Spring Sowing春播

【編者按】

春天，開花的季節，播種的季節，戀愛的季節，百鳥爭鳴的季節，大地春意盎然，生活處處愜意。

古今中外，多少文人雅士為春天謳歌。他們也許只拾取了春天的一瞬、一角，卻給我們留下了春天的美麗詩篇。

春天來了，我們特翻譯了一組關于春天的詩文，以饗讀者。

【導讀】

利亞姆·奧弗萊厄蒂（1896年4月28日—1984年9月7日），愛爾蘭小說家，短篇故事作家。其作品以直白的自然主義、心理分析見長。其文筆富有詩意與辛辣的諷刺，并包含對愛爾蘭人民的勇氣與堅韌的敬意。他曾游歷南美、加拿大、美國、中東，干過各種雜活兒，這使他能深入生活，了解廣大民眾的喜怒哀樂，為其日后創作積累了豐富的素材。愛爾蘭革命運動后（該革命始于1916年4月25日），他定居英國，20世紀20年代中期后返回愛爾蘭首都都柏林。其著作有《鄰家女人》（Thy Neighbour’s Wife， 1923）、《黑色的心》（The Black Soul， 1924）、《告密者》（The Informer， 1929）、《饑荒》（Famine， 1937）、《短篇小說集》（Liam O’ Flaherty： The Collected Stories， 1999）等。

春種一粒粟，秋收萬顆籽。春天一到，生機勃發，播種的季節也就開始了。這個短篇講的就是春播的事情。春寒料峭，一對愛爾蘭新婚夫婦準備種馬鈴薯。他們不負春光，披星戴月，勤奮勞作，對生活充滿了憧憬，盡管也有疲憊時的彷徨。故事里寫的農耕生活是我們過去讀愛爾蘭作品時很少讀到的。這個故事盡管不復雜，卻給了我們一個新的視角——曾經的愛爾蘭農耕生活。讀者想想中國農村的夫妻耕種，再看看故事中男女主人公的春播，定會覺出兩國文化中的許多共同處：男耕女織、夫唱婦隨式的田園生活。故事中的“春”意由很多細節點出：嫩綠的芳草，和煦的陽光，清新的空氣，群鳥在翻耕過的地里尋找蟲子，一切都賦予故事以初春景色。而更重要的，是農耕者“春來到，快耕種 ”的意識。故事結尾處，牛的哞哞叫聲更是神來之筆，提示春天的到來和春耕的開始。整個故事散發著春天泥土的芬芳。

It was still dark when Martin Delaney and his wife Mary got up. Martin stood in his shirt by the window， rubbing his eyes and yawning， while Mary raked out the live coals that had lain hidden in the ashes on the hearth all night. Outside， cocks were crowing and a white streak was rising from the ground， as it were， and beginning to scatter the darkness. It was a February morning， dry， cold and starry.

The couple sat down to their breakfast of tea， bread and butter， in silence. They had only been married the previous autumn and it was hateful leaving a warm bed at such an early hour. Martin， with his brown hair and eyes， his freckled face and his little fair moustache， looked too young to be married， and his wife looked hardly more than a girl， red-cheeked and blue-eyed， her black hair piled at the rear of her head with a large comb gleaming in the middle of the pile， Spanish fashion. They were both dressed in rough homespuns， and both wore the loose white shirt that Inverara peasants use for work in the fields.

They ate in silence， sleepy and yet on fire with excitement， for it was the first day of their first spring sowing as man and wife. And each felt the glamour of that day on which they were to open up the earth together and plant seeds in it. But somehow the imminence of an event that had been long expected， loved， feared and prepared for made them dejected. Mary， with her shrewd woman’s mind， thought of as many things as there are in life as a woman would in the first joy and anxiety of her mating. But Martin’s mind was fixed on one thought. Would he be able to prove himself a man worthy of being the head of a family by doing his spring sowing well？

In the barn after breakfast， when they were getting the potato seeds and the line for measuring the ground and the spade， Martin fell over a basket in the half-darkness of the barn， he swore and said that a man would be better off dead than... But before he could finish whatever he was going to say， Mary had her arms around his waist and her face to his. “Martin，” she said， “let us not begin this day cross with one another.” And there was a tremor in her voice. And somehow， as they embraced， all their irritation and sleepiness left them. And they stood there embracing until at last Martin pushed her from him with pretended roughness and said： “Come， come， girl， it will be sunset before we begin at this rate.”

