passages from Spark English - we.i.nan的日志

The Magic Letter

魔法信

By Roger Dean Kiser

何勇刚译

三条辣椒

Once again, I had run away and really did not know why. I walked out the gate to go to school and then kept walking, and walking, and walking. I had just turned eleven years old the week before. It was almost dark; I was tired, scared, cold, and all alone. I had not eaten all day and was afraid to turn myself into the police. I knew I would receive another beating once I returned to the Children’s Home Society in Jacksonville, Florida. There was nothing for me to do, except keep on walking.

As darkness fell, I made my way over to the city park located on Park Street. I entered the darkened area and sat down on one of the wooden benches hoping to avoid the police cars. It was cold and I began to 1)shiver uncontrollably. All was quiet except for the passing cars in the distance.

“Well, hello young man.” A voice came from behind me.

I jumped, almost falling off the park bench. My heart was beating ninety miles per hour, and I could feel it 2)thumping in the side of my neck. I gasped and I could hardly catch my breath. I looked up and saw a woman standing behind me in the shadows.

“You look cold,” she said.

“I’m cold. I’m real, real cold.” I continued to shiver.

“Here wrap this around you.”

I watched as she took off her 3)shawl and 4)wrapped it around my shoulders.

“But ain’t you gonna be cold now?”

“I’ll be OK.”

“Is there anything else you need?” she questioned.

“I sure could use some food.”

“Follow me,” she said.

I walked with her about twenty feet, then she stopped under one of the park 5)streetlights.

She held out her hand and said, “Here, you take this letter and give it to the store owner.”

I looked at her 6)outstretched arm but saw nothing in her hand. “There’s nothing in your hand,” I told her.

“Roger, reach out and take the letter from my hand,” she replied.

Slowly I reached out, acting as though I was taking something from her hand.

“Now close your thumb and finger and hold the paper tightly,” she instructed.

I closed my thumb and finger as though I were grasping the letter.

“Take it to any store owner.”

“What do I say to them?”

“Nothing,” she replied.

“But what store do I go to?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, as she smiled.

I turned and began walking toward Five Points. Several blocks down the road, I came to a store with a woman sitting behind a counter. I opened the door, walked in, and stopped directly in front of her.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman.

I was 7)hesitant to talk and had no idea what I should say. Very slowly I held out my hand toward her. I watched her face to see if she might think I was crazy or something.

“Is that for me?” she asked.

“Yes Ma’am.” I looked down at the floor.

She reached out and as her hand touched mine, I opened my tightly closed fingers and stood there waiting. She pulled back, smiled, and looked down at her hands.

She immediately turned and walked to the back of the store. I began to inch toward the front door for fear she might be calling the police. Just as I made it to the front door, I stopped as I heard someone call my name. I turned around and saw the woman holding a paper plate.

“Roger, here is something for you to eat.”

“How did you know my name?” I asked her.

“It was on the paper.”

“But there wasn’t no paper. I didn’t see no paper,” I told her.

She smiled and 8)motioned for me to eat by 9)twirling her finger in front of her mouth. Within two or three minutes, I had downed the entire plate of food and several coca colas.

“Are you full?” she asked.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Then it’s time for you to go.”

I turned to leave when I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Here, your paper. You almost forgot your letter,” she said, holding out her hand.

Again seeing nothing, I held out my hand and closed my thumb and finger as though I were taking something from her. Tightly grasping nothing more than air, I walked out into the street and headed back to the park. When I arrived, the old woman was sitting on the park bench. “Did you eat?” she asked.

“Yes Ma’am, and I had two coca colas too.”

“Good.”

“How do you do that magic?” I asked her.

“It’s not magic.”

“But how does everyone know my name?”

“It is written in the letter.”

“Can I have the letter so I can be magic too?” I asked.

She reached out, took my hand, and opened my tightly closed fingers. Whatever was being held between my fingers, she took and placed into her 10)apron pocket. “Would you help someone if they were hungry?” she asked me.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Would you help someone if they were hurt, cold or scared?”

“Yes Ma’am. I would be their friend.”

“Roger, you are a very lucky little boy. You will never need the magic letter,” she responded.

She stood up, kissed me on the forehead, removed the shawl from my shoulders, and began walking down the sidewalk. I watched as she disappeared into the darkness.

我又一次逃走了，却并不知道为什么自己会这样做。我走出儿童之家的大门，向学校走去。可我一直不停地走啊走。上周我才刚满11岁。天差不多黑了，我疲惫不堪、胆战心惊、浑身发冷，而且独自一人。我一整天都没有吃东西，又不想到警察局去。我知道一旦回到佛罗里达州杰克逊维尔市的儿童之家协会，还会再挨一顿打。我没什么事可做，只有不停地走。

夜幕降临，我走向位于公园街的城市公园。我走进一块漆黑的区域，在一张木头长凳上坐下来，想避开警车。天气很冷，我不由自主地颤抖起来。除了远处路过的汽车声外，四周一片寂静。

“嗨，你好啊，年轻人。” 一个声音从我身后传来。

我吓了一跳，差点从公园长凳上掉下来。我的心砰砰地急跳着，我甚至能感觉它在脖子一侧砰砰地跳。我呼吸急促，差点喘不过气来。抬起头，我看见一个女人站在我身后的影子里。

“你看上去很冷，”她说。

“我很冷，我真的，真的很冷。” 我继续颤抖着说。

“把这个围上吧。”

只见她脱去披肩围在我肩上。

“不过，你是不是还觉得冷？”

“我会好起来的。”

“你还需要其它的东西吗？” 她问道。

“我肯定要吃点东西。”

“跟我来吧，”她说。

我跟着她走了大约20英尺，然后，她在一个公园街灯下停了下来。

她伸出手，说道：“这里有封信，你把这封信交给店主。”

我看看她伸出的手，但她手里什么都没有。“你手里什么都没有啊，”我告诉她。

“罗杰，伸出手，把我手里这封信拿走，”她回答说。

我慢慢地伸出手，做出好像从她手里拿走什么东西的样子。

“现在，合上你的手指，紧紧地握住这封信，”她教我说。

我合上手指，好像抓住那封信一样。

“随便把它交给哪家店主。”

“我该对他们说什么？”

“什么都不用说，”她回答说。

“那我该去哪家店呢？”

“随便哪家，”她微笑着说。

我转过身，开始向“五分店”走去，我沿路走过几个街区，来到一家商店，柜台后面坐着一个女人。我打开门，走了进去，在她面前停了下来。

“你要什么？”这位女士问。

我欲言又止，不知道该说什么。我慢腾腾地朝她伸出手。我仔细瞧她的脸色，看她是否会以为我是疯子或者有什么毛病。

“那是给我的吗？”她问道。

“是的，夫人。”我低头看着地板。

她伸出手来，在她的手要接触到我的手时，我打开紧握的拳头，站在那里静静地等待。她微笑着抽回手去，看着她手里的东西。

她立即转身，走进商店后面。我开始向前门挪步，担心她可能正在给警察打电话。正当我要到前门的时候，我停了下来，因为我听见有人在叫我的名字。转过身来，我看见那位夫人托着一个纸盘。

“罗杰，这是给你吃的。”

“您怎么会知道我的名字？”我问她。

“名字写在纸上啊。”

“但并没有纸啊，我没有看见纸，”我告诉她。

她笑了，做出在嘴边转着手指的姿势，示意我赶紧吃。在两三分钟之内，我吞下了整盘食物和几杯可口可乐。

“吃饱了吗？”她问我。

“是的，夫人。”

“那你该走了。”

我转身要离开时，感觉她的手放在我肩上。

“给，你的信，你差点忘了你的信，”她说着，伸出手来。

我还是什么都没看见。我伸出手，再握紧手指，好像从她手里拿回什么东西似的。我手里紧紧攥着空气，走出了商店，沿着街道走回公园。我到达那里时，那位老妇人还坐在公园的长凳上。“你吃过东西了吗？”她问我。

“是的，夫人，我还喝了两杯可口可乐呢。”

“很好。”

“您施了什么魔法？”我问她。

“这不是魔法。”

“但是，为什么大家会知道我的名字？”

“名字写在信里。”

“我能留着这封信保住魔法吗？” 我问道。

她抓住我的手，打开我攥得紧紧的手指。我夹在手指间的东西，她都收了回去，放进了围裙口袋。“别人饥饿时你会帮他们吗？”她问我。

“会的，夫人。”

“别人受伤、寒冷或者害怕的时候，你会帮助他们吗？”

“会，夫人。我会成为他们的朋友。”

“罗杰，你是一个十分幸运的小男孩。你再也不需要魔法信了。”她回答说。

她站起来，吻了吻我的额头，取下我肩上的披肩，沿着人行道走去。我看着她消失在黑暗里。

1) shiver [5FivE] v. 颤抖

2) thump [5WQmp] v. 砰然的响

3) shawl [FC:l] n. 披肩, 围巾

4) wrap [rAp] v. 缠绕，裹

5) streetlight [5stri:tlait] n. 街灯

6) outstretch [aut5stretF] v. 伸出, 伸展

7) hesitant [5hezitEnt] adj. 犹豫的, 吞吞吐吐的

8) motion [5mEuFEn] v. 打手势，示意

9) twirl [twE:l] v. 转动, 旋转

10) apron [5eiprEn] n. 围裙

朋友一生一起走……，朋友是荒漠中的甘泉，海中的导航灯。你可以没有爱情，可以没有亲情，可以没有金钱，但却不能没有——朋友。因为有了他（她）们，人生才会精彩，旅途中才不会孤寂。

Stephanie

Friends

朋友锵锵行

By Judith Viorst

李含译

Women are friends, I once would have said, when they totally love and support and trust each other, and bare to each other the secrets of their souls, and tell harsh truths to each other (no, you can’t wear that dress unless you lose ten pounds first) when harsh truths must be told.

