时间之手

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  甘美好 译
  
  A grandmother teaches her child a little about
   1)adversity by explaining to him how her hands became so tired and worn.
  
  The old woman sat rocking 2)back and forth in front of the fire. Her grandson, who was a virtual 3)clone of his dead daddy, stood at her elbow, staring thoughtfully up into a face that had long since seen 4)the blush of June.
  
  “5)Gamma, why are your hands all 6)curled up like that?” There is no 7)rancour in the question, just a child’s curiosity. The old woman eyes soften and she gathers him to her bony breast. For a brief second, she cannot find her voice as her thoughts 8)wander to a place far away and long ago.A tiny tear forms in the corner of her eye as she glances down at her hands; hands that were once so powerful and strong, now 9)withered and 10)gnarled with age, the 11)knuckles 12)bumpy and 13)misshapen. Never one to 14)succumb to self-pity, she lifts her head and begins to speak, gazing lovingly into the oh-so-familiar eyes of the child of her son.
  
  “Ah, my pet, when I was a young woman and my body not yet my enemy, I 15)toiled 16)from dawn to dusk. Do you see those shelves over there? They hold all your mama’s 17)fancy china and crystal now, but once they were filled with jars of food prepared by these old hands. Hard work and I were constant companions. Your grampa and I built this very house, 18)beam by beam, brick by brick.”
  
  The child’s eyes widen as he studies the heavy, overhead wooden beams that run the length of the room; he 19)screws up his face in 20)consternation. It is inconceivable to him that this tiny, 21)frail woman could possibly lift anything heavier than a cup. Why, didn’t he have to carry her plate over to her chair at suppertime? Gamma was very unsteady on her 22)spindly legs and sometimes she dropped things or spilled something on Mama’s spotlessly clean floor. Whenever that happened, Mama would roll her eyes and her lips would form a thin, hard line, like a 23)crack in 24)cement; and though she never said a word, Mama would always give a tiny, disapproving 25)sniff. Gamma always pretended not to notice, but Seamus wasn’t fooled. He knew Mama’s impatience and 26)fussiness made the old woman feel embarrassed and upset. He 27)adored his Gamma and was happiest when he looked up into her warm, smiling eyes and then felt her touchÑ gentle and soft as silkÑas she 28)fleetingly brushed the hair from his eyes whenever he brought her meal or her tea.
  
  “Gamma,” the child’s voice raises an 29)octave higher, “how ever did someone so small ever lift those heavy beams?” The old woman smiled, the lines on her face softening as she gently patted his head.
  
  “There was a time, a long time ago when I was healthy and very strong. Love is a strong and committed power and it can create miracles. My love for your grampa and for our life together made even the most 30)gruelling task a joy. And with your grampa’s strength and our mutual love and determination we were able to build this house and our future together.”
  
  “My hands were pretty then, the skin as soft as a powder puff. Your dear grampa often told me he fell in love with me from the instant he first held them. And from that very first moment, I loved him too. Before too long your grampa and I joined our hands and our hearts. Though my heart 31)soared through life with the ease of a dove, my hands were grounded to the earth and they32)weathered many a task over the years. They sawed wood in the morning and 33)suckled your father at night. Winters, they cracked and bled from the cold and in summers they were 34)stained with dirt from the garden, the fingers dyed red from all the berries they 35)crushed. They sewed clothes, cooked meals and pushed the plough. Your grampa adored these old hands and he 36)clutched them tightly until he drew his last breath. When he went on to heaven he took their beauty and softness with himÑa gift I gave willingly with eagerness and joy. And so, little one, my hands, once my pride and joy, 37)shrivelled with sadness at his passingÑbecoming bent and misshapenÑwith skin like 38)parchmentÑa constant reminder of how dry and 39)fragile my heart has felt without him by my side.”
  
  “Oh,” the child said with an understanding far beyond his years, “that sounds more like the truth.” Glancing around to make sure Mama couldn’t hear, he whispered 40)conspiratorially into the old woman’s ear,“Mama said it was 41)art-er-itis.”
  
  The unfamiliar sound of the old woman’s musical laugh brightened the room. It reminded the boy of the melody of water 42)gurgling over rocks in the creek out back. His own smile reflected her joy at their shared confidence and he gazed lovingly into her gentle, 43)rheumy eyes as she drew him close and ran her fingers softly through his hair.
  
  Sighing with contentment, the small lad reached down and gently clasped his Grandmother’s thin, bony hands and folded them warm and safe within his own.
  