Still， as they walked silently in their rawhide shoes through the little hamlet， there was not a soul about. Lights were glimmering in the windows of a few cabins. The sky had a big grey crack in it in the east， as if it were going to burst in order to give birth to the sun. Birds were singing somewhere at a distance. Martin said to Mary proudly： “We are first， Mary.” And they both looked back at the little cluster of cabins that was the center of their world， with throbbing hearts. For the joy of spring had now taken complete hold of them.

They reached the little field where they were to sow. It was a little triangular patch of ground under an ivy-covered limestone hill. The little field had been manured with seaweed some weeks before， and the weeds had rotted and whitened on the grass. And there was a big red heap of fresh seaweed lying in a corner by the fence to be spread under the seeds as they were laid. Martin， in spite of the cold， threw off everything above his waist except his striped woolen shirt. Then he spat on his hands， seized his spade and cried： “Now you are going to see what kind of a man you have， Mary.”

“There， now，” said Mary， tying a little shawl closer under her chin.

“Aren’t we boastful this early hour of the morning？ Maybe I’ll wait till sunset to see what kind of a man I have got.”

The work began. Martin measured the ground by the southern fence for the first ridge， a strip of ground four feet wide， and he placed the line along the edge and pegged it at each end. Then he spread fresh seaweed over the strip. Mary filled her apron with seeds and began to lay them in rows. When she was a little distance down the ridge， Martin advanced with his spade to the head， eager to commence.

“Now in the name of God，” he cried， spitting on his palms， “let us raise the first sod！”

“Oh， Martin， wait till I’m with you！” cried Mary， dropping her seeds on the ridge and running up to him. Her fingers outside her woolen mittens were numb with the cold， and she couldn’t wipe them in her apron. Her cheeks seemed to be on fire. She put an arm round Martin’s waist and stood looking at the green sod his spade was going to cut， with the excitement of a little child.

“Now for God’s sake， girl， keep back！” said Martin gruffly. “Suppose anybody saw us like this in the field of our spring sowing， what would they take us for but a pair of useless， soft， empty-headed people that would be sure to die of the hunger. Huh！” He spoke very rapidly， and his eyes were fixed on the ground before him. His eyes had a wild， eager light in them as if some primeval impulse were burning within his brain and driving out every other desire but that of asserting his manhood and of subjugating the earth.

“Oh， what do we care who is looking？” said Mary; but she drew back at the same time and gazed distantly at the ground. Then Martin cut the sod， and pressing the spade deep into the earth with his foot， he turned up the first sod with a crunching sound as the grass roots were dragged out of the earth. Mary sighed and walked back hurriedly to her seeds with furrowed brows. She picked up her seeds and began to spread them rapidly to drive out the sudden terror that had seized her at that moment when she saw the fierce， hard look in her husband’s eyes that were unconscious of her presence.

She became suddenly afraid of that pitiless， cruel earth， the peasant’s slave master， that would keep her chained to hard work and poverty all her life until she would sink again into its bosom. Her short-lived love was gone. Henceforth she was only her husband’s helper to till the earth. And Martin， absolutely without thought， worked furiously， covering the ridge with block earth， his sharp spade gleaming white as he whirled it sideways to beat the sods.

Then， as the sun rose， the little valley beneath the ivy-covered hills became dotted with white shirts， and everywhere men worked madly， without speaking， and women spread seeds. There was no heat in the light of the sun， and there was a sharpness in the still thin air that made the men jump on their spade halts ferociously and beat the sods as if they were living enemies. Birds hopped silently before the spades， with their heads cocked sideways， watching for worms. Made brave by hunger， they often dashed under the spades to secure their food.

Then， when the sun reached a certain point， all the women went back to the village to get dinner for their men， and the men worked on without stopping. Then the women returned， almost running， each carrying a tin can with a flannel tied around it and a little bundle tied with a white cloth， Martin threw down his spade when Mary arrived back in the field. Smiling at one another they sat under the hill for their meal. It was the same as their breakfast， tea and bread and butter.

“Ah，” said Martin， when he had taken a long draught of tea from his mug， “is there anything in this world as fine as eating dinner out in the open like this after doing a good morning’s work？ There， I have done two ridges and a half. That’s more than any man in the village could do. Ha！” And he looked at his wife proudly.

“Yes， isn’t it lovely，” said Mary， looking at the back ridges wistfully. She was just munching her bread and butter. The hurried trip to the village and the trouble of getting the tea ready had robbed her of her appetite. She had to keep blowing at the turf fire with the rim of her skirt， and the smoke nearly blinded her. But now， sitting on that grassy knoll， with the valley all round glistening with fresh seaweed and a light smoke rising from the freshly turned earth， a strange joy swept over her. It overpowered that of the feeling of dread that had been with her during the morning.

