STUDY IN CHINA GLOBAL (SCG)作品原文
林海音 《冬阳·童年·骆驼队》
骆驼队来了，停在我家的门前。
它们排列成一长串，沉默地站着，等候人们的安排。天气又干又冷，拉骆驼的摘下了他的毡帽，秃瓢儿上冒着热气，是一股白色的烟，融入干冷的大气中。
爸爸在和他讲价钱。双峰的驼背上，每匹都驮着两麻袋煤。我在想，麻袋里面是“南山高末”呢？还是“乌金墨玉”？我常常看见顺城街煤栈的白墙上，写着这样几个大黑字。但是拉骆驼的说，他们从门头沟来，它们和骆驼，是一步一步走来的。
另外一个拉骆驼的，在招呼骆驼们吃草料。它们把前脚一屈，屁股一撅，就跪了下来。
爸爸已经和他们讲好价钱了。人在卸煤，骆驼在吃草。
我站在骆驼的面前，看它们吃草料咀嚼的样子，那样丑的脸，那样长的牙，那样安静的态度。它们咀嚼的时候，上牙和下牙交错地后来磨去，大鼻孔里冒着热气，白沫子沾满在胡须上。我看得呆了，自己的牙齿也动了起来。
老师教给我，要学骆驼，沉得住气的动物。看它从不着急，慢慢地走，慢慢地嚼，总会走到的，总会吃饱的。也许它天生是该慢慢的，偶然躲避车子跑两步，姿势就很难看。
骆驼队伍过来时，你会知道，打头儿的那一匹，长脖子底下总系着一个铃铛，走起来“当、当、当”地响。
“为什么要一个铃铛？”我不懂的事就要问一问。
爸爸告诉我，骆驼很怕狼，因为狼会咬它们，所以人类给它带上铃铛，狼听见铃铛的声音，知道那是有人类在保护着，就不敢侵犯了。
我的幼稚心灵中却充满了和大人不同的想法，我对爸爸说：
“不是的，爸！它们软软的脚掌走在软软的沙漠上，没有一点点声音，你不是说，它们走上三天三夜都不喝一口水，只是不声不响地咀嚼着从胃里反刍出来的食物吗？一定是拉骆驼的人类，耐不住那长途寂寞的旅程，所以才给骆驼带上了铃铛，增加一些行路的情趣。”
爸爸想了想，笑笑说：
“也许，你的想法更美些。”
冬天快过完了，春天就要来，太阳特别地暖和，暖得让人想把棉袄脱下来。可不是么？骆驼也脱掉它的绒袍子啦！它的毛皮一大块一大块地从身上掉下来，垂在肚皮底下。我真想拿剪刀替它们剪一剪，因为太不整齐了。拉骆驼的人也一样，他们身上那件反穿大羊皮，也都脱下来了，搭在骆驼背的小峰上。麻袋空了，“乌金墨玉”都卖了，铃铛在轻松的步伐里响得更清脆。
夏天来了，再不见骆驼的影子，我又问妈：“夏天它们到哪儿去？”
“谁？”
“骆驼呀！”
妈妈回答不上来了，她说： “总是问，总是问，你这孩子！”
夏天过去，秋天过去，冬天又来了，骆驼队又来了，但是童年却一去不还。冬阳底下学骆驼咀嚼的傻事，我也不会再做了。
可是，我是多么想念童年住在北京城南的那些景色和人物啊！我对自己说，把它们写下来吧，让实际的童年过去，心灵的童年永存下来。
就这样，我写了一本《城南旧事》。
我默默地想，慢慢地写。看见冬阳下的骆驼队走过来，听见缓慢悦耳的铃声，童年重临于我的心头。
作品译文
Winter Sun, Childhood Years, the Camel Caravan
Lin Haiyin
The camel caravan came, stopping outside our front gate.
The camels stood there in a long line, silently waiting to do man’s bidding. The weather was cold and dry. The herdsman pulled off his felt cap and a white cloud of steam rose from his bald pate, slowly merging into the cold air.
Papa was bargaining with him. Over the twin humps of each camel were two sacks of coal. I wondered if they were full of “South Mountain” coal or the kind they refer to as “Dark Gold Black Jade”? I often saw these names written in large black characters on the white wall of the coal shop on Shun-ch’eng Street. But the herdsman said they and the camels had brought it all the way from Men-t’ou-kou, step by step.
Another herdsman was feeding the camels. Bending their forelegs, they knelt on the ground, their rear ends jutting straight up behind them.
Papa had finished bargaining with them. The herdsmen unloaded the coal, the camels ate.
I stood right in front of the camels, watching them munch straw. They had such ugly faces, such long teeth, and they munched so slowly and calmly. As they chewed, their upper teeth interlocked with their lower ones, grinding back and forth as clouds of warm vapor spewed from their huge nostrils and white foam covered their beards. I stared at them, mesmerized, and my own mouth also began to move.
My teacher had told me that I should learn from the camels’ impassive forbearance. They were never in a hurry, walking and chewing slowly, they would always arrive at their destination, always eat until they were full. Maybe they were by nature slow, for whenever they had to run a few steps to avoid passing vehicles, their movements were most ungainly.
One would know whenever the camel caravan was approaching, for the lead camel would always have a bell tied around his long neck. With each step he took, it would ring out with a “tang … tang … tang.”
“Why do they have to have a bell?” I always questioned anything I did not understand.
Papa told me that camels were afraid of wolves because they were often bitten by them. The herdsmen tied the bell on so that when the wolves heard it tinkling, they would know that they were men around to protect the camels and would not dare attack.
However, my child’s mind perceived things differently from the grown-ups. I said to Papa.
“That’s not so, Papa! As they walk over the shifting sand on their soft padded feet, there is not a single sound. Didn’t you said that they can walk for three nights without drinking any water, only silently chewing on the cud that was regurgitated from their stomachs? It must be that the camel herdsmen can’t stand the loneliness of those long treks so they tie the bells on so as to make the journey a little more cheerful.”
Papa thought a while, then laughed as he said,
“Maybe your way of thinking is more appealing.”
Winter was almost over, spring was near, and the sun was especially warm; warm enough for people to take off their cotton-padded jackets. Had not the camels also begun taking off their old camel-hair coats? Clots of hair were falling off their bodies, hanging loosely under their bellies. I really wanted to take a pair of scissors and cut them off. They were indeed messy-looking. The herdsmen had also taken off their furry sheepskin coats, slinging them over the smaller hump on the camels’ backs. The sacks were all empty since all the “Dark Gold Black Jade” had been sold, and as they walked with lighter steps, the sound of the bells was crisper than before.
Summer came and not even the shadow of a camel could be seen. I asked Mama.
“Where do they go in summer?”
“Who?”
“The camels!”
Mama could not answer the question, so she exclaimed, “Always questions, questions! What a child!”
Summer had gone, autumn was over, winter had arrived and the camel caravan was back again; but childhood had passed away, never to return. And I would never again be so silly as to imitate the camels’ chewing under the winter sun.
But how I miss the people and places of those childhood years spent in the south side of the city of Peking! I said to myself, go ahead and write it all down. Let the reality of childhood days pass away, but keep the spirit of childhood forever alive.
Thus I have written this collection, Memories of Peking: South Side Stories.
Silently I reminisce, slowly I begin to write. I see the caravan of camels approaching under the winter sun, I hear the pleasing tinkle of the bells, and childhood days return once again into my heart.
