西安这座城The City of Xi’an
贾平凹 胡宗锋，罗宾·吉尔班克 译
我住在西安城里已经二十年了，我不敢说这座城就是我的，或我给了这座城什么，但二十年前我还在陕南的乡下，确实是做过一个梦的，梦见了一棵不高大却很老的树，树上有一个洞。I have been living in the city of Xi’an for twenty years; I dare notsay that this city belongs to me or what I contribute to it; but two decadesago, when I was still in the countryside of southern Shaanxi, I dreamt about atree which was not so tall but very old. There was a hole in the tree.在现实的生活里，老家有满山的林子，但我没有觅寻到这样的树；而在初做城里人的那年，于街头却发现了，真的，和梦境中的树丝毫不差。这棵树现在还长着，年年我总是看它一次，死去的枝柯变得僵硬，新生的梢条软和如柳。In real life, there are forests all over the mountains in myhometown, though I have not been able to find such a tree. When I first livedin the city as one of its residents, I discovered this very tree on the street.That is true. It was absolutely identical to the one in my dream. This treecontinues to grow. Every year I always inspect it once every year. Its dead branches stiffen, yet the new growthremains as supple as a willow.我就常常盯着还趴在树干上的裂着背已去了实质的蝉壳，发许久的迷瞪，不知道这蝉是蜕了几多回壳，生命在如此转换，真的是无生无灭，可那飞来的蝉又始于何时，又该终于何地呢？I often stare at the empty cicada shell which has been cast off onthe cracked surface of the trunk, and spend a long time feeling puzzled. Iwonder how many times one cicada can shed its casing. A life which entails sucha metamorphosis is really fascinating because there can be no birth withoutdeath. But where are the flying cicadas born and where do they die? 于是在近晚的夕阳中驻脚南城楼下，听岁月腐蚀得并不完整的砖块缝里，一群蟋蟀在唱着一部繁乐，恍惚间就觉得哪一块砖是我吧，或者，我是蟋蟀的一只，夜夜在望着万里的长空，迎接着每一次新来的明月而欢歌了。At duskbeneath the setting sun to the south of the city wall, I listen to a group ofcrickets sing intricate melodies in the time-worn crevices within thebrickwork. In a trance, I feel that this brick is me or that I am one of thecrickets, staring up at the expansive sky each night, crooning as I greet everybright moon.我庆幸这座城在中国的西部，在苍茫的关中平原上，其实只能在中国西部的关中平原上才会有这样的城，我忍不住就唱起关于这个地方的一段民谣：I am glad that Xi’an lies in the west of China, on the vastGuanzhong Plain. In fact, only on such a plain in the west of China could acity like this exist. I cannot help but break into a folk ballad about thisplace:八百里秦川黄土飞扬，Loess drifts over the Qin land of eight hundred li,三千万人民吼叫秦腔，Thirty million Qin folk roar out local opera,调一碗黏面喜气洋洋，A bowl of sticky noodles fills them with glee,没有辣子嘟嘟囔囔。But having no pepper makes them complain.这样的民谣，描绘的或许缺乏现代气息，但落后并不等于愚昧，它所透发的一种气势，没有矫情和虚浮，是冷的幽默，是对旧的生存状态的自审。Such a folk ballad may lack modern ambience, but backwardness initself is not tantamount to ignorance. The power it radiates, however, isneither hypocritical nor superficial. Through scrutinizing how people used tolive it generates a cold humour. 我唱着它的时候，唱不出声的却常常是想到了夸父逐日渴死在去海的路上的悲壮。正是这样，数年前南方的几个城市来人，以优越异常的生活待遇招募我去，我谢绝了。我不去，我爱陕西，我爱西安这座城。What I cannot communicate by merely singingthe ballad is the moving and tragic story behind it——Kua Fu chased after thesun and ended up dying from thirst on the way to the sea. With this thought inmind, a few years ago I felt I had to refuse an invitation extended to me byseveral people from the South of China. They head-hunted me and dangled beforemy face offers of sumptuous and superlative hospitality. I turned them down andwould not go because I love Shaanxi; I love the city of Xi’an. 爱V高中英语温馨提示因为公众号平台更改了推送规则。如果你不想错过内容，记得点下“赞”和“在看”，这样，每次新文章推送，就会第一时间出现在你的订阅号列表里了~
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