中，切不要错误行事导致犯罪。我们切不要吞饮仇恨辛酸的苦酒，来解除对于自由的饮渴。

　　We must forever conduct our struggle on the high planeof dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protestto degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must riseto the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soulforce.
　　我们应该永远得体地、纪律严明地进行斗争。我们不能容许我们富有创造性的抗议沦为暴力行动。我们应该不断升华到用灵魂力量对付肉体力量的崇高境界。

　　The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed theNegro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people,for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence heretoday, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with ourdestiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to ourfreedom.
　　席卷黑人社会的新的奇迹般的战斗精神，不应导致我们对所有白人的不信任——因为许多白人兄弟已经认识到：他们的命运同我们的命运紧密相连，他们的自由同我们的自由休戚相关。他们今天来到这里参加集会就是明证。

　　We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make thepledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There arethose who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will yoube satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies,heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motelsof the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot besatisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smallerghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as aNegro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believeshe has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, andwe will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters andrighteousness like a mighty stream.
　　我们不能单独行动。当我们行动时，我们必须保证勇往直前。我们不能后退。有人问热心民权运动的人：“你们什么时候会感到满意？”只要黑人依然是不堪形容的警察暴行恐怖的牺牲品，我们就决不会满意。只要我们在旅途劳顿后，却被公路旁汽车游客旅社和城市旅馆拒之门外，我们就决不会满意。只要黑人的基本活动范围只限于从狭小的黑人居住区到较大的黑人居住区，我们就决不会满意。只要我们的孩子被“仅供白人”的牌子剥夺个性，损毁尊严，我们就决不会满意。只要密西西比州的黑人不能参加选举，纽约州的黑人认为他们与选举毫不相干，我们就决不会满意。不，不，我们不会满意，直至公正似水奔流，正义如泉喷涌。

　　I am not unmindful that some of you have come here outof great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh fromnarrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest forfreedom left you battered by the storms of persecution andstaggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been theveterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faiththat unearned suffering is redemptive.
　　我并非没有注意到你们有些人历尽艰难困苦来到这里。你们有些人刚刚走出狭小的牢房。有些人来自因追求自由而遭受迫害风暴袭击和警察暴虐狂飙摧残的地区。你们饱经风霜，历尽苦难。继续努力吧，要相信：无辜受苦终得拯救。

　　Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back toGeorgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos ofour northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can andwill be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
　　回到密西西比去吧；回到亚拉巴马去吧；回到南卡罗来纳去吧；回到佐治亚去吧；回到路易斯安那去吧；回到我们北方城市中的贫民窟和黑人居住区去吧。要知道，这种情况能够而且将会改变。我们切不要在绝望的深渊里沉沦。

　　I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of thedifficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream.It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
　　朋友们，今天我要对你们说，尽管眼下困难重重，但我依然怀有一个梦。这个梦深深植根于美国梦之中。

　　I have a dream that one day this nation will rise upand live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truthsto be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”
　　我梦想有一天，这个国家将会奋起，实现其立国信条的真谛：“我们认为这些真理不言而喻：人人生而平等。”

　　I have a dream that one day on the red hills ofGeorgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table ofbrotherhood.
　　我梦想有一天，在佐治亚洲的红色山岗上，昔日奴隶的儿子能够同昔日奴隶主的儿子同席而坐，亲如手足。

　　I have a dream that one day even the state ofMississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injusticeand oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom andjustice.
　　我梦想有一天，甚至连密西西比州——一个非正义和压迫的热浪逼人的荒漠之州，也会改造成为自由和公正的青青绿洲。

　　I have a dream that my four children will one day livein a nation where they will not be judged by the color of theirskin but by the content of their character.
　　我梦想有一天，我的四个小女儿将生活在一个不是以皮肤的颜色，而是以品格的优劣作为评判标准的国家里。

　　I have a dream today.
　　我今天怀有一个梦。

　　I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama,whose governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words ofinterposition and nullification, will be transformed into asituation where little black boys and black girls will be able tojoin hands with little white boys and white girls and walk togetheras sisters and brothers.
　　我梦想有一天，亚拉巴马州会有所改变——尽管该州州长现在仍滔滔不绝地说什么要对联邦法令提出异议和拒绝执行——在那里，黑人儿童能够和白人儿童兄弟姐妹般地携手并行。

　　I have a dream today.
　　我今天怀有一个梦。

　　I have a dream that one day every valley shall beexalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the roughplaces will be made plain, and the crooked places will be madestraight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and allflesh shall see it together.
　　我梦想有一天，深谷弥合，高山夷平，歧路化坦途，曲径成通衢，上帝的光华再现，普天下生灵共谒。

　　This is our hope. This is the faith with which Ireturn to the South. With this faith we will be able to hew out ofthe mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will beable to transform the jangling discords of our nation into abeautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be ableto work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go tojail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that wewill be free one day.
　　这是我们的希望。这是我将带回南方去的信念。有了这个信念，我们就能绝望之山开采出希望之石。有了这个信念，我们就能把这个国家的嘈杂刺耳的争吵声，变为充满手足之情的悦耳交响曲。有了这个信念，我们就能一同工作，一同祈祷，一同斗争，一同入狱，一同维护自由，因为我们知道，我们终有一天会获得自由。

　　This will be the day when all of God’s children willbe able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ties of thee, andsweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died,land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedomring.”
从到了这一天，上帝的所有孩子都能以新的含义高唱这首歌：
　　我的祖国，
　　可爱的自由之邦，
　　我为您歌唱。
　　这是我祖先终老的地方，
　　这是早期移民自豪的地方，
　　让自由之声，
　　响彻每一座山岗。

　　And if America is to be a great nation this mustbecome true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops ofNew Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of NewYork. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies ofPennsylvania!
　　Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
　　Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California!
　　But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain ofGeorgia!
　　Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
　　Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill ofMississippi. From every mountainside, let freedomring.

