the geese导读&原文

鹅（怀特散文）

[

原创

2007-05-24 13:25:27]

字号：大

中

小

说

明

这是“农场篇”里的最后一篇，也是这十篇散文中感情流露最多

的一篇，我自然很喜欢。记得董乐山说过

，怀特的散文很容易懂 ，翻

译前八篇时，我还没有这样的感觉，但译到后两篇时，我 才觉得格外

的顺畅。尤其是这一篇——文字简单，内容也很简 单，更没有什么引

经据典的妖冶作风

——

怀特的散文从来都是这么平实：他懂的东西，

乍看起来，这

一篇也是最普通不过的，可是，藏在里面和溢在文字之外的那种悲天

悯人的感情却如浓浓的夜来香的气息，在这个清凉的夏夜把我 静静地

淹没了。我真想看到怀特写到最后三段时的表情，他的 心里会有什么

样的感觉！我想，这是一篇和《林湖重游》同样 优秀的散文。这一篇

散文似乎应该是用来听的——听吧，这就 是美国的“广陵散”。我不

知道在以后的夏天里还能不能听到比这更令我心动的声音了。

有朋友曾建议我介绍一下怀特的散文。可是，我对怀特的了解本

来就不多，所以自然就不肯轻易动口。何况，每多看一篇怀特的散文，

< br>

我的认识和人生态度就更进了一层，这结论自然更不能轻易的下了—

—除非等到这本散文集都译出的时候。

也许，有些人会觉得怀特的散文枯燥，单调，里面即没有华山派

武功所特有的优美身段，又没有何铁手的含沙射影那样的动人心魄，

那么我也不会强迫他来赞同我没有意见的意见。

如果，非要作一番广告才能使人喜欢这篇散文的话，我还可以试

着吆喝几声——

请看《乱交的鹅与窥淫狂》（又名《鹅》）

想了解公鹅如何性交吗？那么请看这篇旷世奇文；

想知道花花公子如何击败强敌，将养父的情妇据为已有吗？那么

请看这篇旷世奇文；

想知道连弗洛伊德也不熟悉的窥淫狂的心理吗，那么请看这篇旷

世奇文。

如果非要我这么吆喝，我会感到深深的悲哀。但是，我绝不会这

么吆喝的。我坚持一切我所愿意坚持的，从来都不会放弃。

最后，我来把译过的十篇散文作一下简介。我现在翻译 的是

1999

年版的《

Essays Of E

·

B White

》（

1977

年初版）。这本散文选共收

31

篇，分七部分，第一部分“

The Farm

”共十篇，占

84

页（全书共

364

页），我用了近四个月的时间才把它们翻译完，虽然很 慢，但也没办

法，因为我的英文就是这么差。为了以后归类的 方便，我把这十篇文

章的题目按顺序抄在下面，同时注明原刊 的出处。除在下面单独注明

的外，其余的几篇原来都发表在《纽约客》上。

我接着准备先译它的第三部分：

The City

，这部分虽然只有两篇，

但 却占了

30

页，估计译起来也不会轻松。

肖毛

2001

年

6

< br>月

30

日

晚

10

：

08

一

农场篇

对第四十八街的告别

回家

春天的报告

一头猪的死亡

（原载于《大西洋月刊》）

埃德娜之眼

浣熊的树

元月纪闻

大雪的冬天

驳诘

（原载于《纽约时报》，

原名为“

Farmer White's Brown Eggs

”）

鹅

鹅

(The Geese)

（美）

著

肖毛译

19 71

年

7

月

9

日，艾伦湾

The Geese - E. B. White

The Geese

Ellwyn Brooks White

To give a clear account of what took place in the barnyard early in the morning on that last Sunday

in June, I will have to go back more than a year in time, but a year is nothing to me these days.

Besides, I intend to be quick about it, and not dawdle.

