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[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

(2011-05-21 12:30:28)
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第三届“漂母杯”全球华文母爱主题散文大赛揭晓

来源:中新网    关键字:散文;母爱主题;大赛;华文;全球    作者:汤苗苗    2011-05-19 15:27

  中新网淮安5月19日电 (汤苗苗)19日,第三届“漂母杯”全球华文母爱主题散文大赛颁奖典礼在江苏省淮安市淮阴区东方母爱公园举行。大赛历时6个月共收到海内外来稿3200多篇,陈祖芬、倪萍、石英、肖复兴等30位获奖作家代表出席颁奖仪式。

  据《史记淮阴侯列传》记载,漂母是秦汉之际淮河边上一个普通的劳动妇女,以漂洗丝絮为业,在韩信少年困苦时给予了慈母般的关怀,慷慨分食与他,并激励韩信奋发图强。为弘扬漂母的勤劳善良和无私奉献的高尚精神,加强中华优秀传统美德教育,中国散文学会、江苏省作家协会、淮阴区人民政府联合主办了第三届“漂母杯”全球华文母爱主题散文大赛。

  据了解,本次散文大赛以“母爱“为主题,从2010年11月到2011年4月底,历时6个月,共收到海内外来稿3200多篇。截稿后,主办方邀请了多位专家担任评委,共评选出荣誉奖3名、一等奖3名、二等奖10名、三等奖13名、优秀奖30名。其中,石英的《母爱二题》、石维坚的《爱在慈爱中》、陈祖芬的《终于知道妈妈喜欢吃什么》获得荣誉奖;贾平凹的《写给母亲》、倪萍的《姥姥语录》、肖复兴的《母亲三帖》获得一等奖;阿成的《母亲永在身边》、葛水平的《妈妈,领我去找河》等10篇散文获得二等奖;邵顺文的《母亲的柳篮》、刘志成的《永远的阳光》等13篇作品获得三等奖。

  中国散文学会常务副会长周明表示,本次散文大赛规格高、影响大、参与面广,非常成功,“漂母杯”全球华文母爱主题散文大赛已经成为中国文坛一项重要的文学赛事和重要的文学品牌。

  自2009年以来,淮阴区已成功举办了3届“漂母杯”全球华文母爱主题散文大赛,为集中展示前两届大赛的成果,淮阴区还精心编辑了《慈母的呼唤》一书,并由出版社正式出版。颁奖仪式上,中国散文学会常务副会长周明,江苏省作家协会主席范小青,中共淮安市委常务、宣传部长刘希平,淮安市政协副主席荀德麟共同为《慈母的呼唤》首发式揭幕。(完)

 

[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖 

第三届“漂母杯”全球散文大奖赛颁奖典礼


 

[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

和倪萍在领奖现场


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

和中国散文学会常务副会长周明先生在一起

[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和《散文百家》常务副主编苗莉女士在一起


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

 

和《文学报》副主编陆梅(左)、第四届鲁迅文学奖得主葛水平(中)在一起



[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和鲁迅文学奖得主、黑龙江省作家协会副主席阿成(中)在一起


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和《散文海外版》主编甘以雯在一起


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和《散文》主编汪蕙仁在一起


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

和江苏省作家协会书记张王飞在一起



[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

和《作品》主编、广东省作家协会副主席谢望新(中)在一起

[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和《西北军事文学》主编张春燕在一起


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和《山东文学》杂志社社长、山东省作家协会副主席许晨在一起


[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

和《散文选刊》杂志主编葛一敏在一起

[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖
和《人民文学》杂志副主编肖复兴在一起

 

[转载]和贾平凹、倪萍、肖复兴一起获奖

和江苏省大众文学学会庞瑞垠会长在一起

 

母亲的柳篮

Mother’s Wicker Basket

 

