乔伊斯的故事-第6部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　　A　seed　is　sown　in　spring。　A　harvest　is　reaped　in　autumn。

　　The　villager　poetize　the　first　verse　in　the　northern　field；　the　river　flows　to　the　south　with　the　gold　leaf　of　sunshine；　flows　to　the　south　with　me　and　drains。　When　I　walk　in　the　end　of　the　river；　I　know　one　river　is　dead　in　the　south　of　my　village；　and　that　place　is　spacious　as　a　big　river；　the　dead　le*es　overlaid　the　nude　riverbed。

　　The　evening　is　going　to　end　here；　the　river　burned　crimson　in　the　setting　sun；　and　the　setting　sun　plains　never　to　deceive　anybody；　it　fall　down　fair；　and　hide　his　whereabouts　with　the　black　fog。　And　it　rise　again　up　the　housetop　of　the　canteen　in　the　east　village；　ing　with　the　golden　color；　le*ing　with　the　golden　color；　so　the　sun　mast　be　the　golden　color；　the　white　radiance　is　the　tired　and　misty　eye　merely。

　　The　class　teacher；　Ms。　Ren　knocks　on　our　door　in　the　sun　falling　time。　She　talks　with　my　parents　about　nothing。　She　only　arranges　the　homework　with　me　and　exhorts　me　to　go　to　school　tomorrow　with　a　gentle　manner　of　speaking；　and　I’m　suddenly　aware　of　this　holiday；　I　feel　very　ashamed　although　she　didn’t　bring　a　lawsuit　against　me　to　my　parents。

　　This　matter　like　a　not　started　excursion。　I　open　my　door　in　the　aureate　sunlight　and　look　at　the　school　gate；　and　I　see　Ms。　Ren　waiting　at　the　gate　for　me　softly；　and　I　walk　towards　to　her　directly　like　a　kite　obeys　the　runner。

　　The　whole　class　bees　cheerful　and　light…hearted。　The　peach　blossom　in　the　pages　are　written　the　peach　words；　the　swallow　are　in　the　weeping　willows　which　are　rare　in　my　village；　its　le*es　hang　on　the　water　surface；　the　swallow　fly　low；　the　fishing　boat　w*es　on　the　water　surface　softly　and　issues　songs　sometimes。　Those　views　aren’t　in　my　village　but　in　one　page　of　the　primary　school　language　textbooks；　those　not　appeared　spring　stories　of　my　village　also　hide　in　the　pages；　and　even　the　unknown　stories　which　appeared　out　of　my　village；　those　a　long　story　spread　by　years　and　years；　and　I　meet　it　when　I　read　the　textbooks。　I　am　always　thinking　about　the　result　if　I　hadn’t　attended　school。

　　It’s　terrible。

　　Some　verses　occur　in　the　old　time。　The　verses　may　be　hiding　in　the　deadwood。　I　find　them　in　the　south　of　my　village；　in　the　age…old　Tung；　and　some　stories　that　maybe　took　place　in　last　year　but　end　in　this　year；　but　those　are　dead　twigs　and　withered　le*es；　hiding　in　the　pale　yellowish　green　le*es；　swayed　by　the　wind　and　sobbing　every　times。

　　I　climb　those　trees　and　break　the　dead　branches　off。　I　break　apart　the　stories　between　the　branches　and　the　years；　and　they　are　the　sleepy　stories；　blow　away　by　the　wind。　I　find　the　dead　branches　are　so　weak　that　they　drop　down　to　the　ground　quickly　when　I　touch　with　them。　I　gather　a　bundle　of　dead　branches　and　stories；　and　shoulder　them　on　the　back；　or　haul　them　to　my　home；　they　burn　violently　in　our　kitchen　range；　and　our　dinner　is　cooking　on　that　fire。　I　guess　that　the　black　*oke　from　our　chimney　may　hide　those　old　stories　and　those　stories　change　into　the　ash。　But　I　don’t　want　to　talk　about　the　trees’　ash　now。

　　My　clas*ate　Roger’s　father　talks　with　Zhen　Yong’s　father　in　the　school　gate；　Jin　Lei’s　mother　chat　with　Mr。　Ren。　They　will　take　us　to　the　town’s　primary　school　for　the　sample　examination；　as　the　excellent　student’s　parent　they　discontinue　the　whole　day’s　farm　work　and　wait　in　the　school　gate。　In　that　morning　the　dew　had　not　evaporated　totally。

　　And　after　Ms。　Ren’s　short　report　we　fly　with　parent’s　wings　to　the　examination　room。　We　meet　other　students　in　our　town；　and　the　parent　meets　other　parent。　This　sample　examination　is　like　an　enlarged　learning　meeting；　and　so　many　excellent　students　（except　of　the　student　whose　parent　was　on　good　terms　with　teacher）　join　in　the　examination。　The　Xi　Ling　experimental　primary　school　is　a　former　site　of　Xi　Ling　Buddhist　temple。

