我在工学院的鍋爐房里瓦夏叔叔那里坐着。他是个火夫。我常常看到他臉上、工作服上沾滿了煤灰。他拿了一把鏟子,站在那些古怪地高悬在他的头頂上空的大锅爐旁边。锅炉象一羣侧身躺着的大象。我很难想象这就是那个快乐的、善良的瓦夏叔叔,在五月的綠蔭里,同一大羣孩子到树林里捉鸟儿,在昏暗的房里,傾听小金絲雀嘹亮地鳴囀,向老歌鳥学习。我的父亲也是挺爱鸟儿的人,不过他从来也不去捉鳥。瓦夏叔叔却是 I sat there in the boiler room of the College of Engineering, Uncle Vasha. He is a firefighter. I often see his face, work clothes covered with coal ash. He took a shovel and stood by the big boiler that weirdly hung above his head. The boiler is like a group of elephants lying sideways. I can hardly imagine this is that happy, kind-hearted Uncle Vasha, in May the greenery, the same large group of children to the woods to catch birds, in the dark room, listen to the small Canary shines loudly, to Songs learn. My father is also a lover of birds, but he never goes hunting for birds. Uncle Vasha is