张洁·《拣麦穗》 ~ 英语学习笔记-中英双语赏析

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拣麦穗

Gathering Wheat

张洁

Zhang Jie

在农村长大的姑娘谁还不知道拣麦穗这回事。

我要说的，却是几十年前的那段往事。

或许可以这样说，拣麦穗的时节，也是最能引动姑娘们幻想的时节。

What country girl wouldn’t know about gathering wheat stalks! Let me tell you a story of long ago when you might almost say that wheat gathering time was when girls’ imaginations were the most alive.

在那月残星稀的清晨，挎着一个空篮子，顺着田埂上的小路走去拣麦穗的时候，她想的是什么呢？

等到田野上腾起一层薄雾，月亮，像是偷偷地睡过一觉又悄悄地回到天边，她方才挎着装满麦穗的篮子，走回自家那孔窑的时候，她想的是什么？

唉，她还能想什么！

假如你没有在那种日子里生活过，你永远也无法想象，从这一颗颗丢在地里的麦穗上，会生出什么样的幻想。

In the early hours of dawn, under a waning moon and a sprinkling of stars, what would a girl with a basket on her arm be thinking of as she walked along the ridges in the fields on her way to gather wheat stalks? When a thin mist hovered over the fields and the moon rose silently again as if it had wakened from a stolen nap, what was the girl thinking of as she walked back home with a basket on her arm filled with wheat stalks? Well, what else could she think of? If you had never been part of that life, you will never know the dreams these stalks of wheat scattered in the fields could conjure up.

她拼命地拣呐、拣呐，一个拣麦穗的时节也许能拣上一斗？她把这麦子卖了，再把这钱攒起来，等到赶集的时候，扯上花布、买上花线，然后，她剪呀、缝呀、绣呀……也不见她穿、也不见她戴，谁也没和谁合计过，谁也没和谁商量过，可是等到出嫁的那一天，她们全会把这些东西，装进她们新嫁娘的包裹里去。

She stoops and bends with no respite to pick the scattered stalks, and may muster together as much as one peck (ten litres) in one wheat-gathering season. She will sell the wheat, and save the money, and on a market day, she will go to the market and buy flowered cotton cloth and colored thread. Then she will return home and cut and sew and embroider. Nobody has seen her wear her finery, but on her wedding day, she will invariably stuff these sartorial treasures into her bridal baggage, as all the other girls do, though no one has seen them making an agreement.

不过，当她把拣麦穗时所伴着的幻想，一同包进包裹里的时候，她们会突然发现那些幻想全都变了味儿，觉得多少年来，她们拣呀、缝呀、绣呀的，是多么傻啊！她们要嫁的那个男人和她们在拣麦穗、扯花布、绣花鞋的时候所幻想的那个男人，有着多么的不同。

但是，她们还是依依顺顺地嫁了出去。只不过在穿戴那些衣物的时候，再也找不到做它、缝它时的情怀了。

But they will soon discover as they pack away their harvest that the dreams they dreamt while gathering wheat have turned sour. In years, the girls would realize how naive they had been, how different were the men they had married to the men of their dreams as they gathered wheat and sewed and embroidered. They had let themselves be married off so docilely. As they put on their new clothes and new shoes, the thrill that had gone into the making of them had disappeared.

这又算得了什么呢。谁也不会为她们叹上一口气，谁也不会关心她们曾经有过的那份幻想，甚至连她们自己也不会感到过分的悲伤，顶多不过像是丢失了一个美丽的梦。有谁见过哪一个人会死乞白赖地寻找一个丢失的梦呢？

And so what! Nobody would sigh for them, or commiserate with them for their lost dreams. Even they themselves would not yield to excessive grief; at most they had lost a beautiful dream. Who would be so foolish as to hold on to a dream!

当我刚刚能够歪歪趔趔地提着一个篮子跑路的时候，我就跟在大姐姐身后拣麦穗了。

When I was old enough to be running about on my own, I would trudge behind my elder sister to pick wheat, with a basket too on my arm.

对我来说，那篮子未免太大，老是磕碰着我的腿和地面，时不时就让我跌上一跤，我也少有拣满一篮子的时候，我看不见田里的麦穗，却总是看见蚂蚱和蝴蝶，而当我追赶它们的时候，好不容易拣到麦穗，还会从篮子里重新掉进地里去。

The basket was always too big for me; it would bounce against my legs or drag along the ground. Often it made me stumble. I rarely filled my basket. Either I missed the wheat stalks lying in the fields, or I was distracted by grasshoppers and butterflies. Sometimes even the stalks in my basket rambled out as I chased after butterflies.

