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文学作品翻译:老舍《小麻雀》

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老舍 《小麻雀》

雨后,院里来了个麻雀,刚长全了羽毛。它在院里跳,有时飞一下,不过是由地上飞到花盆沿上,或由花盆上飞下来。看它这么飞了两三次,我看出来:它并不会飞得再高一些。它的左翅的几根长翎拧在一处,有一根特别的长,似乎要脱落下来。我试着往前凑,它跳一跳,可是又停住,看着我,小黑豆眼带出点要亲近我又不完全信任的神气。我想到了:这是个熟鸟,也许是自幼便养在笼中的。所以它不十分怕人。可是它的左翅也许是被养着它的或别个孩子给扯坏,所以它爱人,又不完全信任。想到这个,我忽然的很难过。一个飞禽失去翅膀是多么可怜。这个小鸟离了人恐怕不会活,可是人又那么狠心,伤了它的翎羽。它被人毁坏了,而还想依靠人,多么可怜!它的眼带出进退为难的神情,虽然只是那么个小而不美的小鸟,它的举动与表情可露出极大的委屈与为难。它是要保全它那点生命,而不晓得如何是好。对它自己与人都没有信心,而又愿找到些倚靠。它跳一跳,停一停,看着我,又不敢过来。我想拿几个饭粒诱它前来,又不敢离开,我怕小猫来扑它。可是小猫并没在院里,我很快地跑进厨房,抓来了几个饭粒。及至我回来,小鸟已不见了。我向外院跑去,小猫在影壁前的花盆旁蹲着呢。我忙去驱逐它,它只一扑,把小鸟擒住!被人养惯的小麻雀,连挣扎都不会,尾与爪在猫嘴旁搭拉着,和死去差不多。

瞧着小鸟,猫一头跑进厨房,又一头跑到西屋。我不敢紧追,怕它更咬紧了可又不能不追。虽然看不见小鸟的头部,我还没忘了那个眼神。那个预知生命危险的眼神。那个眼神与我的好心中间隔着一只小白猫。来回跑了几次,我不追了。追上也没用了,我想,小鸟至少已半死了。猫又进了厨房,我愣了一会儿,赶紧的又追了去;那两个黑豆眼仿佛在我心内睁着呢。

进了厨房,猫在一条铁筒——冬天升火通烟用的,春天拆下来便放在厨房的墙角——旁蹲着呢。小鸟已不见了。铁筒的下端未完全扣在地上,开着一个不小的缝儿,小猫用脚往里探。我的希望回来了,小鸟没死。小猫本来才四个来月大,还没捉住过老鼠,或者还不会杀生.只是叼着小鸟玩一玩。正在这么想,小鸟忽然出来了,猫倒像吓了一跳,往后躲了躲。小鸟的样子.我一眼便看清了,登时使我要闭上了眼。小鸟几乎是蹲着,胸离地很近,像人害肚痛蹲在地上那样。它身上并没血。身子可似乎是拳在一块,非常的短。头低着,小嘴指着地。那两个黑眼珠!非常的黑,非常的大,不看什么,就那么顶黑顶大的愣着。它只有那么一点活气,都在眼里,像是等着猫再扑它,它没力量反抗或逃避;又像是等肴猫赦免了它,或是来个救星。生与死都在这俩眼里,而并不是清醒的。它是胡涂了,昏迷了:不然为什么由铁筒中出来呢可是,虽然昏迷,到底有那么一点说不清的,生命根源的,希望。这个希望使它注视着地上,等着,等着生或死。它怕得非常的忠诚气完全把自己交给了一线的希望,一点也不动。像把生命要从两眼中流出,它不叫也不动。

小猫没再扑它,只试着用小脚碰它。它随着击碰倾侧,头不动,眼不动,还呆呆地注视着地上。但求它能活着,它就决不反抗。可是并非全无勇气,它是在猫的面前不动!我轻轻地过去,把猫抓住。将猫放在门外,小鸟还没动。我双手把它捧起来。它确是没受了多大的伤.虽然胸上落了点毛。它看了我一眼!

我没主意:把它放了吧,它准是死;养着它吧,家中没有笼子。我捧着它,好像世上一切生命都在我的掌中似的,我不知怎样好。小鸟不动,拳着身,两眼还那么黑,等着!愣了好久,我把它捧到卧室里,放在桌子上,看着它,它又愣了半夭,忽然头向左右歪了歪用它的黑眼睁了一下;又不动了,可是身子长出来一些,还低头看着,似乎明白了点什么。


