桂花雨 琦君英语译文.docx

桂花雨 琦君英语译文.docx

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桂花雨琦君英语译文

桂花雨

                                             琦君

    桂花纷纷落下来，落得我们满头满身，我就喊：

“啊！

真像下雨，好香的雨啊。

” 

    中秋节前后，就是故乡的桂花季节。

一提到桂花，那股子香味就仿佛闻到了。

桂花有两种，月月开的称木樨，花朵较细小，呈淡黄色，台湾好像也有，我曾在走过人家围墙外时闻到这股香味，一闻到就会引起乡愁。

另一种称金桂，只有秋天才开，花朵较大，呈金黄色。

我家的大宅院中，前后两大片旷场，沿着围墙，种的全是金桂。

惟有正屋大厅前的庭院中，种着两株木樨、两株绣球。

还有父亲书房的廊檐下，是几盆茶花与木樨相间。

    小时候，我对无论什么花，都不懂得欣赏。

尽管父亲指指点点地告诉我，这是凌霄花，这是叮咚花、这是木碧花……我除了记些名称外，最喜欢的还是桂花。

桂花树不像梅花那么有姿态，笨笨拙拙的，不开花时，只是满树茂密的叶子，开花季节也得仔细地从绿叶丛里找细花，它不与繁花斗艳。

可是桂花的香气味，真是迷人。

迷人的原因，是它不但可以闻，还可以吃。

“吃花”在诗人看来是多么俗气？

但我宁可俗，就是爱桂花。

    桂花，真叫我魂牵梦萦。

    故乡是近海县份，八月正是台风季节。

母亲称之为“风水忌”。

桂花一开放，母亲就开始担心了，“可别做风水啊。

”（就是台风来的意思。

）她担心的第一是将收成的稻谷，第二就是将收成的桂花。

桂花也像桃梅李果，也有收成呢。

母亲每天都要在前后院子走一遭，嘴里念着，“只要不做风水，我可以收几大箩，送一斗给胡宅老爷爷，一斗给毛宅二婶婆，他们两家糕饼做得多”。

原来桂花是糕饼的香料。

桂花开得最茂盛时，不说香闻十里，至少前后左右十几家邻居，没有不浸在桂花香里的。

桂花成熟时，就应当“摇”，摇下来的桂花，朵朵完整、新鲜，如任它开过谢落在泥土里，尤其是被风雨吹落，那就湿漉漉的，香味差太多了。

“摇桂花”对于我是件大事，所以老是盯着母亲问：

“妈，怎么还不摇桂花嘛？

”母亲说：

“还早呢，没开足，摇不下来的。

”可是母亲一看天空阴云密布，云脚长毛，就知道要“做风水”了，赶紧吩咐长工提前“摇桂花”，这下，我可乐了。

帮着在桂花树下铺篾簟，帮着抱住桂花树使劲地摇，桂花纷纷落下来，落得我们满头满身，我就喊：

“啊！

真像下雨，好香的雨啊。

”母亲洗净双手，撮一撮桂花放在水晶盘中，送到佛堂供佛。

父亲点上檀香，炉烟袅袅，两种香混和在一起，佛堂就像神仙世界。

于是父亲诗兴发了，即时口占一绝：

“细细香风淡淡烟，竞收桂子庆丰年。

儿童解得摇花乐，花雨缤纷入梦甜。

”诗虽不见得高明，但在我心目中，父亲确实是才高八斗，出口成诗呢。

    桂花摇落以后，全家动员，拣去小枝小叶，铺开在簟子里，晒上好几天太阳，晒干了，收在铁罐子里，和在茶叶中泡茶、做桂花卤，过年时做糕饼。

全年，整个村庄，都沉浸在桂花香中。

    念中学时到了杭州，杭州有一处名胜满觉垅，一座小小山坞，全是桂花，花开时那才是香闻十里。

我们秋季远足，一定去满觉垅赏桂花。

“赏花”是藉口，主要的是饱餐“桂花栗子羹”。

因满觉垅除桂花以外，还有栗子。

花季栗子正成熟，软软的新剥栗子，和着西湖白莲藕粉一起煮，面上撒几朵桂花，那股子雅淡清香是无论如何没有字眼形容的。

即使不撒桂花也一样清香，因为栗子长在桂花丛中，本身就带有桂花香。

    我们边走边摇，桂花飘落如雨，地上不见泥土，铺满桂花，踩在花上软绵绵的，心中有点不忍。

这大概就是母亲说的“金沙铺地，西方极乐世界”吧。

母亲一生辛劳，无怨无艾，就是因为她心中有一个金沙铺地、玻璃琉璃的西方极乐世界。

    我回家时，总捧一大袋桂花回来给母亲，可是母亲常常说：

“杭州的桂花再香，还是比不得家乡旧宅院子里的金桂。

” 