　　如果美国要成为伟大的国家，这一点必须实现。因此，让自由之声响彻新罕布什尔州的巍峨高峰！
　　让自由之声响彻纽约州的崇山峻岭！
　　让自由之声响彻宾夕法尼亚州的阿勒格尼高峰！
　　让自由之声响彻科罗拉多州冰雪皑皑的洛基山！
　　让自由之声响彻加利福尼亚州的婀娜群峰！
　　不，不仅如此；让自由之声响彻佐治亚洲的石山！
　　让自由之声响彻田纳西州的望山！
　　让自由之声响彻密西西比州的一座座山峰，一个个土丘！
　　让自由之声响彻每一个山岗！
　　
　　When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every villageand every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be ableto speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men andwhite men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will beable to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negrospiritual, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we arefree at last!”
　　当我们让自由之声轰响，当我们让自由之声响彻每一个大村小庄，每一个州府城镇，我们就能加速这一天的到来。那时，上帝的所有孩子，黑人和白人，犹太教徒和非犹太教徒，耶稣教徒和天主教徒，将能携手同唱那首古老的黑人灵歌：“终于自由了！终于自由了！感谢全能的上帝，我们终于自由了！”

常胜的歌手

有一位歌手，有一次她唱完了歌，竟没有一个人鼓掌。于是她在开会的时候说道：“掌声究竟能说明什么问题呢？难道掌声是美？是艺术？是黄金？掌声到底卖几分钱一斤？被观众鼓了几声掌就飘飘然，就忘乎所以，就选成了歌星，就坐飞机，就灌唱片，这简直是胡闹！是对灵魂的腐蚀！你不信，如果我扭起屁股唱黄歌儿，比她得到的掌声还多！”
她还建议，对观众进行一次调查分析，分类排队，以证明掌声的无价值或反价值。
后来她又唱了一次歌，全场掌声雷动。她在会上又说开了：“歌曲是让人听的，如果人家不爱听，内容再好，曲调再好又有什么用？群众的眼睛是雪亮的，群众的心里是有一杆秤的，离开了群众的喜闻乐见，就是不搞大众化，只搞小众化，就是出了方向性差错，就是孤家寡人，自我欣赏。我听到的不只是掌声，而是一颗颗火热的心在跳动！”
过了一阵子，音乐工作者又开会，谈到歌曲演唱中的一种不健康的倾向和群众的趣味需要疏导，欣赏水平需要提高。她便举出了那一次唱歌无人鼓掌作为例子，她宣称：
“我顶住了！我顶住了！我顶住了！”
又过了一阵子，音乐工作者又开会，谈到受欢迎的群众歌曲还是创作、演唱得太少。她又举出了另一次掌声如雷的例子宣称：
“我早就做了，我早就做了，我早就做了！”

A Singer Who Always Wins

Once a singer finished her performance without receiving anyapplause from the audience. Afterwards she remarked at a meeting,“What does applause mean? Is it beauty, art, or gold? How much isit worth after all? Once one gets some applause, one’s head willswell. And one will be treated like a star, givenfree plane trips and invited to have one’s voicerecorded everywhere. It’s rediculous! It is nothing but corruptionof the mind! Believe it or not, if I had swayed my hips and sungobscene songs, I would’ve got more applause than the stars.”
Then the singer came up with a suggestion thatthe audience should be investgated, analysed, and classified inorder to prove their applause being worthless or even worse for itsnegative effects.
Later, she gave another performance which won thunderous applausefrom the audience. She spoke at another meeting, “Songs are to beappreciated by the audience. What’s the use of songs with goodcontent and nice melody if no one likes them? The audience is thebest judge who knows how to strike a balance inthe heart. Without the masses’ appreciation, one will only beserving the few instead of many. And one will be taking the wrongdirection by keeping aloof from the masses and indulging inself-admiration. What I heard from the audience was not only warmapplause, but the beatings of their warm hearts!”
Some time later, members of the musical circles held a symposiumand suggested that an unhealthy tendency should be stopped insinging performances, that appreciation levels be raised and goodtaste be cultivated.
The singer then cited her first performance that had drawn noapplause from the audience and claimed,”See, I dared it! Theunhealthy tendency! I dared it indeed!”
After a period of time, there was another symposium among themusical cirlces. This time it was proposed that more popular songsbe composed and sung. And the singer took her second performance asan example to prove her claim, “See, I did it! The popular songs! Idid it indeed!”

The Forgetful Song Thrush

The other day when I went into Riverside Park, I was greeted bythe chirrup of a song thrush from a grove. Walking towards thesound I saw the thrush hopping about in a flower bed. I lookedcarefully trying to spot a tiny piece of string that should havebeen fastened to its leg, but in vain. Ah, it must have escapedfrom its cage. It was a free bird! One moment it jumped onto a rosespray and sang with its head high, the next it plunged into thegrass and looked at me with its tail waving up and down. Its proudand self-satisfied manner was really enchanting.

Not far from the bird on the grass was a bird cage. It was madeof painted bamboo strips and looked neat and clean. On top of thecage stood a big gleaming metal hook. From the cage-door hung afiery red tassel, which added to the magnificence of the cage. Asbirdhouses go, this was certainly a luxurious residence.

An old man was dozing under a nearby hibiscus tree. He seemed tobe the owner of the cage. Hearing my approaching steps he openedhis eyes. I began the dialogue.

"Hello. You bird has got out."

"Yeah. Let it go for a stroll."

"Aren't you afraid it might fly away?"

The old man cast a glance at me and gave an uncaring smile.

"Fly away? But why should it? It can't leave the food bowl."

Examining the bowl carefully, I found nothing special about it.It was no more than a small fine china bowl with a plum design onthe side. The bird food in it was some yellow grains which gave offthe refreshing smell of wild grass. I thought it must be a mixtureof soaked millet and the yolk of boiled eggs, perhaps with somecondiments added to it. There was nothing special about it.

I told the old man what was on my mind, but he just shook hishead and smiled at me without saying a word. I knew better than tokeep on inquiring, for each has his own tricks in raising birds andsuch secrets must never be given away.

