林湖重游Once More to the Lake（1/2）
埃尔文·布鲁克斯·怀特/ Elwyn Brooks White
埃尔文·布鲁克斯·怀特（1899—1985），美国当代著名散文家、评论家，以散文名世，生于纽约蒙特弗农，毕业于康奈尔大学。作为《纽约客》主要撰稿人的怀特一手奠定了影响深远的“《纽约客》文风”。怀特对这个世界上的一切都充满关爱，他的道德与他的文章一样山高水长。除了他终生挚爱的随笔之外，他还为孩子们写了三本书：《斯图尔特鼠小弟》（又译《精灵鼠小弟》）《夏洛的网》与《吹小号的天鹅》，同样成为儿童与成人共同喜爱的文学经典。
Acethe Hole
Uand these new phrases before you read this article.
1. roll over:翻滚
2. take along:随身携带，带上
3. settle to:习惯于……
4. sneak up:悄悄地靠近
5. shut off:切断
One sur, along about 1904, y father rented a t on our ars and legs night and , and y father rolled overa oe with all his clothes on; but outside of that the vacation was a suess and fro then on none ofever thought there cethe world like that keMae. We returned sur after sur—always on Augt 1st for oh. I have sce bee a salt-water an, but sotissur there are days when the restlessness, of the tides and the fearful ld of the sea water and the cessant d which blow across the afternoon and to the eveng akewish for the pcidity of a kethe woods. A few weeks ago this feelg got s I bought yself a uple of bass hooks and a spner auro the ke where we ed to go, for a week’s fishg and to revisit old haunts.
I took along y son, who had never had any fresh water up his nose and who had seen lily pads only fro tra dows. On the journey over to the ke I began to wonder what it would be like. I wondered how ti would have arred this uhis holy spot—the ves and streas, the hills that the su behd, the caps and the paths behd the caps. I was sure the tarred road would have found it out and I wonderedwhat other ways it would be desoted. It is strange how uch youreber about pces like that once you allow your d to return to the grooves which lead back, you reber ohg, and that suddenly reds you of ahg. I guess I rebered clearest of all the early s, when the ke was ol and otionless, rebered how the bedroo slled of the ber it was ade of and of the wet woods whose st ehrough the s. The partitionsthe cap were th and did end clear to theof the roos, and as I was always the first up I would dress softly so as not to wake the others, and slide out to the sweet outdoors and start out the oe, keepg close along the shorethe long shadows of the pes. I reber beg very careful o rub y paddle agast the gunwale for fear of disturbg the stillness of the cathedral.
The ke had never been what you would call a wild ke. There were ttages sprkled around the shores, and it wasfarg untry although the shore of the ke were quite heavily wooded. So of the ttages were owned by nearby farrs, and you would live at the shore a your als at the farhoe. That’s what our faily did. But although it wasn’t wild, it was a fairly rge and undisturbed ke and there were pcesit which, to a child at least, seed fitely reote and prival.
I was right about the tar: it led to with half a ile of the shore. But when I got back there, with y boy, atled to a ear a farhoe and to the kd of surti I had known, I uld tell that it was gog to be pretty uch the sa as it had been before—I k, lygbed the first , sllg the bedroo, and hearg the boy sneak quietly out and go off along the shorea boat. I began to sta the ilsion that he was I, and therefore, by siple transposition, that I was y father. This sensation persisted, kept t, I would be pickg up a bait b down a table fork, or I would be sayg sothg, and suddenly it would be not I but y father who was sayg the wordsthe gesture. It gavea creepy sensation.
We went fishg the first , I felt the sa dap oss verg the worsthe bait , and saw the dragonfly alight oip of y rod as it hovered a few ches fro the surface of the water, it was the arrival of this fly that nvcedbeyond any doubt that everythg was as it always had been, that the years were a irage and there had been no years. The sall waves were the sa, chuckg the rowboat uhe ch as we fished at anchor, and the boat was the sa boat, the sa lreen and the ribs brokenthe sa pce, and uhe floor, boards the sa fresh-water leavgs and debris-the dead hellgraite, the wisps of oss, the rty discarded fishhook, the dried blood fro yesterday’s catch. We stared silently at the tips of our rods, at the dragohat d went. I lowered the tip of e to the water, tentatively, pensively dislodgg the fly, which darted o feet aoised, darted o feet back, and ca to rest aga a little farther up the rod. There had been no years beeen the ducklg of this dragonfly and the other ohe ohat ast of ory. I looked at the boy, who was silently watchg his fly, and it was y hands that held his rod, y eyes watchg. I felt dizzy and didn’t know which rod I was at the end of.