Martin ate heartily， reveling in his great thirst and his great hunger， with every pore of his body open to the pure air. And he looked around at his neighbors’ fields boastfully， comparing them with his own. Then he looked at his wife’s little round black head and felt very proud of having her as his own. He leaned back on his elbow and took her hand in his. Shyly and in silence， not knowing what to say and ashamed of their gentle feelings， they finished eating and still sat hand in hand looking away into the distance. Everywhere the sowers were resting on little knolls， men， women and children sitting in silence. And the great calm of nature in spring filled the atmosphere around them. Everything seemed to sit still and wait until midday had passed. Only the gleaming sun chased westwards at a mighty pace， in and out through white clouds.

Then in a distant field an old man got up， took his spade and began to clean the earth from it with a piece of stone. The rasping noise carried a long way in the silence. That was the signal for a general rising all along the little valley. Young men stretched themselves and yawned. They walked slowly back to their ridges.

Martin’s back and his wrists were getting sore， and Mary felt that if she stooped again over her seeds her neck would break， but neither said anything and soon they had forgotten their tiredness in the mechanical movement of their bodies. The strong smell of the upturned earth acted like a drug on their nerves. By sundown Martin had five ridges finished. He threw down his spade and stretched himself. All his bones ached and he wanted to lie down and rest. “It’s time to be going home， Mary，” he said.

Mary straightened herself， but she was too tired to reply. She looked at Martin wearily and it seemed to her that it was a great many years since they had set out that morning. Then she thought of the journey home and the trouble of feeding the pigs， putting the fowls into their coops and getting the supper ready， and a momentary flash of rebellion against the slavery of being a peasant’s wife crossed her mind. It passed in a moment. Martin was saying， as he dressed himself：

“Ha！ It has been a good day’s work. Five ridges done， and each one of them as straight as a steel rod. Begob， Mary， it’s no boasting to say that you might well be proud of being the wife of Martin Delaney. And that’s not saying the whole of it， my girl. You did your share better than any woman in Inverara could do it this blessed day.”

They stood for a few moments in silence， looking at the work they had done. All her dissatisfaction and weariness vanished from Mary’s mind with the delicious feeling of comfort that overcame her at having done this work with her husband. They had done it together. They had planted seeds in the earth. The next day and the next and all their lives， when spring came they would have to bend their backs and do it until their hands and bones got twisted with rheumatism. But night would always bring sleep and forgetfulness.

As they walked home slowly， Martin walked in front with another peasant talking about the sowing， and Mary walked behind， with her eyes on the ground， thinking.

Cows were lowing at a distance.

天還沒亮，馬丁·德萊尼和妻子瑪麗就起床了。馬丁身著襯衣，站在窗邊，一邊揉眼睛一邊打著哈欠;瑪麗則把昨夜埋在壁爐灰燼里燃燒未盡的煤球撥了出來。屋外，雄雞高唱，一線曙光沖破夜色，從地面升起。這是二月的清晨，空氣干燥，乍暖還寒，星光點點。

兩口子坐下來靜靜地用早餐，有茶、面包和黃油。他們去年秋天才結的婚，最不愿這么早就離開暖暖的被窩。馬丁一頭棕發，一雙棕色的眼睛，臉上長著雀斑，蓄著淡淡的八字胡，看上去太年輕，還不到結婚的年紀。他的妻子看起來就是個小姑娘，臉紅撲撲的，藍藍的眼睛，黑黑的頭發盤在腦后，一把大梳子在發髻中間閃著光，這是西班牙式發型。他們都穿著家織粗布衣服，寬松的白襯衣，這是因弗拉拉地區的農民種地時常穿的服裝。

他們靜靜地吃著，睡眼惺忪，但心底激情如火，因為這是他們作為夫妻初次春播的第一天。今天，他們都覺得是一個好日子，要一起翻地，一起播種。這事兒他們期盼已久，早已喜歡，心有畏懼但也有準備，而一旦真的來臨，卻又令他們感到多少有些沮喪。瑪麗有著女人的精明，把一個女人在婚后初次經歷歡欣與焦慮時該想到的事情都想過了。而馬丁則只想著一件事：能否把春播工作做好，以此證明自己是當之無愧的一家之長。

