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2021年翻译资格二级笔译散文翻译:青青草地

来源:考试网   2021-05-19【

  青青草地

  有些画闻名于世,是因为多历年所,被一代代人观赏,而在每一代人中,都可能遇到几双有鉴赏力的眼睛。

  可我知道一幅很容易消失的画,除了一些爱四处游荡的鹿,它几乎全然不为世人所见。绘出这幅画的是一条河,而就是这同一条河,往往不等我领朋友去欣赏其画作,就会从人的视野中将画永远抹去。此后那幅画就只存在于我的想象之中。

  像其他艺术家一样,我那条河也是喜怒无常;其绘画灵感何时降临,创作情绪能延伸多久,从来都没有丝毫预兆。但是在仲夏季节,当大朵大朵的白云像舰队游弋于蓝天之际,当纯净无暇的好天气日复一日之时,单是为了看那条河会不会还在作画,也值得去一趟河边那些沙洲。

  绘画始于河边宽宽的一溜泥沙地带,泥沙带薄薄地涂抹在因水位下降而露出的沙地上。当泥沙带在阳光下慢慢干涸之时,黄雀会来其间的那些小水塘中洗澡,而苍鹭、喧鸻、乌龟、浣熊和鹿,则会用足迹为那条带子镶饰一道花边。至此,接下来是否会发生什么尚不得而知。

  然而,一旦看见这泥沙带因冒出荸荠苗而变绿,我就会开始细心观察,因为这就是那条河有心情作画的信号。几乎在一夜之间,荸荠苗就会铺成一片厚厚的草甸,那么青翠,那般茂密,连附近高坡上的田鼠也经不住这诱惑,于是会倾巢而出,来享用着青青草地。不难看出,田鼠爱整夜整夜地在天鹅绒般的草甸里穿梭,让芊芊草茎揉擦其两肋。匀称而迂曲的鼠径可证明它们在夜间迸发的激情。鹿也会来这草甸上四处溜达,显然是为了感受足踏青草的那份惬意。就连很少出穴的鼹鼠也挖掘隧道,穿过干燥的沙洲,来到那片带状荸荠草地,在那儿尽情地拱翻草皮,隆起土丘。

  到这个时候,多得不计其数、小得无法辨认的植物幼苗,会从青草甸下温润的泥沙中勃然冒出。

  要看到此画完成,至少得让那条河三个星期内不被人打扰。然后在某个晴朗的黎明,在太阳刚刚融化掉晨雾之后,再去看那片沙洲。这时那位艺术家已铺开各色颜料,并将其拌合着露珠泼洒到草间。现在那一溜比先前更绿的荸荠草甸会缀满五颜六色:猴面花之紫蓝、青兰花之粉红、茨菰花之乳白,其间还随处可见一株株红花半边莲将其红艳艳的矛尖刺向天空。在沙洲尽头,紧挨着一排柳树,有堇紫色的紫苑花和淡粉色的泽兰亭亭玉立。即便你始终都保持肃穆而谦恭,就像你去任何其美只会昙花一现的地方那样,你仍有可能会惊动一头狐红色的鹿,一头在没膝深的花草丛中欣然陶然的鹿。

  别指望回头再看一眼那青青草地,因为那片草地将不复存在。要么是河水消退使其干枯,要么是水位上涨冲刷沙洲,使之又变回原来那片空空如也的沙地。不过,你或许会将那幅画挂在心中,并期望在另外某一个夏天,那条河又突然生出作画的心情。

  The Green Pasture

  Some paintings become famous because, being durable, they are viewed by successive generations, in each of which are likely to be found a few appreciative eyes.

  I know a painting so evanescent that it is seldom viewed at all, except by some wandering deer. It is a river who wields the brush, and it is the same river who, before I can bring my friends to view his work, erases it forever from human view. After that it exists only in my mind’s eye.

  Like other artists, my river is temperamental; there is no predicting when the mood to paint will come upon him, or how long it will last. But in midsummer, when the great white fleets cruise the sky for day after flawless day, it is worth strolling down to the sandbars just to see whether he has been at work.

  The work begins with a broad ribbon of silt brushed thinly on the sand of a receding shore. As this dries slowly in the sun, goldfinches bathe in its pools, and deer, herons, killdeers, raccoons, and turtles cover it with a lacework of tracks. There is no telling, at this stage, whether anything further will happen.

  But when I see the silt ribbon turning green with Eleocharis, I watch closely thereafter, for this is the sign that the river is in a painting mood. Almost overnight the Eleocharis becomes a thick turf, so lush and dense that the meadow mice from the adjoining upland cannot resist the temptation. They move en masse to the green pasture, and apparently spend the nights rubbing their ribs in its velvety depths. A maze of neatly tended mouse-trails bespeaks their enthusiasm. The deer walk up and down in it, apparently just for the pleasure of feeling it underfoot. Even a stay-at-home mole has tunneled his way across the dry bar to the Eleocharis ribbon, where he can heave and hump the verdant sod to his heart’s content.

  At this stage the seedlings of plants too numerous to count and too young to recognize spring to life from the damp warm sand under the green ribbon.

  To view the painting, give the river three more weeks of solitude, and then visit the bar on some bright morning just after the sun has melted the daybreak fog. The artist has now laid his colors, and sprayed them with dew. The Eleocharis sod, greener than ever, is now spangled with blue mimulus, pink dragon-head, and the milk-white blooms of Sagittaria. Here and there a cardinal flower thrusts a red spear skyward. At the head of the bar, purple ironweeds and pale pink joe-pyes stand tall against the wall of willows. And if you have come quietly and humbly, as you should to any spot that can be beautiful only once, you may surprise a fox-red deer, standing knee-high in the garden of his delight.

  Do not return for a second view of the green pasture, for there is none. Either falling water has dried it out, or rising water has scoured the bar to its original austerity of clean sand. But in your mind you may hang up your picture, and hope that in some other summer the mood to paint may come upon the river.

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