草原日出
作者：［英国］多丽丝•莱辛／作 余书娴／译
A Sunrise on the Veld
by Doris Lessing
那年冬天，每晚入睡前，他都对着枕头里面大声喊：“四点半！四点半！”直到确信脑袋已经紧紧抓牢这三个字，才安然入睡，仿佛一片安眠药突然降临。他脸朝着闹钟的方向，这样醒来后第一眼便能看到它。
Every night that winter he said aloud into the dark of the pillow: Half-past four! Half-past four! till his brain had gripped the words and held them fast. Then he fell asleep at once, as if a shutter had fallen; and lay with his face turned to the clock so that he could see it first thing when he woke.
早晨四点半，分秒不差，他骄傲地按下将要响起的闹铃。他尚且稚嫩的思想战胜了闹铃：它整夜警醒地数着时间过去，他却酣然大睡，毫无准备。他缱绻在被窝里，一边享受着最后一瞬温暖，一边玩转着一个想法：就躺这最后一秒吧！不过，他如此玩转只是为了证明这个想法其实是一个弱点，战胜它易如反掌，如同他每晚设闹钟只是为了醒来那一瞬骄傲。他伸了个懒腰，感觉肌肉更结实了，心想：我连自己的思想都能战胜！我更能控制身体的每一部分！
It was half-past four to the minute, every morning. Triumphantly pressing down the alarm-knob of the clock, which the dark half of his mind had outwitted, remaining vigilant all night and counting the hours as he lay relaxed in sleep, he huddled down for a last warm moment under the clothes, playing with the idea of lying abed for this once only. But he played with it for the fun of knowing that it was a weakness he could defeat without effort; just as he set the alarm each night for the delight of the moment when he woke and stretched his limbs, feeling the muscles tighten, and thought: Even my brain – even that! I can control every part of myself.
他躺在床上，觉得温暖而奢华，两臂、两腿和十指都像随时听候吩咐的士兵！他欣喜地承认：他是心甘情愿睡这一觉的。因为他曾经连续三个晚上出去跑步，不眠不休，证明自己能挺住；然后工作一整天，甚至拒绝承认自己累了。现在，睡眠对于他来说也是一位仆人，呼之即来，挥之即去。
Luxury of warm rested body, with the arms and legs and fingers waiting like soldiers for a word of command! Joy of knowing that the precious hours were given to sleep voluntarily! – for he had once stayed awake three nights running, to prove that he could, and then worked all day, refusing even to admit that he was tired; and now sleep seemed to him a servant to be commanded and refused.
这男孩全面舒展身躯：手掌抵着头边的墙壁，脚趾顶着床角。忽然，他弹跳而起，如鱼跃水面。冷啊，真冷啊！
The boy stretched his frame full-length, touching the wall at his head with his hands, and the bedfoot with his toes; then he sprung out, like a fish leaping from water. And it was cold, cold.
他穿衣服通常很迅速，试图在两小时后的日出前保持这夜间累积起来的温暖。但当他穿好上衣时，手指就已冻得麻木，连鞋子都提不起来了。怕吵醒父母，他只能赤脚了。他们可从来不知道他起得这么早。
He always dressed rapidly, so as to try and conserve his night-warmth till the sun rose two hours later; but by the time he had on his clothes his hands were numbed and he could scarcely hold his shoes. These he could not put on for fear of waking his parents, who never came to know how early he rose.
一跨出门槛，他就感到地面冰冷，脚底发凉，腿开始痛起来。现在可还是夜里啊：星星还在眨眼，树在身后静伫。他试图寻找天亮的迹象：石头边缘呈现灰白，或是那将升起红日的天空显现一丝光亮。但现在什么迹象也没有。他像一头警醒的小兽，蹑手蹑脚地经过那扇危险的窗户：一只手按在窗台上，踮起脚，朝窗内看去，这是多么难得而骄傲的时刻，只见房内一片漆黑，令人窒息，他的父母就躺在其中呢。
As soon as he stepped over the lintel, the flesh of his soles contracted on the chilled earth, and his legs began to ache with cold. It was night: the stars were glittering, the trees standing black and still. He looked for signs of day, for the greying of the edge of a stone, or a lightening in the sky where the sun would rise, but there was nothing yet. Alert as an animal he crept past the dangerous window, standing poised with his hand on the sill for one proudly fastidious moment, looking in at the stuffy blackness of the room where his parents lay.
