雙語 ● All Flowers are Beautiful 所有的花兒都美麗
All Flowers are Beautiful 所有的花兒都美麗
◎ Suzanne Chazin
I grew up in a small town where the elementary school was a ten-minute walk from my house and in an age, not so long ago, when children could go home for lunch and find their mothers waiting.
我在一個小鎮(zhèn)長大，從我家步行到我就讀的小學(xué)只要10分鐘。在那個時代，其實也就是不久前，孩子們可以回家吃午飯，媽媽會等著他們。
At the time, I did not consider this a luxury, although today it certainly would be. I took it for granted that mothers were the sandwich-makers, the finger-painting appreciators and the homework monitors. I never questioned that this ambitious, intelligent woman, who had had a career before I was born and would eventually return to a career, would spend almost every lunch hour throughout my elementary school years just with me.
那時候，我并不覺得這有多奢侈，可如今，它的確成了一種奢望。我想當(dāng)然地認(rèn)為媽媽就該做三明治，就該欣賞手指畫，就該檢查家庭作業(yè)。我從未懷疑過：在我出生前，這個有抱負(fù)、有智慧的女人曾經(jīng)有過一份事業(yè)，又將重新投身于另一份事業(yè)。可我上小學(xué)的那幾年，她幾乎每天都陪我吃午餐。
I only knew that when the noon bell rang, I would race breathlessly home. My mother would be standing at the top of the stairs, smiling down at me with a look that suggested I was the only important thing she had on her mind. For this, I am forever grateful.
那時，我只知道中午放學(xué)的鈴聲一響，我就會氣喘吁吁地跑回家里。媽媽就站在樓梯上，笑容滿面地迎接我。這讓我覺得我在她心中是唯一重要的事情。為此，我永遠(yuǎn)心存感激。
Some sounds bring it all back: the high-pitched squeal of my mother’s teakettle, the rumble of the washing machine in the basement, the jangle of my dog’s license tags as she bounded down the stairs to greet me. Our time together seemed devoid of the gerrymandered schedules that now pervade my life.
一些聲音總能將我拉回舊時：媽媽燒開水時水壺發(fā)出的又長又尖的聲音；地下室里洗衣機(jī)發(fā)出的隆隆聲；我的小狗下樓迎接我時脖子上那塊牌子發(fā)出的叮當(dāng)聲。可現(xiàn)在的生活無法與以前相比了。如今，我的生活完全被各式各樣的行程表所操控著。
One lunch time when I was in the third grade will stay with me always. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me. But no matter how easily I delivered them at home, as soon as I stepped onstage, every word disappeared from my head.
我讀三年級時的一次午餐時間，我將永生難忘。那時，我在學(xué)校的一部話劇中飾演公主。于是，那幾個星期媽媽都陪著我練習(xí)臺詞。可不管我在家背得多熟練，一上臺，那些臺詞就從我的腦海中消失了。
Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained that she had written a narrator’s part to the play, and asked me to switch roles. Her words, kindly delivered, still stung, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.
最后，我的老師把我叫到一旁，向我解釋說，她寫了一些旁白，要我換成旁白的角色。她說得很委婉，可還是傷害了我。尤其是當(dāng)我看到另一個女孩取代我飾演公主時，我的心里難過極了。
I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home for lunch that day. But she sensed my unease, and instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to walk in the yard.
那天中午回家吃飯時，我沒有把這件事告訴媽媽?？伤煊X到了我的不安。于是，她沒有叫我接著練臺詞，而是問我想不想到院子里走走。
It was a lovely spring day and the rose vine on the trellis was turning green. Under the huge elm trees, we could see yellow dandelions popping through the grass in bunches, as if a painter had touched our landscape with dabs of gold.
那是一個美好的春日，籬笆上的玫瑰藤都已慢慢變綠了。在那棵大榆樹下，我們看見一簇簇黃色的蒲公英從草叢中冒出來，就像一位畫家為我們的山水畫添上了一抹金黃。
I watched my mother casually bend down by one of the clumps. “I think I’m going to dig up all these weeds,” she said, yanking a blossom up by its roots. “From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden.”
我看見媽媽在一簇花草旁彎下腰來?！拔蚁胛覒?yīng)該把這些雜草全部拔掉?！彼贿呎f著，一邊連根拔起一簇盛開的花?！皬慕裢?，我們的花園里只有玫瑰?！?
“But I like dandelions,” I protested. “All flowers are beautiful even dandelions.”
“可我喜歡蒲公英，”我抗議道，“所有的花兒都美麗，即使是蒲公英?！?
My mother looked at me seriously. “Yes, every flower gives pleasure in its own way, doesn’t it?” She asked thoughtfully. I nodded, pleased that I had won her over. “And that is true of people too,” she added. “Not everyone can be a princess, but there is no shame in that.”