In other words, I once would have said that a friend is a friend all the way; but now I believe that’s a narrow point of view. For the friendships I have and the friendships I see are conducted at many levels of intensity, serve many different functions and meet different needs. Consider these varieties of friendship:

1. Convenience friends These are the women with whom, (1)if our paths weren’t crossing all the time, we’d have no particular reason to be friends: a next-door neighbor, a woman in our (2)car pool, the mother of one of our children’s closest friends.

Convenience friends are convenient indeed. They’ll lend us their cups and 1)silverware for a party. They’ll drive our kids to soccer when we’re sick. They’ll take us to pick up our car when we need a 2)lift to the garage. They’ll even take our cats when we go on vacation. As we will for them.

But we don’t, with convenience friends, ever come too close or tell too much; we maintain our public face and emotional distance. “Which means,” says Elaine, “that I’ll talk about being overweight, but not about being depressed. Which means I’ll admit being mad, but not blind with rage...” But which doesn’t mean that there isn’t 3)sufficient value to be found in these friendships of mutual aid, in convenience friends.

2. Special-interest friends These friendships aren’t intimate, and they needn’t involve kids or silverware or cats. Their value lies in some interest jointly shared. And so we may have an office friend, or a 4)yoga friend, or a tennis friend, or a friend from the Women’s Democratic Club.

“I’ve got one woman friend,” says Joyce, “Who likes, as I do, to take psychology courses,which makes it nice for me and nice for her. It’s fun to go with someone you know and it’s fun to discuss what you’ve learned, driving back from the classes.” And for the most part, she says, that’s all they discuss.

“I’d say that what we’re doing is doing together, not being together,” Suzanne says of her Tuesday friends. “It’s mainly a tennis relationship, but we play together well. And I guess we all need to have a couple of playmates.” I agree.

3. Crossroads friends Our crossroads friends are important for what was—for the friendship we shared at a 5)crucial, now past, time of life. A time, perhaps, when we roomed in college together; or worked as eager young singles in the Big City together; or went together as my friend Elizabeth and I did through pregnancy, birth and that scary first year of new motherhood.

For those crossroads years, for those dramas and dreams we once shared, we will always be friends.

4. Cross-generational friends Crossroads friends seem to maintain a special kind of 6)intimacy—7)dormant but always ready to be revived and though we may rarely meet, but whenever we do connect, it’s personal and intense. Another kind of intimacy exists in the friendships that form across generations in what one woman calls her “mother-daughter relationship.”

Evelyn’s friend is her mother’s age—“but I share so much more than I ever could with my mother,”a woman she talks to of music, of books and of life. “What I get from her is the benefit of her experience. What she gets and enjoys from me is a youthful 8)perspective. It’s a pleasure for both of us.”

5. Male friends I wanted to write just of women friends, but the women I’ve talked to won’t let me—they say I must mention man-woman friendships too; for these friendships can be just as close and as dear as those that we form with women.

It’s only in the past few years that I’ve made friends with men, in the sense of a friendship that’s mine, not just part of two couples. And achieving with them the ease and the trust I’ve found with women friends has value indeed. (3)Under the dryer at home last week, putting on 9)mascara and 10)rouge, I comfortably sat and talked with a fellow named Peter. Peter, I finally decided, could handle the shock of me—minus mascara—under the dryer. Because we care for each other. Because we’re friends.

There are medium friends, and pretty good friends, and very good friends indeed; and these friendships are defined by their level of intimacy. And what we’ll reveal at each of these levels of intimacy is 11)calibrated with care. We might tell a medium friend, for example, that yesterday we had a fight with our husband. And we might tell a pretty good friend that this fight with our husband made us so mad that we slept on the couch. And we might tell a very good friend that the reason we got so mad in that fight that we slept on the couch had something to do with that girl who works in his office. But it’s only to our very best friends that we’re willing to tell all, to tell what’s going on with that girl in his office.

The best of friends, I still believe, totally love and support and trust each other; and 12)bare to each other the secrets of their souls, and run—no questions asked—to help each other. That’s the meaning of a best friend.

To be there, as I am for them and as they are for me, to comfort our sorrows, to celebrate our joys.

1) silverware n. 银器

2) lift [lift] n. 搭车

3) sufficient [sE5fiFEnt] adj. 充分的，足够的

4) yoga [5jEu^E] n. 瑜珈，瑜珈术

5) crucial [5kru:FiEl] adj. 至关紧要的

6) intimacy [5intimEsi] n. 亲密，隐私

7) dormant [5dC:mEnt] adj. 睡眠状态的，静止的，隐匿的

8) perspective [pE5spektiv] n. 观点，看法

9) mascara [mAs5kB:rE] n. 染眉毛油

10) rouge [ru:V] n. 口红，胭脂，红铁粉

11) calibrate [5kAlibreit] v. 校准

12) bare [bZE] v. 使赤裸，露出

也许我曾经说过这样的话，当女人能做到毫无保留地互相爱护、互相支持、互相信任，对彼此的秘密坦诚无私，而且在必须说出严酷却又真实的事实时，当面指出来（例如：不，你不该穿这件衣服，除非你先减十磅的体重），她们之间才算得上是真正的朋友。

换句话说，我曾经的说法是，朋友不管在哪方面都是朋友。不过现在我认为这种看法太狭隘了。因为就我所拥有的和我看到的友谊来说，它们的程度深浅不一、且有很多层次，能发挥各种不同的作用，并满足人们不同的需要。一起来解读以下这些不同的朋友关系吧。

1．便利型朋友：如果不是因为总有事情要在一起打交道，那就没有特别的理由跟她们成为朋友了。例如，隔壁邻居、合用一辆车的妇女以及儿女密友的母亲。

便利型朋友确实是方便的。她们可以在聚会时借给我们杯子和银餐具。当我们病了的时候，她们会开车送我们的孩子去踢足球，当我们需要搭车去车库时她们会捎上我们，甚至当我们度假时她们还会照顾我们的猫。当然我们也可以为她们做这些。

但是，我们与这类朋友从不会打得火热，更不会交谈过多。我们之间保持着公众形象和感情距离。“这就意味着，”伊莱恩说，“我会说自己太胖了，但不会说自己心情沮丧。我会表现生气，但不会狂躁得没了边……。”而这又并不意味着此互助友谊不存在足够的价值。

2．特殊兴趣朋友：这种朋友并不亲密，他们并不牵扯到孩子、餐具或宠物之类的事。他们的价值在于共同分享的兴趣，所以我们会有同事、做瑜珈的伙伴、网球友，或者妇女民主俱乐部的会友。

“我有一个女友”乔伊斯说，“她和我一样热衷上心理学课程。这对我来说真是太妙了，对她也一样。跟认识的人一起上下课真有意思，我们还在下课后开车回家的路上讨论所学内容，这真的很有趣。”她说，充其量，她们所讨论的也就是这些。

“我想说，我们所做的只是在一起做某件事，而不是相处。”苏珊妮谈起她星期二的网球搭档，“我们主要是网球上的联系，但我们配合得很好。我想我们都需要几个玩伴。”

3．人生关口型朋友：这类朋友是很重要的，因为我们曾在一起分享生命的关键时刻，而如今这已成为过去。曾几何时，我们也许是大学里挤一间宿舍的室友，或是在大城市中共同工作的热情单身青年；又或许像我和朋友伊丽莎白一样，共同度过怀胎、生产和第一年刚做母亲时的慌恐时光。

不管是曾经共度多年的风浪，还是我们曾共同演绎过的人生舞台和拥有的梦想，未来的我们将永远是朋友。

4．忘年之交：人生关口型朋友之间似乎保持着一种特殊的亲密关系——处于静止状态却随时能够激活——尽管我们很少见面。可一旦联系时，那就是非常亲密和热烈的。而另一种不同的亲密交往却形成了被称之为母女关系的跨代友谊。

伊夫林的一个朋友与她母亲的年纪相当——“但与母亲相比，我更愿意与她谈很多事情”——关于音乐、书籍和人生的话题。“在与她的谈话中，我能得到她以往的有益经验。而她从我身上得到的获益和乐趣是年轻人的视角观点。这对我们俩人来说都是非常开心的。”

5．男性朋友：本来我只想写女性朋友，但与我聊过这话题的女性朋友却不同意——她们说我还必须提到男女之间的友谊。因为这种友谊可以像我们女性之间那样亲密宝贵。

就在过去没几年，我交了一些男性朋友，从某种意义上说是我们俩人之间的友谊，而不是两对夫妇间的男女性朋友关系。从他们身上我获得了与女友相处时的舒适与信任感，这确实是难能可贵的。上个星期在家里，我边吹干头发，边涂着睫毛膏、抹着口红，边舒适地坐着与一个叫彼得的家伙聊天。彼得，我最终认定，他可以承受我没吹好头发、没涂睫毛膏的糟糕样。因为我们互相关心，因为，我们是朋友。