We caught o bass, haulg thebriskly as though they were ahes fro the dock, and there was only the rest suggestion of a breeze. This seed an utterly ented sea, this ke you uld leave to its own devices for a few hours and e back to, and fd that it had not stirred, this nstant and trorthy body of water. In the shallows, the dark, water-soaked sticks and igs, sooth and old, were undutgcsters oto agast theribbed sand, and the track of the sel . A school of nows swa by, eaow with its sall dividual shadow, doublg, the attendance, so clear and sharpthe sunlight. So of the other capers wereswig, along the shore, one of the with a cake of soap, and the water felt th and clear and unsubstantial. Over the years there had been this person with the cake of soap, this cultist, and here he was. There had been no years.
Up to the farhoe th the teeg, dty field, the road under our sneakers was only a o-track road. The iddle track was issg, the oh the arks of the hooves and the splotches of dried, fky ahere had always been three tracks to choose frochoosg which track to walk , now the choice was narrowed down to o. For a ont I issed terribly the iddle alternative. But the way led past the tennis urt; and sothg about the way it y therethe sun reassured , the tape had loosened along the backle, the alleys were green with pntas and other weeds, and the(stalledJune and reovedSepteber) saggedthe dry noon, and the whole pce stead with idday heat and hunger aess. There was a choice of pie for dessert, and one was beberry and one le, and the waitresses were the sa untry girls, there havg been no passage of ti, only the ilsion of it asa dropped curta—the waitresses were still fifteen; their hair had been washed, that was the only differehey had been to the ovies ahe pretty girls with thehair.
Surti, oh surti, pattern of life delible, the fade-proof ke, the woods unshatterable, the pasture with the sweet fern and the juniper forever, and ever, sur without end; this was the background, and the life along the shore was the design, the ttagers with theirand tranquil design, their ty docks with the fgpole and the Ari fg floatg agast the white cloudsthe be sky, the little paths over the roots of the trees leadg fro cap to cap and the paths leadg back to the outhoes and theof li for sprkg, and at the souvenir unters at the store the iature birch-bark oes and the post cards that showed thgs lookg a little better than they looked. This was the Ari faily at py, escapg the city heat, w whether the newersthe cap at the head of the ve were“on”or“nice,”w whether it was true that the people who drove up for Sunday d the farhoe were turned away becae there wasn’t enough chi.
It seed to , as I kept reberg all this, that those tis and those surs had been fitely precio and worth savg. There had been jollity and pead goodness. The arrivg (at the begng of Augt) had been so big a bessitself, at the railway station the far wagon drawn up, the first sll of the pe-den air, the first glipse of the silg farr, and the great iportance of the trunks and your father’s enoro authoritysuch atters, and the feel of the wagon under you for the long ten-ile haul, and at theof the st long hill catchg the first view of the ke after eleven onths of not seeg this cherished body of water. The shouts and cries of the other capers when they saw you, and the trunks to be unpacked, to give up their rich burden. (Arrivg was less excitg nowadays, when you sneaked upyour car and parked it under a tree he cap and took out the bags andfive utes it was all over, no fs, no loud wonderful fs about trunks.)