有一天，二姨看着我那盛着稀稀拉拉几个麦穗的篮子说：“看看，我家大雁也会拣麦穗了。”然后又戏谑地问我：“大雁，告诉二姨，你拣麦穗做哈？”

One day, my second aunt saw the few stalks of wheat in my basket and asked me: “Oho! So our little Dayan can gather wheat,” she asked me tauntingly. “Now tell auntie, why are you gathering wheat?”

我大言不惭地说：“我要备嫁妆哩。”

I was not at all embarrassed: “For my trousseau.”

二姨贼眉贼眼地笑了，还向围在我们周围的姑娘、婆姨们眨了眨她那双不大的眼睛：“你要嫁谁呀？”

Auntie laughed derisively and her little eyes winked at a couple of women who had gathered around us. “And whom are you going to marry?” she asked.

是呀，我要嫁谁呢？我忽然想起那个卖灶糖的老汉。我说：“我要嫁给那个卖灶糖的老汉。”

Yes, whom was I going to marry? I thought for a moment and suddenly remembered the old man who sold sticky candy. I said: “I’ll marry the old man who sells sticky candy.”

她们全都放声大笑，像一群鸭子一样嘎嘎地叫着。笑啥嘛！我生气了。难道做我的男人，他有什么不体面的吗？

They all burst out laughing, sounding like a gaggle of geese. What is there to laugh at? I was angry. What’s wrong with marrying the old candy seller? Is there anything wrong with him?

卖灶糖的老汉有多大年纪了？我不知道。他脸上的皱纹一道挨着一道，顺着眉毛弯向两个太阳穴，又顺着腮帮弯向嘴角。那些皱纹，为他的脸增添了许多慈祥的笑意。当他挑着担子赶路的时候，他那剃得像半个葫芦样的后脑勺上的长长的白发，便随着颤悠悠的扁担一同忽闪着。

How old was the candy seller? I didn’t know. The lines on his forehead gathered at the ends of his eyebrows and then crept down his cheeks on both sides to disappear into the corners of his mouth. These lines added a kindly humor to his face. As he walked on his way balancing a shoulder pole carrying his goods, his bald head shone like a gourd, and the long straggling white hair growing at the back of his head quivered with each movement of his body as he walked to the bounce of the pole balanced on his shoulder.

我的话，很快就传进了他的耳朵。

Very soon, my words reached his ears.

那天，他挑着担子来到我们村，见到我就乐了。说：“娃呀，你要给我做媳妇吗？”

One day, he came to our village with his goods. He saw me and smiled: “And so, you want to be my bride?”

“对呀！”

“Yes.”

他张着大嘴笑了，露出了一嘴的黄牙。他那长在半个葫芦样的头上的白发，也随着笑声一齐抖动着。

He laughed, exposing his yellowing broken teeth. The few strands of white hair at the back of his gourd-like pate also quivered.

“你为啥要给我做媳妇呢？”

“Now why do you want to be my bride?”

“我要天天吃灶糖呢。”

“I want to eat sticky candy.”

他把旱烟锅子朝鞋底上磕着：“娃呀，你太小哩。”

He took out his pipe and banged it against the sole of his shoe. “Well, you are too small.”

“你等我长大嘛。”

“Wait till I grow up,” I said.

他摸着我的头顶说：“不等你长大，我可该进土了。”

He patted me on the head and said, “Before you grow up, I’ll be in the ground.”

听了他的话，我着急了。他要是死了，那可咋办呢？我那淡淡的眉毛，在满是金黄色的茸毛的脑门上拧成了疙瘩。我的脸也皱巴得像个核桃。

I was worried. If he dies, what shall I do? My eyebrows under my fuzzy brow knitted together in perplexity. My face was also screwed up like a walnut.

他赶紧拿块灶糖塞进了我的手里。看着那块灶糖，我又咧嘴笑了：“你别死啊，等着我长大。”

He put a piece of candy into my hands. Looking at the candy in my hand, I grinned and said: “Don’t go and die, wait for me to grow up.”

他笑眯眯地答应着我：“我等你长大。”

He smiled and said, “All right, I’ll wait for you to grow up.”

“你家住在呵哒？”

“Where do you live?”

“这担子就是我的家，走到呵哒，就歇在呵哒。”

“This shoulder pole with two baskets at either end is my home. Wherever it takes me, that is home and hearth for me.”

我犯愁了：“等我长大上呵哒寻你去呀。”

I began to worry: “When I grow up, where shall I find you?”

“你莫愁，等你长大我来接你。”

“Don’t worry, when you grow up, I’ll come for you.”

这以后，每逢经过我们这个村，他总是带些小礼物给我。一块灶糖、一个甜瓜、一把红枣……还乐呵呵地对我说：“看看我的小媳妇来呀。”

Thereafter, whenever he passed our village, he would bring me a little gift. A piece of candy, a melon, a handful of dates… “For my little bride,” he would say jokingly.

