(中英)現(xiàn)代散文:沒(méi)有秋蟲(chóng)的地方 A Place Without Autumn Insects

A Place Without Autumn Insects

沒(méi)有秋蟲(chóng)①的地方

◎ Ye Shengtao

◎　葉圣陶

Not a single blade of green grass beyond the doorsteps, nor a single butterfly outside the window. It is a place even more dry and dull than a pigeon house. The advent of autumn has vaguely reminded me of the season's insects once again chirping plaintively. However, so far none of it is heard. All I hear late at night is the din from the houses in the neighbourhood — crying of babies, hubbub of grown-ups and confused noise of music and song. And all I hear in the early morning is the rumble of vehicles on the stone pavements and the simultaneous yo-ho of labourers on the streets. You hear no insects chirping however you try, by leaning your head on the pillow, over the window, or against the wall. Not because, drowned by the overwhelming din of merry-making or suffering, it has thus become inaudible, but because this place is utterly devoid of autumn insects. O a place leaving no room for autumn insects! Or rather a place where the insects themselves disdain to stay!

階前看不見(jiàn)一莖綠草，窗外望不見(jiàn)一只蝴蝶，誰(shuí)說(shuō)是鵓鴿②箱里的生活，鵓鴿未必這樣趣味干燥呢。秋天來(lái)了，記憶就輕輕提示道：“凄凄切切的秋蟲(chóng)又要響起來(lái)了。”可是一點(diǎn)影響也沒(méi)有③，鄰舍兒啼人鬧，弦歌雜作的深夜，街上輪震石響，邪許④并起的清晨，無(wú)論你靠著枕兒聽(tīng)，憑著窗沿聽(tīng)，甚至貼著墻角聽(tīng)，總聽(tīng)不到一絲的秋蟲(chóng)的聲息。并不是被那些歡樂(lè)的勞困的宏大的清亮的聲音淹沒(méi)了，以致聽(tīng)不出來(lái)，乃是這里本沒(méi)有秋蟲(chóng)這東西。呵，不容留秋蟲(chóng)的地方！秋蟲(chóng)所不屑留的地方⑤！

At a time like this, if I were in the lowly countryside, I would hear insects all around me. There peace and tranquillity prevail day and night. All living beings, whether moving or at rest, stand to enjoy life in their own way. In the daytime, the sun shining warm and cozy with thin clouds floating over the fields, while during the night, the moon and stars hanging bright in the sky with soft breezes cooling the air. The only thing capable of affecting our mood then and there is the chorus by insects. Their performance, with a voice high or low, sonorous or piping, quick or slow, sustained or suspended, is flawless and skilful, as if they had undergone thorough training under a music master. In fact, each and every one of them is a consummate music master all by itself. As a constellation of fine artists, they each give full play to their unique talent. No wonder their performance has reached the peak of artistic perfection. It makes toilers sigh with feeling, old forgotten scholars grieve over their luckless past, lonely travellers murmur moodily and solitary women weep silent tears. All that makes for the highest state of beauty on earth and natural poetry of super excellence. Not only does it intrigue onlookers, but also brings a bitter feeling to the party concerned. Such a feeling is, to a certain extent, of profound significance.

若是在鄙野的鄉(xiāng)間，這時(shí)令滿耳是蟲(chóng)聲了。白天與夜間一樣地安閑；一切人物或動(dòng)或靜，都有自得之趣；嫩暖的陽(yáng)光或者輕淡的云影覆蓋在場(chǎng)上，到夜呢，明耀的星月或者徐緩的涼風(fēng)看守著整夜，在這境界這時(shí)間唯一的足以感動(dòng)心情的就是蟲(chóng)兒們的合奏。它們高、低、宏、細(xì)、疾、徐、作、歇，仿佛曾經(jīng)過(guò)樂(lè)師的精心訓(xùn)練，所以這樣地?zé)o可批評(píng)，躊躇滿志⑥，其實(shí)他們每一個(gè)都是神妙的樂(lè)師；眾妙畢集⑦，各抒靈趣，那有不成人間絕響的呢。雖然這些蟲(chóng)聲會(huì)引起勞人⑧的感嘆，秋士⑨的傷懷，獨(dú)客⑩的微喟，思婦?的低泣；但是這正是無(wú)上的美的境界，絕好的自然詩(shī)篇，不獨(dú)是旁人最歡喜吟味的，就是當(dāng)境者也感受一種酸酸的麻麻的味道，這種味道在一方面是非常雋永的。