    老家多柳,如同天上飘浮的云。婀娜。摇曳。我的童年就是跟一枝枝柳条一起长大长粗的。柳编的农具,仿佛阡陌纵横的田野,遍布我的瞳仁。柳篮,柳筐,柳笾,柳篓,比比皆是。柳成群的儿女中,惟有柳篮是我母亲惯使的贴身,犹如剪去刘海的农家妹妹,一直在我的脑海里面摇晃或者荡漾,从童年到如今,她让我读懂了母亲比柳更加博大、无私、坚韧、淳朴、厚重的内在。

    In my hometown, many wickers wave in the wind, graceful, just like the clouds floating in the sky, which are graceful, flickering. My childhood grew with those wickers. The farming tools weaved by the wickers like the fields with the crisscross paths which spread all over my eyes. Just like the fields with the crisscross paths, the farming tools weaved by the wickers spread all over my eyes. Among the numerous offspring of wickers, the wicker baskets were my mother’s favourite, which always occurs in my mind, the same feeling as that of the younger sister of farmhouse who had cut off the bangs, swaging or shacking in my mind. From childhood to present, it makes me read mother’s internality which is more extensive, selfless, tough, simple and massive than the wickers.

    熏风捎来又一个春天,也熏绿了大地。母亲就和乡村里面所有勤劳善良的女人一样,挎起柳篮,带上一年之计和锋利的刀,赶赴大地的亮处。她是去田野和沟畔挖掘猪食的草料。蒲公英笑容般放纵地绽开,像大地上一枚枚彩色的钮扣。它们的中央,夹着马兰草、花郎菜、七角菜、橡瓠子、肿边菜,以及各种我已经忘记名字的朋友。马兰草、花郎菜是乡村里面最上等的猪草。她们在仲春的指尖上轻轻地舞蹈。她们的体味,温馨扑鼻,沁人心脾,像我正在热恋的爱人的肤香。一个上午,母亲常常要返回两三趟。每一趟都从满满的柳篮卸下一小垛草料。这些草,是我关于乡村土地最初的彩喷,占据了我关于乡村记忆的最大的内存。她们浸香了我的童年,并使我和乡村一直保持着贴心的距离与莫名的暗恋。

    Fumigating wind brings us another spring, and also makes the ground green. Mother, like all hardworking and virtuous women of the village, carried the wicker basket, took the plan for one year and the sharp knife and hurried off to the bright place of the ground. She went to the fields and channels for digging the fodders for pigs. The taraxacum wantonly expressed their smiles, like the coloured buttons on the ground. Among them, there were also Malan Straw, Hualang Potherb, Qijiao Potherb, Xianghuzi, Zhongbian Potherb as well as those whose names have escaped from my mind. Malan Straw and Hualang Potherb were the best fodders of the village for pigs. They danced on the point of the figure of the mid spring. Their taste was warm and refreshing, like my lover’s skin fragrant that I am falling in love with. Mother usually went out and returned several times in one morning for digging the fodders. Every time she discharged a small stack of fodders from the full wicker basket. These fodders were my primary colorful memory of the country’s ground and occupied most memory of mine for the country. They immersed into my childhood life and made me keep the close distance and indefinable secret love to the country. 

    柳篮是母亲四季的工具,她于母亲的手一直持有最忠诚的温度。夏天里,母亲提她去地里薅草。秋天,当水稻裸成大米以后,一望无际的空旷上还零星的残留着一些被刀和语言匆忙忽略的稻穗,仿佛天上掉下来的星星,金黄,锃亮。母亲就提着柳篮,来来回回地在天空下搜寻。她对土地的认真和执着,是我生命的字典里关于勤劳最初的诠释。疏密有间的柳篮,在冬天的早晨则成了母亲淘洗红薯的家当。

    The wicker basket was the tool which was used by mother in four seasons. It had the most loyal temperature in mother’s hand. In summer, mother carried it to the field to pull out the weeds. In autumn, after the paddy rice became the rice, on the boundless and broad fields, there still were some residual fragmentary rice panicles which were ignored in a hurry by the sickles and the language, just as the stars which had dropped from the sky were golden yellow and bright. Mother carried the wicker basket and searched those rice panicles under the sky up and down. Her staidness and persistence to the ground was the primary explanation of hardworking in my life’s dictionary. And the wicker basket with the even density was the tool for mother to wash the sweet potatoes in the morning of winter.