　　Beside　its　gate　is　a　bowl…shaped　lake；　and　the　canteen　stands　on　the　side　of　lake。　There　are　many　popsicles　in　that　icebox；　I　like　them　very　much　because　it　taste　more　sweet　than　our　home…made　ice…lolly　with　the　saccharin　and　ice　water。　But　I　clearly　understand　now　that　those　popsicles　are　also　made　by　the　storekeeper。

　　My　father　takes　me　to　eat　the　lightly　fried　Chinese　bread　after　the　examination。　This　is　that　one　what　my　father　has　brought　home　for　me　when　he　came　back　from　the　construction　field；　this　is　that　one　makes　very　happy　in　those　days　during　which　my　father　was　doing　some　plasterer　works；　and　this　is　a　’s　stand　beside　on　the　highway。

　　The　butter　jumps　on　the　baking　hot　saucepan。　The　lightly　fried　Chinese　bread　is　fried　in　shallow　oil。　Those　are　some　encourage　and　rewards　for　the　excellent　student。　And　I　eat　them　all　the　way；　the　wind　whirr　with　my　father’s　clothes；　the　happiness　is　a　song　like　the　creak　of　bicycle’s　running　on　the　ground。txt电子书分享平台　

School
I　h*e　hovered　in　this　road　between　my　door　and　the　school　gate；　which　has　not　enough　hectometers　for　five　years。　I　walk　down　two　courtyards　and　a　short　way　with　the　blue　brick　wall　standing　beside。　I　saw　the　honeybee　and　bullfinch　fly　busily　from　the　sheltered　courtyard；　and　I　watch　to　the　bullfinch　on　the　tree　with　the　lost　mood；　I　stand　in　front　of　the　school　gate　and　was　suffocated　by　the　flying　dusts　from　the　dry　ground；　and　my　good　spirits　also　lost　with　the　flute　and　crown　made　from　the　swallow　in　spring。

　　I　h*e　hovered　very　quietly　in　the　school　after　class　and　bee　one　part　of　school；　I　always　look　into　the　address　of　some　letters　from　the　office　windows；　some　building　and　streets　of　the　address　outside　the　Xi　Ling　town　and　written　in　the　last　line　on　the　letters。　Those　address　contact　with　our　village　and　means　that　someone　outside　remembers　and　thinks　about　my　fellow　villagers；　just　like　my　father　misses　us。　Then　the　Xi　Ling　town　must　be　the　center　of　those　people。

　　I　stand　by　the　flag　tower；　confused　thought　about　those　things。　A　bulging　envelope　was　discarded　on　the　reception　office　table。　It　must　contain　a　long　massage；　a　conversation　that　may　not　occur　eventually。　I　want　to　tell　the　writer　that　there　is　no　evidence　of　this　person；　but　it　is　a　job　for　the　postman。　And　I　only　ramble　in　our　school　like　a　guard。

　　I　wandered　in　the　campus　and　met　grandpa　when　he　teaches　his　students　music　class；　they　step　forward　while　lifting　one　arm　toward　the　sun；　singing：　East　Is　Red；　the　sun　rose。　　Those　few　students　actually　pointed　with　a　fist　to　the　sunset　singing。

　　I　look　forward　to　the　time　to　study　music　with　grandpa，but　he　was　transferred　outside　the　village　school　as　the　only　other　family　names；　so　music　class　was　abolished　in　our　primary　school。　And　I　don’t　show　the　pride　and　joy　when　my　teacher　told　me　the　sample　examination　result；　although　I　win　all　prizes。　No　music　lessons；　no　abacus　class；　I　h*e　forgotten；　however　I　go　on　disappointed。

　　I　h*e　prepared　for　a　long　time　in　my　heart　to　study　those　classes；　and　my　hope　of　music　class　and　abacus　class　was　collapsed　and　flooded。　I’m　a　student　with　a　bias；　but　they　did　not　understand　why　only　I　can　get　the　best　achievement。　I　h*e　been　unable　to　understand　what　they　thought　about　me　when　I　performed　above　the　crowding　of　their　children　in　their　school　for　five　years。　How　do　they　fort　their　descendants　as　poor　students？

　　My　grandpa　lives　in　the　south　village；　he　must　be　more　near　to　the　sunshine。　He　sit　in　the　red　lacquer　wooden　chair　under　the　sun　in　his　central　courtyard；　and　bright　as　the　sun。

