一封国士无双的家书（名家名译马义禄）

家书It was a summer afternoon. The clear blue sky was dotted with fluttering larks. The wind was still, as if it listened to their gentle singing. From the shining earth a faint smoke arose, like incense, shaken from invisible thuribles in a rhapsody of joy by hosts of unseen spirits. Such peace had fallen on the world! It seemed there was nothing but love and beauty everywhere; fragrant summer air and the laughter of happy birds. Everything listened to the singing larks in brooding thoughtlessness. Yea, even the horned snails lay stretched out on grey stones with their houses on their backs. There was no loud sound. Nothing asserted its size in a brutal tumult of wind and thunder. Nothing swaggered with a raucous noise to disarrange the perfect harmony. Even the tiny insects mounting the blades of grass with slow feet were giants in themselves and things of pride to nature.，下面我们就来聊聊关于一封国士无双的家书?接下来我们就一起去了解一下吧!

一封国士无双的家书

Liam O’Flaherty - The Letter

家书

It was a summer afternoon. The clear blue sky was dotted with fluttering larks. The wind was still, as if it listened to their gentle singing. From the shining earth a faint smoke arose, like incense, shaken from invisible thuribles in a rhapsody of joy by hosts of unseen spirits. Such peace had fallen on the world! It seemed there was nothing but love and beauty everywhere; fragrant summer air and the laughter of happy birds. Everything listened to the singing larks in brooding thoughtlessness. Yea, even the horned snails lay stretched out on grey stones with their houses on their backs. There was no loud sound. Nothing asserted its size in a brutal tumult of wind and thunder. Nothing swaggered with a raucous noise to disarrange the perfect harmony. Even the tiny insects mounting the blades of grass with slow feet were giants in themselves and things of pride to nature.

那是个夏日的午后，天气晴朗，碧空里星星点点的云雀在翩翩起舞。风很静，似乎谛云雀柔美的歌声。熠熠闪光的大地升起一缕青烟，仿佛炉香缭绕，人群无影无踪的精灵正在兴高采烈地摇晃着无形的香炉，宁静笼罩着整个大地！好像到处都充满爱和美；夏日的芬芳阵阵袭来，欢快的小鸟啁啾婉转。周围的一起都忘情地听着云雀的歌唱。可不是吗，就连长着触角的蜗牛也伏着各自的窝棚，在青石上伸展开来。四周听不见什么喧闹声。没有任何东西以风啸雷鸣般的喧嚣显示其威势。没有任何东西以粗哑刺耳的噪音扰乱这完美的和谐。就连缓缓爬到草叶上的小虫也成了自行其是的庞然大物，也是大自然的杰作。

The grass blades, brushing with the movements of their growth, made joyous gentle sounds, like the sighs of a maiden in love.

草叶竞相生长，微微拂动，发出轻柔的欢声，宛如初恋少女的叹息。

A peasant and his family were working in a little field .The father, the mother, and four children were there. They were putting fresh earth around sprouting potato stalks. They were very happy. It was a good thing to work there in the little field beneath the singing larks. Yes, God, maybe, gave music to cheer their simple hearts.

有个农民一家人正在一小块地里干活，头顶上就有云雀在歌唱，地里有父亲、母亲和四个孩子。他们在往绽出新芽的土豆秧周围培新土。他们十分愉快。一边在地里干活一边倾听头顶上云雀的歌唱，真是乐在其中。真是啊，也许上帝在用音乐激励他们淳朴的心吧。

The mother and the second eldest daughter weeded the ridges, passing before the others. The father carefully spread around the stalks the precious clay that the eldest son dug from the rocky bottom of the shallow field. A younger son, of twelve years, brought sea sand in a donkey’s creels from a far corner of the field. They mixed the sand with the black clay. The fourth child, still almost an infant, staggered about near his mother, plucking weeds slowly and offering them to his mother as gifts.

母亲和二女儿在垄上锄草，把旁人甩在后面。父亲小心翼翼地把土撒在土豆秧四周，这土得来不易，是大儿子从这块薄地底下的石头缝里挖出来的。二儿子12岁，从老远的地头把海滩上的沙子装进鱼篮，赶着毛驴伏了回来。他们把黑土掺上沙子。老四还是个小不点儿，在母亲身边摇摇晃晃转悠着，慢吞吞拔起杂草，当礼物送给母亲。

They worked in silence; except once when by chance the father’s shovel slipped on a stone and dislodged a young stalk from its shallow bed. The father uttered a cry. They all looked. “Oh! Praised be God on high” the mother said, crossing herself.