    二十余年前的苏北,寒冷如刃。三九时节,地像被刃剔开的肉一样,露出一道又一道缝隙,与母亲粗糙皲裂的手面上一条条长长的皴形成何其相似的等比。一场雨后,冰棱挂满草屋的长檐,长三四尺,短一二尺,挂成九天绝妙的风景。早晨九十点钟以后,那些冰棱就在太阳的怀抱中渐渐地融化,水从它们的头上、颈上一滴一滴坠下来,把地面亲出一个又一个拇指大小的吻痕。而今,所有这一切与寒冷相关的场面都已经锁进时间那紧闭的双唇,成为我们这一代人在回味中才能播放的黑白影片。提柳篮的母亲,无疑依然是这部部黑白片的主角。她于早晚出场,柳篮里面装满大大小小的红薯。缺衣少食的年代,红薯就是所有五谷杂粮公选的代表。一柳篮的红薯大概和我八九岁时间的体重差不多吧。母亲要敲开近岸的河冰,把柳篮放进河里反复汆洗。她用的工具是铁钩。无数次,我亲见母亲用铁钩敲冰的过程,无数次,我体验了那个叫做疼痛的字眼的真实感受。她站在岸上,抡起五六十公分长的铁钩对冰就砸了下去。前面几钩充其量只能在冰河上留下拳头大小的白点,像一团洁白的雪花。母亲一边嘘着气,一边继续着她对生命河流的叩问。当冰河上冰屑四溅、河冰乍开的瞬间,母亲笑了。她的额头,渗出点点汗珠。她的笑,像风一样灿烂、自如。可是有一天早晨,母亲淘红薯的时候,一不小心松掉了篮把,那柳篮一下子就沿着她凿开的冰窟沉了下去,与此同时,母亲的脸也一起沉了下去,结成一块表情复杂的冰,或者如同覆盖在家后菜园里的厚厚的霜层。她举钩就去钩篮把,但是只钩起空荡荡的失望和无奈。接下来,她居然不顾一切地跳到了河面上,冷而滑的冰面像一个巨大的对手一样,毫不犹豫地将她重重摔倒,她的钩也一下子摔出去两三米远。在一边的我连忙跳了下去。伏在冰面的母亲,看我跳下来拉她,圆瞪着眼睛,大声喝斥道:“赶快爬上去,谁叫你下来的。”她的口气,坚决、果断、干脆,如同一块不容置疑的石头。她嘴里喷出来的热气形成一个巨大的雾凇,遮住了她瘦弱的脸,也刺痛了我柔软的眼睛。从冰河上站起来的刹那,我恍然大魇初醒,泪流满面。