朋友分为一般性的、要好的和非常要好的。这些关系可以用亲密的程度来定义等级，而我们在这种等级上表现的亲密程度是由关爱来校准的。比如说，我们可能会告诉一位一般性的朋友昨天与丈夫大吵了一通。而对另一位要好的朋友会说，这次吵架让我们两个异常恼怒，结果睡在了沙发上。但对于非常要好的朋友，我们会说，这场激烈的吵架让我们睡在了沙发上，导火索是他与办公室的那个女孩有关。只有对非常要好的朋友，我们才愿意吐露一切，说出他办公室那个女孩的事情。

我仍相信，最好的朋友才会全心全意地互相爱护、互相支持、互相信任对方，彼此吐露心底的秘密，不消问一句话就跑去帮助对方。这，便是最好朋友的含义。

人生旅途的风雨和阳光，我将一直陪伴在朋友的左右，因为我们同甘共苦、扶持与共。

温馨提示

(1) if our paths weren’t crossing all the time 这句话曾被译者译为：如果我们不是总在路上互相碰面。从字面意思上说，可以这么理解，但从下文这句话，“a next-door neighbor, a woman in our car pool, the mother of one of our children’s closest friends.” 可以看出，作者涉及的朋友不止是邻居，还有因某件事而联系在一起的朋友。常理来说，邻居可以在路过时经常碰面，但合用车的女子与孩子密友的母亲是不会常在同一条道上遇见的，只有当需要共同做某件事时，才有可能经常碰面，而此段又特指是方便型的朋友，因此，编者将之改译为：如果不是因为总有事情要在一起打交道。

(2) car pool合伙用车的一伙人，如通勤者或家长。就是二人以上共乘一辆车，由于美国的交通阻塞问

题十分严重，所以有很多鼓励共乘的措施，所以 Highway 上有所谓的 car pool lane，准载有两人或三人以上的车辆通行。

(3) under the dryer dryer这个词字典意思为干衣机,干燥剂，在此篇文章中意思是“under the hair dryer”, 吹风筒。

生活总是充满迷人的时刻，我们所在乎的人、动物常常属于其中。这些时刻被赋予在这篇文章中，也令我们的人生变成一份特殊的礼物。

In Wolf’s Clothing

披着狼皮的羊

By Kathy Pippig Harris

何勇刚译

They sat on the back porch as morning breathed a frosty zephyr across the 1)weathered 2)planking. (1)The cold air stung the man’s work and time-worn hands, but he didn’t notice. He reached out and placed his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Danni turned a smiling face to the man.

They shared their breakfast here, watching the stars blink out as the sun spread its 3)amber 4)mantle over the meadows and hills. In the fields, sheep 5)shuffled closer together. When hungry lambs called out to their mothers their breaths puffed out in misty 6)plumes.

Danni had been a gift from Aaron’s son, Frank. She was a beautiful 7)chestnut, white, and smoky-gray coated Australian Shepherd and so smart Aaron felt a great pride for her. He had grown to deeply love his ever-happy companion.

After he brought Danni to the 8)ranch, (2)Frank purchased a handsome male Australian Shepherd and bred him to Danni. She was due to deliver soon.

In the glow of dawn, he saw the wolf, low on the trail, watching them. It was the same every morning. Several lambs had gone missing and Aaron suspected wolves were to blame. Aaron began carrying a rifle whenever he was out with the sheep. He was too old to react fast enough to ward off a wolf attack and Danni was not as quick to move out due to her pregnancy.

Her 9)cumbersome weight 10)notwithstanding, Danni was always eager to make her daily rounds in the fields. She was protective of all in her charge, but with the lambs she was especially 11)vigilant.

After her work was done, Danni would head out to the river on the back end of the property, near the woods. Aaron wondered what she did there. Once, curious to find out, he had followed her. When Danni spotted him she turned around and ran back to the ranch. He found her on the porch smiling. Aaron 12)chuckled, figured he wasn’t meant to know.

13)Lush grass blanketed the banks under scrub oak, and 14)lichen covered rocks of all sizes 15)peppered the fields around the stream—This was Danni’s place. She would leave in the late afternoon, but not until Aaron gave her permission with a nod. Danni then 16)trotted off with a grin, her body 17)wiggling excitedly as she trotted down the path that took her to the river.

Aaron was out with the flock. The sheep were 18)contentedly 19)grazing and Aaron took a deep breath of the 20)loamy scented air. Sunlight splintered on the horizon as dusk settled into the hills. Over the backs of his sheep Aaron’s gaze searched for Danni. He found her 21)weaving around shrubs and boulders. She neared the 22)crest of a hillock and was soon out of sight. It was then that Aaron noticed movement on the same path. 23)Threading its way more quickly than Danni was able, the wolf followed.

Aaron raised his rifle, set his aim on the gray animal and squeezed the trigger. The wolf cried out in pain and stumbled. Whimpering, the wolf reeled in circles, then fell and did not get up.

That night Aaron was wide awake. He looked down at the end of the bed. Danni’s blanket was empty and cold. She had not returned. Danni had shared his bed every night. Her warm body was comforting and he fell asleep listening to the gentle soughing of her breath. Felt the reassurance of her presence from the weight of her against his ankles and feet.

He stared out into the shadows of his bedroom. Moonlight dropped a sheet of silver on the floor beneath the bedroom window. But Aaron didn’t notice. Tears obscured his vision. Grief and loneliness bruised his spirit.

The next morning he searched the hills for her. He found her body amidst tall grass. He reached out and touched her shoulder. All that had been embodied in the broken body below him—was gone. As he bent down to gather her up, deep furrowed wounds between her belly and flank caught his eye. Claw marks, from a big cat, most likely a cougar.

Strength left him and he collapsed next to his beloved friend. She had been ravaged, her belly torn open. The pups, so close to delivery, were gone. He lifted his hands up, clasped them at the back of his neck, dropped his head and wept.

He carried her home, wrapped her in her blanket from the bed and buried her out past the back porch.

Two months passed. One morning Aaron found a pup on the porch’s weathered planking. The sleepy pup 24)tilted his head and chuffed a welcome. As Aaron bent down to get a better look he heard the rustling of an animal in the nearby brush.

A wolf, and close enough to discern its sex—a female. (3)She rocked back on her hind legs and pivoted to turn. Her right front leg was withered and she held it up as she trotted away. In the gray shadows of dawn he watched as she ribboned her way up the path that crested the hillock. The path that ran to the river. As she passed a rocky ledge, two wolf pups sprang out from their hiding place, fast on their mother’s heels.

The pups looked to be the same age as the pup on his porch. And while they displayed all the physical traits of a wolf, the little one at his feet was pure Australian Shepherd and looked just like his mother, Danni.

He had been wrong about the wolf. She hadn’t studied them from the hill with 25)malice. She had not scanned the ranch to scope out a meal, but to look for her friend. She had been waiting for Danni, to come and play. In the two months following Danni’s death, he had lost 3 adult sheep. But not to the female who had just left him, for she was too crippled now to bring down a full grown sheep.

He turned back to the pup. As the sun spread its shimmering cloak, a golden ray alit in the pup’s blue eyes. He opened his mouth and smiled up at Aaron. Aaron cast one last look in the direction of the hills and whispered, “A sheep...” He turned back to the pup, pulled him up, and finished, “in wolf’s clothing.”

In the not too distant future. When the pup had grown lanky and 26)frolicsome—the wolf would return to the mountainside. She would look to see if a playmate awaited her there, keeping company with the old man.

1) weathered [5weTEd] adj. 风化的，受风雨侵蚀的

2) planking [5plANkiN] n. 板材，地板

3) amber [5AmbE] adj. 琥珀色的，棕黄色的

4) mantle [5mAntl] n. 斗蓬, 覆盖物

5) shuffle [5FQfl] v. 拖曳，慢吞吞地走

6) plume [plu:m] n. 羽毛，升上空中的羽状物

7) chestnut [5tFestnQt] n. 栗黄色

8) ranch [rAntF] n. 大牧场

9) cumbersome [5kQmbEsEm] adj. 笨重的

10) notwithstanding [7nCtwiW5stAndiN] adv. 虽然, 尽管

11) vigilant [5vidVilEnt] adj. 警惕着的, 警醒的

12) chuckle [5tFQkl] v. 低声轻笑，轻声发笑

13) lush [lQF] adj. 葱翠的

14) lichen [5laikEn] n. [植]青苔

15) pepper [5pepE] v. 自由散落，散布

16) trot [trCt] v. (使)小跑，疾走

17) wiggle [5wi^l] v. 摆动

18) contentedly [kEn5tentidli] adv. 满足地, 安心地

19) graze [^reiz] v. 放牧, 吃草

20) loamy [`lEJmi] adj. 肥沃的

21) weave [wi:v] v. 迂回行进

22) crest [krest] n. 顶部，顶峰

23) thread [Wred] v. 蜿蜒前进

24) tilt [tilt] v. (使)倾斜，(使)翘起

25) malice [5mAlis] n. 恶意, 怨恨

26) frolicsome [5frCliksEm] adj. 嬉戏的，嬉闹的

清晨的寒风吹过风化的地板，此刻他们正坐在后面的门廊上。这寒冷的天气使他那双终年劳作、饱经风霜的手也感觉刺痛，但他没在意。他伸出手放在他的挚友肩上，丹尼转过脸来朝他微笑。