大家默默地干活；只有一次父亲的铁楸在石头上一滑，把一棵土豆秧铲下了垄台。父亲叫出声音来，大家都瞪着眼睛看着。“啊！上天保佑啊！”母亲边说边在身上画着十字。

In the father’s hands was the potato stalk and from its straggling thin roots here hung a cluster of tiny new potatoes, smaller than small marbles. Already their seeds had borne fruit and multiplied. They all stood around and wondered. Then suddenly the eldest son, a stripling, spat on his hands and said wistfully: “Ah, if Mary were here now wouldn’t she be glad to see the new potatoes. I remember, on this very spot, she spread seaweed last winter.”

只见父亲手捧着土豆秧，稀疏的细跟上挂着一串新长出的小土豆蛋子，比弹子还小。种子已经结果繁殖了。大家围拢来，好不稀罕。大儿子是长大成人了，他忽然往手上吐了口唾沫，若有所思地说：“嗨！玛丽现在要是在这儿，看到新长出的土豆，该多高兴呀！我记得去年冬天，就是这块地，还是她撒的海草泥。”

Silence followed this remark. It was of the eldest daughter he had spoken. She had gone to America in early spring. Since then they had only receive done letter from her. A neighbor’s daughter had written home recently, though, that Mary was without work. She had left her first place that a priest had found for her, as servant in a rich woman’s house.The mother bowed her head and murmured sadly:“God is good. Maybe today we’ll get a letter.”

话音落下，一阵沉默，他说的是大女儿。她开春去了美国，打那以后，家里只收到她一封信。不过，邻居的姑娘最近有信回家，说玛丽没活儿干了。她起初那份差事是个牧师给找的，在一家阔女人那儿当差，后来她走了。母亲垂下头，凄楚地低声道：“上帝心好啊。说不定今天我们会有信来。”

The father stooped again, struck the earth fiercely with his shovel, and whispered harshly:“Get with the work.”They moved away .But the eldest son mused for a while, looking over the distant hills. Then he said loudly to his mother as if in defiance:“It’s too proud she is to write, mother, until she has money to send. I know Mary. She was always the proud one.”

父亲又弯下腰，把铁揪狠狠戳在地上，粗声粗气压着嗓门说：“干活吧。”大家都散开了。只是大儿子望着远山寻思了一会儿，接着像是存心作对似的冲着母亲大声说：“妈妈，她太要强了，所以不写信，她有钱寄来就会写的。我了解玛丽，从来数她顶要强。”

They all bent over their work and the toddling child began again to bring weeds as gifts to his mother. The mother suddenly caught the child in her arms and kissed him. Then she said:“Oh! They are like angels singing up there. Angels they are like. Wasn’t God good to them to give them voices like that? Maybe if she heard the larks sing she’d write.But sure there are no larks in big cities.”

他们都埋头干活，唯有那个蹒跚学步的孩子又游起草来当礼物送给母亲。母亲猛然一把楼住孩子亲着，说：“啊！它们就像天使在唱歌呢。真像天使啊。瞧上帝有多好，踢给它们这副嗓子。玛丽听到云雀的歌声也许会写信的。可大城市里又哪有云雀啊。”

And nobody replied. But surely the larks no longer sang happily. Now the sky became immense. The world became immense, an empty dangerous vastness. And the music of the fluttering birds had an eerie lilt to it. So they felt; all except the toddling child, who still came innocently to his mother, bringing little weeds as gifts.

谁也没搭腔。但是不用说，云雀唱得也不欢了。一下子天空一片苍茫。大地一片苍茫，空旷里透出不祥。飞鸟的歌声听着也有点瘮人。大家都感觉到了，只有那个学步的孩子什么也不懂，还在给母亲送去一把一把的小草。

Suddenly the merry cries of children mingled with the triumphant singing of the larks. They all paused and stood erect. Two little girls were running up the lane towards the field. Between the winding fences of the narrow lane they saw the darting white pinafores and the bobbing golden heads of the running girls. They came running, crying out joyously in trilling girlish voices. They were the two remaining children. They were coming home from school.

忽然传来了孩子们的欢叫声，夹杂着云雀的凯歌声。大家放下手里的活，直起了腰。两个小姑娘沿着田垄朝地里跑来。她们奔跑在蜿蜒的篱笆间，在那条窄道上，只见一身白围裙前后飞动，一头金发上下跳动。金发在阳光下闪闪发光。她们边跑边喊，那少女的颤音好不欢快。她们是这家另外两个孩子。她们刚放学回家。

“What brought ye to the field?” the mother cried while they were still afar off.“A letter,” one cried, as she jumped on to the fence of the field.The father dropped his shovel and coughed. The mother crossed herself. The eldest son struck the ground with his spade and said:”By the Book.”“Yes, a letter from Mary, “said the other child, climbing over the fence also and eager to participate equally with her sister in the bringing of the good news. “The postman gave it to us.”