　　“Good；　work　hard！”　he　always　said。

　　“There　are　only　a　few　students　in　our　family；　you　should　try　to　make　a　good　showing。”　　He　said　by　himself　and　eyes　over　go　my　head　to　the　last　step　of　the　sun　setting；　I　think　it’s　a　private　ceremony　to　him　when　he　talks　about　this。

　　“Grandpa；　what　I　can　get　if　I　go　to　a　college？”

　　He　wanted　me　to　be　a　college　student　without　stopping。　I　think　it　maybe　the　same　as　our　primary　school。

　　“University　can　give　you　a　job；　ah；　you　needn’t　worry　about　your　job　forever　when　you　graduated。”　He　said　happily　as　if　his　grandson　has　got　the　university　admission　notice。

　　“You　are　*art　and　assiduous　in　studying；　you　can　take　your　brothers　out　of　the　rural　areas　when　you　succeed。”　He　entered　in　the　reveries。　He　likes　to　play　Erhu；　I　h*e　heard　from　my　mother　that　my　father　has　studied　in　an　opera　before。

　　In　a　village　courtyard；　they　played　with　the　Erhu；　three…stringed　plucked　instrument；　and　drum；　they　played　and　song　a　drama　which　called　Zhuge　Liang　Pays　a　Mourning　Call。　I　h*e　not　seen　the　play　before；　I　only　listen　to　my　father　singing　at　home　when　he　alone　in　the　kitchen　and　his　voice　play　to　an　extreme；　like　in　the　theater。　He　always　did　everything　in　a　thorough　manner；　just　like　the　hope　of　me　to　learn　more　and　more　abilities。　And　I　learn　in　this　kind　of　family　and　school。

　　The　cement　and　steel　of　flag　bee　cold　in　the　evening；　the　shrugged　flagpole　straight　toward　the　sky；　and　has　been　rusting　now。　The　spaces　among　the　three　rows　classroom　were　filled　with　a　large　number　of　footprints；　and　empty　now；　like　a　row　of　old　cadres’　courtyard。　The　copper　bell　hangs　in　the　doorway　tree；　its　steel　bar　who　has　hitched　the　bell　deep　in　the　trunk；　and　the　mark　which　rubbed　by　the　steel　bar　on　the　branch　is　more　clearly　year　by　year。　The　branch　is　very　thick　and　strong；　it　carries　the　village　time。

　　At　6　o’clock　in　the　evening；　the　sun　runs　away　gradually。　The　students　le*e　from　the　campus；　and　that　games　which　played　in　the　water　side　and　holly　side　all　gone。　At　this　moment　I　remember　the　predecessor　of　this　campus；　and　it’s　a　huge　forest。　I　h*e　a　wrong　impression　about　the　forest；　I　always　think　that　tree　farm　will　intimidate　me　as　a　cemetery　in　my　childhood；　especially　in　this　quiet　campus。

　　A　few　footsteps　are　heard。　I　look　at　some　water；　static；　low…lying　in　the　puddles　and　reflecting　the　moonlight。　I　saw　the　bell　in　the　dark　hang　the　branch　likes　a　nut；　it　stays　quiet　and　never　shakes　in　this　moment；　but　the　rings　from　him　disclose　his　thoughts。　I　also　imagine　enjoying　it　with　a　cheerful　solo。

　　My　mother　called　me　in　the　kitchen；　and　I　saw　the　*oke　from　kitchen　chimney；　I　know　the　night　sky　would　fall　and　the　lights　of　the　chimney　would　disappear。　She　burned　the　dry　twigs　which　I　had　picked　up　from　the　south　field　at　afternoon；　and　I　should　saw　an　empty　one　hollowed　by　a　woodpecker　burned　out　the　sparks；　and　the　sparks　climbed　up　the　chimney　*oke　into　the　village’s　night　sky；　and　became　stars；　and　dissolved　clearly　in　some　moment　at　last。

　　After　dinner；　the　night　of　Xi　Ling　town　is　very　beautiful。　The　le*es　shadow　change　with　the　moonlight；　the　shadow　like　a　brush　and　ink　painted　in　each　wall　of　Xi　Ling　town　courtyard；　the　shadow　like　a　picture　in　Chinese　ink　and　build…up　the　poetry　of　town’s　night。

　　A　song　called　“the　Night　Moonlight”　filled　in　our　village；　it’s　a　familiar　melody。　Supposing　a　crow　tragic　caw　on　someone’s　roof；　we　always　worried　about　the　death　of　the　old　man　in　his　family。　Crow　is　a　witch　who　urges　the　life　persistently；　it　rampages　in　the　night　sky；　but　no　old　man　has　left　in　this　summer。　It　is　overflowing　with　new　life；　it　is　a　season　that　we　can　play　unfettered。

　　In　summer　night；　the