Just at that moment I saw the carefree bird walk into the cageat a leisurely pace. Seeing that his bird was re-encaged, the oldman slid down the cage-door with a click. Standing on the rim ofthe bowl complacently, the thrush had already begun to peck at itsfood. As I left the park, I turned over in my mind a recurringquestion—what was the magic in the food that had made thisbeautiful bird sing so happily but forget about its wings?

项脊轩志 〔明〕归有光

　　项脊轩，旧南阁子也。室仅方丈，可容一人居。百年老屋，尘泥渗漉，雨泽下注，每移案，顾视无可置者。又北向，不能得日，日过午已昏。余稍为修葺，使不上漏。前辟四窗，垣墙周庭，以当南日，日影反照，室始洞然。又杂植兰桂竹木于庭，旧时栏楯亦遂增胜。积书满架，偃仰啸歌，冥然兀坐，万籁有声。而庭阶寂寂，小鸟时来啄食，人至不去。三五之夜，明月半墙，桂影斑驳，风移影动，珊珊可爱。

　　然余居于此，多可喜，亦多可悲。先是，庭中通南北为一。迨诸父异爨，内外多置小门，墙往往而是。东犬西吠，客逾庖而宴，鸡栖于厅。庭中始为篱，已为墙，凡再变矣。家有老妪，尝居于此。妪，先大母婢也，乳二世，先妣抚之甚厚。室西连于中闺，先妣尝一至。妪每谓余曰：“某所，而母立于兹。”妪又曰：“汝姊在吾怀，呱呱而泣；娘以指叩门扉曰：‘儿寒乎？欲食乎？’吾从板外相为应答。”语未毕，余泣，妪亦泣。余自束发读书轩中，一日，大母过余曰：“吾儿，久不见若影，何竟日默默在此，大类女郎也？”比去，以手阖门，自语曰：“吾家读书久不效，儿之成，则可待乎？”顷之，持一象笏至，曰：“此吾祖太常公宣德间执此以朝，他日汝当用之。”瞻顾遗迹，如在昨日，令人长号不自禁。

　　轩东，故尝为厨，人往，从轩前过。余扃牖而居，久之，能以足音辨人。轩凡四遭火，得不焚，殆有神护者。

　　项脊生曰：蜀清守丹穴，利甲天下，其后秦皇帝筑女怀清台。刘玄德与曹操争天下，诸葛孔明起陇中。方二人之昧昧于一隅也，世何足以知之？余区区处败屋中，方扬眉瞬目，谓有奇景。人知之者，其谓与坎井之蛙何异！

　　余既为此志，后五年，吾妻来归，时至轩中，从余问古事，或凭几学书。吾妻归宁，述诸小妹语曰：“闻姊家有阁子，且何谓阁子也？”其后六年，吾妻死，室坏不修。其后二年，余久卧病无聊，乃使人复葺南阁子，其制稍异于前。然自后余多在外，不常居。

　　庭有枇杷树，吾妻死之年所手植也，今已亭亭如盖矣。

　　——选自《四部备要》本《震川先生集》

Xiangjixuan
Gui Youguang
My study Xiangjixuan used to be called SouthChamber. It was only ten feet by ten, large enough for one personto live in. As it was nearly one hundred years old, dust and flakesof plaster fell and the roof let in rain. When I moved my desk, Icould find no place to keep it off the rain.It faced the north andthe sun could not get inside. Soon after noon it turned dusky. Idid some repairs to the roof to stop it leaking, opened fourwindows in front and built a wall around.When the sun was reflectedfrom the wall, the room brightened up. I planted orchids, laurels,bamboos and trees about and, therefore, the old railings lookedbrighter with colors. The bookself was filled with books on loan. Iread and chanted aloud, beating time by swaying back forth. Sittingin it I could hear various sounds emanating from outside. It was soquiet round the steps that small birds often came looking for foodthere, not scared of men's presence. On the fifteenth night of thelunar month the bright moon flooded half of the wall. When a gentlebreeze arose, laurel leaves shimmered flecks of moonlight on thewall and it was pleasing to see the shadows dancing and hear theleaves rustling in the wind. I lived in this room, happy in someways and sad in others.
Previously the courtyard was all the way throughfrom south to north. When my uncles began to live separately, theyput up low walls here and there with small doors in them. Dogs inthe east barked toward the west. Guests had to go through thekitchen to wine and dine. Sometimes chichens roosted in the hall.The courtyard was first partitioned by fences and later by walls.Such changes had taken place several times.
We had an old maid who once lived in this room.She was the maid of my late grandma. She had nursed two generationsof my family. My late mother had been very kind to her. The roomwas connected with my mother's bedroom on the west and she oncecame over. "That's where your mum stood when she came," she wouldtell me. "I was holding your elder sister in my arms when shecried. Your mum tapped on the door with her fingers, asking:'Is thechild cold or is she hungry?'I answered her from this side…" Beforeshe was finished I wept and so did she.
Since I was fifteen I had been reading in thisstudy. One day Grandma came and said:"I haven't seen you for ages,my child. Why do you shut youself up in here like a girl?" When sheleft she closed the door behind her, mumbling to herself:"Sincelong none of my family have got anywhere with their studies.Hopefully, this child will be of some promise. " In a few momentsshe returned with an ivory tablet in her hand, saying:"This is thetablet with which my grandfather Duke Taichang attended courtsessions during the years of Xuande. You may have use for it someday." Looking at it today I felt as if it had occured just the daybefore. I couldn't help bursting into tears.
On the east of my study there used to be thekitchen. To get to the kitchen one had to pass my study. Though Ilived in it with the windows closed, gradually I learned to tell bythe tread who was passing by. The room got fired for severaltimes,but it didn't break down.Maybe it had been protected bygods.
The occupant of Xiangjixuan comments: WindowQing of Sichuan made so much profits from her mining of cinnabarthat she topped the whole country and the Emperor of the QinDynasty built a terrace in her honor. When Liu Bei and Cao Cao werefighting each other for the rule of China, Zhuge Liang emerged fromLongzhong. When Widow Qing and Zhuge Liang lived in obscurity infar-off corners, how did they become know to the outside world?This humble man is now living in this shabby room, but when Iraised my brows and look up, I claim to see magnificent prospectsin it. People who get to know about it will think I am no more thana frog at the bottom of the well.
Five years after I wrote the above article, Igot married. My wife often came to my study, asking about things ofold or learning calligraphy at my desk. When she returned from hervisit to her parents she told me what her sisters had asked:"Wehear there is a chamber in your home, but what is a chamberreally?" Six years later my wife died. The condition of the roomworsened and I left it as it was. Another two years later I fellill and was laid up in bed for a long time. Feeling bored, I hadSouth Chamber renovated and it looked a bit different from before.Since then I had been away from home most of the time and seldomlived in it.
In the courtyard there was the loquat my wifeplanted the year she died. It stood there with graceful poise, itstop spread out with exuberant foliage.（刘士聪 译）