路上的小草尖如刀刃，刺痛了他的脚趾。他沿着墙来到更远的一扇窗前，伸手进去提上来一把枪，昨晚他就准备好了这把枪。这冰冷的钢制家伙慢慢从他麻木的手指间滑落。为了安全起见，他只好把枪夹在臂弯里，踮着脚，朝狗屋走去，他担心脚步声会刺激它们提前冲出门。但它们还算安静。虽然不大情愿蜷缩着腰身慢行，它们却竖起双耳，欢快地摇着尾巴，心醉神迷地盯着他的枪。他不断回头朝它们低声警告，确保它们秘密安静地离开。当房子已被甩在百码之后，它们立刻像解放似的冲进树林，欢天喜地地吠着。男孩想像着父母此时一定在床上一边翻身，一边咕哝：“又是这群死狗！”然后又倒头睡去。想到这，男孩讽刺般地微笑着。他不时回望那个房子，直到被树挡住了视线；那矮小的房子卑微地蜷缩在高阔的天空下。他把房子甩在身后，把闷声闷气睡在其中的父母甩在身后，彻底忘掉它们。
Feeling for the grass-edge of the path with his toes, he reached inside another window further along the wall, where his gun had been set in readiness the night before. The steel was icy, and numbed fingers slipped along it, so that he had to hold it in the crook of his arm for safety. Then he tiptoed to the room where the dogs slept, and was fearful that they might have been tempted to go before him; but they were waiting, their haunches crouched in reluctance at the cold, but ears and swinging tails greeting the gun ecstatically. His warning undertone kept them secret and silent till the house was a hundred yards back: then they bolted off into the bush, yelping excitedly. The boy imagined his parents turning in their beds and muttering: Those dogs again! before they were dragged back in sleep; and he smiled scornfully. He always looked back over his shoulder at the house before he passed a wall of trees that shut it from sight. It looked so low and small, crouching there under a tall and brilliant sky. Then he turned his back on it.
他想加速前进，因为天亮前他得赶完四里路。此时，一丝绿光已经穿过叶片上的小洞折射而来，空气中充满了清晨的气息，星星也渐渐暗下去了。
He would have to hurry. Before the light grew strong he must be miles away; and already a tint of green stood in the hollow of a leaf, and the air smelled of morning and the stars were dimming.
他把鞋子挂在肩上。经过千百次晨露的洗礼，这双草鞋变得又皱又硬，地面炽热难忍时估计能派上用场。冷硬的灰尘在脚趾间飞扬，他充分伸展脚底的肌肉，使它们完全融入大地的怀抱。他想：我能这样赤脚走一百里呢！走一整天都不觉得累！
He slung the shoes over his shoulder, veld skoen that were crinkled and hard with the dews of a hundred mornings. They would be necessary when the ground became too hot to bear. Now he felt the chilled dust push up between his toes, and he let the muscles of his feet spread and settle into the shapes of the earth; and he thought: I could walk a hundred miles on feel like these! I could walk all day, and never tire!
他在铺满树叶的黑色小道上疾行，这条小道白天其实是条大马路。猎狗们在更低处四处探路，虽然他看不见它们的身影，却能听到它们的喘气声；有时它们会用冰冷的鼻子在他腿上厮磨一下，表示又要去探路啦！它们没有经过训练，自由散漫，兴起时还玩失踪，但却是他最好的同伴。因为，为了几枪射击，他通常要赶很长的路，有了它们路上就不枯燥了。不久，整个灌木丛在晨光中颤抖起来。在一丝狂野而奇异的晨光中，他看到它们了：这群蛮气十足的小兽正等着看日出如何把大地和草木渲染一新呢！
He was walking swiftly through the dark tunnel of foliage that in day-time was a road. The dogs were invisibly ranging the lower travelways of the bush, and he heard them panting. Sometimes he felt a cold muzzle on his leg before they were off again, scouting for a trail to follow. They were not trained, but free-running companions of the hunt, who often tired of the long stalk before the final shots, and went off on their own pleasure. Soon he could see them, small and wild-looking in a wild strange light, now that the bush stood trembling on the verge of colour, waiting for the sun to paint earth and grass afresh.
