贾平凹作品英译:写给母亲

标签:
贾平凹写给母亲汉英 |
分类: 陕西作家英译 |
人活着的时候,只是事情多,不计较白天和黑夜。人一旦死了日子就堆起来:算一算,再有二十天,我妈就三周年了。
When people are alive, they do not care about day and night because they can only occupy themselves with a finite number of matters. Once a person has passed away, the days pile up: according to my reckoning, in twenty days’ time it will be the third anniversary of my mother’s death.
三年里,我一直有个奇怪的想法,就是觉得我妈没有死,而且还觉得我妈自己也不以为她就死了。常说人死如睡,可睡的人是知道要睡去,睡在了床上,却并不知道在什么时候睡着的呀。我妈跟我在西安生活了十四年,大病后医生认定她的各个器官已在衰竭,我才送她回棣花老家维持治疗。每日在老家挂上液体了,她也清楚每一瓶液体完了,儿女们会换上另一瓶液体的,所以便放心地闭了眼躺着。到了第三天的晚上,她闭着的眼是再没有睁开,但她肯定还是认为她在挂液体了,没有意识到从此再不醒来,因为她躺下时还让我妹把给她擦脸的毛巾洗一洗,梳子放在了枕边,系在裤带上的钥匙没有解,也没有交代任何后事啊。
During
these three years, I have been seized by a queer sensation, namely
I have felt that my mother is not actually gone. I have also felt
that my mother shares the sense that she has not departed. It is
said that dying is like going to sleep, but while the sleeper knows
he must slumber on a bed he does not know when exactly he will
drift off. For fourteen years, my mother lived together with me in
Xi’an. After a serious illness, the doctor confirmed that all of
her organs were in a state of terminal exhaustion. I then decided
to send her back to our home village of Dihua, where she might
continue to receive medical care. Every day, in my home village,
she knew that once one bag of intravenous medicine was spent, her
children would feed another into the drip. She simply shut her eyes
and lay down there at ease. On the third night, her closed eyes did
not open, but she was certain that the drip remained attached. She
did not realize that thereafter she would never regain
consciousness because when she lay down she asked my younger sister
to wash her facecloth. The comb lay beside her pillow. The key tied
to her belt stayed fastened. She did not convey her final wishes.
三年以前我每打喷嚏,总要说一句:这是谁想我呀?我妈爱说笑,就接茬说:谁想哩,妈想哩!这三年里,我的喷嚏尤其多,往往错过吃饭时间,熬夜太久,就要打喷嚏,喷嚏一打,便想到我妈了,认定是我妈还在牵挂我哩。
Three years
ago, whenever I sneezed I would always ask “who is missing me?” My
mother loved to crack jokes. She would pick up where I left off and
say “who is missing? Your mother is missing you!” During these
three years, I have sneezed with greater regularity. Usually, when
I am late for a meal or stay up for too long I will sneeze. When I
sneeze I think of my mother and I am certain that my mother is
still missing me.
我妈在牵挂着我,她并不以为她已经死了,我更是觉得我妈还在,尤其我一个人静静地待在家里,这种感觉就十分强烈。我常在写作时,突然能听到我妈在叫我,叫得很真切,一听到叫声我便习惯地朝右边扭过头去。从前我妈坐在右边那个房间的床头上,我一伏案写作,她就不再走动,也不出声,却要一眼一眼看着我,看得时间久了,她要叫我一声,然后说:世上的字你能写完吗,出去转转么。现在,每听到我妈叫我,我就放下笔走进那个房间,心想我妈从棣花来西安了?当然是房间里什么也没有,却要立上半天,自言自语我妈是来了又出门去街上给我买我爱吃的青辣子和萝卜了。或许,她在逗我,故意藏到挂在墙上的她那张照片里,我便给照片前的香炉里上香,要说上一句:我不累。
My mother
is missing me. She does not believe that she has passed away. I
even more convinced that she is still alive. This feeling is
especially intense when I stay quietly alone at home. Often, when I
am writing I will suddenly hear that my mother is calling me. The
voice is real and sincere. On hearing her call, I will customarily
twist my head to the right. Before, my mother used to perch on the
edge of the bed in the room to the right-hand side. When I craned
over and began to write, she would stop walking around and not make
a peep. Instead she would keep her eyes fixed on me. After having
stared at me for a long time, she would call out for me and then
say, “Can you finish writing all the words in the world? Go out and
walk for a while.” Now, whenever, I hear that my mother is calling
me I will lay down my pen and walk into the room. I wonder if my
mother has come to Xi’an from Dihua? Of course, there is nothing in
the room, but I will stand there for a long time and say to myself
that my mother has returned, but popped out onto the street to buy
my favourite green peppers and radishes. Or perhaps, she is pulling
my leg
Over those three years, I have composed dozens of articles for others, but never written one single character for my mother. This is because in the eyes of their children all mothers are great and kind. I do not want to repeat this cliché. My mother was an ordinary woman with bound feet. She was illiterate and her household registration certificate was still that of a peasant. However, my mother was so important to me. After a long, long time the thought of her illness no longer brings my heart into my mouth. And yet whenever I prepare to venture to a distant place there is no longer anybody nag me to do this and that. When I am given fine food and drink, I no longer know to whom I should send them.
In my home
in Xi’an, I have not moved a stick of furniture in the room where
my mother formerly lived. Everything has been left in its original
state. However, I have never glimpsed my mother’s shadow. Again and
again, I have repeated gravely to myself: “My mother is not dead.
She has gone to live in the countryside.” This summer it is too hot
and humid. Every night when the heat and humidity wakes me, in a
trance I think that I should install a new air-conditioner for my
mother. When I spring back to my senses, I comfort myself that my
mother is living in a new place in the countryside. That place must
be cool.
The date of the third anniversary is drawing near. According to the custom of the countryside we should hold a special ceremony. I am preparing candles, incense, and fruits , ready to go back to Dihua. But once I return to Dihua, I have to visit her grave. The reality is that my mother has passed away. I am on the ground and she is beneath it. Life and death separate us. The mother and son can never cross paths again. Tears cascade down my face accompanied by a long wail.