I have had a pair of elderly gray geese- a goose and a gander-living on this place for a number of

years, and they have been my friends. “Companions” would be a better word; geese are friends

with no one, they badmouth everybody and everything. But they are companionable once you get

used to their ingratitude and their false accusations. Early in the spring, a year ago, as soon as the

ice went out of the pond, my goose started to lay. She laid three eggs in about a week’s time and

then died. I found her halfway down the lane that connects the barnyard with the pasture. There

were

no marks

on

her

–

she

lay

with wings

partly

outspread,

and with

her

neck

forward

in

the

grass, pointing downhill. Geese are rarely sick, and I think this goose’s time had co

me and she had

simply

died

of

old

age.

We

buried

her

in

our

private

graveyard,

and

I

felt

sad

at

losing

an

acquaintance of such long standing-long standing and loud shouting.

Her

legacy, of course, was the three eggs. I knew they were good eggs and did not like to pitch

them out. It seemed to me that the least I could do for my departed companion was to see that the

eggs she had left in my care were hatched. I checked my hen pen to find out whether we had a

broody, but there was none. During the next few

days, I scoured the neighborhood for a broody

hen, with no success.

Days went by

. My gander, the widower, lived a solitary life-nobody to swap gossip with, nobody

to

protect.

He

seemed

dazed.

The

three

eggs

were

not

getting

any

younger,

and

I

myself

felt

dazed-restless and unfulfilled, I had stored the eggs down cellar in the arch where it is cool, and

every time I went down there for something they seemed silently to reproach me. My plight had

become

known

around

the

town,

and

one

day

a

friend

phoned

and

said

he

would

lend

me

an

incubator

designed for

hatching

the

eggs

of waterfowl.

I

brought

the

thing

home, cleaned

it

up,

plugged it in, and sat down to read the directions. After studying them, I realized that if I were to

tend

eggs

in

that

incubator,

I

would

have

to

withdraw

from the

world

for

thirty

days-give

up

everything, just as a broody goose does. Obsessed though I was with the notion of bringing life

into the three eggs, I wasn’t quite prepared to pay the price.

Instead,

I

abandoned

the

idea

of

incubation

and

decided

to settle

the

matter

by

acquiring

three

ready-made goslings, as a memorial to the goose and a gift for the lonely gander. I drove up the

road

about

five

miles

and

dropped

in

on

Irving

Closson.

I

knew

Irving

had

geese;

he

has

everything-even a sawmill. I found him shoeing a very old horse in the doorway of his barn, and I

stood and watched for a while. Hens and geese wandered about the yard, and a turkey tom circled

me, wings adroop, strutting. I brought up the question of goslings, and he took me into the barn

and showed me a sitting goose. He said he thought she was covering more than twenty eggs and

should

bring

off

her

goslings

in

a couple

of weeks

and I could

buy

a

few

if

I wanted.

I

said

I

would like three.

I

took

to calling

at

I

rving’s

every

few

days

-it

is

about

the

pleasantest

place

to

visit

anywhere

around.

At

last,

I

was

rewarded:

I

pulled

into

the

driveway

one

morning

and

saw

a

goose

surrounded by green goslings. She had been staked out, like a cow. Irving had simply tied a piece

of string to one leg and fastened the other end to a peg in the ground. She was a pretty goose-not

as

large

as

my

old

one

had

been,

and with

a

more

slender

neck. The

goslings

had

the cheerful,

right, and innocent look that all baby geese have. We scooped up three and tossed them into a box,

and I paid Irving and carried them home.

My next concern was how to introduce these small creatures to their foster father, my old gander. I

thought about this all the way home. I’ve had enough experience with dom

esticated animals and

birds to know that they are a bundle of eccentricities and crotchets, and I was not at all sure what

sort of reception three strange youngsters would get from a gander who was full of sorrows and

suspicions. (I once saw a gander, taken by surprise, seize a newly hatched gosling and hurl it the

length of the barn floor.) I had an uneasy feeling that my three little charges might be dead within