(中英)現(xiàn)代散文:古城 The Ancient City

The Ancient City

古　城

◎ Xiao Qian

◎　蕭　乾

It was early winter. The gloomy and low sky made one feel suffocating. A fall of snow a couple of days before had brought to the city dwellers a touch of brightness, but now what an ugly scene reigned! The raw wind sent the snow on the tiles along the eaves whirling in the air in tiny bits and adroitly making its way down the necks of the pedestrians by way of their collars. The streets had become slushy by exposure to the prankish sun, and the thawing snow was dotted with traces of footsteps.

初冬的天，灰黯而且低垂，簡直把人壓得吁不出一口氣①。前天一場雪還給居民一些明朗②，但雪后的景象可不堪了③！峭寒的北風將屋檐瓦角的雪屑一起卷到空中，舞過一個圈子以后都極善選擇地向路人脖項里鉆④。街道為惡作劇的陽光弄成泥淖，殘雪上面畫著片片踐踏的痕跡。

A plane appeared out of the blue from a direction only too familiar to the local inhabitants, roaring to the alarm of everybody, on whose face was written memories of some previous horrors. Kids, who had been crawling about over ruts playing a game of small clay balls, now stopped to look up at the strange dragonfly in the sky, subconsciously feeling that something ominous was going to happen. However, they soon lowered their heads again to bury themselves in the messy game as soon as the dragonfly disappeared from view behind the treetops.

飛機由一個熟悉的方向飛來了⑤，洪大的震響驚動了當?shù)氐木用?。他們臉上各畫著一些恐怖的回憶。爬在車轍中玩著泥球的孩子們也住了手，仰天望著這只奇怪的蜻蜓，像是意識出一些嚴重。及至蜻蜓為樹梢掩住，他們又重新低下頭去玩那骯臟的游戲了。

That was a grey iron bird by no means a stranger to the ancient city. Everybody knew it was a scout with a multitude of "buddies" right behind it. With its straight wings spread out, it swept past sturdy old trees, quiet tile-roofed dwellings and lakes of imperial gardens, and circled over dazzling glazed tiles. It kept flying and flying. The ancient city, like a clumsy old man sitting there with his numbed legs crossed, looked on helplessly in face of what was taking place before him.

那是一只灰色的鐵鳥。對這古城，它不是完全陌生的⑥。大家都知道它還有伙伴們，無數(shù)的，隨在背后。這只是只探子。它展著筆直的翅膀，掠過蒼老的樹枝，掠過寂靜的瓦房，掠過皇家的御湖，環(huán)繞燦爛的琉璃瓦，飛著，飛著。古城如一個臃腫的老人，盤著不能動彈的腿，眼睜睜守著這一切。

The dark low archway of the city gate was thronged with tradesmen and pedestrians passing to and fro, each staring blankly ahead. Acting on the public warning "No discussing state affairs", people had learned to keep their mouth closely shut. Yes, trouble seemed to be brewing. But they knew not the trouble was between whom and whom. Maybe they should store up more pickled vegetables just in case, and remember to burn joss sticks before the image of the kitchen god at home so as to get a blessing from heaven on all their folks.

城門低暗的洞口正熙熙攘攘地過著商賈路人，一個個直愣著呆呆的眼睛，“莫談國事”的唯一社會教育使他們的嘴都嚴嚴封閉著。又要有變亂了。他們也不知道是誰和誰⑦，反正腌菜說不上得多備些的⑧。隨手還不能忘記為家里的灶王請下幾股高線香，為的是保佑一家老少平安。

As the snow began to thaw under the sun, the corners of the city wall revealed scars of war. That was something left on it by history. History had sent great men to build the wall, and history had also sent tyrants to destroy it. Again and again, it had, in time of turmoil, suffered knife-cuts and bombardment for the sake of the common people. Now, nobody could tell what kind of fate was in store. Anyway the local people were surging like a tide into the city for shelter. A perfect barometer it was indeed — another conqueror was eyeing the ancient city greedily.

陽光融化了城角的雪，一些殘破的疤痕露出來了。那是歷史的賜予！歷史產(chǎn)生過建筑它的偉人，又差遣搗毀它的霸主。在幾番變亂中，它替居民挨過刀砍，受過炮轟。面前它又面臨怎樣一份命運⑨，沒有人曉得。橫豎居民是如潮似地向城里灌了。那是極好的晴雨表⑩，另一個征服者又窺伺起這古城的一切。

The ancient city, like a clumsy old man bending low and gasping feebly, continued to watch over the group of innocent kids around him, his eyes brimming with tears.

古城自己仍如一位臃腫的老人，低頭微微喘息著，噙著淚守著膝下這群無辜的孩子——

《古城》是著名作家、記者蕭乾（1910—1999）寫于1932年冬的一篇散文精品。時為日本占領我國東北三省的次年，蕭乾身處關(guān)內(nèi)，面臨一片國破家亡的凄慘景象，正如他自己所說，“在悶郁中為當時的北平畫了這么一幅素描。”文章短小精悍，生動簡潔，在景物的描述中飽蘊著作者自己的激情。