饮露的野草与他比肩，树上洒下银子般的毛毛细雨，一齐打湿了他的衣服，他整个身子瑟瑟发抖。
The grass stood to his shoulders; and the trees were showering a faint silvery rain. He was soaked; his whole body was clenched in a steady shiver.
他弯腰看见一条刚被动物足迹刮伤的路，懊悔地直起身，提醒自己只有耐心地等到第二天来享受捷足先登的乐趣了。
Once he bent to the road that was newly scored with animal trails, and regretfully straightened, reminding himself that the pleasure of tracking must wait till another day.
他开始在田埂上跑起来，颠簸之间他发现田埂都被薄薄的新结的蜘蛛网包裹着，这大片黑土地仿佛被困在闪闪的灰网中。他大步慢跑，扎实前进。这方法是他以前观察土著人学会的：上身的重量交替地落在两脚上，保持慢速、平衡运动，这样既不会疲乏，又不会气短。当血液从腿部冲上胳膊，他对身体的得意和骄傲油然而生，直到他不得不咬紧牙关，关住那一股想大声歌唱的强烈欲望。
He began to run along the edge of a field, noting jerkily how it was filmed over with fresh spiderweb, so that the long reaches of great black clods seemed netted in glistening grey. He was using the steady lope he had learned by watching the natives, the run that is a dropping of the weight of the body from one foot tot the next in a slow balancing movement that never tires, nor shortens the breath; and he felt the blood pulsing down his legs and along his arms, and the exultation and pride of body mounted in him till he was shutting his teeth hard against a violent desire to shout his triumph.
很快他就离开了那片种着作物的农场。在他身后，灌木丛显得又矮又黑。在他眼前，则是一片大草原：几英亩长而发白的野草正向光滑的天空投射一股忽明忽暗的微光。他身旁是一片浓密的厚草，被露水压弯了腰，叶片上闪耀着钻石般的光芒。
Soon he had left the cultivated part of the farm. Behind him the bush was low and black. In front was a long vlei, acres of long pale grass that sent back a hollowing gleam of light to a satiny sky. Near him thick swathes of grass were bent with the weight of water, and diamond drops sparkled on each frond.
第一只鸟在他脚边醒了过来，接着一群鸟冲向天空，尖叫着宣布新一天的开始。忽然，他身后的灌木丛也醒来歌唱了！他听到珍珠鸡在前面远远地鸣叫，这表明它们正从灌木丛飞向厚厚的草丛。珍珠鸡正是他此行的目的。他知道自己来晚了，但并不计较，甚至忘了自己是来打猎的。他叉开腿站稳，两手水平地上下摆动着那把枪，像做临时练习；然后头往后仰，直到枕住脖子，注视着玫瑰色的小云朵在那如金色湖面的天空飘浮。
The first bird woke at his feet and at once a flock of them sprang into the air calling shrilly that day had come; and suddenly, behind him, the bush woke into song, and he could hear the guinea fowl calling far ahead of him. That meant they would now be sailing down from their trees into thick grass, and it was for them he had come: he was too late. But he did not mind. He forgot he had come to shoot. He set his legs wide, and balanced from foot to foot, and swung his gun up and down in both hands horizontally, in a kind of improvised exercise, and let his head sink back till it was pillowed in his neck muscles and watched how above him small rosy clouds floated in a lake of gold.