他们在这里分享了早餐，看着星星一闪一闪的消失在天幕下，太阳将琥珀色的斗篷披在牧场和山丘上。在牧场上，绵羊慢慢地越靠越近。饥肠辘辘的羊羔朝着它们的母亲叫唤，它们呼出的空气化成雾蒙蒙的缕缕青烟。

丹尼是艾伦的儿子弗兰克送给他的礼物。它是一只漂亮的栗黄色、夹杂白色和烟灰色的澳大利亚牧羊犬。它聪明过人，艾伦为之深感自豪，他开始深深地喜欢上了这个成天快快乐乐的伙伴。

把丹尼带到牧场后，弗兰克买了一只英俊的雄性澳大利亚牧羊犬给丹尼配种。它很快就要生了。

透过黎明的晨光，他看见一只狼正猫着身子看着他们。每天早上都是这样。都丢了几只羔羊了，艾伦怀疑是狼干的。现在，每次放羊他都扛着步枪。他年纪大了，不能快速反应击退狼的进攻，因为怀孕，丹尼也无法快速行动。

尽管丹尼体态笨重，它还是渴望着开始牧场每天的日常巡逻。它保护它负责的一切，尤其是那些羔羊，它特别警惕地守护着。

它的活干完后，丹尼会走向这块牧场后面的小河，就在树林附近。艾伦一直很奇怪，它到那里去干什么。一次出于好奇，他跟着它想查出缘由。丹尼一发现他，马上转身跑回了牧场。他看见它在门廊上笑，艾伦也轻声笑了起来，意思是他无意知道它要去干嘛。

郁郁葱葱的草就像地毯一样铺满冬青叶栎下面的河岸，各种尺寸的岩石散布在河流四周的牧场上，岩石上布满了青苔——这就是丹尼的地盘。它会在下午晚些时候离开，但事先会经过艾伦点头同意。然后，它会咧着嘴微笑地沿着通往小河的小径小跑，它的身体也一路兴奋地摆动。

艾伦把羊群放到牧场上，羊群正在安心地啃着草，艾伦深深地吸入一口饱含土壤芬芳的空气。阳光零落地撒在天际，暮色爬上了山丘。艾伦凝视着羊群背后，搜寻丹尼的身影。他看见它在灌木丛和大圆石间穿梭。它走近一座小山丘的顶部，很快就不见了踪影。就在那时，艾伦注意到还是那条道上有什么东西在动。它正以比丹尼更快的速度一路蜿蜒前进，原来是狼跟了去。

艾伦举起步枪，瞄准那只灰色的动物，扣下扳机。狼痛苦的叫了起来，跌倒在地。这只狼呜咽地叫着，缩成一团，后来倒在地上，没有爬起来。

当晚，艾伦根本没睡。他看着床的那头，丹尼的毯子空着、冰凉，它没有回来。丹尼每晚都和他睡一张床。它温暖的身体让他觉着很安慰，他习惯听着它轻柔的呼吸声入睡。只有感觉到它枕着自己的脚踝和脚的重量，他才安心。

他盯着卧室里的黑影。月光透过卧室窗户在地板上抹上一片银色，但艾伦没有注意到这些。泪水模糊了他的双眼，悲哀和孤独让他的精神倍受打击。

第二天早上，他找遍了所有的山丘。在高高的草丛中，他发现了它的遗体。他伸出手抚摸着它的肩膀。艾伦身下，丹尼破碎的体内所有内脏——都不见了。当丹尼弯下腰，把它的身体拢在一起时，它腹部和腰部深深的沟形伤口引起了他的注意。留下的爪印，源自大型猫科动物，很可能是一只美洲狮。

他没了力气，瘫倒在亲爱的朋友身旁。它惨遭蹂躏，腹部被撕开，即将出生的小狗崽没了踪影。他抬起手，紧紧抱着脖子，低头哭了起来。

他把它带回家，从床上拿起它平时盖的毯子把它包好，将它安葬在后面门廊的不远处。

两个月过去了。一天早上，艾伦在门廊风化的地板上发现一只小狗崽。昏昏欲睡的小狗斜着头，呜呜地叫着表示欢迎。艾伦弯下腰，想好好看看，这时他听见附近的灌木丛中传来一种动物的沙沙声。

一匹狼，它与他的距离是这么近，以至于艾伦足以辨别它的性别——一只母狼。它用后腿支撑着摇晃的身体，然后慢慢顺着后腿转过身去。它的右前腿萎缩了，它把右前腿缩了起来，然后离开了。在黎明的灰色影子中，他看见它朝着那条直到山丘顶部的小径一拐一拐地走着。那条小径一直通往小河。当它经过一个石坡时，两只小狼崽从隐蔽处跳出来，很快跟上它们母亲的脚步。

小狼崽看起来和门廊上的小狗崽一般年纪。然而，狼崽们满身狼的特征，而脚下的小狗崽却是纯种的澳大利亚牧羊犬，看起来和她的母亲丹尼一个样。

他一直错怪了这匹狼。它在山丘那头端详他们，并没有恶意。它审视牧场也不是为了寻找大餐，而是寻找它的朋友。它一直在等丹尼来，好一起玩。在丹尼死后的两个月，他丢了三只成年的绵羊。但并非刚走的母狼所为，因为它瘸了，现在已经无法打倒一只成年的绵羊。

他转过身看着小狗崽。太阳张开它闪闪发光的斗篷，金色的光线在小狗崽的蓝眼睛里点燃，它张开嘴朝艾伦笑。艾伦朝山丘的方向望了最后一眼，低声说道：“一只羊……”他转身对着小狗崽，把它抱起来，把后面的话说完，“披着狼皮。”

在不远的将来，当小狗崽长到可以四处奔跑嬉戏的时候——狼会回到山坡。它会来看看是否有个玩伴在那里等着它，陪着那位老人。

温馨提示

(1) The cold air stung the man’s work and time-worn hands, but he didn’t notice.

此处的work其实是和time-worn一起修饰hand的，因此不能翻译为“这个人的工作”，而应该是“那双终年劳作、饱经风霜的手”。

(2) …Frank purchased a handsome male Australian Shepherd and bred him to Danni.

此处的bred是breed的过去式，是“繁殖”的意思。

(3) She rocked back on her hind legs and pivoted to turn.

此处比较难翻译的是rock和pivot两个词。rock在这里是动词“摇动”的意思，为了能更好地表达这句话的意思，我们将其翻译成了“它用后腿支撑着摇晃的身体”。而后半句，如果直接翻译成“然后它转过身”就浪费pivot这个词了，而且也错过了文章的细节描写。pivot作动词时原义为“在枢轴上转动”，在文中，我们不可能也用这个原义，如果联系上下文，我们可以知道，这匹狼的后前腿被艾伦一枪打瘸了，其实它是靠后腿才能转身的，所以我们把后半句意译为“然后慢慢顺着右腿转过身去”。

What Is Poverty？

贫穷是什么？

By Jo Goodwin Parker

梁碧滢译

You ask me what is poverty? Listen to me. Here I am, dirty, smelly, and with no “proper” underwear on and with the 1)stench of my 2)rotting teeth near you. I will tell you. Listen to me. Listen without pity. I cannot use your pity. Listen with understanding. (1)Put yourself in my dirty, worn out, ill-fitting shoes, and hear me.

Poverty is being tired. I have always been tired. They told me at the hospital when the last baby came that I had 3)chronic 4)anemia caused from poor diet, a bad case of worms, and that I needed a corrective operation. I listened politely—the poor are always polite. The poor always listen. They don’t say that there is no money for iron pills, or better food, or worm medicine. The idea of an operation is frightening and costs so much that, if I had dared, I would have laughed. Who takes care of my children?

Poverty is dirt. You can say in your clean clothes coming from your clean house, “Anybody can be clean.” Let me explain about housekeeping with no money. For breakfast I give my children grits with no butter or cornbread without eggs and butter. This does not use up many dishes. What dishes there are, I wash in cold water and with no soap. Even the cheapest soap has to be saved for the baby’s 5)diapers. Look at my hands, so 6)cracked and red. Once I saved for two months to buy a jar of 7)Vaseline for my hands and the baby’s diaper 8)rash. When I had saved enough, I went to buy it and the price had gone up two cents. The baby and I suffered on. I have to decide every day if I can bear to put my cracked sore hands into the cold water and strong soap. But you ask, why not hot water? Fuel costs money. If you have a wood fire it costs money. If you burn electricity, it costs money. Hot water is a 9)luxury. I do not have luxuries. I know you will be surprised when I tell you how young I am. I look so much older. My back has been bent over the wash 10)tubs every day for so long. I cannot remember when I ever did anything else. Every night I wash every stitch my school age child has on and just hope her clothes will be dry by morning.