用過早餐，他們去倉庫拿馬鈴薯種、用來丈量土地的繩子和鏟子。倉庫光線暗淡，馬丁被一個籃子絆了一跤。他罵罵咧咧地說，一個男人這么不中用，還不如死……但沒等他說完，瑪麗就摟著他的腰，面對著他說：“馬丁，一天才開始，咱們別發脾氣吧。”聲音里帶著幾分顫抖。說來也怪，這一擁抱，所有的怒氣和困倦都煙消云散了。他們就這么擁抱著，直到馬丁佯裝粗魯地把瑪麗推開，說：“好啦好啦，寶貝。照這樣下去，還沒開始干活兒太陽就要下山了。”

他們穿著牛皮鞋靜悄悄走過小村莊的時候，周遭仍不見人影。幾座小屋里，窗口燈光閃爍。東方的天空已出現一大片魚肚白，太陽似乎就要噴薄而出。鳥兒在遠處啁啾。馬丁無不自豪地對瑪麗說：“瑪麗，我們可是第一呀！”他們一同回望那一群小房子，心怦怦地跳著，那可是他們世界的中心啊！春天的快樂已經完全占據了他們的心靈。

他們來到了就要播種的那塊小田。這塊小田呈三角形，位于一座長滿常青藤的小石灰巖山腳下。地里幾周前便已施了海藻肥，現在海藻業已腐爛，白色的殘余掛在草上。還有一大堆紅色的新鮮海藻堆在圍欄的角落里，等待施放在馬鈴薯種的下面。盡管天氣尚寒，馬丁卻脫掉了其他上衣，只留一件條紋羊毛襯衣。他往兩只手心里一啐，掄起鏟子，大聲喊著：“瑪麗，瞧瞧你嫁的男人吧！”

“有你的！”瑪麗說著，一邊把小羊毛圍巾往下巴壓了壓。

“一大早的，是不是有點兒吹牛啊？我得等到太陽下山才能說我嫁了個怎樣的男人吧。”

活兒開始了。馬丁挨著南邊的圍欄丈量出第一壟地，這塊地四英尺寬。他把線沿著邊拉直，在兩頭打上木樁，然后在地里撒上新鮮海藻。瑪麗用圍裙兜滿馬鈴薯種，一行行地播下去。當瑪麗已經種到壟地比較遠的地方時，馬丁拿著鐵鏟走向地頭兒，急于干起來。

“以上帝的名義，”他說著，往手心啐了一口，“我們掀起第一塊泥巴吧！”

“啊，馬丁，等等我！”瑪麗一邊喊，一邊把馬鈴薯種丟在壟地上，向他跑去。她的手指露在手套外面，都凍麻木了，她也沒法在圍裙里擦手。她的面頰好似燃燒著。她一只手摟著馬丁的腰，看著他的鏟子馬上要翻墾的綠色土地，激動得像個小孩似的。

“看在上帝的份兒上，寶貝，別這么黏著！”馬丁生硬地說，“如果有人看到我們在地里春播就這副模樣，恐怕只會認為我們兩個人沒用、軟弱、沒頭腦，不餓死才怪呢，嗯？”他說得很快，眼睛盯住前面的土地，眼神里透露出一種野性的、迫切的光，似乎腦子里正燃燒著某種原始的沖動，這一沖動正將其他的欲望驅走，唯一留下的是要證明自己是個男子漢，要征服這塊土地。

“哎，管誰在看呢！”瑪麗這么說著，但還是往后退了退，眼睛盯住遠方的土地。馬丁鏟向土，腳用力把鏟子踩入土里。第一鏟土翻開了，草根從地里翻了出來，發出吱吱的聲音。瑪麗嘆了口氣，皺著眉頭快步回去繼續播她的馬鈴薯種。她看到了丈夫那狠狠的、嚴厲的眼神，似乎忘記了她的存在，不禁瞬間涌出一絲恐懼，于是抓起種子，快快播撒出去，以驅趕這種恐懼。

她突然對這毫無惻隱之心的土地害怕起來，這片殘忍的土地就是農民這種奴隸的主人，將終生把她與繁重的勞動和貧困綁在一起，直至她最終又回到土地的懷抱。那短暫的愛戀煙消云散，自此，她只是丈夫翻地時的幫手。馬丁卻毫無想法，只是拼命地干活，讓壟地被一塊塊翻起的土覆蓋。他揮舞著鏟子，側向擊打泥土，鋒利的鏟子閃著光。

太陽升起來了，長滿常青藤的山丘下，小小的山谷中點綴著件件白襯衫。到處都是男人在瘋狂勞作，不言不語;女人則在播撒種子。陽光沒有熱度，依然稀薄的空氣中有種刺人的東西，使得男人們賣力地跳上鏟背，擊打著草皮，似乎草皮就是活生生的敵人。鳥兒在鐵鏟前靜靜地蹦跳著，斜著頭看有沒有蟲子出現。餓漢膽子大，為了逮住吃的，它們常常直沖到鏟子下面。

