A Sandpiper to Bring You Joy帶來(lái)歡樂(lè)的鷸

魯思·彼得森　許書明/譯

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach， a distance of three or four miles， whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up， her eyes as blue as the sea.

我在離我住處不遠(yuǎn)的沙灘上第一次碰見(jiàn)她時(shí)，她才6歲。每當(dāng)這個(gè)世界讓我感到苦悶壓抑時(shí)，我就開(kāi)上三四英里的車來(lái)到這片沙灘。她在用沙子蓋城堡或是別的什么。她抬起頭來(lái)，眼睛跟大海一樣湛藍(lán)。

“Hello，” she said.

“你好。”她說(shuō)。

I answered with a nod， not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

我點(diǎn)頭回答。說(shuō)實(shí)在的，我沒(méi)有心思理一個(gè)小孩子。

“Im building，” she said.

“我在蓋東西。”她說(shuō)。

“I see that. What is it？” I asked， not caring.

“我看見(jiàn)了。那是什么呀？”我漫不經(jīng)心地問(wèn)道。

“Oh， I dont know， I just like the feel of sand.”

“啊，我不知道。我只是喜歡沙子的感覺(jué)。”

That sounds good， I thought， and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper1 glided by.

那聽(tīng)上去不錯(cuò)，我自忖，然后我把鞋子脫掉。這時(shí)一只鷸滑翔而過(guò)。

“Thats a joy，” the child said.

“那是一種歡樂(lè)。”那孩子說(shuō)道。

“Its a what？”

“是什么？”

“Its a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.”

“一種歡樂(lè)。我媽媽說(shuō)，鷸會(huì)給我們帶來(lái)歡樂(lè)。”

The bird went glissading2 down the beach. “Good-bye joy，” I muttered to myself， “hello pain，” and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

那鳥沿著海灘滑降。“再見(jiàn)，歡樂(lè)。”我喃喃自語(yǔ)，“你好，痛苦。”說(shuō)完就轉(zhuǎn)身繼續(xù)往前走去。我情緒低落；我的生活仿佛徹底失去了平衡。

“Whats your name？” She wouldnt give up.

“你叫什么名字？”那女孩就是不放過(guò)我。

“Ruth，” I answered. “Im Ruth Peterson.”

“魯思，”我回答說(shuō)，“魯思·彼得森。”

“Mines Wendy...Im six.”

“我叫溫迪，我6歲了。”

“Hi， Wendy.”

“你好，溫迪。”

She giggled. “Youre funny，” she said.

她咯咯地笑了。“你真有趣。”她說(shuō)。

In spite of my gloom， I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

盡管有些憂郁，我也笑了，腳步?jīng)]有停下。她那音樂(lè)般的笑聲從背后傳來(lái)。

“Come again， Mrs. P，” she called. “Well have another happy day.”

“彼太太，下次再來(lái)吧，”她叫道，“我們還會(huì)有快樂(lè)的一天。”

The days and weeks that followed belong to others： a group of unruly Boy Scouts3， PTA4 meetings， and ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. “I need a sandpiper，” I said to myself， gathering up my coat.

以后的幾天甚至幾周是屬于別人的：一群鬧哄哄的童子軍、家長(zhǎng)教師聯(lián)誼會(huì)的會(huì)議，還有我那生病的媽媽。一天早上，我洗完碗，看到陽(yáng)光明媚。“我需要一只鷸。”我心中暗想，拿起了上衣。

The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly， but I strode along， trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

海濱在等我，那千變?nèi)f化的大海可以帶給人撫慰。微風(fēng)略有寒意，可我闊步前進(jìn)，試圖重新獲得我需要的寧?kù)o。我已經(jīng)把那女孩忘了，所以她出現(xiàn)時(shí)，我嚇了一跳。

“Hello， Mrs. P，” she said. “Do you want to play？”

“你好，彼太太。”她說(shuō)道，“你想玩嗎？”

“What did you have in mind？” I asked， with a twinge of annoyance.

“你想玩什么？”我問(wèn)道，帶著一絲厭煩。

“I dont know， you say.”

“我不知道。你說(shuō)吧。”

“How about charades5？” I asked sarcastically.

“玩字謎游戲怎么樣？”我故意問(wèn)道。

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I dont know what that is.”

她又發(fā)出了清脆的笑聲，“我不知道那是什么。”

“Then lets just walk.” Looking at her， I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.

“那我們就散散步吧。”我看著她，注意到她的臉柔弱白皙。

“Where do you live？” I asked.

“你住在哪兒？”我問(wèn)道。

“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.

“那邊。”她手指著一排避暑小屋。

Strange， I thought， in winter. “Where do you go to school？”

奇怪，我心想，怎么冬天來(lái)避暑。“你在哪兒上學(xué)？”

“I dont go to school. Mommy says were on vacation.”

“我不上學(xué)。媽媽說(shuō)我們?cè)诙燃佟！?/p>

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach， but my mind was on other things. When I left for home， Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better， I smiled at her and agreed.

我們?cè)诤┥下剑┼┎恍莸卣f(shuō)著小女孩的那些事，我卻在想別的。我要回家時(shí)，溫迪說(shuō)那一天過(guò)得很愉快。我感覺(jué)出奇地好，朝她笑了笑表示同意。

Three weeks later， I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

三個(gè)星期后，我瀕臨崩潰，沖向常去的海灘。我甚至沒(méi)有心思同溫迪打招呼。我好像看見(jiàn)她的母親站在前廊，真想要求她把孩子留在家里。

“Look， if you dont mind，” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me， “Id rather be alone today.” She seems unusually pale and out of breath.