“你们来地里干吗？”人还老远呢，母亲就招唤起来。“来信了，”一个孩子边喊边眺上围田的篱笆。父亲放下铁锨，干咳着。母亲在胸前画着十字。大儿子一锹戳进地里，说：“敢情的！”“是啊，是玛丽来的信，”另一个孩子说，一边也爬过篱笆，抢着跟姐姐一起报佳音。“邮递员交给我们的。”

They brought the letter to their father. All crowded round their father by the fence, where there was a little heap of stones. The father sat down, rubbed his fingers carefully on his thighs, and took the letter. They all knelt around his knees. The mother took the infant in her arms. They all became very silent. Their breathing became loud. The father turned the letter round about in his hands many times, examining it.

她们把信递给父亲。大蒙围着父亲站在篱笆旁，边上有一小堆石头。父亲坐下来，手指头在大腿上仔细蹭了蹭，接过了信。大家都跪坐在他的膝旁。母亲抱起了小不点儿。大家一声不吭，出气都听得分明。父亲把信翻过来调过去端详了好多遍。

“It’s her handwriting surely,” he said at length.

“Yes, yes.” said the eldest son. “Open it, father.”

“In the name of God,” said the mother.

“God send us good news,” the father said, slowly tearing the envelope. Then he paused gain, afraid to look into the envelope. Then one of the girls said:

“Look, look. There’s a cheque in it. I see it against the sun.”

“Eh?” said the mother.

With a rapid movement the father drew out the contents of the envelope. A cheque was within the folded letter. Not a word was spoken until he held up the cheque and said:

“Great God, it’s for twenty pounds.”

“My darling,” the mother said, raising her eyes to the sky. “My treasure, I bore you in my womb. My own sweet treasure.”

The children began to laugh, hysterical with joy. The father coughed and said in a low voice:

“There’s a horse for that money to be had, A horse.”

“Oh! Father, “said the eldest son. “A two-year-old and we’ll break it on the strand. I’ll break it, father. Then we’ll have a horse like the people of the village. Isn’t Mary great? Didn’t I say she was waiting until she had money to send? A real horse!”

“And then I can have the ass for myself, daddy,” said the second boy.

And he yelled with joy.

“Be quiet will ye.” said the mother quietly in a sad tone. “Isn’t there a letter from my darling? Won’t ye read me the letter?”

“Here,” said the father. “Take it and read it one of ye. My hand is shaking.”

It was shaking and there were tears in his eyes, so that he could see nothing but a blur.

“I’ll read it,” said the second daughter.

She took the letter, glanced over it from side to side, and then suddenly burst into tears.

“What is it?” said the eldest son angrily. “Give it to me.”

He took the letter, glanced over it, and then his face became stern. All their faces became stern.

“Read it, son,” the father said.

“‘Dear Parents,’” the son began. “‘Oh, Mother, I am so lonely,’ It’s all covered with blots the same as if she were crying on the paper. ‘Daddy, why did I…why did I ever...ever...’ it’s hard to make it out...yes... ‘why did I ever come to this awful place? Say a prayer for me every night, mother. Kiss baby for me. Forgive me, mother. Your loving daughter Mary.’”

When he finished there was utter silence for a long time. The father was the first to move. He rose slowly, still holding the cheque in his hand. Then he said:

“There was no word about the money in the letter,” he said in a queer voice. “Why is that now?”

“Twenty pounds,” the mother said in a hollow voice. “It isn’t earned in a week.”

She snatched the letter furtively from her son, and hid it ravenously in her bosom.

The father walked away slowly by the fence, whispering to himself in a dry voice:

“Aye! My greed stopped me asking myself that question. Twenty pounds.”