突然他再也无法抑制自己的激情。他跳到那片天空下，发出狂野的、意义不明的喊叫，然后像头野兽似的狂奔起来，疯了一般，全不似之前那样谨慎：他正在清醒的疯狂中忘我地歌唱生命的愉悦和青春的奢华。他头顶深红与金黄交织的天空，向着草原顺势直奔，感到世界上所有鸟儿都在跟着自己歌唱。他一边大步跳跃，一边大声歌唱，感觉身体在清新的空气中袅袅升腾，又稳稳地回落到结实的双腿上，不禁略想：在这厚实纠结的草丛中，扭伤脚踝这种事绝不会发生在我身上！他像小羚羊那样拨开草丛，跳过岩石，最后突然在一处完全停了下来：这条路竟突然绕开他，朝他身下的小河蜿蜒而去。这时他已在齐腰的草丛中跑了两里路，喘着粗气，不能再歌唱了。于是他稳靠着一块岩石，与颔首的树盖一起俯视那片闪烁的河水。突然，他好像想起了什么：我15岁啦！15岁啦！这句话对他来说很新鲜，他满怀兴奋又若有所思地重复这句话，并开始用手指感受他走过的这些年岁，似乎在数着鹅卵石，每一块既独立又离不开彼此，每一块都闪烁着奇异的光芒。这就是他：在这片富饶的土地上生长了十五年的男孩，陪伴他的有这缓缓而流的河水，还有这充满挑战的空气：夏日正午，它闷热难耐；冬天早晨，它凛冽刺骨，就像现在一样。
Suddenly it all rose in him: it was unbearable, and he leapt up into the air, shouting and yelling wild, unrecognisable noises. Then he began to run, not carefully, as he had before, but madly, like a wild thing. He was clean crazy, yelling mad with the joy of living and a superfluity of youth. He rushed down the vlei under a tumult of crimson and gold, while all the birds of the world sang around him. He ran in great, leaping strides, and shouted as he ran, feeling his body rise into the crisp rushing air and fall back surely on to sure feet; and thought briefly, not believing that such a thing could happen to him, that he could break his ankle any moment, in this thick tangled grass. He cleared bushes like a duiker, leapt over rocks; and finally came to a dead stop at a place where the ground fell abruptly away below him to the river. It had been a two-mile-long dash through waist-high growth, and he was breathing hoarsely and could no longer sing. But he poised on a rock and looked down at stretches of water that gleamed through stooping trees, and thought suddenly, I am fifteen! Fifteen! The words came new to him; so that he kept repeating them wonderingly, with swelling excitement; and he felt the years of his life with his hands, as if he were counting marbles, each one hard and separate and compact, each one a wonderful shining thing. That was what he was: fifteen years of this rich soil, and this slow-moving water, and air that smelt like a challenge whether it was warm and sultry at noon, or as brisk as cold water, like it was now.
没有什么他不能做到，没有！他站在岩石旁，似乎进入了一场梦幻：就像一个孩子听到“永恒”一词并试图理解其义，被时间占领了思想。他觉得自己将来的生命是一件伟大而神奇的东西，这东西完全是他自己的。血液在脑中升腾，他大声说道：“世界上所有大人物都曾像我现在这样小，所以我也能成为大人物，没有什么我不能做到的。只要我愿意，世界上没有哪个国家不能成为我的一部分，我能囊括整个世界；只要我愿意，我能把世界变成我想要的样子；只要我愿意，我能改变世界上正在发生的一切。这一切都取决于我，取决于我现在的决定。”
There was nothing he couldn't do, nothing! A vision came to him, as he stood there, like when a child hears the word "eternity" and tries to understand it, and time takes possession of the mind. He felt his life ahead of him as a great and wonderful thing, something that was his; and he said aloud, with the blood rushing to his head: all the great men of the world have been as I am now, and there is nothing I can't become, nothing I can't do; there is no country in the world I cannot make part of myself, if I choose. I contain the world. I can make of it what I want. If I choose, I can change everything that is going to happen: it depends on me, and what I decide now.