“哎，抱歉，”溫迪追上我時(shí)，我氣惱地說(shuō)，“今天我想一個(gè)人待著。”她顯得特別蒼白，上氣不接下氣。

“Why？” she asked.

“為什么呢？”她問(wèn)道。

I turned to her and shouted， “Because my mother died！” and thought， my God， why was I saying this to a little child？

我轉(zhuǎn)向她吼道：“因?yàn)槲覌寢屗懒耍　笨墒且徽f(shuō)完，我就想，上帝啊，我為什么跟一個(gè)小孩子說(shuō)這個(gè)？

“Oh，” she said quietly， “then this is a bad day.”

“啊，”她輕聲說(shuō)，“那今天是個(gè)壞日子。”

“Yes， and yesterday and the day before and—oh， go away！”

“是，昨天也是，前天也是，還有——哦，你走吧！”

“Did it hurt？”

“痛苦嗎？”

“Did what hurt？” I was exasperated with her， with myself.

“什么痛苦嗎？”我跟她也跟自己發(fā)火。

“When she died？”

“她死的時(shí)候痛苦嗎？”

“Of course it hurt！” I snapped， misunderstanding， wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

“當(dāng)然痛苦！”我惱怒地說(shuō)道，誤解了她的意思，心中只想著自己。我大步走開(kāi)了。

A month or so after that， when I next went to the beach， she wasnt there. Feeling guilty， ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her， I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

大約過(guò)了一個(gè)月，我再次去海灘時(shí)，溫迪不在那兒。我感到內(nèi)疚和羞愧，承認(rèn)有些想念她。散完步，我走到她家的小屋，敲了敲門。一個(gè)蜜色頭發(fā)、面容憔悴的年輕女人開(kāi)了門。

“Hello，” I said， “Im Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”

“您好，”我說(shuō)，“我是魯思·彼得森。今天沒(méi)見(jiàn)到您家小姑娘，想見(jiàn)見(jiàn)，不知道她在不在。”

“Oh yes， Mrs. Peterson， please come in. Wendy talked of you so much. Im afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance， please， accept my apologies.”

“啊，哦，彼得森太太，請(qǐng)進(jìn)。溫迪總是說(shuō)起您。恐怕她是打擾您了。如果她討您嫌了，請(qǐng)接受我的歉意。”

“Not at all—shes a delightful child，” I said， suddenly realizing that I meant it. “Where is she？”

“一點(diǎn)兒也沒(méi)有——她是個(gè)討人喜歡的孩子。”我說(shuō)道，頓時(shí)意識(shí)到這是真心話，“她在嗎？”

“Wendy died last week， Mrs. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didnt tell you.”

“彼得森太太，溫迪上個(gè)星期就走了。她得了白血病。也許她沒(méi)有告訴您。”

Struck dumb， I groped for a chair. My breath caught.

我一下子愣住了，伸手摸到一把椅子撐住。我感覺(jué)有些透不過(guò)氣。

“She loved this beach so when she asked to come， we couldnt say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks， she declined rapidly...” Her voice faltered， “She left something for you...if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look？”

“她愛(ài)這片海灘，所以每次她要來(lái)，我們都無(wú)法拒絕。在這兒她看起來(lái)好得多，度過(guò)了許多她所謂的快樂(lè)時(shí)光。但是前幾周，病情急劇惡化……”她顫聲說(shuō)道，“她給您留了點(diǎn)兒東西……我得找一找。您能等一會(huì)兒?jiǎn)幔疫@就去找？”

I nodded stupidly， my mind racing for something， anything， to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope， with MRS. P printed in bold， childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues—a yellow beach， a blue sea， and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed： A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

我愣愣地點(diǎn)了點(diǎn)頭，拼命想找出些話跟這位和善的年輕女士說(shuō)，什么話都好。她遞給我一個(gè)臟兮兮的信封，上面端端正正寫著幾個(gè)稚拙的粗體字——彼太太。信封里是一幅蠟筆畫，顏色鮮艷——黃色的海灘、藍(lán)色的大海，還有一只棕色的鳥。下邊工整地寫著：帶來(lái)歡樂(lè)的鷸。

Tears welled up6 in my eyes， and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendys mother in my arms. “Im so sorry， Im sorry， Im so sorry，” I muttered over and over， and we wept together.

淚水涌出眼眶，我那顆幾乎忘卻了愛(ài)的心又敞開(kāi)了。我緊緊抱住溫迪的母親。“抱歉，很抱歉，真的很抱歉。”我一遍又一遍低聲說(shuō)著。我們倆抱頭痛哭。

The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words—one for each year of her life—that speak to me of harmony， courage， undemanding love.

如今這幅珍貴的小畫已經(jīng)鑲上框掛在我的書房里。畫中的六個(gè)字——一個(gè)字代表她短暫人生的一年——告訴我什么是平和、勇氣和無(wú)私的愛(ài)。

A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color sand—who taught me the gift of love.

這是一個(gè)小姑娘送我的禮物。她有著海藍(lán)色的眼睛和沙黃色的頭發(fā)，是她教我懂得了給予愛(ài)。