太陽爬到一定的高度時，女人們便回村子給男人做飯，男人則勞作不休。飯好了，女人們幾乎是跑著回到田間地頭，每個人帶著個鐵罐子，用法蘭絨裹著，還有一個白布小包裹。瑪麗回到地里，馬丁扔下鐵鏟。他們坐在山腳下，相視而笑地吃著中飯。一如早餐，還是茶、面包和黃油。

馬丁端起茶缸痛飲了一氣，說：“啊，大干了一上午的活兒，然后像這樣露天吃頓中飯，世界上還有什么比這更痛快的事嗎？你瞧，我干完兩壟半了。哈哈，這可比村里別的男人都要多啊！”他驕傲地看著妻子。

“可不，真不錯！”瑪麗看著后面那些壟地，充滿渴望。她只是機械地嚼著面包和黃油。由于匆匆回村并費了番工夫煮茶，她已經沒了食欲。她得不停地用襯衣邊煽著炭火，冒出的煙幾乎讓她看不見東西。但此刻，她坐在長滿草的土丘上，眼望滿山谷新鮮的海藻泛著光，一股淡淡的輕煙從剛翻過的地上升起，心中不禁掠過一陣莫名的快樂，蓋過了早上曾有的恐懼。

馬丁盡情地吃著，又饑又渴使他格外享受這頓飯，身上的每個毛孔都向清新的空氣敞開著。他環顧鄰居們的田地，與自己的一比，得意之情油然而生。他又看看一頭黑發的妻子那圓圓的小腦袋，很自豪自己有她為妻。他用一只胳膊肘撐著往后仰，把她的手握在自己的手里。兩人都有些害羞，沒有說話，因為不知道要說些什么，也為那份綿綿情意有些不好意思——他們就這樣吃完了中飯，仍席地而坐，手牽手，眺望著遠方。到處是坐在小土堆上的播種者，男女老少都默默地坐著。春天里大自然的寧靜彌漫在空氣中，一切都似乎在靜靜地待著，直至午后。只有太陽閃著金光，穿云破霧，急急地奔向西邊。

遠處的一塊地里，一位上了年紀的男子站了起來，拿起鏟子，開始用一塊石頭刮掉上面的泥土，刺耳的聲音在寂靜中傳得老遠。這是要整個小山谷的人都起來的信號。年輕人伸著懶腰，打著呵欠，慢慢走回壟地。

馬丁的背和手腕都已發酸;瑪麗也覺得如果自己再哈著腰低頭播種，脖子都會斷了。但他們誰也沒有說什么，身子的機械性運動很快讓他們忘記了疲憊。翻過的泥土發出的強烈氣息對他們的神經就像是一副猛藥。太陽下山時，馬丁已經完成了五壟地的翻墾。他扔下鏟子，舒展身體，渾身骨頭生疼，就想躺下來休息。他說：“瑪麗，該回家了。”

瑪麗直起身來，但已累得不能回答他。她渾身倦意地看著馬丁，打他們早晨從家里出來，似乎度過了很多個年頭。她又想起回家的長路，想起喂豬、趕雞回籠、做晚飯等的麻煩，腦子里瞬間閃過不愿做農夫妻子的念頭，不過這念頭一下就消失了。馬丁一邊穿衣服，一邊說：

“哈，這一天的活兒干得真棒！干完了五壟啊，每一壟都弄得筆直，像個鐵棍兒似的。天啊，瑪麗，成為馬丁·德萊尼的妻子，你完全可以驕傲，這可不是吹牛。我還得說，寶貝，這一天下來，你干得也比因弗拉拉這地方別的女人都棒。”

好一會，他們站著沒有說話，在看著干過的活兒。與丈夫一起干了這么多活兒，一種甜絲絲的欣慰之情涌上心頭，瑪麗腦子里一切的不滿和疲勞都煙消云散了。這可是他們同心協力干的。他們在地里播下了種子。第二天，第三天，乃至這一輩子，每當春天來到，他們都得彎腰干活兒，直到手和骨頭因風濕病而變形。但當夜色降臨，他們就會進入夢鄉，忘掉這一切。

他們徐徐朝家里走去，馬丁與另一個農民談著播種的事兒，瑪麗在后面跟著，雙眼看著地，腦子里在翻騰。

遠處，牛在哞哞叫著。