Listen to this article土地
The Earth
余华
Yu Hua
我觉得土地是一个充实的令人感激的形象，比如是一个祖父，是我们的老爷子。这个历尽沧桑的老人懂得真正的沉默，任何惊喜和忧伤都不会打动他。他知道一切，可是他什么都不说，只是看着，看着日出和日落，看着四季的转换，看着我们的出生和死去。我们之间的相爱和勾心斗角，对他来说都是一回事。
The word “farmland” is imbued with an apparent generosity; to me it means the earth. The earth has a fulfilled and touching image, like a grandfather, the old man of the family. This old man has seen much of life and he understands the real meaning of silence; no pleasant surprise or sadness could touch him. He knows all there is to know, but he says nothing. He only watches us as we are born and as we die. Our love lives and our fights are all the same to him.
大约是在四五岁的时候，我离开了杭州，跟随父母来到一个名叫海盐的小县城。我们在一条弄堂的底端一住就是十多年，县城弄堂的末尾实际上就是农村了。我的童年和少年时期，在那块有着很多池塘、春天开放着油菜花、夏天里满是蛙声的土地上，于了很多神秘的已经让我想不起来的坏事，偶尔也做过一些好事。
It might have been when I was five or six years old that I left Hangzhou and followed my parents to a small provincial town called Haiyan. I lived for more than ten years at the end of a lane; this provincial town’s lane’s end was actually farmland. My childhood and teenage years were spent making mischief there, where there were many ponds, oilseed rape flowers bloomed in the spring, and frogs croaked in the summer. Of course I have done good things there too.
回忆使我看到了过去的炊烟，从农舍的屋顶出发，缓慢地汇入到傍晚宁静的霞光里。田野在细雨中的影像最为感人，那时候它不再空旷，弥漫开来的雾气不知为何让人十分温暖。我特别喜欢听黄昏收工时农民的吆喝，几头被迫离开池塘的水牛，走上了狭窄的田埂。还有来自蔬菜地的淡淡的粪味，这南方农村潮湿的气息，对我来说就是土地的清香。
Memory is making me see the chimney smoke of the past; they started from the roofs of the farmhouses, and slowly merged into the quiet twilight of the dusk. The way the fields looked in the light rain was most touching. They no longer looked open and spacious but were shrouded in a spreading fog that somehow made one feel very warm. I especially liked hearing the yells from the farmers when they finished working at dusk. Several water buffalos, after they were forced to leave the ponds, walked onto the narrow field ridges. Then there was the light color of manure from the vegetable fields. The humid atmosphere of a southern farmland was, to me, filled with the fragrance of earth.
这就是土地给予我一个孩子的最初的礼物。它向我敞开胸膛，让我在上面游荡时感到踏实，感到它时刻都在支撑着我。
This is what earth has given me, the very first gift for a child. He opened his embrace, making me feel secure when I climbed up to his chest, feeling as if he was supporting me every minute.
我童年伙伴里有许多农村孩子，他们最突出的形象是挎着割草篮子在田野里奔跑，而我那时候是房屋的囚徒。父母去上班以后，就把我和哥哥反锁在屋里，我们只能羡慕地趴在楼上的窗口，眺望那些在土地上施展自由的孩子。他们时常跑到楼下来和我们对话，他们最关心的是在楼上究竟能望多远，我哥哥那时已经懂得如何炫耀自己了，他告诉他们能望到大海。那些楼下的孩子个个目瞪口呆，谎言使我哥哥体会到了自己的优越。然而当他们离去时，他们黝黑的身体在夏天的阳光里摇摇晃晃，嫉妒就笼罩了哥哥和我。那些农村孩子赤裸的脚和土地是那么和谐。
Many of my childhood friends were country kids. What I remembered most vividly about them was them running with baskets for grass cutting in the fields, whereas I was a prisoner in the house. After my parents left for work, they would lock my older brother and I inside. We could only enviously prop ourselves by the window, and look for the country kids who were roaming free in the fields. They often ran to the house and talked to us. What they were most interested in was how far we could see. My brother already knew how to brag by then. He told them we could see the sea. The kids on the ground were all dumbfounded; the lies made my brother feel his own superiority. Yet when they left, as we saw their tanned bodies swaying in the summer sun, jealousy would envelope my brother and I. Those country kids’ naked feet were so harmonious with the earth.
（Ren Zhong, Yuzhi Yang 译）