西式幽默 冯骥才

学院请来一位洋教师，②长得挺怪，红脸，金发，连鬓大胡须，有几根胡子一直逾过面颊，挨近鼻子，他个子足有二米，③每迸屋门必须低头，才能躲过门框子的拦击，叫人误以为他进门先鞠躬，这不太讲究礼貌了吗？顶怪的是，他每每与中国学生聊天，聊到可笑之处时，他不笑，脸上也没表情，好象他不喜欢玩笑；④可是有时毫不可笑的事，他会冷不防放声大笑，笑得翻江倒海，仰面朝天，几平连人带椅子要翻过去，喉结在脖子上乱跳，满脸胡子直抖。常使中国学生面面相觑，不知这位洋教师的神经是不是有点问题？

一天，洋教师出题，考察学生们用洋文作文的水准，题目极简单，随便议论议论校园内的一事一物，褒贬皆可。中国学生很灵，一挥而就，洋教师阅后。评出了最佳作文一篇，学生们听后大为不解，这种通篇说谎的文章怎么能被评为“最佳”？原来这篇作文是写学校食堂。写作文的学生来自郊区农村，人很老实，胆子又小,生伯得罪校方，妨碍将来毕业时的分数、评语、分配工作等等，便不顾真假，胡编乱造，竭力美化，唱赞歌。使得一些学生看后惯惯然。可是……洋教师明知学校食堂糟糕透顶的状况，为什么偏要选这篇作文？有人直问洋教师。

洋教师说：“这文章写得当然好，而且绝妙无比•你们听一一”他拿起作文念起来，“我们学校最美的地方，不是教室，不是操场，也不是校门口那个带喷水的小花坛，而是食堂。瞧，玻璃干净得几乎叫你看不到它的存在——。”洋教师念到这儿，眼睛调皮地一亮，眉毛一挑，“听听，多么幽默！”

幽默？怎么会是幽默大家还没弄明白。

洋教师接着念道：“如果你不小心在学校食堂跌了一跤，你会惊奇地发现你并没跌跤，因为你身上半点尘上也没留下；如果你长期在学校食堂里工作，恐怕你会把苍蝇是什么样子都忘了……”洋教师又停住，舌头“得”地弹一声，做一个怪脸说，“听呀，还要多幽默，我简直笑得念不下去了。”⑤

学生们忽然明白了什么。

洋教师一边笑，一边继续往下念：“食堂天天的饭菜有多么精美、多么丰富、多么解馋！只有在学校食堂里•你才会感到吃饭是一种地道的享受……”。

Western Humour FengJicai
Transldted by Liu Xiannong

Our institute employed an English teacher. He looked verystrange red-faced, golden-haired, with a thick growth of whiskersthat reached all the way to the nose. He was really tall-- no lessthan six foot five. When he came in through the door, he had tolower his head to avoid banging against the door frame. It lookedas though he always bowed to you at the door and that was much toopolite. What was more, he never laughed, when he chatted with hisChinese students on amusing stories, nor did his face show anyexpression as if he knew no sense of humour. However, when it cameto topics of the most dull nature, he would burst intouncontrollable laughter, roaring while rocking in his chair, almostfalling flat on his back, his Adam's apple dancing up and down inhis throat and his whiskers fluttering all over his face. Thestudents would then look at each other, wondering if he was in hisright mind. One day he set the students an essay to see how wellthey could write in English, the topic being A Comment on Life onthe Campus-it her complimentary or critical. That was simple. Andhis students, quick at writing, finished it at one go and turned itin no time. He went through the papers and picked one that hethought the best. When he read it out to the students, they weregreatly perplexed. Of all the comments, why did he like this onebest, Not a single word of it was true. It was about the campuscafeteria and the author was a peaceable and timid guy from avillage near the town. In order not to offend the schoolauthorities -- a decisive factor: concerning his final grading,evaluation and, above; all, where he was to go after graduation --he had made up a high-sounding story in praise of the cafeteriaregardless of reality, thus making his ClaSS- mates very angry. Theteacher was as well aware of the cafeteria's terrible conditions,but why should this piece in particular have appealed to him somuch, Someone asked. "This is undoubtedly a good one,'' the teacherinsisted. "Unprecedentedly good! Just listen --" He began toread.
"'The most beautiful spot on campus is not the ClaSsrooms, nor thesports ground, nor the small lawn with a fountain at the schoolgate; it is our cafeteria. Look! The windows are so clean , thatyou scarcely notice any glass on them' --" "He paused, his eyesflashing with a glint of humour and his brows shooting upward."Listen! Isn't it humorous?" Humorous? But what was humorous aboutit? The students were hard put to it. "'If you were not carefulenough,'" the teacher read on, '"and had a fall on the floor, youwould be amazed to find that you had not fallen at all because youdid not get a single particle of dust on your clothes. If you hadworked in the cafeteria long enough, you would have forgotten whata fly looks like ... '" He paused again, his tongue clickingadmiration. Working up a very funny expression on his face, he wenton, "Listen, please! Could anyone else have made it more humorous?"He laughed so hard that he could scarcely continue.

