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(译)母亲是一座丰碑, Mother is a monument (2)

(2010-10-23 23:33:39)











分类: (译)蓝色雨 Blue rain

母亲是一座丰碑, 作者:舒洁 [原文]

Mother is a monument(2), by Mr.Shujie







     I am close to mother in heart once again.

     Looking at the photo that mother left, I have sat alone for long.

     The widespread mist outside is like my reminiscence.  Certainly, the west hill could not be seen today, I am far away from mother’s home door so much.  By the time approaching midnight, I thought, what should I write down?









     After mother departed, despite elder’s dissuasions, I insisted to retain some of mother’s belongings, mainly were clothes that she had worn.  According to custom, mother’s clothes should be cremated.

     On that day, I hastily drove back to homeland, it had been nighttime in lights when I arrived at Chifeng.  I walked in home door, perceiving the atmosphere that had not ever existed.  Some people were preparing sacrificial items; those were some paper cuttings in complicated strange patterns.  Brothers and younger sisters were waiting for me.

     Mother had gone away, I underwent the falling emptiness of reality and destructive grieves.

The early morning of the following day, mother would been cremated, eternally left us hence.

     My second younger sister was crying, yet in depressive voice.  From whatever angle, the distance of feelings in between mother and sister was the closest. During the year of mother being inconvenient to walk, sister having been companied mother in days and nights, she had accomplished adequate filial piety.  Mother suddenly departed, I naturally understood sister’s frame of mind.

     In a night of that, for all of us as sons and daughters, who could go to sleep?







     Mother’s sons and daughters in total of eight circled around the side of sofa, arranging belongings she left.  We opened bundles one by one, mother’s lenient breath came out at that moment.

     That night, the air was cold and the ground was frozen in the sorrowful western wind.  In thought of mother lying in mortuary alone, my heart was as painful as wrung by knife.

     Our behaviors actually were to parting mother.

     On that night, I selected some of mother’s clothes on the quiet.  I knew, any one of mother’s things, would become rare symbols in future.  After dawn, mother and her belongings would be turned into ashes, vanished in the depth of mystery.






     The chill early morning of mother’s cremation, some seniors told me, due to my designate year of dog, before mother moved in the room of reverence, I could not see her.  Custom was custom.  The importance was that, on the mournful day, I could not go against the will from any senior in family.

     In the room of reverence, I eventually saw mother.  Her look was peaceful as if falling asleep.  I took off mother’s glasses holding in hand, nestling face to mother’s icy cheek, my tears run down as rain.

     I told myself, mother and me, it really was the last parting.








     Besides mother’s old clothes, what else had I retained?

     Mother’s two pairs of glasses, certificate of selection, certificate of identity, three sheets of her sketch, an album, there were mother’s writings on the inner of the album cover, the thimble that mother had been used for numerous times, the buttons not of uniform size that she had collected.

     I intentionally kept a pair of mother’s mended socks, saw those dense stitches above, my memories would go back to the past, those difficult days.

     I will tell my son, as a person, what should he remember and cherish?

     And I can perceive mother’s hands, and those times that being led, contemplated and missed by her.  As the identity of son, I will perceive the omnipresent mother love with my whole heart.  That is forever existence, will not disappear due to mother’s departed.  Certainly, I confess that my reminiscences to mother are in pieces throughout.  During the parting twenty-seven years, blank spaces of time can be seen everywhere, this is my regret, that cannot be retrieved in this life.





     The usual manner of remembrance is to contemplate and pray silently

     Rightly, during heart with solitude, I sat in front of mother’s photo, looking at her, telling her many words.  I always got in mind, in date of mother on earth, why did we always lose the mood of talking to mother?  In those time, we no matter in smooth or difficult status, did not want to express our hearts to mother.  We deemed that meant our love to mother and the proof of standing alone by ourselves.  Yet, mother’s heart, how could it be possible to leave us for an instant? This equally meant that mother understood us, could perceive all those around us.








     I have possessed a mother in this way.

     In between mother and me, what is it? Supposing that is time, could we decipher and describe this sort of time?  Among the life and death, the heaven and the earth, does it only belong to those with breathes?  Supposing the answer is negation, then where is the“entrance”of getting close that we have been deeply looking forward? The existence of dream let us dare not to easily believe that the memorial ethereality having been far from departed, we unintentionally looked upward at the starry sky time after time, did we receive some kind of great guardian and implication?

     I had dreamed of mother.  The first time, mother said, “There is a space that is too restricted”; the second time, mother said, “I want to sleep.  Something that I had agreed to put on the roof......”

     I have thought for long time: What did mother imply to me?

     Tonight, could I dream of mother again?






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