怀旧

转载：怀旧（节选）Nostalgia (Excerpt) 作者：鲁迅　翻译：Julia Lovell 　 /> 　　吾家门外有青桐一株，高可三十尺，每岁实如繁星，儿童掷石落桐子，往往飞入书窗中，时或正击吾案，一石入，吾师秃先生辄走出斥之。桐叶径大盈尺，受夏日微瘁，得夜气而苏，如人舒其掌。家之阍人王叟，时汲水沃地去暑热，或掇破几椅，持烟筒，与李妪谈故事，每月落参横，仅见烟斗中一星火，而谈犹弗止。 　　A green parasol tree, around thirty feet high, towered outside the gate to the family home, every year hanging heavy with large clusters of nuts. Hoping to bring them down, children would hurl stones into the branches, the occasional missile sailing through the canopy to land on my desk, at which point my teacher—whom I respectfully knew as Mr Bald—would stride out to give those responsible a scolding. A clear foot in diameter, the leaves would wilt in the summer sun before springing back—like a fist opening out—in the resuscitating night air. At this point in the day, after drawing water to scatter over the overheated ground, our family's old gatekeeper, Wang, might gather up a battered old stool and head off with his pipe to swap stories with my amah, Li. And there they would sit and chat, deep into the night, the darkness interrupted only by sparks from his pipe. 　　彼辈纳晚凉时，秃先生正教予属对，题曰：“红花。”予对：“青桐。”则挥曰：“平仄弗调。”令退。时予已九龄，不识平仄为何物，而秃先生亦不言，则姑退。思久弗属，渐展掌拍吾股使发大声如扑蚊，冀秃先生知吾苦，而先生仍弗理；久之久之，始作摇曳声曰：“来。”余健进。便书绿草二字曰：“红平声，花平声，绿入声，草上声。去矣。”余弗遑听，跃而出。秃先生复作摇曳声曰：“勿跳。”余则弗跳而出。 　　While they were out there enjoying the cool of one particular evening, I remember, my teacher was enlightening me on the principles of verse composition—my task being to come up with a poetic match to a given subject. To his 'Red Flower', I tried 'Green Tree'. Objecting that the tonal patterns were not consonant, he told me to go back to my seat and think again. Not yet nine years old at the time, I had not a clue what tonal patterns were; but since my teacher did not seem about to share his mature wisdom with me, I returned to my desk. After a long, fruitless ponder, I very slowly opened out my fist and slapped it resonantly against my thigh, as if I had swatted a mosquito, hoping to communicate to my instructor the extent of my mental discomfort, but he continued to take no notice. On and on I sat, until he at last drawled that I should approach—which I smartly did. He then wrote down the characters for Green Grass. 'Red" and "flower" are level tones,' he explained, 'while "green" is falling and "grass" rising. Dismissed.' I was bounding through the door before the word was out of his mouth. 'No hopping and skipping about!' he drawled again. I carried on my way, although more sedately. 转载：《呐喊》自序（节选）Outcry Preface (Excerpt) 作者：鲁迅　翻译：Julia Lovell 　　我在年青时候也曾经做过许多梦，后来大半忘却了，但自己也并不以为可惜。所谓回忆者，虽说可以使人欢欣，有时也不免使人寂寞，使精神的丝缕还牵着己逝的寂寞的时光，又有什么意味呢，而我偏苦于不能全忘却，这不能全忘的一部分，到现在便成了《呐喊》的来由。 　　When I was young, I too had many dreams, most of which I later forgot—and without the slightest regret. Although remembering the past can bring happiness, it can also bring a feeling of solitude; and where is the pleasure in clinging on to the memory of lonely times passed? My trouble is, though, that I find myself unable to forget, or at least unable to forget entirely. And it is this failure of amnesia that has brought "Outcry" into existence. 　　我有四年多，曾经常常，——几乎是每天，出入于质铺和药店里，年纪可是忘却了，总之是药店的柜台正和我一样高，质铺的是比我高一倍，我从一倍高的柜台外送上衣服或首饰去，接了钱，再到一样高的柜台上给我久病的父亲去买药。回家之后，又须忙别的事了，因为开方的医生是最有名的，以此所用的药引也奇特：冬天的芦根，经霜三年的甘蔗，蟋蟀要原对的，结子的平地木，多不是容易办到的东西。然而我的父亲终于日重一日的亡故了。 　　For four years of my childhood life, I divided my time between the pawnshop and the pharmacy. Which four years it was, I forget—all I remember is that the top of my head reached exactly up to the counter in the pharmacy, while in the pawnshop it was twice my height. I would push clothes and jewellery across the latter, take the money slid back at me, then make my way over to the former—to buy medicine for my chronically ill father. Back home, there was still work to be done, because our doctor seemed to have built his substantial local reputation on prescribing the most elusively exotic adjuvants: winter aloe root, sugar cane that had survived three years' frosts, monogamous crickets, seeded ardisia...Most of them were excessively difficult to get hold of. And still my father went on sickening, day by day, until finally he died. /> 林贝卡 2011夏 转载于美国 />