    In northern Jiangsu more than twenty years before, the weather was cold like the blade. During the three Nine, the ground presented the gaps one by one, like the meat which had been picked by the blade. The gaps were almost as same as the long channel on mother’s rough and chapped hand surface. After a rain, the ice arris hanged fully under the long eaves of the grass house, three or four feet long, one or two feet short, to be the spiffy scenery in the empyrean. After nine or ten o’clock in the morning, the ice arris began to unfreeze in the arm of the sun. The water dropped from their heads and necks to kiss the ground, and the ground had the kiss marks with the size of a thumb one by one. Present, all scene related to the cold has been locked into the closed lips of the time, and been the black-and-white movie film only played in our aftertaste. Mother, carrying the wicker basket, was still the leading actress of this black-and-white movie film with no doubts. She came out at the morning and evening, and the wicker basket was fully filled with the sweet potatoes. In the times of lacking clothes and food, the sweet potato was the representative of all corns and coarse cereals. The weight of a basket of sweet potatoes was almost as the same as my weight in my eight or nine years old. Mother needed to knock down the river ice close to the bank, and then put the basket into the cold water to wash repeatedly. The tool she used was an iron hook. Many times, I saw the course of mother knocking the ice. Many times, I tasted the real feeling of the character of ache. She stood on the river bank, swung the iron hook with the length of fifty or sixty centimeters to split to the ice. The beginning several attack only could leave a white point of a duke on the river ice, like gout of white snow. Mother breathed out slowly, at the same time she continued to knock her life river. When the ice chipping splashed, mother smiled. Beads of perspiration began to form on her forehead. Her smile was brilliant and free like wind. But one morning, when mother was washing the sweet potatoes, she lost the hold of the basket carelessly, and the basket sunk  in the ice hole. Mother’s face also fell down to be like a piece of ice with complex expression, like the heavy frost layer covering the kaleyard after the house. She hold the hook, wanted to hook the hold of the basket, but she just could hook the disappointment and helpless. But she actually jumped onto the ice surface of the river. The cold and smooth ice surface like a huge opponent made her fall over and her hook was also thrown away two or three meters. I jumped down at once. Mother who was groveling on the ice surface, seeing I jump down to pull her, opened her eyes wide and scolded at me loudly, “Climb up immediately. Who tells you to jump down?” Her voice was firm, decisive, and point-blank, like an unassailable stone. The hot steam from her mouth formed a big fog, covered her scraggy face, and also hurt my soft eyes. When I stood up from the ice river, I suddenly liked waking from a dream and tears bathed my cheeks. 

    十九岁那年,初恋像一颗流星撞到了我的前额。单相思如同一只贪婪的蚂蟥,吸走了我的时间和欢笑。光阴里面所有生动活泼的章节都化成了苦涩的呼唤和没完没了的黑暗。我一天天憔悴了下去,如同提前到来的秋天里一天天减少的叶子。我不能拥有,也不能接近。我不能前进,也不能自拔。人生的第一次失败就这样凝华了我继续生活的酸性和勇气。我像生存一样死亡着。放假回家,母亲心疼的说:“有什么放不下的,不就是女人吗?只要你有出息,遍地都是女人,就像我们家后的柳条。”

    At my nineteenth year, the puppy love like a falling star bumped my forehead. One-side love like a greedy leech absorbed my time and my mirth. All lively and active chapters in the life were changed to be the saline call and boundless darkness. I languished day by day like the leaves decreasing from the trees day by day in the advance autumn. I couldn’t own and I couldn’t approach. I couldn’t go ahead and I couldn’t extricate. The fist failure of my life coagulated my acidity and courage for continuing the life in that way. I was living but like dead. When I went back home for holiday, mother felt distressed for my situation and said: “Nothing impossible. Just for women? As long as you would be successful, women can be found everywhere, like the wickers behind our house.”   

    我第一次用一个成年人的眼睛去注视一个女人就是在我回家的那个假期。盛夏的那天中午,蝉在我的耳边轰炸,高温像蛇一样在我的血管里面蜿蜒。我无法入睡。叹息一声高过一声,如同潮起时的涛。我的母亲,她准确地把握了我初恋的命门,并给我的一生注入了镇定的一剂。躺在隔壁房间,她轻声地问我:“睡了么?”我说:“睡不着。”她说:“过来。”我不明究里地走进了她的房间。盛夏的雪花落满了我的世界。母亲,像玉一样圣洁的胴体一下子击穿了我的眼帘。她肢体侧卧,面外背内,让我一瞬间明白了女人的全部。星星在闪烁。我几乎不能相信自己是在地面仰望或者俯视。从不在午休时间放下的母亲的蚊帐,那天中午是放下的。仿佛一道墙,透明而不可逾越。那是一个暗示。是母亲给自己的儿子设置的他能够读懂的暗示。在母亲的床牚旁,我看到她一直使用的那个柳篮,里面摆放着她的内衣,那也是母亲给我昭示的女人的另一片神秘的土地。母亲轻轻的转过身,她的臂和丰盈的臀立即也像玉一样映入了我的眼帘。“出去吧,做个有钢有火的男人。”一字不识的母亲,用她无边大海一样的广阔,洗净了我一直卑微而狂乱的内心。

