论文部分内容阅读
薇雨 译
A Clean, Well-lighted Place
当空虚感充斥着现代人的生活，人类需要光亮和秩序来重新确立生活的自尊，这种自尊来自于生活的勇气，人类用它来战胜那可怕的精神危机。
如果你冷，就用你的右手温暖你的左手；如果你害怕漆黑映照出你的落寞，就让屋里的灯整夜亮着。
勇敢一点。黎明，总会到来的。
——Lavender
It was late and everyone had left the caf—— except an
old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty; but at night the 1)dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the caf—— knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.
“Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said.
“Why?”
“He was in despair.”
“What about?”
“Nothing.”
“How do you know it was nothing?”
“He has plenty of money.”
They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the caf—— and looked at the 2)terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind.
The younger waiter went over to him.
“What do you want?”
The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.
“You’ll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.
“He’ll stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “I’m sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o’clock. He should have killed himself last week.”
The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the caf—— and marched out to the old man’s table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.
“Thank you,” the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the caf——. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.
“He’s drunk now,” he said.
“He’s drunk every night.”
“What did he want to kill himself for?”
“How should I know?”
“How did he do it?”
“He hung himself with a rope.”
“Who cut him down?”
“His niece.”
“Why did he do it?”
“For his soul.”
“How much money has he got?”
“He’s got plenty.”
“He must be eighty years old.”
“Anyway I should say he was eighty.”
“I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o’clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?”
“He stays up because he likes it.”
“He’s lonely. I’m not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.”
“His niece looks after him.”
“I know. You said she cut him down.”
“I wouldn’t want to be that old. An old man is a 3)nasty thing.”
“Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him.”
“I don’t want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work.”
The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.
“Another brandy,” he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.
“Finished,” he said. “No more tonight. Close now.”
“Another,” said the old man.
“No. Finished.” The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a 4)towel and shook his head.
The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a 5)peseta tip.
The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.
“Why didn’t you let him stay and drink?” the unhurried waiter asked. They were 6)putting up the shutters. “It is not half-past two.”
“I want to go home to bed.”
“What is an hour?”
“More to me than to him.”
“An hour is the same.”
“You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drink at home.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.
“And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?”
“No,” the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from putting on the metal shutters. “I have confidence. I am all confidence.”
“You have youth, confidence, and a job,” the older waiter said. “You have everything.”
“And what do you lack?”
“Everything but work.”
“You have everything I have.”
“No. I have never had confidence and I’m not young.”
“Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up.”
“I am of those who like to stay late at the caf——,” the older waiter said. “with all those who do not want to go to bed and all those who need a light for the night.”