注释

①这是一篇讽刺小说，充满了人物形象的细节描写，译时用语应尽力准确、生动，描绘出与原文具
有同样幽默效果的形象。
②译“洋教师”应指明是哪一个国家或讲哪一种语言的，不但使情节更有真实感，也更符合英语习惯。
③英美人量身高以英尺、英寸计，二米约为六英尺五英寸。
④看上下文，这里的"玩笑，不是"jokes"，应是“sense of humour”
⑤末句以直接陈述语译出效果似更好。

枯叶蝴蝶 徐迟
峨嵋山下，伏虎寺旁，有一种蝴蝶，比最美丽的蝴蝶可能还要美丽些，是峨嵋山最珍贵的特产之一。
当它阖起两张翅膀的时候，像生长在树枝上的一张干枯了的树叶。谁也不去注意它，谁也不会瞧它一眼。
它收敛了它的花纹、图案，隐藏了它的粉墨、彩色，逸出了繁华的花丛，停止了它翱翔的姿态，变成了一张憔悴的，干拈了的，甚至不是枯黄的，而是枯稿的，如同死灰颜色的枯叶。
它这样伪装，是为了保护自己。但是它还是逃不脱被捕捉的命运。不仅因为它的美丽，更因为它那用来隐蔽它的美丽的枯搞与憔悴。
它以为它这样做可以保护自己，殊不知它这样做更教人去搜捕它。有一种生物比它还聪明，这种生物的特技之一是装假作伪，因此装假作伪这种行径是瞒不过这种生物—人的。
人把它捕捉.将它制成标本，作为一种商品去出售，价钱越来越高。最后几乎把它捕捉得再也没有了。这一生物品种快要绝种了。
到这时候，国家才下令禁止捕捉枯叶蝶。但是，已经来不及了。国家的禁止更增加了它的身价。枯叶蝶真是因此而要绝对的绝灭了。
我们既然有一对美丽的和真理的翅膀，我们永远也不愿意阖上它们。做什么要装模作样，化为一只枯叶蝶，最后也还是被售，反而不如那翅膀两面都光彩夺目的蝴蝶到处飞翔，被捕捉而又生生不息。
我要我的翅膀两面都光彩夺目。
我愿这自然界的一切都显出它们的真相。

Lappet ButterfliesXu Chi
At the foot of Mount Emei, around Fuhu Temple, there lives aspecies of butterfly--one of the rarest rarities of themountain-that is probably even more beautiful than the mostbeautiful butterflies in the world.
With its wings closed it resembles a withered tree leaf hangingfrom a branch--scarcely noticeable to the human eye. Gathering itswings with exquisite patterns, it conceals its beautifulcolors.
When it flutters out from a cluster of blooming flowers and alightssomewhere in the middle of its graceful flight, it turns into adried leaf, not even of a withering yellow, but of a deathlygrey.
It disguises its shape and colours in order to protect itself, butnevertheless it can't help ending up in being captured, not onlybecause of its beauty, but more because of the withered quality ofits appearance that covers up its beauty.
It is misled to believe that by so doing it cankeep itself out of danger. On the contrary it makes itself moreattractive, because there is another creature-man-that is clevererthan this butterfly. 'Ibis creature is extremely skilled inmasquerading himself; no masquerading whatsoever can slide by underhis nose.
Man captures it, makes a specimen of it and sells it in the marketat increasingly high prices. What happens as a result is that thereis hardly any of the butterflies to be found-the species is dyingout.
The government has now decided to put a ban on its capture, butit's too late. The ban, instead, multiplies its price. Thebutterfly is on the verge of extinction.
Since we have got a pair of wings of beauty and truth, there is noreason to hide them. Why do you have to turn yourself into awithered-leaf-like butterfly as you are bound to be netted and soldat the market? Isn't it better to fly around freely on yourflashing, colorful wings and keep up the line of your speciesthough some of you have to meet their doom?
I want both sides of my wings to shine.
I hope everything in the world shows their true colors.

黄龙奇观
在四川西部，有一美妙的去处。它背倚峨山宇峰雪宝顶，树木苍翠，花香袭人，鸟声婉转，流水潺潺。这就是松潘县的黄龙。
相传在中国古代气洪水肆虐，人民苦不堪言。大禹决心治水，但船不能行气有黄龙来为他负舟，于是导水成功。黄龙疲惫，未及回归大海，死于眠山之下，因而其地就称为黄龙。
黄龙风景，自海拔近3600米处，沿山谷而下，逶迤3.5公里，地上覆盖着一层淡黄色碳酸钙沉积，形成大大小小的众多水池，状如梯田。池水澄清，呈淡蓝、淡绿各色。远看宛如黄龙俯卧，粼光闪闪。两旁森林，全是高大云杉。林间地上，多奇花异草，或蓝或白，或红或紫，灿烂如缤纷。
山谷顶端，残留着一座道教建筑，名“黄龙古寺”。据松潘县志记载，该建于明代(公元1368一1644年)。寺前有一溶洞，深邃莫测。寺后有一石碑，除碑檐外，几乎全被碳酸钙沉积淹没，碑文已不可辨认。看来，这400来年的沉积速度是相当可观的。每年农历六月为黄龙寺庙会期，方圆几百里及至青海、
甘肃的藏、羌、回、汉各族人民也前来赶会。届时，帐篷连营，人马喧腾，歌舞相杂，十分热闹。
据科学工作者考察，这里的山体系石灰岩地质，黄龙景观实为岩溶地貌。在中国，岩溶地貌形成的绮丽景色着实不少，有名的如桂林山水、云南石林，然而它们的风貌都与黄龙迥异。
在黄龙附近的林区，还栖息着大熊猫、扭角羚、虹雄等珍贵动物。
如今，国家拟将黄龙划人它北面的九寨沟自然保护区，统一管理，以保护自然生态，开展科学研究和供人们游览。