    It was in that holiday that I first looked at a woman with an adult’s eyes. One noon of that midsummer, cicadas made loud noises in my ear and high temperature wound its way in my blood vessel just like a snake. I couldn't fall asleep. I had groan and the voice became more and more higher just like the billow’s voice when the tide was coming. My sigh sounded higher and higher, just like the strong waves when the tide was in. It's my mother who grasped the point of my puppy love accurately and injected an important sedative into my life. Lying in adjoining room, she asked me lightly: “Are you sleeping?” “I can’t sleep” I said. “Come here.” I went into her room confused. immediately, the snow of summer dropped in my world. Mother’s saintly body like the jade attacked through my eyes at one blow. Mother lied on her side, facing the outside, thus I knew the whole of a woman in a flash. I felt stars were flickering. I almost couldn’t believe whether I was looking up from the ground or looking down. The mosquito-curtain was never put down at the lunch break, but mother put it down that noon. It was like a wall, transparent but impassable. That was a hint. It’s a hint only set by the mother for her son who could understand that. Beside mother’s bed, I saw in the wicker basket used by mother at all times mother’s underclothes lying in it, which was another mystic ground expressed by mother for me. Mother faced round, and her arms and plump hip came into my eyes, like the jade. “All right, go out. Make you a real man.” Mother, absolutely illiterate, washed my low-down and madding heart with her broad love like the boundless sea.  

    这些年,家境渐渐好转。每年春节,母亲总要宰一头猪犒劳我们几个从外地回家过年的孩子。短暂的相聚之后,就是漫长的分别。正月初五六,母亲总要给我们外出上班的几个孩子每人送一只猪腿。那是母亲用盐腌制过的祝福。仍然是那个柳篮,四只猪腿,静静地堆放着,像一幅丰收的画。谁走了,母亲都用蛇皮口袋给装上一只。大说:“这口袋干净着呢,你妈洗过几十遍了。”我就觉得鼻子又痒又酸,赶紧掏出手帕。前年过年,我是母亲最后一个上班的儿子。母亲把柳篮里面最后一只猪腿捎上我的车以后,我发现,堂屋的角边似乎还堆着几只猪腿。问母亲:“胡大哥提倡的小康提前在我们姓邵的天下实现了?”母亲笑着说:“今年收成好,妈多杀一头猪,留着和你大一起吃。”半年以后,大哥告诉我真相,我才知道,那头猪是一头病猪,病死以后,母亲没有丢掉,又怕我们几个孩子吃了有恙,就宰杀了和父亲一起吃。“为什么不能扔?”“母亲说你属猪。”大哥说。那一瞬,我再一次被一种又苦又咸的液体淹没。

    All these years, everything has been improving. Every Spring Festival, mother always killed a pig to reward us when we came home for the Spring Festival from other places. After the short gather, it would be a long separation. In the fifth or sixth day of the first month of lunar year, mother always gave every one of us a pickled pig’s leg representing mother’s pickled benedictions wishes. It was still in the wicker basket, four pig’s legs, piled quietly there, like a drawing of good harvest. When one of us left home, mother would put one pig’s leg in a Mabel bag, and said loudly: “Your mother has washed the bag many times. It’s very clean.” At that time, my nose felt itchy and acid and I took out the handkerchief quickly. At the Spring Festival before last year, I was the last son to leave home for work. Mother put the last pig’s leg in the wicker basket on my bus. After that, I found there were still several pig’s legs at the corner of the house. I asked mother: “Does our family realize the well-to-do life put forward by Brother Hu?” Mother smiled: “We have a good harvest this year. Mom killed another pig which will be left for me and your father to eat.” After half a year, my elder brother told me the truth. That was a sick pig. Mother didn’t throw it away after the pig died of sickness. Mother was afraid we several children would be sick after eating that pig, so she killed it and ate it with our father. “Why can’t she throw it away?” “Mother said your animal sign was pig. ” When elder brother told me that, I was flooded again by the bitter and salty liquid.