他的嗓音充满了紧迫性和真理性，显现了非凡的勇气，他为此兴奋得重新大声歌唱起来，歌声沿着河水旁的峡谷回荡，他停下来等待回音，尔后又唱道：“停下吧！歌唱吧！这就是他——只要愿意，他就歌唱，这个世界必须响应他！”
The urgency and the truth and the courage of what his voice was saying exulted him so that he began to sing again, at the top of his voice, and the sound went echoing down the river gorge. He stopped for the echo, and sang again: stopped and shouted. That was what he was! – he sang, if he chose; and the world had to answer him.
他在那站了好几分钟，喊叫着、歌唱着，等待着那可爱的漩涡似的回声，那些新鲜的想法又回来给他洗脑了，如同有人在回应他、鼓励他。峡谷充满了细软的回声，在小河旁的岩石间来来往往地撞击。突然，好像传来一种陌生的回声!他侧耳倾听，迷惑不已，因为那不是他自己的声音。他悄悄地探身过去，神经紧绷：在他身边某处，有一种声音，既不是鸟儿的欢唱，也不是流水的叮咚，更不是老牛笨重的脚步声。
And for minutes he stood there, shouting and singing and waiting for the lovely eddying sound of the echo; so that his own new strong thoughts came back and washing round his head, as if someone were answering him and encouraging him; till the gorge was full of soft voices clashing back and forth from rock to rock over the river. And then it seemed as if there was a new voice. He listened, puzzled, for it was not his own. Soon he was leaning forward, all his nerves alert, quite still: somewhere close to him there was a noise that was no joyful bird, nor tinkle of falling water, nor ponderous movement of cattle.
那声音又来了！在这包含着他过去与将来的清晨的静谧中，那声音听起来如此痛苦，绵绵不绝。那是一种力不从心的尖叫，像是声嘶力竭了。他开始清醒过来，环视四周，呼唤猎狗。但它们没有出现，不知到哪里逍遥去了，他可是孤身无援了。现在他完全清醒，狂意尽失。那可怕的尖叫使他心跳加速，他小心翼翼地离开岩石，向灌木丛走去；他举步慎重，因为不久前他在这里看见一头豹。
There it was again. In the deep morning hush that held his future and his past, was a sound of pain, and repeated over and over: it was a kind of shortened scream, as if someone, something, had no breath to scream. He came to himself, looked about him, and called for the dogs. They did not appear; they had gone off on their own business, and he was alone. Now he was clean sober, all the madness gone. His heart beating fast, because of that frightened screaming, he stepped carefully off the rock and went towards a belt of trees. He was moving cautiously, for not so long ago he had seen a leopard in just this spot.
他在灌木丛的尽头停下，紧握着枪，观察动静；然后向前移动，眼睛眯缝，观察四周。忽然，他迈不动了，竟踉跄起来，目瞪口呆！他不耐烦地摇着头，不敢相信自己的眼睛。
At the edge of the trees he stopped and peered, holding his gun ready; he advanced, looking steadily about him, his eyes narrowed. Then all at once, in the middle of a step, he faltered, and his face was puzzled. He shook his head impatiently, as if he doubted his own sight.
在两棵树之间那块憔悴的黑岩石旁，有一个像是梦幻中的物体：一只受伤的怪兽，四肢无力，像是醉了酒，这是他从未想像过的。这怪兽看起来很粗糙，像一头矮小的公鹿：遍身毫无规则地簇生着丛丛粗糙的黑毛，黑毛底下是片片粗肉……在一团流动的黑压压的东西的围攻下，这些粗肉正渐渐消失！这怪兽一直喘着气低声尖叫，像瞎子一样踉踉跄跄。
There, between two trees, against a background of gaunt black rocks, was a figure from a dream, a strange beast that was horned and drunken-legged, but like something he had never even imagined. It seemed to be ragged. It looked like a small buck that had black ragged tufts of fur standing up irregularly all over it, with patches of raw flesh beneath . . . but the patches of rawness were disappearing under moving black and came again elsewhere; and all the time the creature screamed, in small gasping screams, and leaped drunkenly from side to side, as if it were blind.