Perhaps what we seek for is not a specific feeling, but just a bit of any feeling now and then, so that we can praise ourselves for living a life free from spiritual barrenness. If it happens to be a sweet feeling, let's savour it with a smile. If it happens to be a bitter feeling, we should still try to taste it, albeit with knitted brows, for it is a hundred times better than absence of any feeling, which is most unbearable and should be avoided by all means.

大概我們所蘄求的不在于某種味道，只要時(shí)時(shí)有點(diǎn)兒味道嘗嘗?，就自詡為生活不空虛了。假若這味道是甜美的，我們固然含著笑意來(lái)體味它；若是酸苦的，我們也要皺著眉頭來(lái)辨嘗它；這總比淡漠無(wú)味?勝過(guò)百倍。我們以為最難堪而亟欲逃避的，惟有這一個(gè)淡漠無(wú)味！

Therefore, being sentimental is better than apathetic, having a warm dream is better than becoming a living corpse, drinking a bitter cup is better than a cup of insipid water, having a good cry is better than being insensitive to both sorrow and happiness. This does not mean, however, that happiness and optimism are no good, healthy wakefulness is undesirable, sweets of life are evil and hearty laughter is vicious. What I mean here is that susceptibility is always preferable to insensibility.

所以心如槁木不如工愁多感，迷蒙的醒不如熱的夢(mèng)，一口苦水勝于一盞白湯，一場(chǎng)痛哭勝于哀樂(lè)兩忘。但這里并不是說(shuō)愉快樂(lè)觀是要不得的，清健的醒是不須求的，甜湯是罪惡的，狂笑是魔道的。這里只說(shuō)有味總比淡漠遠(yuǎn)勝罷了?。

Hence, the insects's song is something we always long for. In addition to the above-mentioned toilers, old forgotten scholars, lonely travellers and solitary women, innumerable other people are equally susceptible. With a chill in the air, who wouldn't think of the beautiful music of autumn?

所以蟲(chóng)聲終于是足系戀念的東西。又況勞人、秋士、獨(dú)客、思婦以外還有無(wú)量的人，他們當(dāng)然也是酷嗜味道的，當(dāng)這涼意微逗的時(shí)候，誰(shuí)能不憶起那妙美的秋之音樂(lè)？

But none of it exits. Absolutely none! The courtyard is as still as the bottom of a well, the cement ground is leaden. Insects have long been keeping clear of a place like this. Without their wings and legs, we cannot fly or leap as they do. We have to stick to this place. How pregnant with meaning are the two expressions — "the bottom of a well" and "leaden"!

可是沒(méi)有，絕對(duì)沒(méi)有！井底似的庭院，鉛色的水門(mén)汀地，秋蟲(chóng)早已避去惟恐不速了。而我們沒(méi)有它們的翅膀與大腿，不能飛又不能跳，還是死守在這里。想到“井底”與“鉛色”，覺(jué)得象征的意味豐富極了。

《沒(méi)有秋蟲(chóng)的地方》是葉圣陶早期的一篇散文。文章通過(guò)描寫(xiě)秋蟲(chóng)匯集的鄉(xiāng)間，來(lái)襯托沒(méi)有秋蟲(chóng)的都市庭院生活的枯燥乏味。作者夾敘夾議，傾談“心如槁木不如工愁善感”的哲理。