“I want to go home and into bed.”
“We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. “It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the caf——.”
“7)Hombre, there are 8)bodegas open all night long.”
“You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant caf——. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves.”
“Good night,” said the younger waiter.
“Good night,” the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself. It is the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order.
He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.
“A little cup,” said the waiter.
The barman poured it for him.
“The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,” the waiter said.
The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.
“You want another9)copita?” the barman asked.
“No, thank you,” said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted caf—— was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it is probably only 10)insomnia. Many must have it.
时间很晚了，大家都离开了餐馆，只有一个老人还坐在电灯映着树叶而投下的阴影里。白天，街上尽是灰尘；到了晚上，露水让灰尘都沉淀下来。这个老人喜欢坐到很晚，因为他是个聋子，现在是夜里，十分寂静，能使他感觉到跟白天的不同。餐馆里的两个侍者知道这老人有点儿醉了，虽然他是个好主顾，可是他们知道，如果他喝得太醉，会不付账就走，所以一直在留神他。
“上个星期他自杀，没死成。”一个侍者说。
“为什么？”
“他很绝望。”
“为什么？”
“不为什么。”
“你怎么知道不为什么？”
“他钱多着呐。”
他们一起坐在桌旁，桌子靠着餐馆门边的那面墙。两人望着露台，一张张空桌子，只有那老人坐在随风轻轻飘动的树叶的阴影里。
那个年轻的侍者朝他走去。
“你要点什么？”
老人朝他看了看。“再来杯白兰地。”他说。
“你会喝醉的。”侍者说。老人朝他看了一眼。侍者走开了。
“他会通宵待在这里，”年轻侍者对他的同事说，“我这会儿可困了。我从来没有在三点以前睡过觉。他应该在上星期死掉。”
年轻侍者从餐馆里的柜台上拿了一瓶白兰地和另一个茶托，大步走向老人的桌子。他放下茶托，往杯子里倒满白兰地。
“谢谢你，”老人说。年轻侍者把酒瓶拿回到餐馆柜台里，又坐到桌旁和同事在一起。
“他已经喝醉了，”他说。
“他哪天晚上不喝醉。”
“他干嘛要自杀呀？”
“我怎么知道？”
“他是怎么自杀的？”
“用绳子上吊。”
“谁把他放下来的？”
“他侄女。”
“他为什么要自杀？”
“为了解脱吧。”
“他有多少钱？”
“很多。”
“他准有八十岁了。”
“我反正觉得他有。”
“真希望他回家去。我从没在三点前睡过觉，这是什么睡觉时间啊？”
“他熬夜是因为他喜欢。”
“他孤独，我可不孤独。我有个老婆在床上等着我呢。”
“他有个侄女照料他。”
“我知道。你刚才说过，是她把那老家伙放下来的。”
“我才不要活得那么老。老人邋里邋遢的。”
“不一定。这老人就干干净净的。他喝酒时，酒并不滴滴答答地往嘴外漏。就连现在喝醉了，也还是滴酒不漏。你瞧他。”
“我才不想瞧他。我希望他回家去。他也不为我们这些要工作的人想想。”
那老人抬起面对酒杯的眼睛，望望广场，又望望那两个侍者。
“再来杯白兰地。”他指着杯子说。那赶时间的年轻侍者跑了过去。
“没了，”他说，“今晚上没了。要打烊了。”
“再来一杯，”那老人说。
“不，没了。”年轻侍者一边拿毛巾擦擦桌沿，一边摇着头。
老人站了起来，慢慢地点算了茶托的数目，从口袋里摸出一只装硬币的皮夹子来，付了酒钱，并放下半比塞塔的小费。
那侍者瞅着他沿着大街走了，这老人蹒跚的脚步里透着尊严。
“你干嘛不让他待在这里喝酒呢？”那个不赶时间的侍者问道。他们正在收拾，准备关门。“还不到二点半呢。”
“我要回家睡觉了。”
“一个钟头算什么？”
“他无所谓，我可很在乎。”
“反正对谁都是一个钟头。”
“你说话像个老年人一样。他可以买瓶酒回家去喝嘛。”
“那可不一样。”
“确实不一样。”那个有老婆的侍者表示同意。他不是想霸道，只是赶时间罢了。
“那么你呢？你不怕比平时提前回家？”
“不怕，”那个赶时间的侍者说着拉下了铁制百叶窗，然后站了起来。“我有信心。我有十足的信心。”
“你有青春，有信心，还有工作，”那个年纪大些的侍者说，“你什么都有了。”
“那你缺什么呢？”
“除了工作，什么都缺。”
“我有的你也都有了。”
“不，我一直没有信心，也不年轻了。”
“好啦，好啦，别说些无聊的话了，把门锁上吧。”
“我是属于那种喜欢在餐馆待到很晚的人，”那个年纪大些的侍者说，“和那些不想睡觉的人，还有那些夜里需要亮光的人一起。”
“我要回家睡觉去了。”
“我们是两种人，”那个年纪大些的侍者说。他穿好衣服，准备回家了。“这不光是个年轻和信心的问题，虽然这两样东西都是十分美好的。我每天晚上都很不愿意打烊，因为可能有人需要这个餐馆。”
“老兄，通宵营业的酒馆有的是。”
“你不懂。这儿是个干净、明亮而令人愉快的餐馆。这里灯光很好，而且这时候还有树影呢。”
“晚安啦，”年轻的侍者说。
“晚安。”年纪大些的侍者说。他一边关电灯，一边继续自言自语。灯光当然要明亮，但还必须是个干净的地方。你不想要音乐。你肯定不想要音乐。你也不可能饶有尊严地站在酒吧门前，虽然这几个钟头里酒吧提供的只是尊严。他害怕什么？这不是害怕，也不是恐惧。这是他心里很清楚的一种虚空。一切都是虚空，人也是虚空的。人所需要的只是这虚空、亮光，以及一定的干净和秩序。
他含笑站在一个酒吧前，那儿有一架闪光的蒸气压咖啡机。
“来一杯小的，”那个侍者说。
酒保倒了一杯给他。
“灯很亮，也很令人愉快，只是这个酒吧没有擦得很光洁。”侍者说。
酒保看了他一眼，没有答腔。夜已经很深了，不宜交谈。
“你要再来一小杯雪利酒吗？”酒保问道。
“不必了，谢谢你，”侍者说罢，走了出去。他不喜欢酒吧和酒馆，一个干净明亮的餐馆却又另当别论。现在他不再想什么了，他要回家，到自己房里去。他会躺在床上，最后，天亮了，他就会睡着。说到底，他对自己说，这大概只是失眠吧，许多人都会的。
［短信评选代码：5905］
A Clean, Well-lighted Place
当空虚感充斥着现代人的生活，人类需要光亮和秩序来重新确立生活的自尊，这种自尊来自于生活的勇气，人类用它来战胜那可怕的精神危机。
如果你冷，就用你的右手温暖你的左手；如果你害怕漆黑映照出你的落寞，就让屋里的灯整夜亮着。
勇敢一点。黎明，总会到来的。
——Lavender
It was late and everyone had left the caf—— except an
old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty; but at night the 1)dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the caf—— knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.
“Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said.
“Why?”
“He was in despair.”
“What about?”
“Nothing.”
“How do you know it was nothing?”
“He has plenty of money.”
They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the caf—— and looked at the 2)terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind.
The younger waiter went over to him.
“What do you want?”
The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.
“You’ll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.
“He’ll stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “I’m sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o’clock. He should have killed himself last week.”
The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the caf—— and marched out to the old man’s table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.
“Thank you,” the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the caf——. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.
“He’s drunk now,” he said.
“He’s drunk every night.”
“What did he want to kill himself for?”
“How should I know?”
“How did he do it?”
“He hung himself with a rope.”
“Who cut him down?”
“His niece.”
“Why did he do it?”
“For his soul.”
“How much money has he got?”
“He’s got plenty.”
“He must be eighty years old.”
“Anyway I should say he was eighty.”
“I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o’clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?”
“He stays up because he likes it.”
“He’s lonely. I’m not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.”
“His niece looks after him.”
“I know. You said she cut him down.”
“I wouldn’t want to be that old. An old man is a 3)nasty thing.”
“Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him.”
“I don’t want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work.”
The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.
“Another brandy,” he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.
“Finished,” he said. “No more tonight. Close now.”
“Another,” said the old man.
“No. Finished.” The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a 4)towel and shook his head.
The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a 5)peseta tip.
The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.
“Why didn’t you let him stay and drink?” the unhurried waiter asked. They were 6)putting up the shutters. “It is not half-past two.”
“I want to go home to bed.”
“What is an hour?”
“More to me than to him.”
“An hour is the same.”
“You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drink at home.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.
“And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?”
“No,” the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from putting on the metal shutters. “I have confidence. I am all confidence.”
“You have youth, confidence, and a job,” the older waiter said. “You have everything.”
“And what do you lack?”
“Everything but work.”
“You have everything I have.”
“No. I have never had confidence and I’m not young.”
“Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up.”
“I am of those who like to stay late at the caf——,” the older waiter said. “with all those who do not want to go to bed and all those who need a light for the night.”