Pead goodness and jollity. The only thg that was wrong now, really, was the sound of the pce, an unfailiar nervo sound of the outboard otors. This was the hat jarred, the ohg that would sotis break the ilsion ahe years ovg. In those other sur tis all otors were board; and when they were at a little distahe hey ade was a sedative, an gredient of sur sleep. They were one-cylder and o-cylder enges, and so were ake-and-break and so were jup-spark, but they all ade a sleepy sound across the ke. The one-cylder throbbed and fttered, and the -cylder ones purred and purred, and that was a quiet sound too. But now the capers all had outboards. In the dayti,the hs, these otors ade a petunt, irritable sound; at night,the still eveng wheerglow lit the water, they whed about one’s ears like osquitoes. My boy loved our rented outboard, and his great desire was to achieve sgle handed astery over it, and authority, and he soon learhe trick of chokg it a little (but not too uch), and the adjtnt of the needle valve. Watchg hi I would reber the thgs you uld do with the old one-cylder eh the heavy flywheel, how you uld have it eatg out of your hand if you got really close to it spiritually. Motor boatsthose days didn’t have ctches, and you would ake a ndg by shuttg off the otor at the proper ti and astgwith a dead rudder. But there was a way of reversg the, if you learhe trick, by cuttg the switd puttg it on aga exactly on the fal dyg revotion of the flywheel, so that it would kick back agast pression and beg reversg. Approachg a docka strong follog breeze, it was difficult to slow up suffitly by the ordary astg thod, and if a boy felt he had plete astery over his otor, he was tepted to keep it runng beyond its ti and then reverse it a few feet fro the dock. It took a ol nerve. Becae if you threw the switch a eh of a send too soon you would catch the flywheel when it still had speed enough to go up past ter, and the boat would leap ahead, chargg bull-fashion at the dock.
参考译文
大约在1904年的夏季，我父亲在缅因州的一个湖畔租了一间临时住房，把我们都带去了。整个八月，我们都是在那里度过的。我们从一些小猫身上传染了金钱癣，一天到晚不得不在胳膊和腿上都擦满旁氏冷霜；还有一次，我父亲从船上掉入水中，当时他穿着西装革履。不过除了这些，我们度过了一个愉快的假期。从那时起，我们大家都公认缅因州的这个湖是世上无与伦比的地方。连续几个夏天，我们都在那里度过——通常八月一日到达，过完整个八月。再后来，我爱上了海滨生活。但是在夏季的有些日子里，海浪汹涌不息，海水冰凉刺骨，海风从上午到下午吹个不停，这一切让我很是渴望山林中小湖边的清静。几周以前，这种情形愈加强烈。于是，我买了两根鲈鱼钓竿和一些诱饵，重新回到以前我们常去的那个湖畔，故地重游，钓上一个星期的鱼。