    去年秋天回家探亲,正逢一件趣事。大哥也在家。他和大嫂在檐后的草垛旁散步,不经意发现了一窝刺猥。一只母刺猥带着四只小刺猥。大哥就用母亲的柳篮把它们捉回了家。我们正围着它们叽叽喳喳的时候,母亲来了。她问清楚原由之后,对我们说:“不要没事找事情做,赶快放了它们。好歹也是命,积点善。”我问她:“放哪里去?”她说:“哪里抓来,放哪里去。”

    Last autumn, I went back home for a visit and encountered one interesting thing. My elder brother was also spending the holiday at home. He and my sister-in-law (his wife) walked besides the haystack after the house, and all by accident found a brood of hedgehogs: one female hedgehog and four small hedgehogs. My elder brother took them home using mother’s wicker basket. When we were gabbling round them, mother came in. After asking the reasons clearly, mother said to us: “Don’t ask for trouble. Set them free. They also have lives. Keep you friendly to others” I asked, “Where should I put them down?” “Leave them where they were.”

    我是母亲几个孩子当中最不省油的一盏。下海的浪花过去多少年了,我还是坚持要赶一趟无人驾驶的车。母亲听后大惊,说:“你犯什么傻?外面有多少钱等着你去捞?一年挣些钱够用就行了,何必翻来覆去折腾呢?”她指了指后面的柳篮道:“你们每个人过得安静,我这老脸上也有光。我这老骨头不图你们什么回报。哪个一辈子不跟这空篮子一样,来也空手,去也空手。等我走后,记得每年给我烧些纸我就安心了。”说着,她的眼角情不自禁地滴下了几滴泪水。

    I was the most ‘troublesome’ one of mother’s several children. The spoondrift wave of doing business had been past many years, I still persisted in catching that bus without any driver. My mother was surprised at my decision, saying “How stupid you are? How much is waiting for you to catch? The money earned by you yearly has been enough, thus there is no need to mess you about?” She pointed at the wicker basket behind, “As long as every one of you lives a peaceful live, I will be glad and proud of you. I have been old and don’t need your return. Every one is like this empty basket, coming with hands free and going empty-handed. After I die, you just remember to burn some paper money for me every year and I will set my heart at rest.” Saying these, she couldn't help droping several tears.

    那一刻,我知道母亲真的有些疲惫了,就像她用了一生的柳篮,历经千万次的修复以后,总有一天会停止下来,成为往事。自然是谁都无法抗拒的力量,如同无边的水。想着,我的心头不禁微微震颤。看着柳篮,母亲关于柳篮的点点滴滴又一幕一幕地浮了上来。跟着母亲的柳蓝,我又倒回了青年、少年、童年时光。我是母亲的儿子,也是土地的儿子。我知道,我必须放下手中的笔,回到母亲的身边,挎起柳篮,重新迈入田野和沟畔的深处,重新认识那些花、那些草,母亲最初教给我的那些与大地相关的朋友的名字和做人的道理,我必须乘农村的土地还没有完全变成钢筋混凝土的时候,再一次认真地向她讨教。

    At that moment, I realized mother was really tired, like the wicker basket which had been used all through her life. After thousands of rehabilitation it would stop one day in the end, being the past. Nobody can beat nature, like the boundless water. Thinking of that, my heart shook slightly. Looking at the wicker basket, the memory of the mother floated again. Along with mother’s wicker basket, I returned to the times of youth, youngster and childhood. I am the son of mother, and also the son of the ground. I know that I must put down the pen, return to the mother, carry the wicker basket, and get into the deep place of the fields and channels again to know those flowers, grasses, the names of the friends related to the ground and the principles taught by mother at the primary time. I must learn from her seriously once again before the ground of the country hasfully become the reinforced concrete.  

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