男孩确定它是一头公鹿。他朝它跑去,一股莫名的新的恐惧又使他停下脚步静静地站住，四周生机勃勃的草儿正窃窃私语。他狂乱地四下张望，然后低头看去：地上那黑压压的竟全是蚂蚁！它们又大又壮，对他视而不见，急匆匆地向那挣扎着的公鹿奔去，好像亮闪闪的黑水在草中流淌。
Then the boy understood: it was a buck. He ran closer, and again stood still, stopped by a new fear. Around him the grass was whispering and alive. He looked wildly about, and then down. The ground was black with ants, great energetic ants that took no notice of him, but hurried and scurried towards the fighting shape, like glistening black water flowing through the grass.
他屏住呼吸，怜悯和恐惧攫住了他：那公鹿倒下了，停止了尖叫！此刻他只听见一只鸟在鸣叫，还有行色匆匆的蚂蚁的沙沙声。
And, as he drew in his breath and pity and terror seized him, the beast fell and the screaming stopped. Now he could hear nothing but one bird singing, and the sound of the rustling, whispering ants.
他凝视着那只不停扭动、时而抽搐的公鹿。它比刚才安静了。从肉的微微抽搐中尚能模糊地辨出小动物的形状。
He peered over at the writhing blackness that jerked convulsively with the jerking nerves. It grew quieter. There were small twitches from the mass that still looked vaguely like the shape of a small animal.
他忽然想到可以朝它射击，早点结束它的痛苦。于是他端起枪，可是又放下了：这公鹿已经没有感觉了，它的挣扎只是神经的条件反射。但使他放下枪的并非这个，而是一股渐渐膨胀的愤怒、痛苦和抗议：如果我没有来，它就会这样死去，我干吗要干涉呢？这样的事情在灌木丛中随处可见，随时都在发生。活着的东西在痛苦中死去，这就是生命的演变规律。他把枪夹在膝盖间，咬紧牙关，感到四肢里有千万般痛苦在翻涌，就像刚刚那抽搐的公鹿一样，只是它现在已经感觉不到了。他一遍遍喃喃自语：我阻止不了，我也无法阻止，我无能为力。
It came into his mind that he should shoot it and end its pain; and he raised the gun. Then he lowered it again. The buck could no longer feel; its fighting was a mechanical protest of the nerves. But it was not that which made him put down the gun. It was a swelling feeling of rage and misery and protest that expressed itself in the thought: if I had not come it would have died like this: so why should I interfere? All over the bush things like this happen; they happen all the time; this is how life goes on, by living things dying in anguish. He gripped the gun between his knees and felt in his own limbs the myriad swarming pain of the twitching animal that could no longer feel, and set his teeth, and said over and over under his breath: I can't stop it. I can't stop it. There is nothing I can do.
他为那头公鹿失去了知觉、结束了痛苦而欣慰，这样他就不必作决定去杀死它。他甚至满脑子都在想：这就是事实，事情就是这样进行的。
He was glad that he did not have to make a decision to kill it even when he was feeling with his whole body: this is what happens, this is how things work.
是的，这就是他此刻的感受。没错，事情就是这样，无可改变。
It was right – that was what he was feeling. It was right and nothing could alter it.
关于命运和未来的认识就这样首次闯进了他的生活，牢牢地抓住了他，使他的身体无法移动，脑子无法运转，除了喃喃自语：“是啊，是啊，这就是生命！”这个认识已经流入血肉，深入骨髓，生长在脑海最深处，永远也不会离开他。生命消逝的那一刻，他无法采取任何仁慈的行动！他明白了：这片他生活了十五年的草地是辽阔无垠、无法变更、残酷无情的，人们随时都可能给动物的头颅绊倒，或者踩碎小生灵的骨架。
The knowledge of fatality, of what has to be, had gripped him and for the first time in his life; and he was left unable to make any movement of brain or body, except to say: "Yes, yes. That is what living is." It had entered his flesh and his bones and grown in to the furthest corners of his brain and would never leave him. And at that moment he could not have performed the smallest action of mercy, knowing as he did, having lived on it all his life, the vast, unalterable, cruel veld, where at any moment one night stumble over a skull or crush the skeleton of some small creature.