A Little Sparrow
Lao She

As soon as the rain stopped, a little sparrow,almost full-fledged,flew into the courtyard. Ithopped, fluttered, darting up to the edge offlowerpots and back to the ground again. Watching itmove up and down a couple oftimes, I realized that it could not fly any higher as the plumes onits leftwing had got twisted with one sticking out as if about to come off. When I madeanattempt to move closer, it jumped off a bit and stopped again, staring backat me with its small,black and bean-like eyes that had a mixed look of wantingto be friends with me and not beingcertain that I was trustworthy. It occurredto me that this must be a tame bird, having beencaged since it was hatchedperhaps. No wonder it was not much scared of my presence. Its leftwing mighthave been impaired by some kid and that was why there was distrust in itslookthough it showed some intimacy with man. Suddenly I was seized with sadness.Howmiserable it was for a bird to lose its wings! Without someone taking careof it this small thingcould not survive. But man had injured its wing. Howcruel he was! Injured as it was, it stillwanted to rely on man. How pitiable!The look in its eyes showed that the little creature was oftwo minds. It wassmall and by no means pretty, yet its gestures and expressions revealed thatithad been wronged and landed in a difficult situation. It was anxious to keepits delicate life outof danger, but it did not know what to do. It had littleconfidence in itself and less trust in man,but it needed someone to rely on.It hopped and stopped, looking at me but too shy to comeover. I thought offetching some cooked rice to attract it, but I dared not leave it alone lestitshould be attacked by the kitten. As the kitten was not around at the moment, Ihurried tothe kitchen and came back with a few grains only to find the bindmissing. I ran to the outeryard and saw the kitten crouching by a flower potin front of the screen wall. I hastened todrive her away but, with a quickjump, she caught hold of the bird. The tame sparrow, with itstail and clawsdangling from the kitten's mouth, did not even know how to struggle. Itlookedmore dead than alive. With my eyes fixed on the bird, I watched the kitten runfirst to thekitchen and then to the ram at the west end. I was afraid to presshard after her, but I had tofollow her in case she should tighten her jaws.Though the bird's head was not visible to me,the look of anticipated danger inits eyes was vivid in my wind. Between its look and mysympathy stood thatsmall white cat. Having run a few rounds after her I quit, thinking itwaspointless to chase her like that because, by the time I caught her, the birdwould have beenhalf dead. When the cat slipped back to the kitchen again, Ihesitated for a second and thenhurried over there too. It seemed, in my mind'seye, the little bird were pleading for help withits two black bean-like eyes.

In the kitchen I noticed the cat was crouching by a tin pipe whichwas installed as smokeduct in winter and dismantled in spring, at the corner,but the bird was not with her. The pipeleaned against the corner and, betweenits lower end and the floor; there was an openingthrough which the cat wasprobing with her paws. My hope revived: the bird was not dead. Asthe kittenwas less than four months old, it had not learned how to catch mice, or how tokill forthat matter. It was merely holding the bird in its mouth and havingfun with it. While I wasthinking along these lines the little bird suddenlyemerged and the kitten, taken aback, boltedbackward. The way the little birdlooked was so registered to me at the first glance that I feltlike shutting myeyes immediately. It was virtually crouching, with its chest close to thefloor, likea man suffering from a stomachache. There was no stain of blood onits body, but it seemed tobe shrinking up into itself. Its head dropped low,its small beak pointing to the floor. Its twoblack eyes, unseeing, were veryblack and large, looking lost. The little life left in it was al in theeyes.It seemed to be expecting the cat to charge again, with no strength to resistor run; orwishing that the cat would be kind enough to pardon it or that somesaviour would come alongto its rescue. Life and death coexisted in its eyes. Ithought the bin must be confused orstunned, or else why should it have comeout from the pipe? Stunned as it was, it stillcherished some hope which,though hard to define, was the source of life. With that hope itgazed at thefloor, expecting either to survive or die. I was so really scared that itbecamecompletely motionless, leaving itself all to the precarious hope. Itkept quiet and still as ifwaiting for its life to flow out of its eyes.

The kitten made no more attempts to attack it. She only tried totouch it with her littlepaws. As the kitten touched it, it tilted from side toside, its head undisturbed and its eyeslooking blank at the floor. It wouldnot fight back so long as there was a chance of survival. Butthe bird had notlost all of its courage; it acted this way only with the cat. I went overlight-footed, picked up the cat and put her outside the door, the sparrowremaining where it was.When I took it up in my hands and looked, it was riotseriously injured, though some fluff hadcome off its chest. It was looking atme.

I had no idea what to do. If I let it go, it was sure to die; if I keptit with me, I did not have acage for it. I held it in my hands as if holdingall the lives in the world, not knowing what to do.The sparrow huddled up,motionless, its eyes as black as ever, still expectant. It remained thatwayfor a long while. I took it to my bedroom, put it on the desk and watched itfor a fewmoments. Suddenly it tilted its head left and then right, winking itsblack eyes once or twice,and became still again. By now its body seemed tohave stretched a bit, but it still kept its headlow as if it had understoodsomething.








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