A View of Huanglong
One of Sichuan's finest scenic spots is Huanglong(Yellow Dragon) , which lies in Songpan County just beneath Xuebao,the main peals of the Minshan Mountains. Its lush green forests,filled with fragrant flowers, bubbling streams, and songbirds, arerich in historical interest as well as natural beauty.
Legend has it that sane 4, 000 years ago, when great floodsthreatened the people of central China, Yu the Great resolved totame the mighty rivers. He journeyed inland in a boat, but was soonstopped by the torrential current. Fortunately, a yellow dragonappeared and bore the boat upstream as far as it could go. Yusucceeded in controlling the flood and went on to found the500-year Xia Dynasty, but the exhausted dragon could not return tothe sea, and died at the foot of Xuebao Peak.
Viewing Huanglong from a distance, one might imagine that the nobleserpent for which the area was named is still lying on thehillside. Actually, this "yellow dragon' is a geological formationunique to this karst region; its yellow color is due to a layer ofcalcium carbonate, and the tiny, clear pools that line its backtook like scales. The dragon is surrounded try, spruce trees andassorted rare flowering plants in blue, white, red, andpurple.
On the hilltop stands the Yellow DragonMonastery, a Taoist retreat hilt in the Ming Dynasty (1368-- 1644).A karst cave lies before it, and a stone tablet was erected behind.All but the top of the tablet has been eroded by calcium carbonate,and the inscriptions have become unreadable. Every year in thesixth lunar month, the local people, along with an, Qiang, Hui, andHan visitors from neighboring provinces of Qinghai and Gansu travelto the monastery on horseback for a temple fair. They set up tentsand celebrate wish songs and dances far into the night.
Many of Chinas famous landscapes, such as thoseof Guilin in Guangxi Province and the Stone Forest in YunnanProvince, are also built on karst formations. But each has its owncharacter.
Giant pandas, takins, and pheasants roam the forests of Huanglong,along with many other species of animals and birds. Huanglong andnearby Jiuzhaigou will soon be made a nature preserve to protectthe area's ecology and to allow scientists to observe these rareanimals in their own habitats.

荷塘月色 朱自清
这几天心里颇不宁睁。今晚在院子里坐着乘凉，忽然想起日日走过的荷塘，在这满月的光里，总该另有一番样子吧。月亮渐渐地升高了，墙外马路上孩子们的欢笑，已经听不见了；妻在屋里拍着闰儿，迷迷糊糊地哼着眠歌。我悄悄地披了大衫，带上门出去。
沿着荷塘.是一条曲折的小煤屑路。这是一条幽僻的路；白天也少人走，夜晚更加寂寞。荷塘四面，长着许多树，翁翁郁郁的。路的一旁，是些杨柳，和一些不知道名字的树。没有月光的晚上，这路上阴森森的，有些怕人。今晚却很好，虽然月光也还是淡淡的。
路上只我一个人，背着手踱着。这一片天地好像是我的；我也像超出了平常的自己，到了另一世界里。我爱热闹，也爱冷静；爱群居，也爱独处。像今晚上，一个人在这苍茫的月下，什么都可以想，什么都可以不想，便觉是个自由的人。白天里一定要做的事，一定要说的话，现在都可不理。这是独处的妙处；我且受用这无边的荷香月色好了。
曲曲折折的荷塘上面，弥望的是田田的叶子。叶子出水很高，像亭亭的舞女的裙。层层的叶子中间，零星地点缀着些白花，有袅娜地开着的，有羞涩地打着朵儿的；正如一粒粒的明珠，又如碧天里的星星，又如刚出浴的美人。微风过处，送来缕缕清香，仿佛远处高楼上渺茫的歌声似的。这时候叶子与花也有一丝的颇动，像闪电般.霎时传过荷塘的那边去了。叶子本是肩并肩密密地挨着，这便宛然有了一道凝碧的波痕。叶子底下是脉脉的流水，遮住了，不能见一些颜色;而叶子却更见风致了。
月光如流水一般，静静地泻在这一片叶子和花上。薄薄的青雾浮起在荷塘里：叶子和花仿佛在牛乳中洗过一样；又像笼着轻纱的梦。虽然是满月，天上却有一层淡淡的云.所以不能朗照；但我以为这恰是到了好处——酣眠固不可少，小睡也别有风味的。月光是隔了树照过来的，高处丛生的灌木，落下参差的斑驳的黑影，峭愣愣如鬼一般；弯弯的杨柳的稀疏的倩影，却又像是画在荷叶上。塘中的月色并不均匀；但光与影有着和谐的旋律，如梵炯铃上奏着的名曲。
荷塘的四面，远远近近，高高低低都是树，几而杨柳最多。这些树将一片荷塘重重围住；只在小路一旁，漏着几段空隙，像是特为月光留下的。树色一例是阴阴的，乍看像一团烟雾;但杨柳的丰姿，便在烟雾里也辨得出。树梢上隐隐约约的是一带远山，只有些大意罢了。树缝里也漏着一两点路灯光，没精打采的，是渴睡人的眼。这时候最热闹的，要数树上的蝉声与水里的蛙声；但热闹是它们的，我什么也没有。
忽然想起采莲的事情来了。采莲是江南的旧俗。似乎很早就有，而六朝时为盛；从诗歌里可以约略知道。采莲的是少年的女子，她们是荡着小船，唱着艳歌去的。采莲人不用说很多，还有看采莲的人。那是一个热闹。的季节，也是一个风流的季节。梁元帝《采莲斌》里说得好：
于是妖童破女，荡舟心许：鹤首徐回，兼传羽杯；掉将移而藻挂，船欲动而萍开。尔其纤腰束素，迁延顾步；夏始春余，叶嫩花初，恐沾裘而浅笑，畏倾船而敛裾。
可见当时嬉游的光景了。这真是有趣的事，可惜我们现在早已无福消受了。
于是又记起《西州曲》里的句子：
采莲南塘秋，莲花过人头尹低头弄莲子，莲子清如水。
今晚若有采莲人，这儿的莲花也算得“过人头”了；只不见一些流水的影子，是不行的；这令我到底惦着江南了——这样想着，猛一抬头，不觉已是自己的门前；轻轻地推门进去，什么声息也没有，妻已睡熟好久了。
1927年7月，北京清华园