我是带着我儿子一起去的。他从没有游过淡水湖，只是透过火车上的玻璃窗看见过漂浮在水面上的莲叶。在驶向湖畔的路上，我开始想象它现在的样子。我猜测岁月会把这片独一无二的圣地破坏成怎样一副模样——那里的海湾和小溪、笼罩在落日里的山峦，还有宿营的小屋和屋后的小路。我相信这条柏油马路已经给了我答案，我还在想象其他哪些地方也被破坏了。很奇怪，一旦你任由思绪回归往日，很多旧地的记忆就会被重新唤醒。你记起了一件事情，就会联想起另一件事情。我想我记得最清楚的是那些爽朗的清晨，清凉的湖水；平静的湖面；卧室里弥漫着木屋的清香；屋子外面，湿润的树林散发的芳香穿透房间的墙板，依稀可嗅。木屋的隔板很薄，而且离房顶有一段距离。我总是第一个起床的人，为了不吵醒别人，我蹑手蹑脚地穿好衣服，悄悄地溜出屋来。外面一片馥郁芬芳，我坐上小船出发，沿着湖岸，在一条长长的松树阴影里划过。我记得当时我总是很谨慎，从来不让我的桨与船舷的上缘碰在一起，以免打破教堂的宁静。
这个湖绝不是人们所说的那种荒郊野湖。一些村舍零星地坐落在湖岸边上，尽管湖边都是茂密的树木，但这里还是农区。有些村舍是附近农家的，你可以住在湖边，到农舍里用餐——我们一家就是这样。不过，这个湖并不显得荒凉，它相当大且不受外界干扰。至少对于一个孩子来说，有些地方确实太过于沉静，而且有点儿原始的味道。
我对柏油马路的猜测是正确的，它把我们带到了离岸边只有半英里的地方。我带着儿子又回到了这里，当我们安顿在一家农舍附近的木屋后，又重新感受到了我所熟悉的那种夏日时光，我知道这一切都和原来一样——我对这一点坚信不疑。第一天早上，我躺在**，闻着卧室里的清香，听见我的儿子悄悄地溜出房门，乘上一条小船沿着湖岸划去。我突然产生一种错觉，他就是我，而根据最简单的推移法，我就是我父亲了。在那些日子里，这种感觉一直存在，并且反复地在我头脑中呈现。这种感觉并不是前所未有，但在这个地方，它却变得越来越强烈：我过的似乎是一种双重的生活。有时我做一些简单的活动，比方说捡起一个装鱼饵的盒子，或者放下一只餐叉，又或是在说什么话的当儿，就突然有种感觉，好像说话的人或者摆着某个姿势的人不是我，而是我父亲——这真让我不寒而栗。
第一天早上，我们一起去钓鱼。我感觉那些与昔日同样潮湿的苔藓覆盖着罐子里的鱼饵，蜻蜓在离水面几英寸的地方盘旋，接着便落在了我的钓竿头上。正是这只蜻蜓的到来使我更加坚信，所有这一切都和过去一样。岁月就像海市蜃楼一样，似乎从来没有存在过。湖面上一如既往地**漾着微波，在我们暂停垂钓时轻轻地拍打着船头钩；小船还是旧时的那只，同样的绿色，在同样的位置，有同样的一根肋材断裂了；同样有些淡水中的残渣遗骸停留在船板底下——死了的巨角鱼蛉，一团团的苔藓，被人抛弃的生满锈的钓鱼钩，还有前一天捕鱼时留在那里已经干了的斑斑血迹。我们静静地注视着钓竿的顶头，注视着那些来回飞舞的蜻蜓。我把自己钓竿的顶端伸进水中，试探着不声不响地把蜻蜓赶走。它迅速地飞离了大约两英尺，平衡了一下身体，然后又飞回两英尺，重新停在钓竿上，不过位置高了一点点。在我的记忆中，这只蜻蜓躲闪的样子和曾经的一只一样，在它们中间没有岁月的间隔。我看了看身边的儿子，他静静地凝视着自己钓竿上的蜻蜓；突然间，他那握住钓竿的手仿佛是我的手，而他注视着蜻蜓的眼睛仿佛是我的眼睛。我感到一阵眩晕，不知道自己手握着哪根钓竿的一端。
我们钓到了两条鲈鱼，像扯鲐鱼似的轻快地把它们扯上来，也没有用任何渔网，就这样有条不紊地把它们从船舷上拖进了船舱，然后猛击一下鱼的脑袋，把它们打晕。午饭前我们又到湖里游了一次泳，湖水和我们刚才离开时没有什么两样，你仍然可以站在离码头只有几英寸的地方，也只有一点点微风轻拂过的痕迹。这片湖水好像被施了魔法的大海一样，在你离开的几个小时里，它可以随心所欲，回来却发现它丝毫没有改变，真可以称得上忠心耿耿，值得信赖。在水浅的地方，有一些黝黑光滑的枯枝浸泡在水里，它们一丛丛地在湖底。那些干净的呈波纹状的沙石上随波起伏，而贻贝的痕迹也清晰可见。一群小鲤鱼从这里游过，每一条都投下自己的影子，数量立刻就增加了一倍，在阳光下十分清晰鲜明。有一些游客正沿着湖岸游泳，其中有一个人带了一块香皂。湖水清澈透明，差不多让人感觉不到它的存在。很多年前，这个带香皂洗浴的人就在这里了，这是一个对湖畔热心崇拜的人，如今他依然在这里。这里的岁月似乎静止未动。
我们穿过了一片繁茂而且弥漫着灰尘的田野到农舍去吃午饭。脚下这条小路有两条路痕，原来位于中间的那一条没有了，那上面曾经布满了马蹄印和一团团干巴巴的污粪的痕迹。以前，这里一直有三条小路可以供人们选择，现在却只剩两条了。有一段时间，我根本找不到中间的那条路。不过，当我们到达网球场附近时，看见了阳光下的某些东西，让我重新确定它曾经确实存在。球场底线旁边的带子已经松懈下垂了，葱绿的车前草和其他杂草在球道上滋生横行；球网（六月份挂上，九月份摘下）在这个闷热的中午也耷拉着；整个球场都弥漫着酷暑正午滚滚的热气，让人感到饥饿、空乏。饭后的甜点可以自己选择，蓝莓饼或是苹果饼。服务生同样是些乡村少女，这里似乎不存在时间的流逝，有的只是舞台幕帘降落时带给人们的幻觉——这些侍女依然只是15岁。她们的头发洗得干干净净，这是唯一改变了的地方——她们看过电影，见过那些有着干净头发的漂亮姑娘。
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