他为此感到痛苦、恶心和愤怒，又为坚忍克己的新认识感到几丝满足。他倚着枪，看着那冒着热气的黑肉渐渐变小。在他脚下，一只只蚂蚁叼着粉红的肉块往回拖，他的鼻孔感到一阵阵酸臭，空胃里的肌肉在徒劳地抽搐，他使劲挺住，提醒自己：蚂蚁也要吃东西啊！这时，他发现自己已泪流满面，衣服也被汗水湿透了。
Suffering, sick, and angry, but also grimly satisfied with his new stoicism, he stood there leaning on his rifle, and watched the seething black mound grown smaller. At his feet, now, were ants trickling back with pink fragments in their mouths, and there was a fresh acid smell in his nostrils. He sternly controlled the uselessly convulsing muscles of his empty stomach, and reminded himself: the ants must eat too! At the same time he found that the tears were streaming down his face, and his clothes were soaked with the sweat of that other creature's pain.
公鹿的形状越来越小，现在已看不出是什么东西了。不知过了多久，一块块黑肉就变成了一根根白骨，在阳光下泛着白光。哦，是的，太阳刚刚升起，照耀着岩石。为什么！这短短的几分钟后，事情就发生了巨变？
The shape had grown small. Now it looked like nothing recognisable. He did not know how long it was before he saw the blackness thin, and bits of white showed through, shining in the sun – yes, there was the sun, just up, glowing over the rocks. Why, the whole thing could not have taken longer than a few minutes.
他开始诅咒起来，像是无法忍受时间本身的短暂，这诅咒的话语，是他从爸爸那听来的。然后大步向前，信步踩碎了地上几只蚂蚁，将爬到身上的蚂蚁拂掉，直至他站到那具骨架前：它趴在矮树丛下，被剔净了肉。要不是还残留着几小块粉红的软骨碎片，人们会觉得它已在这里躺了多年。骨架四周，蚂蚁们嘴里衔着肉，渐渐撤退。
He began to swear, as if the shortness of the time was in itself unbearable, using the words he had heard his father say. He strode forward, crushing ants with each step, and brushing them off his clothes, till he stood above the skeleton, which lay sprawled under a small bush. It was clean-picked. It might have been lying there years, save that on the white bone were pink fragments of gristle. About the bones ants were ebbing away, their pincers full of meat.
男孩朝那又肥又丑的蚂蚁看去。有几只蚂蚁竟直起身子盯着他，眼里泛着贪婪的光。
The boy looked at them, big black ugly insects. A few were standing and gazing up at him with small glittering eyes.
“滚开！”他冷冷地对它们说，“我可不是你们的早餐，无论如何都不是。滚吧！”说完，他想像着那些蚂蚁转身离去的情景。
"Go away!" he said to the ants, very coldly. "I am not for you – not just yet, at any rate. Go away." And he fancied that the ants turned and went away.
他在白骨旁弯下腰，触摸着头颅上的孔穴：那原本是鹿的眼睛！他想起活鹿那水汪汪的黑眼睛，觉得难以置信。然后他弯曲着那纤细的前肢，在手掌间水平摆弄。
He bent over the bones and touched the sockets in the skull, that was where the eyes were, he thought incredulously, remembering the liquid dark eyes of a buck. And then he bent the slim foreleg bone, swinging it horizontally in his palm.
那天早晨，也许一小时前，这只小生灵还骄傲又自由地走在灌木丛中，感觉着皮肤上的凉意，就像他自己感受到的那样，兴奋不已；它自豪地踏着大地，抖着犄角，轻甩着漂亮的白尾巴，嗅着清晨寒冷的空气，像国王和征服者那样漫步在这充满自由的灌木丛中；每片草叶为它生长，闪亮纯净的河水供它饮用。
That morning, perhaps an hour ago, this small creature had been stepping proudly and free through the bush, feeling the chill on its hide even as he himself had done, exhilarated by it. Proudly stepping the earth, tossing its horns, frisking a pretty white tail, it had sniffed the cold morning air. Walking like kings and conquerors it had moved through this fee-held bush, where each blade of grass grew for it alone, and where the river ran pure sparkling water for its slaking.