媽媽十分嚴(yán)肅地看著我?！笆前?，每朵花都用自己的方式展示它的美，難道不是嗎？”她若有所思地問道。我點點頭，很高興自己說服了媽媽。“人也是一樣的，”她補(bǔ)充說道，“不是每個人都能成為公主，這沒什么可丟臉的?！?
Relieved that she had guessed my pain, I started to cry as I told her what had happened. She listened and smiled reassuringly.
原來，她早就猜到了我的煩惱。我松了口氣，哭著把整件事情告訴了她。她一邊聽一邊微笑著安慰我。
“But you will be a beautiful narrator,” she said, reminding me of how much I loved to read stories aloud to her, “The narrator’s part is every bit as important as the part of the princess.”
“你會成為最美的旁白，”她說道，還提醒我以前我有多喜歡大聲給她朗讀故事，“旁白的部分和公主的角色一樣重要?！?
Over the next few weeks, with her constant encouragement, I learned to take pride in the role. Lunchtimes were spent reading over my lines and talking about what I would wear.
接下來的幾個星期，在她的不斷鼓勵下，我慢慢為飾演旁白這個角色感到驕傲。至于午餐時間嘛，不是朗讀我的臺詞，就是討論表演時要穿什么服裝。
Backstage the night of the performance, I felt nervous. A few minutes before the play, my teacher came over to me. Your mother asked me to give this to you, she said, handing me a dandelion. Its edges were already beginning to curl and it flopped lazily from its stem. But just looking at it, knowing my mother was out there and thinking of our lunchtime talk, made me proud.
演出那天晚上，我在后臺感到十分緊張。表演開始前的幾分鐘，老師走到我身邊?！澳愕膵寢屪屛野堰@個交給你?！彼呎f邊遞給我一朵蒲公英。蒲公英的邊是卷的，整個花莖也都死氣沉沉。我匆匆瞥了一眼，知道媽媽就在外面。我想起午餐時候我們的談話，一股自豪感油然而生。
After the play, I took home the flower I had stuffed in the apron of my costume. My mother pressed it between two sheets of paper toweling in a dictionary, laughing as she did it that we were perhaps the only people who would press such a sorry-looking weed.
演出結(jié)束后，我把那朵蒲公英塞進(jìn)演出服的口袋里帶回家。媽媽用兩張紙壓平它，然后夾進(jìn)字典里。她笑著說：“這世上也許只有我們愿意把一棵毫不起眼的小草好好地夾起來。”
I often look back on our lunchtimes together, bathed in the soft midday light. They were the commas in my childhood, the pauses that told me life is not savored in premeasured increments, but in the sum of daily rituals and small pleasures we casually share with loved ones.
如今，沐浴在和煦的午后陽光里，我時常會想起我們一起度過的午餐時間。它們就像是我童年生活里的小逗號，這些停頓讓我懂得：生活的真正滋味并非來自于預(yù)先估好的增額，而是來自于和愛人共享的日常瑣事和小小快樂。
Over peanut-butter sandwiches and chocolate-chip cookies, I learned that love, first and foremost, means being there for the little things.
花生醬三明治和巧克力曲奇讓我懂得：愛，最原始的和最重要的，是關(guān)注那些微不足道的小事。
A few months ago, my mother came to visit. I took off a day from work and treated her to lunch. The restaurant bustled with noontime activity as businesspeople made deals and glanced at their watches. In the middle of all this sat my mother, now retired, and I. From her face I could see that she relished the pace of the work world.
幾個月前，媽媽來看我。我請了一天假陪她吃午飯。午飯時餐館里擠滿了人，一群商人邊吃飯邊談生意，還時不時地瞄一眼腕上的手表。我和退休的媽媽就坐在這群人的中間。從她臉上，我能看出她很羨慕上班族的工作節(jié)奏。
“Mom, you must have been terribly bored staying at home when I was a child,” I said.
“媽，我小的時候您在家照顧我，肯定很厭煩吧！”我說。
“Bored? Housework is boring. But you were never boring.”
“厭煩？我是挺厭煩家務(wù)活的，可是你永遠(yuǎn)不會讓我覺得厭煩?！?
I didn’t believe her so I pressed. “Surely children are not as stimulating as a career.”
我不相信，于是接著說：“照顧孩子肯定不如工作那么具有挑戰(zhàn)性！”
“A career is stimulating,” she said. “I’m glad I had one. But a career is like an open balloon. It remains inflated only as long as you keep pumping. A child is a seed. You water it. You care for it the best you can. And then it grows all by itself into a beautiful flower.”
“工作的確更有挑戰(zhàn)性，”她說，“我很開心我曾經(jīng)有過一份工作?？墒枪ぷ骶拖褚粋€開口氣球，只有不斷吹氣才能讓它變大。但是孩子像一粒種子，只要你給它澆水，細(xì)心照料它，它就會自己長大，變成一朵美麗的花兒?！?
All or nothing, now or never.
寧為玉碎，不為瓦全。機(jī)不可失，失不再來。
