《冬夜》——Winter Night

艾芜

Ai Wu

    冬天一个冰寒的晚上。在寂宽的马路旁边，疏枝交横的树下，候着最后一辆搭客汽车的，只我一人。虽然不远的墙边，也蹲有一团黑影，但他却是伸手讨钱的。马路两旁，远远近近都立着灯窗明灿的别墅，向暗蓝的天空静静地微笑着。在马路仁是冷冰冰的，还刮着一阵阵猛厉的风。留在枝头的一两片枯叶，也不时发出破碎的哭声。

    那蹲着的黑影，接了我的一枚铜板，就高兴地站起来向我搭话，一面抱怨着天气：“真冷呀，再没有比这里更冷了！……先生，你说是不是?”

    看见他并不是个讨厌的老头子，便也高兴地说道：“乡下怕更要冷些吧?”

It was a cold winter night. The street was deserted. I stood alone under a tree with an entanglement of bare branches overhead, waiting for the last bus to arrive. A few paces off in the darkness there was a shadowy figure squatting against the wall, but tie turned out to be a tramp. The street was lined with fine houses, their illuminated windows beaming quietly towards the dark blue sky. It was icy cold with a gust of strong wired howling around. A couple of withered leaves, still clinging to the branches, rustled mournfully from time to tithe. The shadowy figure, taking a copper coin from me with thanks, straightened up to attempt a conversation with me.

"It's really cold here," he complained.  "It couldn't be colder anywhere else ....What do you think, sir?"

Seeing that he was not too nasty an old man, I readily responded: "It must he colder in the country, I'm afraid.”

    “不，不。”他接着咳嗽起来，要吐出的话，塞在喉管里了。

    我说：“为什么?你看见一下霜，乡下的房屋和田野，便在早上白了起来，街上却一点也看不见。”

    他捶了几下胸口之后，兴奋地接着说道：“是的，是的……乡下冷，你往人家门前的稻草堆上一钻就暖了哪……这街上，哼，鬼地方！……还有那些山里呵，比乡下更冷哩，咳，那才好哪！火烧一大堆，大大小小一家人，闹热呀！……”

    接着他便说到壮年之日，在南方那些山中冬夜走路的事情。一个人的漂泊生活，我是喜欢打听的，同时车又没有驰来.便怂思他说了下去。

"No, no," he disagreed and began to cough, his words stuck up in his throat.

"Why?" I asked. "In the country when it frosts, you always find the roofs and the fields turning white in the morning, but you don't see that here on the streets.”

He patted his chest to ease off his coughing and went on excitedly:  "True, true... it's cold in the country, but when you get into somebody's straw stack, you are warm again at once.... But this street, humm, what a terrible place! In the mountains, it's even colder, but when they have a fire in the house with the whole family sitting around it, wow, it's heaven!"

Then he began to relate to me the adventures of his younger days-travelling alone in winter nights through the mountains in the south. As I was interested in stories about wanderers and since the bus had not arrived yet, I encouraged him to go on.