“是她的笔迹，没错，”他终于开了口。

“没错，没错，”大儿子说。“拆开，爸爸。”

“看在上帝的份上，”母亲说。

“上帝赐给我们佳音，”父亲说着慢慢撕开信封。

接着他又停住，怕看信封里头。这时候有个姑娘说了：

“看啊，看啊，里头有张支票。冲着日头一照就看见了。”

“嗯？”母亲说。

父亲急忙取出信封里的东西。一张支票夹在叠好的信里。谁也没吱声，只听他捧起支票说。

“天哪，开了二十镑呢。”

“我的好乖乖，”母亲说着抬起两眼仰望天空。

“我的宝贝，我的亲骨肉啊。我亲生的好宝贝啊。”

孩子们大笑起来，欣喜若狂。父亲咳着，一边低声说：

“这回有钱买匹马了。一匹马啊。”

“啊！爸爸。”大儿子说。“买一匹两岁的，咱们牵到海滩上驯去。我来驯它，爸爸。这下咱们就跟村里人一样，也有匹马了。玛丽真能耐，不是吗？我说了吧，她是等攒够了钱才寄信呢！真要有马了！”

“那毛驴就归我了，爸爸，”老二说。

他高兴得直喊。

“你安分点好不好，”母亲说得平静，有点难过。“不是说我的宝贝还写了信吗？给我念念不行吗？”

“在这儿，”父亲说。“你们谁拿去念念。我的手直颤。”

他的手发颤，泪水盈眶，眼前只见一片模糊。

“我来念，”二女儿说。

她接过信，来回扫了几眼，突然大哭起来。

“怎么了？”大儿子气冲冲地说。“把信给我。”

他接过信，扫了一眼，就绷起了脸。大家也绷起了脸。

“念呀，儿子，”父亲说。

“‘亲爱的父母亲’，”儿子念了起来。“‘啊，妈妈，我好孤独啊。’到处，到处都是泪痕，象是她趴在信纸上哭过。‘爸爸，我干吗要……我干吗非要……非要……，’这字好难认……嗯……‘我干吗非要来这个鬼地方啊？每天晚上为我祈祷吧，妈妈。替我亲亲小弟。原谅我，妈妈。你们心爱的女儿玛丽。’”

他念完信，许久都没有一点动静。还是父亲先开的头。他慢慢站起身，手里还攥着那张支票。然后说：“信里压根儿没提寄钱，”听得出他心里生疑。

“怎么现在又有钱了呢？”

“二十镑啊，”母亲闷声闷气说了一句。“一个星期可挣不下来啊。”

她冷不防从儿子手里一把夺过信来，贪婪地藏进怀里。

父亲顺着篱笆缓缓走开，一边嘟嘟囔囔，声音沙哑：“哎！我是见钱眼馋，没顾上好好想一想啊。二十镑啊。”

He walked away erect and stiff, like a man angrily drunk.

The others continued to sit about in silence, brooding. They no longer heard the larks. Suddenly one looked up and said in a frightened voice:

“What is father doing?”

They all looked. The father had passed out of the field into another uplying craggy field. He was now standing on a rock with his arms folded and his bare head fallen forward on his chest, perfectly motionless. His back was towards them but they knew he was crying. He had stood that way, apart, the year before, on the day their horses died.

他僵挺挺地走开了，像个喝得烂醉的人。

别的人依然静静地坐着不动，若有所思。他们听不进云雀的声音了。忽然有谁抬起了头，惊恐地说：“爸爸在干嘛？”

大家抬头望去。父亲已经走出地头，在另外一块布满岩石的高地里。只见他站在一块石头上，抱着双臂，光秃的头垂在胸前，一动不动。他背冲着大家，但是谁都知道他在哭泣。头年家里的马死的那天，他也是撇开大伙，一模一样地呆站着不动。

Then the eldest son muttered a curse and jumped to his feet. He stood still with his teeth set and his wide eyes flashing. The infant boy dropped a weed from his tiny hands and burst into frenzied weeping.

这时，大儿子低声骂了一句，霍地站了起来。他立定脚跟，咬紧牙关，瞪大的两眼闪着亮光。小不点的小手里落下一裸野草，孩子突然号陶大哭起来。

Then the mother clutched the child in her arms and cried out in a despairing voice:

“Oh Birds, birds, why do ye go on singing when my heart is frozen with grief.” Together, they all burst into a loud despairing wail and the harsh sound of their weeping rose into the sky from the field that had suddenly become ugly and lonely; up, up into the clear blue sky where the larks still sang their triumphant melody.

于是母亲一把抓起孩子接在怀里，绝望地大叫大喊：

“哦！小鸟呀小鸟，我的心都伤透了，你们干吗还唱个不停呀。”

顿时，一大家人都悲痛欲绝地放声哀号起来，刺耳的哭声从骤然变得丑随荒凉的地里传到空中，再往上，往上，升入晴朗的碧空，只听得云雀还在那边喜气洋洋地引吭高歌。

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