独化微小说英译

心镜

2025年3月16日，星期日

多云，18/14度，风力4级

《小楼昨夜又东风》

又一次置身评委现场，又一次被安在评委位置上，而且是首席。其实，我不愿意！原因是萨特一部长篇小说的题目：《恶心》。

进来了一个选手，递烟，我说不抽，又要求加微信，我说：开始讲课吧。于是，讲课。讲的是南唐后主李煜《虞美人》。

讲完课，又递烟，又要求加微信。我说：不加，你是什么人？老师？回答是校长。

“请问校长，小楼昨夜又东风的东风是什么风？”

“东风就是从东面吹来的风，难道是从西面吹来的风？”

“通不过！”

“为什么？”

2024.1.31

Spring wind again last night

Once again, I found myself on the judging panel at a teaching contest site. This time, as the chief judge though. To be honest, I really didn’t want to be there! The reason? Well, Sartre’s novel Nausea may be a good answer.

A contestant came in, offered me a cigarette, which I refused, and then asked to add me on his WeChat. I told him to start his presentation, and he then talked about Li Yu’s “Yu Mei Ren”.

After the presentation, he offered me a cigarette again, and asked to add me on his WeChat. I refused and asked, “What are you? A teacher?” He replied, “I’m the principal.”

I then asked, “Principal, what wind is ‘the east wind’ in ‘the east wind blew the small tower again last night’?"

And he replied, “Well, east wind is of course from the east. Could it be wind from the west?”

“You can’t pass!”

“Why?”

January 31, 2024

《梦》

“田家少闲月，五月人倍忙。夜来南风起，小麦覆陇黄。妇姑荷箪食，童稚携壶浆，相随饷田去，丁壮在南冈。足蒸暑土气，背灼炎天光，力尽不知热，但惜夏日长。……”（白居易《观刈麦》）

小麦黄了！小麦割了！

用架子车往回拉。山路崎岖。

下陡坡时，我掌车辕。左边车辕下祖父用肩膀撑持着，右边车辕下母亲用肩膀撑持着。车尾，大姐、小妹、小弟在拉拽着。

等从陡坡下来时，每个人的汗水都从发梢往下滚。

梦醒，潸然泪下。

祖父仙逝二十余年。母亲也是满头白发。大姐的孙子已经满地跑了。小妹小弟均已成家立业。

我已经工作三十六年，三年退休。

2024.2.

A Dream

“Farmers rarely rest any day;

They’re busier in lunar May.

As summer winds sweep night away,

Wheat fields shimmer in golden ray.

Women carry food in baskets

And children take water in pots,

All to the southern hills

Where men work in the fields.

With heating earth burning their feet,

They work without knowing the heat.

Though the scorching sun takes their strength away,

They even wish they could have longer days.

…”

Watching the Wheat Harvest

By Bai Juyi (772-846)

In the fifth lunar month, when farmers are busiest, the wheat turns yellow and is harvested.

We load it onto a wooden cart and head home along a bumpy mountain path.

Going down a steep slope, I'm gripping the front shafts and steering the cart, with my grandfather and mother shouldering it from both sides, while my elder and younger sisters and brother are checking it from the rear.

By the time we get to the foot of the slope, sweat keeps rolling down our hair tips.

…

This scene from a dream brings tears to my eyes.

More than twenty years have passed since Grandfather’s death, and Mother now has a headful of white hair. My elder sister’s grandson toddles about; my younger sister and brother have their own families.

And I’ve worked for thirty-six years, with only three more years before retiring.

February 2, 2024

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