Moonlight over the Lotus Pond ZhuZiqing
It has been rather disquieting these (lays. Tonight, when 1 Wassitting in the yard enjoying the cool, it occurred to me that theLotus Pond, which I pass by every day, must assume quite adifferent look in such moonlit night. A full moon was rising highin the sky; the laughter of children playing outside had died away;in the morn, my wife was patting the son, Run-er, sleepily humminga cradle song. Shrugging on an overcoat, quietly,1 made my way out, closing the door behind me.
Alongside the Lotus Pond nuns a small cinder footpath. It ispeaceful and secluded here, a place not frequented by pedestrianseven in the daytime; now at night, it looks mare solitary, in alush, shady ambience of trees all around the pond. On the sidewhere the path is, there are willows, interlaced with some otherswhose names I do not know. The foliage, which, in a moonless night,would loom somewhat frighteningly dark, looks very nice tonight,although the moonlight is not more than a thin, grayish veil.
I am on my own, strolling, hands behind my back.This bit of the universe seems in my possession now; and I myselfseem to have been uplifted from my ordinary self into anotherworld. 1 like a serene and peaceful life, as much as a busy andactive one; I like being in solitude, as much as in company. As itis tonight, basking in a misty moonshine all by myself, I feel I ama free man, free to think of anything, or of nothing. All that oneis obliged to do, or to say, in the daytime, can be very well castaside now. That is the beauty of being alone. For the moment, justlet me indulge in this profusion of moonlight and lotusfragrance.
All over this winding stretch of water, what meets the eye is asilken field of leaves, reaching rather high above the surface,like the skirts of dancing girls in all their grace. Here andthere, layers of leaves are dotted with white lotus blossoms, somein demure bloom, others in shy bud, like scattering pearls, ortwinkling stars, or beauties just out of the bath. A breeze stirs,sending over breaths of fragrance, like faint singing drifting froma distant building. At this moment, a tiny thrill shoots throughthe leaves and lilies, like, a streak of lightning, straight acrossthe forest of lotuses. The leaves, which have been standingshoulder to shoulder, are caught shimmering in an emerald heave ofthe pond. Underneath, the exquisite water is covered from view, andnone can tell its colour; yet the leaves on top project themselvesall the more attractively.
The moon sheds her liquid light silently over the leaves andflowers, which, in the floating transparency of a bluish haze fromthe pond, look as if they had just been bathed in milk, or like adream wrapped in a gauzy hood. Although it is a full moon, shiningthrough a film of clouds, the light is not at its brightest; it is,however, just right for me -a profound sleep is indispensable, veta snatched doze also has a savour of its own. The moonlight isstreaming down through the foliage, casting bushy shadows on theground from high above, jagged and checkered, as grotesque as aparty of spectres; whereas the benign figures of the droopingwillows, here and there, lank like paintings on the lotus leaves.The moonlight is not spread evenly over the pond, but rather in aharmonious rhythm of light and shade, like a famous melody playedon a violin.
Around the pond, far anti near, high and low, are trees. Most ofthem are willows. Only on the path side, can taro or three gap; heseen through the heavy fringe, as if specially reserved for themoon. The shadowy shapes of the leafage at first sight seemdiffused into a mass of mist, against which, however, the charm ofthose willow trees is still discernible. Over the trees appear somedistant mountains, but merely in sketchy silhouette. Through thebranches are also a couple of lamps, as listless as sleepy eyes.The most lively creatures here, for the moment, must he the cicadasin the trees and the frogs in the pond. But the liveliness istheirs, I have nothing. Suddenly, something like lotus-gatheringcrosses my mind. It used to he celebrated as a folk festival in theSouth, probably dating very far hack in history, mast popular inthe period of Six Dynasties. We can pick up some outlines of thisactivity in the poetry. It was young girls who went gatheringlotuses, in sampans and singing love songs. Needless to say, therewere a great number of them doing the gathering, apart from thosewho were watching. It was a lively season, brimming with vitality,and romance. A brilliant description can be found in lotusGathering written by the Yuan Emperor of the liang Dynasty:
So those charming youngsters rote their sampans, heart buoyant withtacit lone, pass on to each other cups of wire while theirbird-shaped prows drift around. From throe to time their oars arecaught in dangling alga, and duckweed flow apart the moment theirboats are about to mote on. Their slender figures, girdled withplain silk, tread watchfully on board. This is the time when springis grating into summer, the leaves a tender green and the flowersblooming - among which the girls are giggling when evading anout-reaching stem, their skirts tucked in for fear that the sampanmight tilt.
That is a glimpse of those merrymaking scenes. It must have beenfascinating: but unfortunately we have long been denied such adelight.
Then I recall those lines in Ballad of Xizhou Island:
Gathering the lotus, I ant in the South Pond, / The lilies inautumn reach over my head; / Lowering my head I toy with the lawsseeds. / Look, they are as fresh as the waster underneath.
If there were somebody gathering lotuses tonight, she could tellthat the lilies here are high enough to "reach over her head"; but,one would certainly miss the sight of the water. So my memoriesdrift back to the South after all.
Deep in my thoughts, I looked up, just to find myself at the doorof my own house. Gently I pushed the door open and walked in. Not asound inside, my wife had been fast asleep for quite a while.
Qinghua Campus, Beijing