“I want to go home and into bed.”
“We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. “It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the caf——.”
“7)Hombre, there are 8)bodegas open all night long.”
“You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant caf——. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves.”
“Good night,” said the younger waiter.
“Good night,” the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself. It is the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order.
He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.
“A little cup,” said the waiter.
The barman poured it for him.
“The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,” the waiter said.
The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.
“You want another9)copita?” the barman asked.
“No, thank you,” said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted caf—— was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it is probably only 10)insomnia. Many must have it.
时间很晚了，大家都离开了餐馆，只有一个老人还坐在电灯映着树叶而投下的阴影里。白天，街上尽是灰尘；到了晚上，露水让灰尘都沉淀下来。这个老人喜欢坐到很晚，因为他是个聋子，现在是夜里，十分寂静，能使他感觉到跟白天的不同。餐馆里的两个侍者知道这老人有点儿醉了，虽然他是个好主顾，可是他们知道，如果他喝得太醉，会不付账就走，所以一直在留神他。
“上个星期他自杀，没死成。”一个侍者说。
“为什么？”
“他很绝望。”
“为什么？”
“不为什么。”
“你怎么知道不为什么？”
“他钱多着呐。”
他们一起坐在桌旁，桌子靠着餐馆门边的那面墙。两人望着露台，一张张空桌子，只有那老人坐在随风轻轻飘动的树叶的阴影里。
那个年轻的侍者朝他走去。
“你要点什么？”
老人朝他看了看。“再来杯白兰地。”他说。
“你会喝醉的。”侍者说。老人朝他看了一眼。侍者走开了。
“他会通宵待在这里，”年轻侍者对他的同事说，“我这会儿可困了。我从来没有在三点以前睡过觉。他应该在上星期死掉。”
年轻侍者从餐馆里的柜台上拿了一瓶白兰地和另一个茶托，大步走向老人的桌子。他放下茶托，往杯子里倒满白兰地。
“谢谢你，”老人说。年轻侍者把酒瓶拿回到餐馆柜台里，又坐到桌旁和同事在一起。
“他已经喝醉了，”他说。
“他哪天晚上不喝醉。”
“他干嘛要自杀呀？”
“我怎么知道？”
“他是怎么自杀的？”
“用绳子上吊。”
“谁把他放下来的？”
“他侄女。”
“他为什么要自杀？”
“为了解脱吧。”
“他有多少钱？”
“很多。”
“他准有八十岁了。”
“我反正觉得他有。”
“真希望他回家去。我从没在三点前睡过觉，这是什么睡觉时间啊？”
“他熬夜是因为他喜欢。”
“他孤独，我可不孤独。我有个老婆在床上等着我呢。”
“他有个侄女照料他。”
“我知道。你刚才说过，是她把那老家伙放下来的。”
“我才不要活得那么老。老人邋里邋遢的。”
“不一定。这老人就干干净净的。他喝酒时，酒并不滴滴答答地往嘴外漏。就连现在喝醉了，也还是滴酒不漏。你瞧他。”
“我才不想瞧他。我希望他回家去。他也不为我们这些要工作的人想想。”
那老人抬起面对酒杯的眼睛，望望广场，又望望那两个侍者。
“再来杯白兰地。”他指着杯子说。那赶时间的年轻侍者跑了过去。
“没了，”他说，“今晚上没了。要打烊了。”
“再来一杯，”那老人说。
“不，没了。”年轻侍者一边拿毛巾擦擦桌沿，一边摇着头。
老人站了起来，慢慢地点算了茶托的数目，从口袋里摸出一只装硬币的皮夹子来，付了酒钱，并放下半比塞塔的小费。
那侍者瞅着他沿着大街走了，这老人蹒跚的脚步里透着尊严。
“你干嘛不让他待在这里喝酒呢？”那个不赶时间的侍者问道。他们正在收拾，准备关门。“还不到二点半呢。”
“我要回家睡觉了。”
“一个钟头算什么？”
“他无所谓，我可很在乎。”
“反正对谁都是一个钟头。”
“你说话像个老年人一样。他可以买瓶酒回家去喝嘛。”
“那可不一样。”
“确实不一样。”那个有老婆的侍者表示同意。他不是想霸道，只是赶时间罢了。
“那么你呢？你不怕比平时提前回家？”
“不怕，”那个赶时间的侍者说着拉下了铁制百叶窗，然后站了起来。“我有信心。我有十足的信心。”
“你有青春，有信心，还有工作，”那个年纪大些的侍者说，“你什么都有了。”
“那你缺什么呢？”
“除了工作，什么都缺。”
“我有的你也都有了。”
“不，我一直没有信心，也不年轻了。”
“好啦，好啦，别说些无聊的话了，把门锁上吧。”
“我是属于那种喜欢在餐馆待到很晚的人，”那个年纪大些的侍者说，“和那些不想睡觉的人，还有那些夜里需要亮光的人一起。”
“我要回家睡觉去了。”
“我们是两种人，”那个年纪大些的侍者说。他穿好衣服，准备回家了。“这不光是个年轻和信心的问题，虽然这两样东西都是十分美好的。我每天晚上都很不愿意打烊，因为可能有人需要这个餐馆。”
“老兄，通宵营业的酒馆有的是。”
“你不懂。这儿是个干净、明亮而令人愉快的餐馆。这里灯光很好，而且这时候还有树影呢。”
“晚安啦，”年轻的侍者说。
“晚安。”年纪大些的侍者说。他一边关电灯，一边继续自言自语。灯光当然要明亮，但还必须是个干净的地方。你不想要音乐。你肯定不想要音乐。你也不可能饶有尊严地站在酒吧门前，虽然这几个钟头里酒吧提供的只是尊严。他害怕什么？这不是害怕，也不是恐惧。这是他心里很清楚的一种虚空。一切都是虚空，人也是虚空的。人所需要的只是这虚空、亮光，以及一定的干净和秩序。
他含笑站在一个酒吧前，那儿有一架闪光的蒸气压咖啡机。
“来一杯小的，”那个侍者说。
酒保倒了一杯给他。
“灯很亮，也很令人愉快，只是这个酒吧没有擦得很光洁。”侍者说。
酒保看了他一眼，没有答腔。夜已经很深了，不宜交谈。
“你要再来一小杯雪利酒吗？”酒保问道。
“不必了，谢谢你，”侍者说罢，走了出去。他不喜欢酒吧和酒馆，一个干净明亮的餐馆却又另当别论。现在他不再想什么了，他要回家，到自己房里去。他会躺在床上，最后，天亮了，他就会睡着。说到底，他对自己说，这大概只是失眠吧，许多人都会的。
［短信评选代码：5905］