Poverty is staying up all night on cold nights to watch the fire knowing one spark on the newspaper covering the walls means your sleeping child dies in flames. In summer, poverty is watching 11)gnats and flies 12)devour your baby’s tears when he cries. The screens are torn and you pay so little rent you know they will never be fixed. Poverty means insects in your food, in your nose, in your eyes, and crawling over you when you sleep. Poverty is hoping it never rains because diapers won’t dry when it rains and soon you are using newspapers. Poverty is seeing your children forever with runny noses. Paper handkerchiefs cost money and all your 13)rags you need for other things. Even more costly are 14)antihistamines. Poverty is cooking without food and cleaning without soap.

Poverty is asking for help. Have you ever had to ask for help, knowing your children will suffer unless you get it? Think about asking for a loan from a relative, if this is the only way you can imagine asking for help. I will tell you how it feels. You find out where the office is that you are supposed to visit. You circle that block four or five times. Thinking of your children, you go in. Everyone is very busy. Finally, someone comes out and you tell her that you need help. That never is the person you need to see. You go see another person, (2)and after spilling the whole shame of your poverty all over the desk between you, you find that this isn’t the right office after all—you must repeat the whole process, and it never is any easier at the next place.

You have asked for help, and after all it has a cost. You are again told to wait. You are told why, but you don’t really hear because of the red cloud of shame and rising cloud of despair.

Poverty is looking into a black future. Your children won’t play with my boys. They will turn to other boys who steal to get what they want. I can already see them behind the bars of their prison instead of behind the bars of my poverty. Or they will turn to the freedom of alcohol or drugs, and find themselves enslaved. And my daughter? At best, there is for her a life like mine.

Poverty is an 15)acid that drips on pride until all pride is worn away. Poverty is a 16)chisel that chips on honor until honor is worn away. Some of you say that you would do something in my situation, and maybe you would, for the first week or the first month, but for year after year after year?

Even the poor can dream. A dream of a time when there is money. Money for the right kinds of food, for worm medicine, for iron pills, for toothbrushes, for hand cream, for a hammer and nails and a bit of screening, for a shovel, for a bit of paint, for some sheeting, for needles and thread. Money to pay in money for a trip to town. And, oh, money for hot water and money for soap. A dream of when asking for help does not eat away the last bit of pride. When the office you visit is as nice as the offices of other governmental agencies, when there are enough workers to help you quickly, when workers do not quit in defeat and despair. When you have to tell your story to only one person, and that person can send you for other help and you don’t have to prove your poverty over and over and over again.

I have come out of my despair to tell you this. Remember I did not come from another place or another time. Others like me are all around you. Look at us with an angry heart, anger that will help you help me. Anger that will let you tell of me. The poor are always silent. Can you be silent too?

1) stench [stentF] n. 恶臭，臭气

2) rot [rCt] v. （使）腐烂，（使）腐败

3) chronic [5krCnik] adj. 慢性的

4) anemia [E5ni:miE] n. 贫血，贫血症

5) diaper [5daiEpE] n. 尿布

6) cracked [krAkt] adj. 破裂的

7) Vaseline [5vAzili:n] n. 凡士林，[化]石油冻，矿脂

8) rash [rAF] n. 皮疹

9) luxury [5lQkFEri] n. 奢侈品

10) tub [tQb] n. 浴盆

11) gnat [nAt] n. 小昆虫

12) devour [di5vauE] v. 吞吃

13) rag [rA^] n. 碎布，破旧衣服

14) antihistamines [7Anti5histEmi(:)n] n. 抗组（织）胺

药，常用于治疗感冒

15) acid [5Asid] n. [化]酸

16) chisel [5tFizl] n. 凿子

何谓贫穷？听听我的故事吧。让你面前的我，这个脏兮兮、臭熏熏，没有真正的内衣可穿，满嘴蛀牙，口气熏天的人来告诉你吧。听听我的故事，但不用可怜我，我用不着你的怜悯。我要的是理解，试站在我的处境，踏进我那双脏旧蹭脚的破鞋，听听我的故事。

贫穷意味着承受煎熬。我是受够身心折磨了。上次在医院生孩子的时候，医生们说我因为营养不良而患有慢性贫血，肠虫病也挺严重，需要做手术补救。我乖乖地听着——穷人总是毕恭毕敬的，穷人总是在听别人说，苦况却有口难言，他们也不说自己没钱买补铁药，没钱改善饮食、没钱买肠虫药。做手术这个提议够吓人的，而且费用如此高昂，就算当时敢答应做，我自己也会笑自己——做手术？那谁来照顾孩子？

贫穷意味着肮脏。衣衫整洁的你安坐于洁净的家居，自然可以高喊“每个人都能做到干干净净”。还是让我来讲讲穷人的持家之苦吧。早餐我给孩子们做玉米糊，没加黄油，或者让他们干吃玉米面包，没鸡蛋也没黄油。这用不上很多碗碟，多少碗碟也好，我都是用冷水洗，不用任何皂剂。就算是最便宜的肥皂也要留在给孩子洗尿布的时候才舍得用。看看我的双手，尽是龟裂红肿。有一回，我想买一瓶凡士林给自己涂涂手，也给患尿布疹的孩子涂涂小屁股。省吃俭用两个月，攒足了钱一心要去买，但却发现凡士林升价两美分了。于是，孩子和我只能继续熬苦，痒的痒，裂的裂。我每天都得挣扎一番，考虑要不要洗东西，受不受得了让自己那红肿龟裂的双手伸进带强碱的冷水。你可能会问我为什么不用热水洗。燃料要钱的呀。烧柴火也好用电也好，都是得花钱。热水无疑是奢侈的。我没有任何奢侈品。我知道要是告诉你我实际有多年轻，你肯定会很惊讶。看外表我老多了。每天长时间弯腰就着盆子洗东西，我都有驼背了。除了这些，也想不起还干过别的什么事。孩子白天穿去上学的衣服晚上我得给她洗，还得求神拜佛第二天早上衣服能干。

贫穷还意味着在寒冷的夜晚不得入睡，而要看着取暖用的火，因为哪怕是一点火星，只要弹到糊墙用的报纸上，你熟睡的孩子就要葬身火海。到了夏天，贫穷则意味着要守在孩子身旁驱赶蚊蝇，因为孩子一哭那些小昆虫就会凑来舔吃小孩的眼泪。房子的纱窗是破的，你也知道房租这么低廉的地方，房东绝对不会找人来修补。贫穷意味着小昆虫会跑到你的食物、鼻子、眼睛里，等睡着了，虫子还会爬到你身上。贫穷意味着得祈求不要下雨，因为碰上雨天，尿布就干不了，很快就只能用报纸当尿布。贫穷意味着孩子一天到晚挂着两条鼻涕也只能由他去。纸巾要钱买，而手头仅有的碎布又有其它用途。感冒药就更贵了。贫穷意味着没米但要煮饭，没肥皂还得洗东西。

贫穷意味着处处求援。心知没有别人的帮助自己的孩子就要继续熬苦，你试过因为这样求助他人吗？想象一下当你别无他选只能问亲戚借钱的时候会是怎样，我来告诉你那种感觉。你找到该去的那个办事处，在楼下徘徊四五个圈，想到孩子，最后还是走进了大楼。里面每个人都忙得很。终于有人出来，你赶紧跟她说自己是来求助的。但她永远不会是你想找的那个人。你又再去问另一个人，整个办公室的人都问遍，窘迫难堪一通之后才发现这原来不是你要找的那个地方——还得把刚才的程序再重复一遍，而且也不见得会更轻松些。

你开口求助，毕竟还是有代价的。你还是要等，别人告诉你为什么要等，但你根本听不见，因为羞耻和绝望的感觉有如乌云盖顶般笼于心头。

贫穷意味着放眼前方只见黯淡穷途。你家孩子不会跟我家儿子玩。我那几个儿子结果会跟那些偷东西的小家伙玩到一块儿。我已经能想象到有这么一天，他们走出我这贫困的牢笼，走进监狱牢房。要不就是放浪于酒精、毒品的世界以求解脱，最终却陷入更深的束缚，难以自拔。我家的小女孩又会怎样？最多也就是过上我这样的生活。

贫穷是一种酸液，一滴滴在销蚀人的自尊，直至自尊销蚀殆尽。贫穷是个凿子，一点点在削凿人的尊严，直至尊严分崩瓦解。有些人会说要是处在这种境况，他们会做点什么事情改变现状。头一个星期也许是会做努力的，或者头一个月吧，但能坚持日复一日，年复一年与命运对抗吗？

穷人也是有梦想的。梦想手头有钱的日子，有钱买合适的食物、肠虫药、补铁药、牙刷、润手霜、锤子和钉子、一点窗纱、一个铲子，再买点油漆、被单、针线。有钱到城里看看。噢，还要有钱用上热水，有钱买肥皂。梦想开口求助也不会尊严尽丧，那个你去求援的办事处会跟其它政府机构那样体面堂皇，有足够的职员可以很快接待处理你的申请，他们不会无奈绝望地离你而去，你只需要跟一个人讲述你的境况，那人可以让你寻求其它协助，而你无需一而再再而三地向不同的人证明自己有多穷苦。

在绝望中走出来跟你说这一切，我并不是来自另一个时空的人，你的身边有许多跟我一样的人。你应带着一团怒火看我们，这股愤怒有助你帮助我，让你替我说话。穷人总是沉默的。你可以同样沉默吗？

温馨提示

(1) Put yourself in my dirty, worn out, ill-fitting shoes, and hear me.

