英譯現(xiàn)代散文●照片上的童年 ◎ 何為

照片上的童年

The Photographic Record of My Childhood

◎　何為

◎　He Wei

前些日子，為了尋找四十年前的舊作剪報，在篋底的隱蔽角落里，竟把一些遠(yuǎn)年陳跡也翻了出來。其中年代最久的是一本既厚且大的古老影集。

The other day, in rummaging a suitcase for newspaper clippings of my essays written over forty years ago, I came upon some old objects, among them an enormously bulky old album.

在那本布滿蟲蛀的影集里，貼著我出世后最早的幾張照片。我漠然看著褪了色的童年面容，似乎找到了童年的夢，卻又覺得它早已遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地離開我，再也不屬于我自己，僅僅是一種無可奈何的存在而已。

The moth-eaten album contained several photos of myself taken in early childhood. I stared blankly at my little face in the faded photos, feeling as if I were reliving my childhood. But I also felt that my childhood had long been irretrievably gone and no longer belonged to me.

照片上的童年是真實的，又是虛幻的。

My childhood, as recorded in the old photos, was at once real and unreal.

一張照片上，有一個稚氣可掬的孩子，大概是剛滿周歲，按照家鄉(xiāng)的習(xí)俗，在胸前懸垂著一塊很大的“鎖片”。半個多世紀(jì)前的一幅留影。這就是我自己嗎?萌芽狀態(tài)的人生，一無所知地面對著陌生的世界。

In one of the photos, I was very little, probably just one year old. As was the custom of my native place, I had a big ornament hung on my chest as a lucky charm. The photo had been taken over half a century ago. Was it I myself in the embryonic stage of life, with my ignorant eyes on the strange world?

另一張站著的全身照，記得是攝于三歲那年，也可能是四歲。冬天，穿著又厚又臃腫的棉袍，顯得蹣跚可笑。又一張，看上去是同一時刻拍攝的。那是我和祖母的合影。我緊緊拉著祖母的手。我從幼小時就在祖母撫育下，祖孫倆形影不離。那一年祖母不過五十三四歲。在照片上，她微微側(cè)著臉，仿佛叮囑我向前注視，又像在給我講孟姜女萬里尋夫的悲壯故事。我的祖母有講不完的民間故事。我總覺得她有一本無字的書，書上寫滿了令人神往的故事，那也是我最早接觸到的文學(xué)作品。

Another photo, in which I stood full-length, had been taken, I remember, when I was three or four. It was winter, and I was dressed cumbersomely in a cotton-padded thick gown, staggering ridiculously. In still another photo, probably taken at the same time, I was holding grandma by the hand. As she had been looking after me ever since I was in the cradle, we had become inseparable from each other. In the photo, she looked in her early fifties. She was turning her head slightly, as if trying to make me look ahead or telling me the tragic and moving story of Meng Jiang Nu making a long, difficult journey in search of her husband. She had an unlimited stock of folk tales to tell. I always thought her in possession of a wordless book full of fascinating stories. They became, as it were, the first literary works that I ever came into contact with in my life.

照片上的背景部分，經(jīng)過漫長歲月，留下泛黃的時間痕跡，還有一些幻影似的模糊斑點。襯托著人像背后的斑駁墻垣上，一個很大的圓圈，輪廓分明。

The background of the photos was yellowed with age and dotted with fuzzy specks. There was distinctly a big round hole in the mottled wall.

墻上大圓圈是一扇圓形的大門嗎?我問自己。

Wasn't the round hole a fan-shaped gate? I asked myself.

是一扇門。正是我童年時代熟悉的月洞門，童話般的門。

Yes, it was. It was the moon gate so familiar to me in my childhood — a fairy-tale gate!