  一位祖母给孙子讲述她的双手变得
  粗糙干枯的故事,以此告诉他生活的苦难。
  
  老太太坐在炉火前的摇椅上,来回地摇动着。她的孙子——长得和他已去世的爸爸一模一样,正站在她身边,若有所思地仰望着奶奶那张曾经年轻的脸。
  
  “奶奶,为什么你的双手都卷曲成那样啊?”这个问题并非带有恶意,不过是一个孩子的好奇提问。老太太的眼神变得柔和起来,她把孙子搂进怀里。有那么短暂的一瞬,她陷入无语当中,因为她的思绪飘到了一个久远的地方。当她低头注视着自己的双手,一滴泪慢慢凝聚于眼角。那双手,曾经是那么强劲有力,如今却因经年操劳而变得粗糙并布满皱纹,指关节也歪曲变形了。她是从不屈服于自怜的,她抬起头,疼爱地凝视着小孙子那熟悉的眼睛,开始讲述她的故事。
  
  “啊,我的宝贝,当我还是一个年轻女子的时候,我的身体还不曾与我为敌,我总是从早到晚辛苦劳作着。你看到那边的架子了吗? 现在它们摆放着你妈妈喜爱的一些奇特瓷器和水晶饰品,但是,这些架子曾经放满了一罐罐由这双苍老的手制作的食物。我一直做着那些艰辛的工作。这所房子也是我和你爷爷一梁一柱,一砖一瓦地建起来的。”
  
  当孩子研究头顶上那横跨房间的沉重木梁时,他惊讶地睁大了眼睛;他惊愕得脸都扭紧了。他无法想象,这个瘦小而虚弱的妇人能够举起比一只杯子更重的东西。为什么呢?他不是在晚饭的时候还得把盘子给她端过去?奶奶虚弱的腿连站都站不稳,有时候,她还把东西掉落或溅洒到妈妈打扫得一尘不染的洁净地板上。每当出现那样的情况,妈妈总会溜转着眼睛,嘴唇撇成一条细小却很生硬的线,如同水泥地上出现了一条裂缝。尽管妈妈从来不说出口,但她总会发出一声轻微的不满的嗤鼻声。对此,奶奶总是假装没有听到,可谢默斯却不会被她骗倒。他知道妈妈的不耐烦和介意使奶奶感到尴尬和不安。他爱奶奶,每当他给她端茶送饭,她会很快地轻拂盖在他眼睛上的头发,而他则凝视着她那温暖带笑的眼睛,感受着她像丝一般温和、轻柔的抚摸——他觉得这个时候是最幸福的时刻。
  
  “奶奶,”孩子的声音抬高了八度,“那么弱小的人究竟是怎样抬起那些沉重的木梁的?”老太太微笑着,轻轻地拍了拍他的头,脸部的线条变得很柔和。
  
  “那是很久以前了,我那时很健康也很强壮。爱情是一种强大而坚定的力量,它可以创造出奇迹。我对你爷爷的爱加上对我们生活的爱,使得最繁重累人的工作也充满了乐趣。凭着你爷爷的实力和我们之间的互爱与决心,我们一起建造了这所房子,还有我们的未来。”
  
  “那时候我的手可漂亮了,皮肤就像粉扑那么柔软。你亲爱的爷爷经常对我说,他第一次握住我的手的那一刻,他就爱上了我。而我也是那一次就爱上了他。不久,我和你爷爷就手牵手,心连心了。尽管我的心如鸽子般悠闲的飞翔,但我却通过双手脚踏实地地劳作着,这么多年来它们完成了许许多多工作。这双手在清晨时锯木,到了晚上给你爸爸喂奶;冬天的时候,它们因寒冷而开裂、流血,到了夏天,它们会被园子里的污泥弄脏,手指会被它们捻碎的浆果染红。它们缝补衣服,烹饪饭菜,犁田耕地。你爷爷很喜爱这双苍老的手,他紧紧地抓住它们直到咽气的那一刻。他把这双手的美丽和柔韧一起带去了天堂—那是我怀着殷切和喜悦,心甘情愿送给他的礼物。因此,小家伙,我的手—我曾经的自豪和快乐,因他离去的悲伤而干枯卷缩了,变得弯曲、畸形;皮肤也变得像羊皮纸一样粗糙——这不断地提醒我,没有他在我身边,我的心感到如此干枯、脆弱。”
  
  “噢,”以一种远远超出他年龄的理解,孩子说,“这听起来更像事实。”他扫视了一下四周,以确保妈妈不会听见他在奶奶的耳边秘密地低语:“妈妈说过,这是动——脉——炎。”
  
  老太太发出久违的如同音乐般的笑声,房间里的气氛顿时快活起来。这笑声让孩子想起了流水在小溪的石头上汩汩穿流的动听旋律。看到她因他们分享的信任而感到欢乐,孩子也笑了。当她把他拉近,用手指轻柔地拢着他的头发时,他亲切地注视着她那温柔、湿润的眼睛。
  
  小家伙发出满足的叹息,垂身轻握祖母那双瘦骨嶙峋的手,然后用自己的双手温暖、小心地把它们包住。
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