但是，接着发生了什么呢？谁能意料一只健步如飞的公鹿会被一群蚂蚁困住呢？
And then – what had happened? Such a swift surefooted thing could surely not be trapped by a swarm of ants?
他索性好奇地蹲下去，发现它的后肢在最上面，关节处断了，断裂的骨头相互徒劳地抵触。可能死前它的后肢就受伤了，然后一跛一跛地误入了蚂蚁巢，等觉察到危险时已经难以脱身了。应该是这样！那么是谁伤了它的后肢呢？还是它自己不小心摔了一跤？不可能，轻巧幽雅的公鹿怎么会摔跤呢？难道是在与同类的争斗中受的伤？
The boy bent curiously to the skeleton. Then he saw that the back leg that lay uppermost and strained out in the tension of death, was snapped midway in the thigh, so that broken bones jutted over each other uselessly. So that was it! Limping into the ant-masses it could not escape, once it had sensed the danger. Yes, but how had the leg been broken? Had it fallen, perhaps? Impossible, a buck was too light and graceful. Had some jealous rival horned it?
到底发生了什么呢？也许是土著人朝它扔石头，击中了它的后腿？为了吃鹿肉，他们经常这样干。嗯，一定是这样的！
What could possibly have happened? Perhaps some Africans had thrown stones at it, as they do, trying to kill it for meat, and had broken its leg. Yes, that must be it.
就在他想像着一伙一边奔跑、一边喊叫的土著人朝一头正悠然漫步的公鹿扔石头时，另一幅画面呈现在眼前：他看见自己，在某个像现在这样清新明亮的早晨，满怀兴奋地向一头若隐若现的公鹿连续射击，然后放下枪，想知道自己有没有射中，然后又想，太晚了，该回去吃早餐了，为一只可能已逃脱的公鹿追上几里路是毫无意义的。
Even as he imagined the crowd of running, shouting natives, and the flying stones, and the leaping buck, another picture came into his mind. He saw himself, on any one of these bright ringing mornings, drunk with excitement, taking a snap shot at some half-seen buck. He saw himself with the gun lowered, wondering whether he had missed or not; and thinking at last that it was late, and he wanted his breakfast, and it was not worth while to track miles after an animal that would very likely get away from him in any case.
一时之间，他无法面对这幅画面，他终究只是个小男孩。他低着头，踢着那架白骨，面带愠色，拒绝承认是自己射伤了它。
For a moment he would not face it. He was a small boy again, kicking sulkily at the skeleton, hanging his head, refusing to accept the responsibility.
然后他直起身，沮丧地俯视着那架白骨，怒气渐渐消失，脑子像清空了一样。他看见一股股黝黑的蚂蚁消失在草丛里，那微弱干燥的沙沙声如同蛇在蜕皮。
Then he straightened up, and looked down at the bones with an odd expression of dismay, all the anger gone out of him. His mind went quite empty; all around him he could see trickles of ants disappearing into the grass. The whispering noise was faint and dry, like the rustling of a cast snakeskin.
最后他拾起枪，朝家里走去。他告诉自己要吃早餐了，并且天气越来越热，不适合在灌木丛中闲逛。
At last he picked up his gun and walked homewards. He was telling himself half defiantly that he wanted his breakfast. He was telling himself that it was getting very hot, much too hot to be out roaming the bush.
他确实累了，脚步沉重，懒得注意脚下的方向。当他看见自己的家时，不禁皱了皱眉，有些事情他必须彻底弄明白。那只小生灵的惨死让他耿耿于怀，他没有完全放开。这件事伏在他的心底，让他不得安宁。
Really, he was tired. He walked heavily, not looking where he put his feet. When he came without sight of his home he stopped, knitting his brows. There was something he had to think out. The death of that small animal was a thing that concerned him, and was by no means finished with it. It lay at the back of his mind uncomfortably.
他想：明天早晨，我要避开所有人，再去那片灌木丛，好好地想一想。
Soon, the very next morning, he would get clear of everybody and go to the bush and think about it.