Put oneself into other’s shoes在英文是要一方设身处地地从另一方来考虑，但由于shoes前面加了dirty和ill-fitting两个形容词，而这两个词深刻地描绘了穷人的生活境地，所以在翻译时还是从字面来翻译。

(2) 注意这里的动词spill，它和shame的搭配使描述特别形象，只是中文很难表达同样的意思，编辑就只能跟大家一起意会了。

The Luck of the Irish

情逝

By Richelle Putnam

张雅东译

瑞秋尔•帕特南，热衷参加写作竞赛。2000年5月第一次拔得写作头魁。毕业于儿童文学学院，现为网络写作教师。她的笔触感人细腻，善于用细节描写反映人物内心变化，相信这篇文章能给读者带来不同的清新感受。

Martin Brian O’Donnell was getting married. His picture was in the Jackson Daily News, Society Page, Mary Kathleen O’Brien’s picture beside him. She was quite beautiful, and I prayed a flaming temper matched her red hair and her good old Irish name.

It was five o’clock Friday afternoon, so my first drink wasn’t from a broken heart, but from a long week.

Right!

I opened the cabinet doors over my refrigerator. Bottles 1)clanked as I pushed aside them. Ah. There it was. Old Irish Whiskey.

I set the bottle on the counter with a 2)thud. This called for a celebration. An Irish Celebration. I prepared the 3)Mr. Coffee, and soon the room was filled with bittersweet 4)aroma.

My stomach turned and a knot grew in my throat.

Martin.

Married.

To someone else.

Martin was twenty-five years old and had never eaten a potato. Never. Not fried, boiled, mashed, stuffed, microwaved, nothing.

“Because of the Irish potato famine, after my great-grandfather sailed to America,” Martin said, “he vowed that he’d die before a potato was served at his table, and the tradition has been handed down from generation to generation.”

I wanted to say, “That was over a hundred years ago,” but I didn’t. I wanted to say, “Have you ever tried fries with lots of salt and ketchup?” but I didn’t. I was so much in love that I gave up potatoes as well. No more 5)Quarter Pounder with fries. No more sweet potato 6)casserole. No more mashed potatoes and gravy. No more baked potatoes with 7)sour cream, shredded cheese and lots of butter.

I ate rice.

Lots of rice.

And noodles.

Lots of noodles.

I grabbed my favorite cup that read, “Men only use one side of their brain…the wrong side.” Steam floated up as I poured the coffee, 8)dampening my face. I added a teaspoon of sugar and two tablespoons of 9)Bushmills, the fragrance strong and heady. The first sip was hot and 10)stout.

The second went down smooth and easy. I stared at the picture, heart thudding, stomach turning.

When I emptied the cup, I tossed the paper into the wastebasket, and made my second Irish coffee with four tablespoons of Bushmills.

On my way to the couch, I 11)retrieved the newspaper from the wastebasket. Even in the newspaper, his eyes sparkled. I licked the sweet whipped cream from my lips, and said, “Here’s to you.”

Martin and I used to see who could 12)belt out the best toast. Martin always won, the luck of the Irish with him, and he often drew a crowd. I felt proud to be under the arm of Martin Brian O’Donnell. He changed my name, Brenda Louise, to Bren, said it sounded Irish that way, and rolled the Br, so it sounded like B-B-B-r--r-ren. I loved it.

I stood, 13)wavered a moment, and made another with an unmeasured amount of whiskey, my tears 14)given out…

Having had little to eat since noon Friday, my stomach cried out. An hour later, I was reading the menu at Thornton’s. I placed my order and was gulping my third glass of water when I saw them, arm in arm. Her thick hair flamed, and youthful freckles dotted her face. His arm was clenched around her small waist. The Irish couple.

My heart fluttered when his eyes met mine, and dropped like a brick when the two approached my table.

“Bren, how are you?” Martin said.

The smile I forced quivered. “Great. And congratulations.”

He looked at his wife-to-be. “Kate, this is Bren. Bren, Kate.”

“Nice to be meet you, Bren.”

“So, you’re okay?”

“It’s Brenda,” I said. “Brenda Louise. And nice to meet you.”

“Excuse me,” my waitress interrupted, squeezing between Martin and Kate. I thanked her silently.

“Here you go, ma’am. Twice baked potato with sour cream, cheese, and 15)bacon. French fries with melted cheese, and stuffed potato skins. Will that be all?”

I held up my glass. “More water, please.” Martin’s eyes were wide with disbelief as I bit into a fry and savored the salty, 16)crunchy outside and soft insides. “Want one?” I asked.

“We don’t eat potatoes,” Kate said, squeezing Martin’s arm like a ketchup bottle.

“Really?” I asked, biting into another fry. “How interesting.”

“Yes,” Kate said. “O’Donnell family tradition.”

I glanced at Martin. His face had reddened. “So, where are you going on your honeymoon?”

“Dublin,” Kate answered. “Martin has never visited the old country.”

I scooped up a fork full of stuffed potato. “You were born in Ireland, Martin?”

“You know...”

“So, you two,” I said, interrupting him. “I wish you the very best.”

They were shown to their table and I let loose a sigh. My heart soon slowed and I swallowed what I knew to be an Olympic size pool of tears.

What did I hate most about the situation? That Martin was getting married, or that he found someone he loved? More than me. Had he ever loved me? Really loved me? Did it matter?

The 17)revelation struck. Of course he hadn’t loved me! He never knew who I was. I was so busy being what he wanted me to be that I gave up me.

Even my name.

“Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

“Just the ticket, please. Oh, and will you deliver something to the couple over there?”

“Certainly.”

“Borrow your pen?”

The waitress handed me her black ballpoint, and as I wrote on a 18)napkin, she asked, “Just the note?”

“Two Irish coffees made with your best Irish whisky, and this note.” I handed back the pen. It’s an Irish toast. ‘May you never forget what is worth remembering, or remember what is best forgotten.’ I rose and stuffed two twenties into her hand. “Thanks.”

I gathered my purse, and never once looked back.

1) clank [klANk] v. 发出叮当声

2) thud [WQd] n. 重击

3) Mr. Coffee 咖啡先生，也叫美诗咖啡，北美的咖啡品牌

4) aroma [E5rEumE] n. 香味，香气

5) Quarter Pounder 大汉堡，含四分之一磅肉排的汉堡

6) casserole [5kAsE7rEul] n. （用肉、干酪或蔬菜等与通心面、米或土豆泥加沙司焙烧而成的）焙盘

7) sour cream 做沙拉调料等用的）酸奶油

8) dampen [5dAmpEn] v.（使）潮湿

9) Bushmills 布什米尔斯酒，一种爱尔兰威士忌

10) stout [staut] adj. 强大的，这里指香味浓厚

11) retrieve [ri5tri:v] v. 找回

12) belt out <俚>起劲儿地说

13) waver [5weivE] v. 犹豫

14) give out 发出，表露

15) bacon [5beikEn] n. 熏肉

16) crunchy [5krQntFi] adj. 脆的

17) revelation [7revi5leiFEn] n. 被揭示的真相

18) napkin [5nApkin] n. 餐巾纸

马丁•布莱恩•奥唐纳尔要结婚了。照片登在《杰克逊日报》的社会版，他身边是玛丽•凯瑟琳•奥布莱恩。她很漂亮，但愿和她那头红发及古老的爱尔兰名字相配的是一副热情的心肠。

现在是星期五下午五点。我第一次喝酒不是因为受伤的心，而是由于一个漫长的星期。

是这样！

我打开冰箱上方的柜橱，伸手在里面一阵乱翻，瓶子哐啷作响。啊，找到了，一瓶陈年爱尔兰威士忌。

我将酒瓶重重地放在柜子上。这可得庆祝一下，爱尔兰式的庆祝。我煮好了“美诗咖啡”，很快，整个房间里弥漫着又苦又甜的香味。

我的胃在翻滚，喉咙像加了塞般难受。

马丁。

要结婚了。

和另一个女孩。

马丁二十五岁，他从没吃过土豆。一次也没有！不管是炸的、煮的、捣成泥的、酿馅的还是微波焗的，通通没吃过。

“因为爱尔兰曾发生过土豆饥荒，我的曾祖父乘船来到美国后，他发誓至死也不吃土豆，这个传统就一代一代地传了下来。”马丁告诉我。

我想说：“那都是一百多年前的事了。”但我没这么说。我还想问：“你连蘸番茄酱和盐的薯条也没吃过吗？”但我也没有。我是那么爱他，以致我完全放弃了吃土豆，放弃了伴薯条的大汉堡、焗甜土豆、卤汁土豆泥以及加酸奶油、奶酪丝和黄油的烤土豆。

我从此也改吃米饭了。

大量的米饭。

还有面条。

数不清的面条。

我拿过最喜爱的咖啡杯，上面写着：“男人只用他们的半边脑子——错误的那边。”咖啡淌进杯子，蒸汽升腾上来，湿润了我的脸。我往里加了一茶匙糖和两汤匙布什米尔斯酒，香味立即变得强烈浓郁。喝第一口时很烫，味道有些刺激。

