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19翻硕考研复习资料--张培基译《冬夜》冬夜艾芜冬天一个冰寒的晚上。在寂宽的马路旁边，疏枝交横的树下，候着最后一辆搭客汽车的，只我一人。虽然不远的墙边，也蹲有一团黑影，但他却是伸手讨钱的。马路两旁，远远近近都立着灯窗明灿的别墅，向暗蓝的天空静静地微笑着。在马路仁是冷冰冰的，还刮着一阵阵猛厉的风。留在枝头的一两片枯叶，也不时发出破碎的哭声。那蹲着的黑影，接了我的一枚铜板，就高兴地站起来向我搭话，一面抱怨着天气：“真冷呀，再没有比这里更冷了！……先生，你说是不是?”看见他并不是个讨厌的老头子，便也高兴地说道：“乡下怕更要冷些吧?”“不，不。”他接着咳嗽起来，要吐出的话，塞在喉管里了。我说：“为什么?你看见一下霜，乡下的房屋和田野，便在早上白了起来，街上却一点也看不见。”他捶了几下胸口之后，兴奋地接着说道：“是的，是的……乡下冷，你往人家门前的稻草堆上一钻就暖了哪……这街上，哼，鬼地方！……还有那些山里呵，比乡下更冷哩，咳，那才好哪！火烧一大堆，大大小小一家人，闹热呀！……”接着他便说到壮年之日，在南方那些山中冬夜走路的事情。一个人的漂泊生活，我是喜欢打听的，同时车又没有驰来.便怂思他说了下去。他说晚上在那些山里，只要你是一个正派的人，就可以朝灯火人家一直走去，迎着犬声，敞开树阴下的柴门，大胆地闯进。对着火堆周围的人们，不管他男的女的，用两手向他们两肩头一分，就把你带着风寒露湿的身子，轻轻地放了进去。烧山芋和热茶的香味，便一下子扑人你的鼻子。抬头看，四周闪着微笑的眼睛，欢迎着，毫没有怪你唐突的神情。你刚开口说由哪儿来的时候，一杯很热的浓茶，就递在你的下巴边上。老太婆盼咐她的孙女，快把火拨大些，多添点子柴，说是客人要烘吸他的身子；你暖和了，还不觉得疲倦的话，你可以摸摸小孩子的下巴，拧拧他们的脸蛋，做一点奇怪的样子，给他们嬉笑。年轻的妈妈，一高兴了，便会怂恿他的孩子把拿着要吃的烧山芋，分开一半，放在你这位客人的手上。如果你要在他们家过夜，他们的招待，就更来得殷勤些。倘若歇一会，暖暖身子，还要朝前赶路，一出柴门，还可听见一片欢送的声音：“转来时，请来玩呀!”老头子讲着讲着，给冷风一吹，便又咳嗽起来，我听得冷都忘记了，突然老头子忘形地拉着我问道：“先生，这到底是什么原因哪?……这里的人家，火堆一定烧得多的，看窗子多么亮哪……他们为什么不准一个异乡人进去烤烤手哩?”搭客汽车从远处轰轰地驰来了，我赶忙摆他的手，高声说道：“因为他们是文明的人，不像那些山里的……”再跳进通明的汽车里，蓦地离开他了。但远的南国山中，小小的灯火人家里面，那些丰美的醉人的温暖，却留在我的冬夜的胸中了。WinterNightAiWuItwasacoldwinternight.Thestreetwasdeserted.Istoodaloneunderatreewithanentanglementofbarebranchesoverhead,waitingforthelastbustoarrive.Afewpacesoffinthedarknesstherewasashadowyfiguresquattingagainstthewall,buttieturnedouttobeatramp.Thestreetwaslinedwithfinehouses,theirilluminatedwindowsbeamingquietlytowardsthedarkbluesky.Itwasicycoldwithagustofstrongwiredhowlingaround.Acoupleofwitheredleaves,stillclingingtothebranches,rustledmournfullyfromtimetotithe.Theshadowyfigure,takingacoppercoinfrommewiththanks,straighteneduptoattemptaconversationwithme.It'sreallycoldhere,hecomplained.Itcouldn'tbecolderanywhereelse....Whatdoyouthink,sir?Seeingthathewasnottoonastyanoldman,Ireadilyresponded:Itmusthecolderinthecountry,I'mafraid.”No,no,hedisagreedandbegantocough,hiswordsstuckupinhisthroat.Why?Iasked.Inthecountrywhenitfrosts,youalwaysfindtheroofsandthefieldsturningwhiteinthemorning,butyoudon'tseethathereonthestreets.”Hepattedhischesttoeaseoffhiscoughingandwentonexcitedly:True,true...it'scoldinthecountry,butwhenyougetintosomebody'sstrawstack,youarewarmagainatonce....Butthisstreet,humm,whataterribleplace!Inthemountains,it'sevencolder,butwhentheyhaveafireinthehousewiththewholefamilysittingaroundit,wow,it'sheaven!Thenhebegantorelatetometheadventuresofhisyoungerdays-travellingaloneinwinternightsthroughthemountainsinthesouth.AsIwasinterestedinstoriesaboutwanderersandsincethebushadnotarrivedyet,Iencouragedhimtogoon.Whenyouendupinthemountainsatnight,hesaid,andifyouareadecentperson,youcanalwaysturntotheplacewherethereisalightflickeringandadogharking.Youpushopenthebramblegateundertheshadeandwalkinwithouthesitation.Partthepeople,menorwomen,aroundthefirewithyourhandsandyoubringyourself--acoldandwetmanwithdew-amongthem.Immediatelyyournoseisfilledwiththearomaofhotteaandroastsweetpotatoes.Whenyoulookroundyouseefriendlyfacessmilingatyou;thereisnohintofanythinglikeblameforwhatelsewheremightbeconsideredasbrusqueness.Scarcelyhaveyoubeguntotellthemwhereyoucomefromwhenacupofhotandstrongteaishandedovertoyou.Grandmawilltellhergranddaughtertofeedthefirewithmorewood,sayingthattheguestneedsmorebeattowarmup.Whenyouarerecoveredfromcoldandfatigue,youtendtoteasethebaby,strokinghischin,givingagentlepinchtohischeekormakingafacetoprovokehimtogurgle.Hedelightedyoungmotherwillencourageherbabytosharehissweetpotatowithyou.Thebabywillthenbreakitintwoandthrustonehalfintoyourhand.Ifyouintendtostayovernight,youwillbeentertainedwithallpossiblehospitality.Ifyou'vejustdroppedintowarmupandthengoonyourway,theywillseeyouoffatthegate,saying'Pleasedodropinonusagainonyourwayback,'Inthemiddleofhisbabblinganothergustofwindbrushedbyandtheoldmanbegantocoughagain.IwassointriguedbyhisstorythatIdidnotfeelthecoldanymore.Suddenlyhegrabbedmyhand,forgettingthatwewerestrangers,andasked:Sir,couldyoutellmewhythepeoplehereevendonotallowacountrymanintowarmhishands?Theymust'vegotbiggerfiresintheirhouses-Lookattheirbrightwindows...Thebuscamerumblingup.Withdrawingmyhandfromhis,IansweredatthetopofmyvoiceBecausetheyaremorecivilizedthanthemountainpeople...WiththatIjumpedontothebrightly-litbuswhichstartedmovingon,leavingtheoldmanbehind.Butthelittlehouseswithflickeringoillampsintheremotemountainsandtheintoxicatingwarmthandfriendlinessoftheirinhabitantsleftadeepimpressonmymemory.