我呢，也学着大姑娘的样子，让我娘找块碎布给我剪个烟荷包，还让我娘在布上描了花样。我缝呀、绣呀……烟荷包缝好了，我娘笑得个前仰后合，说那不是烟荷包，皱皱巴巴地倒像个猪肚子。我让我娘给我收了起来，我说了，等我出嫁的时候，我要送给我男人。

On my part, I imitated the big girls and made my mother cut out some pieces of cotton cloth for a tobacco pouch and even made her mark out a flowery pattern on it. I sewed and embroidered for days, and finally my tobacco pouch was done. My mother exploded with laughter when she saw it and said it looked more like a piece of pork liver than any tobacco pouch. However, I asked mother to keep it for me. I said I would give it to my husband when I marry.

我渐渐地长大了。到了知道认真地拣麦穗的年龄了。懂得了我说过的那些个话，都是让人害臊的话。卖灶糖的老汉也不再开那玩笑，叫我是他的小媳妇了。不过他还是常常带些小礼物给我。我知道，他真的疼我呢。

Year by year I grew until I reached the wheat-gathering age, and realized what a fool I had made of myself with those childish words. The old peddler of sticky candy had long ago stopped making jokes about me being his little bride. But he still gave me small gifts. I knew that he was sincerely fond of me.

我不明白为什么，我倒真是越来越依恋他。每逢他经过我们村子，我都会送他好远。我站在土坎坎上，看着他的背影，渐渐地消失在山坳坳里。

I don’t know why, but I became sincerely fond him too. Whenever he passed through our village, I would always see him off. As we said goodbye, I would stand at the top of a high ground and watch his receding back until it vanished among the hills.

年复一年，我看得出来，他的背更弯了，步履也更加蹒跚了。这时我真的担心了，担心他早晚有一天会死去。

Year by year I could see his back bend more and more under the shoulder pole, and his steps more and more shaky. Now I was really worried that he might die.

有一年，过腊八的前一天，我约摸着卖灶糖的老汉那一天该会经过我们村。我站在村口一棵已经落尽叶子的柿子树下，朝沟底下的那条大路上望着、等着。

On the day before the Eighth of the Twelfth Moon Festival, I expected that my old friend would come by our village on his rounds. I stood at the end of our village beneath the bare branches of an old persimmon tree and watched the road in the valley below, waiting for him to appear.

那棵柿子树的顶梢梢上，还挂着一个小火柿子。小火柿子让冬日的太阳一照，更是红得透亮。那个柿子多半是因为长在太高的枝子上，才没让人摘下来。真怪，也没让风刮下来、让雨打下来、让雪压下来。

At the very top of the old persimmon tree, there was one last fruit. Under the winter sun, it blazed out in a concentrated brilliance of redness. Probably because of the sheer height, it had not been picked. Strange, though, that it had not been blown off by the winds, nor pelted down by rain, nor crushed by snow.

路上来了一个挑担子的人。走近一看，担子上挑的也是灶糖，人可不是那个卖灶糖的老汉。我向他打听卖灶糖的老汉，他告诉我，卖灶糖的老汉老去了。

Someone carrying a shoulder pole appeared on the road below. As he approached, I saw that the two baskets balanced on a shoulder pole were also filled with candy. But it was not my old candy peddler. I greeted the stranger and inquired after my old friend and learned that he was dead.

我仍旧站在那棵柿子树下，望着树梢上的那个孤零零的小火柿子。它那红得透亮的色泽，依然给人一种喜盈盈的感觉。可是我却哭了。哭那陌生的、但却疼爱我的卖灶糖的老汉。

I stood under the persimmon tree, looking at the lone little persimmon. Its flaming redness was a joyous sight, but I cried for the strange old candy peddler who had been so fond of me.

后来，我常想，他为什么疼爱我呢？无非我是个贪吃的、因为丑陋而又少人疼爱的孩子吧。

Later on, I wondered why. For no other reason than that I was a foolish little thing who loved sticky candy, with few to love me because of my plain face.

等我长大以后，总感到除了母亲，再没有谁能够像他那样朴素地疼爱过我——没有任何希求、也没有任何企望的。

When I grew up, I could never forget that apart from my own mother, no one had loved me so fondly and so disinterestedly, with no expectations whatever.

我常常想念他，也常常想要找到我那个像猪肚了一样的烟荷包。可是，它早已不知被我丢到哪里去了。

I often think of him now, and have tried to find that tobacco pouch that had looked like a piece of pork liver. But I don’t know what became of it.

（朱虹 译）

未经允许不得转载：帕布莉卡 » 张洁·《拣麦穗》 ~ 英语学习笔记-中英双语赏析