1968年的那场雪/聆海(赵金基译）

程思良

1968年的那场雪/聆海
　　
　　雪儿，娘生你的那天雪下的真大呀！那一年的大雪又飘飘洒洒地落在娘的目光深处。
　　地上白了；门口的石墩埋上了；屋门被雪封住了。整整下了一个月呀！娘说着眼睛就灵动起来，像空中飘飞的雪花。
　　娘一把拉住我的手又说，你生下来不会哭，你爹在你屁股上拍了一下你才哭，这一哭就没完没了，你爹说，这丫头就叫雪儿吧。
　　别说了娘，你说了很多遍了，妻子走来给娘喂药。娘吃完药就不再说话，眼睛变得暗淡迟滞起来。
　　我给娘拍了一会背说，睡一会吧娘，坐久了累。我还没吃饭呢，我饿了！娘突然说，很生气的样子。妻子笑了，咱们不是刚吃完吗？
　　娘不再说什么，由我们扶着上床休息。
　　打着鼾声的娘忽地坐起来。我慌忙走过去，怎么了娘？娘抓住我的手，雪儿，娘叫着。眼里闪着惊恐的火苗。
　　大雪封了门，屋里很快就没有烧饭和取暖的柴了。娘喃喃地说，你爹烧完屋里所有能引火的东西。你爹抱着我，我抱着你，偎在墙角，你饿得整夜哭。
　　我像第一次听到一样，静静地坐在娘跟前。娘已忘记周围的每一个人每一件事，却清晰地记着1968年的大雪，和那个在大雪里降生又匆匆离去的姐姐。
　　
　　The Snow of 1968
　　
　　By Linghai
　　
　　“Xue’r, how hard it was snowing the day I gave birth to you!” The thick snowflakes of that year are falling into the deep of Mother’s eyes.
　　“Grounds were covered with white; the stone seat at the gate was buried; the door was blocked. It was snowing for a month on end!” With this Mother’s eyes are flickering brightly like snowflakes dancing in the sky.
　　Suddenly Mother holds my hand as she continues. “You didn’t cry when you first came into this world; you didn’t cry until your dad gave a pat on your buttock. Then you cried non-stop while your dad said, ‘Let’s call our baby girl Xue’r’.”
　　“Mom, stop. You’ve told this many times.” My wife comes over to feed medicine to Mother. After taking the medicine, mother talks no more, her eyes dull and sluggish.
　　“Mom, take a nap; you’ll be tired when sitting for long.” Softly patting Mother’s back, I suggest. “I haven’t had my meal yet; I’m feeling hungry.” Mother says suddenly, with an air of being annoyed. “We have just finished our meal, haven’t we?” my wife smiles.
　　Mother responds no more, allowing us to take her to bed.
　　Mother stops her snoring and sits up suddenly; I, in turn, hurriedly come over to her. “What’s the matter, mom?” “Xue’r!” Mother cries, her eyes shining with scared flames.
　　“The heavy snow blocked our door; shortly after we used up all wood for cooking and heating.” Mother mumbles. “Your dad used up all stuff that could be put in the fire. Your dad held me and I held you; we were snuggling to each other on the corner. You were crying with hunger all night.”
　　I am seated quietly before Mother, as if listening to her story for the first time. Mother forgets all things and people around her while she clearly remembers the heavy snow of 1969 and the baby girl, my sister, who came and passed away in the snow.

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