第二口就变得柔滑起来。端详着那张照片，我的心脏猛烈地撞击，胃仍在翻滚。

喝完杯里剩下的咖啡，我将报纸扔进废纸篓，开始调第二杯爱尔兰咖啡，加了四汤匙布什米尔斯酒。

走向沙发时，我又从废纸篓里捡起了报纸。他的眼睛就连印在报纸上都那么闪亮有神。我舔了舔唇上甜甜的奶油泡，说：“这杯为你而喝。”

我和马丁时常会比赛，看谁致的祝酒词最好。马丁总是赢，爱尔兰的好运在保佑他，所以他总能吸引大批听众。依偎在马丁的臂弯里，我觉得非常骄傲。他将我的名字布兰达•露易丝改成了布林，说这才像爱尔兰名字，而且还在发“Br”音时卷起舌头，听起来像布勒-勒-勒-林。我喜欢这个叫法。

我呆立着，踌躇了一会，又去调了杯咖啡，也没有留意倒了多少威士忌。这时，我的眼泪决堤……。

从那天中午起我就没怎么吃东西，这时胃叫唤起来。一个钟头后，我在桑顿餐厅浏览着菜单。点完菜，我正大口贪婪地喝着第三杯水，突然看见他们手挽手地进来了。她厚实的头发散发出亮丽的光彩，脸上长满了青春的雀斑。他的手臂紧搂着她的细腰。好一对爱尔兰夫妇。

在我和他的目光相遇的一霎，我的心狂跳起来，而当他俩朝我的桌子走过来时，心一下子沉到谷底。

“布林，你好吗？”他打招呼。

强挤出的笑容在我脸上颤抖着：“我很好。恭喜你们。”

他转向他的准妻子，介绍道：“凯特，这是布林。布林，这是凯特。”

“很高兴见到你，布林。”

“呃，你还好吧？”马丁问。

“我叫布兰达。”我纠正：“布兰达•露易丝。很高兴见到你。”

“打搅了。”女服务生打断了我们的谈话，挤进马丁和凯特之间。我暗暗感激她。

“这是您点的菜，小姐。回炉烤土豆伴酸乳、乳酪和熏肉、法式薯条伴溶化奶酪和填馅土豆皮。还需要什么吗？”

我举起杯子，说：“请加点水。”当我往口里咬了一口薯条、津津有味地品尝那咸脆的外皮和中间松嫩的薯茸时，马丁惊讶地睁大了眼睛。“要来一点吗？”我问。

“我们不吃土豆。”凯特说道，紧紧抓着马丁的手臂，像在挤一瓶番茄酱一样。

“是吗？”我问道，又吃了一口薯条：“那可真有意思啊。”

“是的。这是奥唐纳尔家族的传统。”凯特说。

我瞥了马丁一眼，他的脸红了。“那么，你们准备到哪儿度蜜月？”

“都柏林。”凯特答道：“马丁还从没去过那个古老的国度呢。”

我用叉子舀起一大块填馅土豆，故作随意地问：“你在爱尔兰出生的吧，马丁？”

“你知道……”

“好了，你们俩,”我打断了他的话：“致予你们最深的祝福。”

服务生带他们走向他们的桌子，我松了一口气，心跳很快平缓下来。我感觉自己咽下了一大池的泪水。

这样的情形之下，最让我难过的是什么？是马丁要结婚了？还是他找到了他爱的人，并且爱她甚于爱我？他到底爱过我吗？真的爱过吗？这还有什么意义呢？

这个发现让我觉得震撼。他当然没有爱过我！他根本就不清楚我是谁。我一直忙于将自己改变成他期望中的女孩，而放弃了……我自己。

我甚至放弃了我的名字。

“还需要什么吗，小姐？”

“不用，帮我买单。对了，你可不可以帮我递点东西给那边的那对夫妇？”

“当然可以。”

“麻烦借你的笔用用。”

女服务生递给我她的黑圆珠笔，看着我在一张餐巾纸写字，问：“就一张纸条吗？”

“用你们这最好的爱尔兰威士忌调两杯爱尔兰咖啡送过去，还有这张纸条。”我将笔还给她。这是一句爱尔兰祝酒词：愿你永远不要忘记值得记住的东西，而忘记最应该忘记的东西。我起身，塞给服务生两张20元的钞票，说了声“谢谢”。

我拿起钱包，再也没回头望一眼。

Getting Material

如何搜集素材

By Ellis Parker Butler

李毅译

1)The other day a young woman of Spokane, Washington, wrote me and asked how I get the material for the stories I write. 2)Every once in a while some young woman who wants to be a great author writes to ask me that. They usually say: “The characters in your stories are so 3)quaint and odd and yet so true to life. They seem so real. How do you get the material?” I am so well established in the author business now, and have such a steady trade, that at last I feel it is safe for me to give the secret to the world.

I get the material for my stories by putting on my hat and 4)poking around until I find a queer-looking character, and then I ask him the story of his life. For example, I look in a window and see an old, gray-headed shoemaker sitting on a bench, working away at a pair of shoes. I go in and speak to him.

“Good afternoon,” I say. “Are you a shoemaker?”

“Yes,” he says. “What did you think I was doing? Think I was painting a 5)flagpole on a submarine? What do you ask fool questions for?”

“I’m an author,” I say. “I write short stories and books. I’m getting material for a short story now, but if you turn out to be interesting enough I may make a whole novel of you.”

This always pleases. It puts the subject 6)at his ease, too. Sometimes I give him a cigar. That helps. It shows I am friendly and mean well.

The first thing I have to do after the introduction is to get the 7)local color of the man and his business. It doesn’t do to say, “A shoemaker was making a pair of shoes”, and 8)let it go at that. You must get the proper atmosphere. You must mention the tools of his trade by their correct names. So I take a seat and take out my note-book and a pencil.

“The smell I smell in here is leather, I suppose?” I say. “I have to get the smell right in my stories.”

“Yes, that’s it,” he says. “Tanned leather. It smells like that. That’s the way it smells.”

“And that thing that holds the shoe—that leather strap you put your foot through. What is that?”

“That’s the surcingle. Every shoe-maker has one. It isn’t to hold the shoe. It is to keep the palm of my foot warm.”

“I see. And that wooden thing there, shaped like a foot. What do you call that?”

“That’s a micrometer, a shoemaker’s micrometer. We use it to gauge the quality of leather.”

“I think I understand,” I say. “I can begin my story like this: ‘The old shoemaker sat on his bench measuring a 9)hunk of leather with his micrometer, while his well-worn surcingle warmed the palm of his aged foot.’ Does that sound all right?”

“Sounds fine.”

“But is it true? If you read that would you see an aged shoemaker, sitting in his shop?”

“Yes. Only you ought to mention his last. Every shoemaker has a last.”

“Of course! I’ll mention the last. Where is it?”

“That’s it—that wad on the box there. It’s a sort of 10)wax. (1)‘A shoemaker should stick to his last,’you know. That means his wax—if he sat down on it he should stick to it. He should be a coarse, rough fellow so the wax would stick to him, and not a slick, oily fellow that the wax would slip off of.”

“I see. And what do you use the last for?”

“To wax my 11)mustache. All shoemakers wax their mustaches with their lasts. It is an old custom. The mustaches used to be longthin—so the shoemakers waxed them and turned them up and tucked the ends behind their ears. If they didn’t do that, they were apt to thread their needles with them and sew them into the sole of a shoe. It was a pitiful sight to see a shoemaker walking around the street with a shoe dangling from the end of his mustache.”

“I should think it would be. I wonder if I couldn’t make that my story—the story of a shoemaker who sewed his mustache into a shoe—”

“And it was especially pitiful at meals,” the shoemaker would say, “when there was soup—bean soup. The shoe would get into the soup and get full of it, sometimes; full of bean soup. And the shoemaker would wonder why his mustache was so heavy. He would go back to his work with his shoe on the end of his mustache 12)splashing bean soup down the front of his coat. And if it was chicken soup! Dogs and cats! Thousands of them! Following him to 13)lick up the soup he spilled. I remember, once, when I got one shoe that was on the end of my mustache full of fish—cod-fish. And the other shoe—the one that was on the other mustache end—full of tea.”

“That’s interesting. A pair of shoes—”

“No, not a pair. Odd shoes. One was a 14)brogan and the other was a gaiter.”

“Hold on. What is a brogan? I have to get the local color right, you know.”

“A brogan? A brogan is a course heavy shoe.”

“I see. And a gaiter?”

“A gaiter is a light shoe. I made three kinds of gaiters. I made a very light one for wear in the house—that was a house-gaiter. Then I made a heavier one, for wear in the street. That was a street-gaiter. Then I made one heavier than a street-gaiter, but not so heavy as a brogan. It was to wear in alleys. That was an 15)alley-gaiter.”

“An—what did you call it?”

“An alley-gaiter.”

“Oh! Were they cloth or leather?”

“Leather. The house-gaiter I made of kid, but I made the street-gaiter of calfskin. It was tougher. Better for outdoor wear.”

“Yes, I’ve got that down. And the alley-gaiter? What sort of leather did you use for the alley-gaiter?”

