健忘的畫眉

　　The Forgetful Song Thrush

　　那天，我剛剛走進(jìn)濱河公園，便聽(tīng)到從小樹林中傳出了畫眉的叫聲。順聲走去，我看見(jiàn)一只畫眉正在花壇里跳來(lái)跳去。我仔細(xì)觀察，尋找它腿上應(yīng)該有的細(xì)索，結(jié)果沒(méi)有看到。啊，這是一只跳出樊籠自由的鳥兒。它自由自在地，一會(huì)兒跳上月季的花枝，揚(yáng)起頭來(lái)歌唱一陣，一會(huì)兒又跳進(jìn)草叢里，尾巴一翹一翹，向我張望。它那得意的神態(tài)，確實(shí)招人喜愛(ài)。

　　The other day when I went into Riverside Park, I was greeted by the chirrup of a song thrush from a grove. Walking towards the sound I saw the thrush hopping about in a flower bed. I looked carefully trying to spot a tiny piece of string that should have been fastened to its leg, but in vain. Ah, it must have escaped from its cage. It was a free bird! One moment it jumped onto a rose spray and sang with its head high, the next it plunged into the grass and looked at me with its tail waving up and down. Its proud and self-satisfied manner was really enchanting.

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　　在離它不遠(yuǎn)的草地上，有一只鳥籠。涂了漆的竹篾兒，根根潔凈、整齊�；\頂上的那個(gè)大籠鉤兒，锃明瓦亮�；\門上還掛著一個(gè)大紅絨穗子，好看極了。若與住房比擬，這可算是一幢相當(dāng)豪華的住宅了。

　　Not far from the bird on the grass was a bird cage. It was made of painted bamboo strips and looked neat and clean. On top of the cage stood a big gleaming metal hook. From the cage-door hung a fiery red tassel, which added to the magnificence of the cage. As birdhouses go, this was certainly a luxurious residence.

　　在附近的馬纓花樹下，一位老人正坐著打瞌睡�？磥�(lái)，他就是鳥籠的主人。他聽(tīng)到我的腳步聲，睜開(kāi)了睡眼。我主動(dòng)向他打招呼：

　　An old man was dozing under a nearby hibiscus tree. He seemed to be the owner of the cage. Hearing my approaching steps he opened his eyes. I began the dialogue.

　　“老師傅，你的畫眉逃出了籠子!”

　　"Hello. You bird has got out."

　　“是的，讓它散散步�！�

　　"Yeah. Let it go for a stroll."

　　“不怕它飛走了么?”我說(shuō)。

　　"Aren't you afraid it might fly away?"

　　老人望了望我，又冷冷一笑：“飛走，往哪兒飛!它舍不得那個(gè)食罐兒!”

　　The old man cast a glance at me and gave an uncaring smile. "Fly away? But why should it? It can't leave the food bowl."

　　我望望食罐兒，并沒(méi)有什么特殊之處，只不過(guò)是細(xì)瓷印有一枝梅花罷了。罐中的鳥食是些黃澄澄的顆粒，有一縷野草的清香散發(fā)出來(lái)。這不外乎把泡軟了的小米拌上煮熟了的蛋黃，也許又加了一點(diǎn)什么香料之類，沒(méi)有什么稀奇。

　　Examining the bowl carefully, I found nothing special about it. It was no more than a small fine china bowl with a plum design on the side. The bird food in it was some yellow grains which gave off the refreshing smell of wild grass. I thought it must be a mixture of soaked millet and the yolk of boiled eggs, perhaps with some condiments added to it. There was nothing special about it.

　　我把我的看法向老人說(shuō)了。他搖了搖頭，沒(méi)有說(shuō)什么，只沖著我微笑。我不好再追問(wèn)他，也許在養(yǎng)鳥這門學(xué)問(wèn)里面，各有各的絕招兒，其中奧秘不愿告人。

　　I told the old man what was on my mind, but he just shook his head and smiled at me without saying a word. I knew better than to keep on inquiring, for each has his own tricks in raising birds and such secrets must never be given away.

　　這里我瞧見(jiàn)那只自由的鳥兒，從從容容地走進(jìn)了籠門兒。啪的一聲，老人隨后把籠門關(guān)上。畫眉得意洋洋，立在食罐上正啄食那黃澄澄的顆粒。我走出公園想著，那食罐里放了什么樣的“迷魂藥”，竟使一只美麗的畫眉，只會(huì)唱歌而忘卻了自己的一雙翅膀?!

　　Just at that moment I saw the carefree bird walk into the cage at a leisurely pace. Seeing that his bird was re-encaged, the old man slid down the cage-door with a click. Standing on the rim of the bowl complacently, the thrush had already begun to peck at its food. As I left the park, I turned over in my mind a recurring question—what was the magic in the food that had made this beautiful bird sing so happily but forget about its wings?

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