何其芳散文《雨前》漢英對(duì)照

　　何其芳，1912年2月5日生于重慶萬(wàn)州，現(xiàn)代詩(shī)人、散文家、文學(xué)評(píng)論家。1935年于北京大學(xué)哲學(xué)系畢業(yè)。1938年，到延安魯迅藝術(shù)學(xué)院任教，同年加入中國(guó)共產(chǎn)黨，為革命文藝作了大量拓荒工作。同年，發(fā)表作品《生活是多么廣闊》《我為少男少女們歌唱》。

　　雨前　Praying for Rainfall

　　何其芳　by He Qifang

　　最后的鴿群帶著低弱的笛聲在微風(fēng)里劃一個(gè)圈子后，也消失了。也許是誤認(rèn)這灰暗的凄冷的天空為夜色的來(lái)襲，或是也預(yù)感到風(fēng)雨的將至，遂過(guò)早地飛回它們溫暖的木舍。

　　The last flock of pigeons have also gone out of sight after doing their final circling in the soft breeze, the sound of their whistles barely audible. They are hastening back to their warm wooden dovecote earlier than usual perhaps because they have mistaken the bleak leaden sky for nightfall or because of their presentiment of a storm.

　　幾天的陽(yáng)光在柳條上撤下的一抹嫩綠，被塵土埋掩得有憔悴色了，是需要一次洗滌。還有干裂的大地和樹根也早已期待著雨。雨卻遲疑著。

　　The willow twigs, daubed with a light green by several days of sunshine, are now covered all over with the dust and look so sickly that they need to be washed. And the perched soil and tree roots have likewise been dying for rainfall. Yet the rain is reluctant to come down.

　　我懷想著故鄉(xiāng)的雷聲和雨聲。那隆隆的有力的搏擊，從山谷反響到山谷，仿佛春之芽就從凍土里震動(dòng)，驚醒，而怒茁出來(lái)。細(xì)草樣柔的雨絲又以溫存之手撫摸它，使它簇生油綠的枝葉而開出紅色的花。這些懷想如鄉(xiāng)愁一樣縈繞得使我憂郁了。我心里的氣候也和這北方大陸一樣缺少雨量，一滴溫柔的淚在我枯澀的眼里，如遲疑在這陰沉的天空里的雨點(diǎn)，久不落下。

　　I can never forget the thunderstorm we often had in my home town. Over there, whenever the rumble of thunder reverberated across the valley, the buds of spring would seem to sprout freely after being disturbed and roused up from their slumber in the frozen soil. Then tenderly stroked by the soft hands of fine rain, they would put forth bright green leaves and pink flowers. It makes me nostalgic and melancholy to think about the old times and my mind is as depressed as the vast expanse of North China is thirsty. A tear stands in my dull eye and, like the rain lingering in the murky sky, is slow to roll down.

　　白色的鴨也似有一點(diǎn)煩躁了，有不潔的顏色的都市的河溝里傳出它們焦急的叫聲。有的還未厭倦那船一樣的徐徐的劃行。有的卻倒插它們的長(zhǎng)頸在水里，紅色的蹼趾伸在尾后，不停地?fù)鋼糁�水以支持身體的平衡。不知是在尋找溝底的細(xì)微食物，還是貪那深深的水里的寒冷。

　　White ducks have also become somewhat impatient. Some are sending out irritated quacks from the turbid waters of an urban creek. Some keep swimming leisurely and tirelessly like a slow boat. Some have their long necks submerged headfirst in the water while sticking up their webbed feet behind their tails and splashing them desperately so as to keep their balance. There is no knowing if they are searching for tiny bits of food from the bottom of the creek or just enjoying the chill of the deep water.

　　有幾個(gè)已上岸了。在柳樹下來(lái)回地作紳士的散步，舒息劃行的疲勞。然后參差地站著，用嘴細(xì)細(xì)地?fù)崂硭鼈儽轶w白色的羽毛，間或又搖動(dòng)身子或撲展著闊翅，使那綴在羽毛間的水珠墜落。一個(gè)已修飾完畢的，彎曲它的頸到背上，長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的紅嘴藏沒在翅膀里，靜靜合上它白色的茸毛間的小黑眼，仿佛準(zhǔn)備睡眠。可憐的小動(dòng)物，你就是這樣做你的夢(mèng)嗎?

　　Some of them stagger out of the water and, to relieve their fatigue, begin to saunter up and down with a gentleman-like swagger in the shade of the willow trees. Then, they stand about to preen their white plumage carefully. Occasionally they give themselves a sudden shake or flap their long wings to let off water drops from among their feathers. One of them, after grooming itself, turns round its neck to rest on the back, then buries its long red beak under its wings and quietly closes its small black eyes tucked away among the white find hair. Apparently it is getting ready to sleep. Poor little creature, is that the way you sleep?

　　我想起故鄉(xiāng)放雛鴨的人了。一大群鵝黃色的雛鴨游牧在溪流間。清淺的水，兩岸青青的草，一根長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的竹竿在牧人的手里。他的小隊(duì)伍是多么歡欣地發(fā)出啾啁聲，又多么馴服地隨著他的竿頭越過(guò)一個(gè)田野又一個(gè)山坡!夜來(lái)了，帳幕似的竹篷撐在地上，就是他的家。但這是怎樣遼遠(yuǎn)的想象啊!在這多塵土的國(guó)度里，我僅只希望聽見一點(diǎn)樹葉上的雨聲。一點(diǎn)雨聲的幽涼滴到我憔悴的夢(mèng)，也許會(huì)長(zhǎng)成一樹圓圓的綠陰來(lái)覆蔭我自己。

　　The scene recalls to my mind the duckling raiser in my home town. With a long bamboo pole in hand, he would look after a large flock of gosling-yellow ducklings moving about on the limpid water of a shallow brook flanked on both sides by green grass. How the little creatures jig-jigged merrily! How they obediently followed the bamboo pole to scamper over field after field, hillside after hillside! When night fell, the duckling raiser would make his home in a tent-like bamboo shed. Oh, that is something of the distant past! Now, in this dusty country of ours, what I yearn for is to hear the drip-drip of rain beating against leaves.

　　我仰起頭。天空低垂如灰色霧幕，落下一些寒冷的碎屑到我臉上。一只遠(yuǎn)來(lái)的鷹隼仿佛帶著憤怒，對(duì)這沉重的天色的憤怒，平張的雙翅不動(dòng)地從天空斜插下，幾乎觸到河溝對(duì)岸的土阜，而又鼓撲著雙翅，作出猛烈的聲響騰上了。那樣巨大的翅使我驚異。我看見了它兩脅間斑白的羽毛。

　　When I look up at a gray misty pall of a low-hanging sky, some dust particles feel chilly on my face. A hawk, seemingly irked by the gloomy sky, swoops down sideways out of nowhere, with wings widespread and immovable, until it almost hits the hillock on the other side of the brook. But it soars skywards again with a loud flap. I am amazed by its tremendous size of its wings. And I also catch sight of the grizzled feathers on its underside.

　　接著聽見了它有力的鳴聲，如同一個(gè)巨大的心的呼號(hào)，或是在黑暗里尋找伴侶的叫喚。然而雨還是沒有來(lái)。

　　Then I hear its loud cry----like a powerful voice from the bottom of its heart or a call in the dark for its comrades in arms. But still no rain.

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