我出生的老屋里，廳堂前有一個石面鋪砌的院子，足供我嬉戲奔跑?；ùu墻跟前，并列著幾只大水缸，用以承接檐下的雨落水。每一只水缸都比我高得多。我躲在水缸后面，與小伙伴捉迷藏。院子兩側(cè)，東西相對，各有一個月洞門。為什么我總是記得那兩扇大圓門呢?是因為它不同于普通的長方形門框，圓圓的像天上月宮嗎?抑或是，兩扇大門之間，有一塊小小的天地，曾經(jīng)是我騎竹馬馳騁的所在?我常常想起故鄉(xiāng)的老屋，它充滿了我童年的回憶。

I used to play on the flagstones of the courtyard in front of the hall of the old house where I had been born. Standing side by side before the tiled wall were several water vats for receiving rain water dripping from the eaves. In playing hide-and-seek with my little playmates, I would conceal myself behind one of the vats, which were taller than I was. On either side of the courtyard there was a moon gate. Why did the two big moon gates always remain in my memory? Was it because they differed from ordinary rectangular gates in resembling the big round gate of the legendary palace on the moon? Or was it because of the little world between the two big gates where I used to play happily? I often think of the old house in my hometown. It brings back many, many memories of my childhood.

一九六〇年仲夏，我回到了闊別三十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，回到定海城內(nèi)。一天，我踏著暮色，悄悄踅入橫塘弄。一條幽深寂寥的長巷，一條兩旁厚墻夾峙的石板道。日影西斜，照著長巷石板道上一幢老屋。經(jīng)人指引，我登上石階，推開虛掩的門扉。四下寂然無聲。驀地，院子兩頭的月洞門呈現(xiàn)在我眼前。依然是那兩個大圓圈。只是比我回憶中小了許多，而且顯得很陳舊。兒時，我與小游伴互相追逐過的院子和廳堂，都堆滿了層疊的貨包。原來多年以前，老家舊宅早已改成了百貨店的商品堆棧。

In the midsummer of 1960, I returned to my old home in the city of Dinghai for a short visit after a long absence of more than thirty years. One day, in the deepening twilight, I quietly stepped into Heng Tang Alley, a long flagstone alley between two towering walls. The setting sun was casting its last rays on an old house down the alley. At the direction of someone, I found my way to the house and ascended its stone steps. Its gate was left unlatched, so I pushed it open. Inside it was all quiet. My eyes suddenly fell on the moon gate on either side of the courtyard. Yes, the same two old big round holes. Only they looked much smaller than they were in my memory, and very shabby too. The courtyard and the hall where I had used to play around with my little playmates in my childhood were now heaped with sacks of goods. So my old house had long been transformed into the warehouse of a department store!

我躊躇不前，不由感到一陣迷惑和惆悵。

I hesitated to move ahead, feeling perplexed and melancholy.

也許我最好是不要還鄉(xiāng)，不要重返家園，不要尋求那逝去的舊夢。我不知道是有所得抑或是有所失。一切都已過去，一切都已變樣。

Perhaps I should not have returned to my hometown to see my old house and to relive my past experience. I wondered whether it had been worthwhile or not for me to revisit my old home. Everything's gone. Everything's changed.

只有照片上的童年，至今還留駐下來。當(dāng)我從箱筐內(nèi)找到舊作的若干剪報后，便把那一本比我生活過的年代更長久的影集，重又放入書箱里。然后輕輕合上了箱蓋。我的童年回憶于是隨同影集一起又沉入箱底。

The only thing that still remained was my photographic childhood. Having found some newspaper clippings of my old writings, I replaced in the suitcase the album that had seen many more winters than I. Then I carefully put back the lid on the suitcase. Memories of my childhood, together with the album, sank again to the bottom of the suitcase.

何為(1922—2011)，當(dāng)代著名作家，原名何敬業(yè)，祖籍浙江定海。20世紀(jì)40年代初先后就讀于上海大同大學(xué)和圣約翰大學(xué)，1937年開始發(fā)表文學(xué)作品，在上海歷任報紙記者、刊物編輯和電影文學(xué)編輯。1959年調(diào)至福建電影制片廠任故事片編輯負(fù)責(zé)人，1964年轉(zhuǎn)任福建省作家協(xié)會專業(yè)作家，后為中國作家協(xié)會全國委員會名譽會員?！墩掌系耐辍肥撬麑懹?980年10月的一篇佳作，深情追懷他在故鄉(xiāng)度過的童年時代。