“Crocodile.”

You see how easy it is to gather material for your stories. All you have to do is to go to the man and ask him, and he will tell you. I have never known it to fail. As soon as he knows you are a story-writer he is anxious to 16)oblige, and he will simply 17)smear you all over with atmosphere and local color, and rich, ripe facts like these.

1) the other day 前几天

2) every once in a while 偶尔

3) quaint [kweint] adj. 离奇的, 奇怪的

4) poke around 闲逛

5) flagpole [5flA^pEJl] n. 旗杆

6) at one’s ease 没有拘束的

7) local clor （文艺作品等的）地方特色，乡土特色

8) let it go at that 就此罢休, 不再说

9) hunk [hQNk] n. 大块

10) wax [wAks] n. 蜡, 鞋蜡

11) mustache [mEs5tB:F] n. 胡子

12) splash [splAF] v. 溅, 泼, 溅湿

13) lick up 舔光

14) brogan [5brEu^En] n. （粗革高帮）劳动靴：一种高至脚髁处的重工作鞋

15) alley [5Ali] n. 小路, 巷

16) oblige [E5blaidV] v. 施恩惠，帮助

17) smear [smiE] v. 涂上，抹

前几天，一位华盛顿州斯波坎市的年轻女士给我写了封信。信中她问我是怎样获得我小说中的那些素材的。偶尔有一些梦想成为伟大作家的年轻女士会写信问我这样的问题。她们通常在信中说：“你小说中的那些人物是那么的离奇、古怪，却又是如此贴近生活，他们看上去是那么的真实。你是如何取得这些素材的呢？”现在我在作家圈里面已经小有名气，也不再有衣食方面的后顾之忧，最后我也就不忌讳把我的经验说出来和大家分享。

我通常会戴着顶帽子到街上闲逛去寻找素材。直到我发现一个样子与众不同的人，然后我就会走上去问对方的生活经历。比如，我朝一扇窗户里瞅，看到一个头发灰白的老鞋匠，他正坐在一条长凳上不停地修补着一双鞋子。于是，我就走进店内和他聊天。

“下午好”，我说道，“你是一名鞋匠吗？”

“是啊”，他回答说，“那你刚才认为我正在干什么呢？以为我在给一艘潜艇的旗杆上油漆吗？你问这么弱智的问题干嘛？”

“我是一名作家”，我说道，“我写短篇小说，还出一些书。我正在为一篇短篇小说搜集素材，不过如果你的经历十分精彩有趣的话，我可能会考虑整部小说只写你的故事。”

这通常能使对方高兴得不得了。而且，他会开始敞开心来和你聊天。有时，我会奉上一根雪茄，那很管用。这说明我很友善，而且是真心诚意的。

一番自我介绍后，我首先要做的是要获取与这个人和他所从事的职业有关的背景资料。“一个鞋匠正在做一双鞋”，这起不到任何作用，那你最好就此停笔吧。你要营造恰当的故事氛围。你必须用正确的名称来描述他们干活用的工具。所以我在他旁边坐下来，掏出了一本笔记本和一根铅笔。

“我猜，我在这儿闻到的是皮革味，对吗？”我说道，“我得在小说里准确地描述这气味。”

“噢，是的”，他回答道，“这是用丹宁酸鞣制过的皮革。丹宁酸就是那种味儿。所以这皮革闻起来也有那种气味。”

“那么，那个绑着鞋子的东西——你把你的脚伸进里面去的皮带是什么啊？”

“那是脚带。每个鞋匠都有一条。那可不是绑鞋子用的，是给我的脚板保暖用的。”

“哦，我明白了。那边那个木头东西，样子跟脚差不多的，你叫它什么啊？”

“那是千分尺，专门给鞋匠用的千分尺。我们用它来测量皮革的质量。”

“我想我懂了”，我回答说，“我可以这样引出我的小说：‘这位老鞋匠坐在一条长凳上，正在用他的千分尺量着一大块皮革。那根系好的脚带正温暖着他那上了年纪的脚板。’听起来还过的去吗？”

“听起来不错。”

“但是这听起来逼真吗？如果你看到这段文字，你能想象到一个正坐在铺子里的老鞋匠吗？”

“能啊。不过你必须还要提到他的鞋楦。每个鞋匠都有一个鞋楦。”

“当然！我会提到的。它在哪儿呢？”

“就是那个——那边盒子上的那块软软的东西。那是一种蜡。‘每个鞋匠身上都应该粘着鞋楦。’你知道，那其实是说他的鞋蜡——如果他扑通坐下去，身上就会粘到鞋蜡。鞋匠应该是个脏兮兮，衣着粗糙的家伙，所以他身上才会粘到鞋蜡。他可不是一个油头粉脸的家伙，干净光鲜的衣服，鞋蜡根本粘不住。”

“我明白了，那么这个鞋蜡是用来干什么的？”

“给我的胡子上蜡呗。所有的鞋匠都用他们的鞋蜡来给胡子上蜡。这是一个古老的传统。过去男人们的胡子通常都很长——又长又细——所以鞋匠们给胡子上蜡，然后把胡子往上卷，直到把胡子的末端拢到耳后去。如果他们不那样做的话，用针缝鞋子的时候，就会很容易连胡子也缝进鞋底。如果你在大街上看到一只鞋子正晃晃悠悠地挂在一个鞋匠的胡子末端，那可真是惨啊！

“是啊，那可真够惨的。我在想是不是该把那也写进我的小说——一个鞋匠把他的胡子缝进鞋底的故事……”

“吃饭的时候最惨了。”这个鞋匠继续说，“如果桌上有汤——大豆汤，喝汤的时候，鞋子会跟着掉进汤碗里，结果汤全都灌进鞋里去了，有时候会灌上满满一鞋的大豆汤。那鞋匠可能会奇怪：‘咦！为什么我的胡子变得这么沉？’然后那只鞋子可能会跟着他的胡子晃晃悠悠地再回到铺子里，鞋子里的大豆汤溅得他胸前湿掉一大片。而且如果那是鸡汤的话！狗啊，猫啊！成千上万条啊! 全都会跟在他后面舔光溅出来的汤。我记得有一次，我回到鞋铺，发现胡子末端吊的一只鞋里竟然全是鱼——鳕鱼。另一只鞋——吊在胡子的另一末端——里面盛满了茶水。”

“真是太有趣了。一双鞋子……”

“不，不是一双。是不成对的鞋。一只是劳动靴，另一只是套鞋。”

“先等一等，什么是劳动靴啊？我得记下它的背景资料，你知道。”

“劳动靴？它是一种高至脚踝处的很重的工作鞋。”

“我懂了。那么什么是套鞋啊？”

“那是一种很轻的鞋子。我一共做了三种。最轻的是在家里穿的——那是室内套鞋。还有重一些的，是上街时穿的，那叫街道套鞋。还有一种比街道套鞋要重，但不像劳动靴那么重，它是在胡同里穿的，叫做胡同套鞋。”

“一双……？你刚才叫它什么？”

“胡同套鞋。”

“噢！它们是布质的还是皮质的？”

“皮质的。室内套鞋是小山羊皮做的。但是街道套鞋是用小牛皮做的。那样更结实，更适合户外穿。”

“这样啊，我已经记下来了。那么胡同套鞋呢？你是用什么皮做的呢？”

“鳄鱼皮。”

看到了吧，给你的小说搜集素材是多么容易啊。你所需要做的就是走到那个人跟前，然后问他，他就会告诉你一切。这种方法我屡试屡爽。一旦他知道你是个小说家，他会迫不及待地满足你的要求。他会把背景材料、乡土特色还有像这个鞋匠列举的丰富多彩、栩栩如生的例子一古脑儿地全倒给你。

小资料

埃利斯·帕克·巴特勒（1869-1937）与鲁思·罗杰斯、马克·吐温，菲茨杰拉德等当代作家其名，是美国著名的作家、评论家、幽默大师。他一生共出版过30多部书，2000多篇小说和随笔。巴特勒于1905年在《American Magzine》发表的《猪就是猪》（Pigs is Pigs)是其最著名的短篇小说。尽管巴特勒一生出版了大量的作品，作家只是作为他的兼职。他的全职工作是一名银行家，而且他在当地社区也相当活跃，是美国作家联盟的发起人之一。

温馨提示

(1)A shoemaker should stick to his last.

这句话本身是一句谚语，表示“人们只应该对自己熟知的事物发表意见，对自己不懂的东西不应妄自评论。”（To follow a track, hence footstep.）但是，我们在文中并没有翻译出这个谚语的意思。因为如果我们细心一读，就可以发现鞋匠的整篇发言都是古怪离奇，幽默无比。他的真正目的是为了让作者对他的经历感兴趣，从而写一部关于他的小说。因此，他所讲的故事其实都被夸大甚至由自己胡编。last和wax分别指鞋楦和鞋蜡，这是做鞋时完全两种不同的东西。作为鞋匠，他不可能不知道。限于鞋匠的文化层次，他可能并不知道这句谚语的真正含义，因此只是简单借用A shoemaker should stick to his last.这个名句来引出他胡编的last means his wax，从而瞎编一大堆关于鞋匠的胡子和鞋蜡的故事。