大钱饺子 张林
那是的第二年吧，我被划进了“黑帮”队伍里。我在那长长的“黑帮”队伍里倒不害怕.最怕的就是游斗汽车开到自己家门口，这一招太损了。嗐，越害怕还越有鬼，有一次汽车就真的开到一了家门口。那八旬的老母亲看见了汽车上的我，嘴抖了几抖，闭上眼睛，扶着墙，身子像泥一样瘫了下去。妻子竟忘了去扶持母亲，站在那儿，眼睛都直了，跟个傻子一般。
我担心老母亲从此会离我而去。谢天谢地，她老人家总算熬过来了。
那年除夕这一天，竟把我放回家了。
一进家门，母亲用一种奇怪的眼光打量我，然后，她一下子扑过来，摸着我的脸。最后，她竟把脸埋在我的怀里，呜呜地哭起来；妻子领着孩子们只远远地站着，也在那儿哆哆嗦嗦地哭。
“媳妇，快包饺子，过年!”母亲对妻子说。于是，一家人忙起来，剁馅、和面……一会儿，全家就围在一起开始包佼子；这时，母亲忽然想起一件什么事，说：“哎呀，包个大钱佼子吧，谁吃了谁就有福！”
为了使母亲高兴，我同意了，而且希望母亲能吃到这个大钱饺子。我要真诚地祝福她，愿她多活几年。
母亲从柜里拿出个蓝布包，从包里掏出一枚道光年间的铜钱来，她颤抖地把这枚古钱放在一个面皮上，上面又盖了点馅，包成一个饺子。这就是大钱饺子了。母亲包完这个饺子，用手在边上偷偷捏出一个记号，然后，若无其事地把它和别的饺子放在一起。但我已经清楚地记住了这个饺子的模样了。
饺子是母亲亲自煮的，饺子要熟了，像一群羊羔一样漂上来。我一眼就看见那个带记号的大钱饺子。
母亲在盛饺子的时候，把这个大钱饺子盛在一个碗里，又偷偷把它拨在紧上边，然后把这碗饺子推到我面前：“吃吧，多吃，趁热吃。”我觉得心里一阵热，鼻子也酸疼起来。我想应该让母亲吃，让她高兴高兴。但我一时想不出办法，因为母亲认识这个饺子。
我想那就给妻子吧，她跟我生括了20年，现在已经是快半百的人了。为了我挨斗，她心血都快要熬干了。我趁妻子上厨房去拿辣椒油的工夫，.偷偷把大钱饺子拨在她的碗里。谁知，妻子从厨房回来，看了看碗，又用一双深沉和感激的眼睛望着我，眼圈都红了。啊!她也认识这个大钱佼子。
妻子没有做声，她吃了几个饺子，忽然说了声：“都快粘在一块了。”说着，就把所有的佼子碗拿起来摇晃，晃来晃去，就把那碗有大钱饺子的放到了母亲跟前。母亲显然没有注意，边看我边吃饺子，突然“啊”了一声，大钱佼子佼了牙。
奶奶有福!吃到大钱饺子了!”妻子像孩子般喊着。
“我……这是咋回事?”母亲疑惑着。这时，当嘟一声，一个东西从她的嘴里掉在碟子里，正是那个大钱。
于是，我领着老婆孩子一齐欢呼起来：“母亲有福!”
“奶奶有福！”
“……”
母亲突然大笑起来，笑着笑着，流出了一脸泪。我和妻子也流了泪。

A Good-luck Dumpling ZhangLin
In the second of those tumultuous years, I was labeled one of the"reactionary gang." What 1 feared most was not being queued upamong this gang of so many, but the vicious practice of beingpublicly denounced on a truck in front of my own house. Well, fearor no fear, the lot fell on me soon enough. When the truck drove tothe gate of my own house, my mother, who was already in hereighties, spotted me on the truck. Her lips trembling and eyesshut, she first leaned against the wall, then collapsed, weak andlimp like soft mud on the ground. Meanwhile, my wife just stoodthere dumbfounded like a blockhead, forgetting even to help mymother up.
There and then I was afraid Mother would leave me forever. ThankGod, she somehow managed to survive.
On the eve of the Spring Festival of that year, I was unexpectedlyreleased to return home.
As I stepped into the house, Mother looked me upand down with unbelieving eyes before she threw herself on me andcaressed my face. Then burying her head in my arms, she weptbitterly while my wife and children stood sobbing at adistance.
"Daughter-in-law, let's start making dumplings for the Festival!"Mother said to my wife. Instantly the whole family began choppingmeat and kneading dough. In no time, all had gathered around thetable to make dumplings.
Just then an idea dawned on my mother, and she suggested, "I say,let's put in a coin and make a good-luck dumpling. Whoever eats itwill be blessed."
I agreed to make Mother happy, hoping that the coin would fall toher. With all my heart I wished her a long life.
Mother took a blue cloth parcel from the wardrobe, unfolded it andpicked out a copper coin of the Daoguang period. With shaking handsshe put the coin on a dumpling wrapper, added some filling, andmade one which we used to call a good-luck dumpling. During theprocess, Mother secretly made a mark on the edge of the dumplingbefore mixing it with the rest. She pretended nothing had happened,but the trick didn't escape my eye. I bore the mark firmly inmind.
Mother boiled the dumplings all by herself. Thenearly cooked dumplings floated onto the surface like a herd oaflambs. I spotted the marked dumpling at first sight.
When she scooped up the dumplings, Mother deliberately put thegood-luck dumpling on top of the others in a bowl and pushed thebowl to me, saying, "Help yourself, Take as many as you like whilethey are hot.”
A ware of warmth surged over me and my nose twitched. I had thoughtit would make Mother happy and give her a lovely surprise if sheate the good-luck dumpling. But I could not figure out how to gether to eat it for she could easily identify the dumpling. I thenthought of my wife who had lived with me for twenty years and wasgetting on fifty. She was almost worn out with worry as I wasdenounced.
Taking the opportunity when she went to the kitchen for chilli oil,I put the good-luck dumpling into her bowl. Who could have expectedthat she would recognize with my mother’s. Obviously Mother didn'tnotice the shift and went are eating eyes on the all the time."Ouch!" suddenly she cried out. The coin had hurt her teeth.
"Oh, Granny is blessed! She got the good-luck dumpling! " my wifeshouted like a child.
" I. . . . How come?" Mother was puzzled. Just at that moment,something fell out of her mouth onto the plate with a clang. It wasnone other than the coin.
So I joined my wife and children in a chorus, "Granny is blessed!Mother is blessed! "
Mother burst into laughter, and then into tears, as my wife and Ishared with her all her sorrow and joy.

* Daoguang Period: the period between 1821 and 1851 of the QingDynasty

July, 1927.

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