于是，我又想起了在故乡童年时代的“摇花乐”，和那阵阵的桂花雨

SweetOsmanthusFlowersFallingLikeRainDrops

ThedaysjustbeforeandjustaftertheMid-autumnFestivalmarkedtheseasonoftheSweetOsmanthusFlowersbackinmyhometown.SweetOsmanthus…theverynamebringsthefragrancebacktome.TherearetwokindsofSweetOsmanthus.Onecomesfromthefamilyofplantsknownascassia,anditbloomsaneweverymonthoftheyear.Itsflowersareatriflesmaller,adelicateyellowinhue.Taiwanoughttohaveittoo.I’vepickedupthearomawhilestrollingbypeoples’courtyardwalls,andthescentaloneisenoughtogivemeapingeofnostalgicsadness.AnothervarietyiscalledGoldenOsmanthus.Itonlybloomsduringtheautumnoftheyear,andtheflowersaregoldenincolor,andlarger.Inthemiddleofouroldmansiontherewasacourtyardwithayardinbothfrontandback,andagreatwallthatwoundaroundtheoutsideborders.GoldenOsmanthuswasplantedallalongtheinsiderim.Rightthereinthecourtyarddirectlyinfrontofthemainresidencetherewereacoupleofcassiabushesandapairofwhatwecalledhydrangeaplants.AndintheareabeneaththeporticoofFather’sstudytherewerepotsofcamelliaandsweet-scentedosmanthusbushes.

NowwhenIwassmall,Idon’tknowwhy,butIneverhadmuchappreciationforflowers,anditdidn’tmatterawhitwhatkindtheywere.Fatherwouldhavehisfingersintheairandpoint—thisisaChineseTrumpetCreeper,andthisoneisaRing-a-Ding-ding-bellFlower,thisisawood-of-Turquoise…Besidesrememberingthosenames,whatIrecallisthattheflowerIlikedtheverymostwastheSweetOsmanthus.TheSweetOsmanthusbushisn’tnearlyasimpressiveinappearanceastheplumtree.Whenit’snotinbloomitjuststandstherelikeadullard,quiteclumsyandstupidlookingreally,justabushthicksetwithleavesisallitis.Butthenwhenitstimetoblossomarrives,yousearchforthesetinydelicatelittlebudsthatsproutamidsttheleavesofgreen,andthere’snothinginthewholewideworldthatcanmatchitinbeauty.ButthearomaofSweetOsmanthuscanreallyputaspellonyou.Thereasonitcanputaspellonyouisthatyoucanonlyjustsmellit,youcaneatittoo.Eatingaflower.Forawriterofpoetry,isn’titstoopingabitlowtoputitthatway?

Howutterlyvulgar?

ButIwouldratherbevulgar,forthat’swhatitmeanstometobeaSweetOsmanthuslover.

SweetOsmanthushasreallythrownaropearoundmysoulanddreams.

Myhometownwasinacountythatwasveryclosetothesea.ThemonthofAugustwastyphoonseason,whatMotherusedtocallthetimeof“theomenofwindandwater.”TheSweetOsmanthuswouldstarttoblossom,andrightawayMotherwouldstartintoherworryingabouttheworkingofwindandwater.（Thatmeantatyphoonwouldsoonarrive.）Thefirstthingshefrettedoverwasgettingtheharvestinfromthericepaddies,andthesecondwasharvestingtheSweetOsmanthus.SweetOsmanthuswaslikepeachesandplumsandpears;ithadaharvesttoo.Motherwouldpacebackandfortheverydayfromonecourtyardtotheother,herlipsmouthingandmurmuringthewords,“Ifonlyatyphoonwouldn’tcome,thenIcouldbringinsuchaharvest,oh,somanybaskets,andIcouldsendoverabasketforGoodOldGrampsattheHuhousehold,andabaskettooforSecondAuntieoverattheMaos.Thosetwofamiliesturnoutsomanycakes.”YoucouldactuallyuseSweetOsmanthusasafragranceincakerecipes.WhenSweetOsmanthusflowershittheirpeak,maybeyoucouldn’tclaimtosmellthemfromtenlis1away,butthearomawaftedallthroughtheneighborhoodairforastringoftenorsohouseholds.Therewasn’tacorneranyplacenearbywherethefragrancedidn’tpermeate.NowwhentheSweetOsmanthusflowersburstintotheirfullestglory,thereoccurredwhatwecalled“thegreatshaking”.WhatwasshakendownweretheSweetOsmanthusflowers,wholeandcompleteanddoImeanfresh,andthefragranceallroundyouwouldnotbequitethesameiftheywitheredaftertheirbloomandflutteredtotheground,whichhappenedespeciallywhentherainandwindwouldroar,andthey’dbeallthey’dallsoppingwetwiththewater.“ThegreatshakingoftheSweetOsmanthus”wasamagnificentphenomenonasfarasIwasconcerned.AndsoI’dalwaysbefixingmyeyesonMotherandaskingher,“Ma,howcomewehaven’thadthegreatshakingyet?

”Motherwouldanswer,“It’sstilltooearly,theyhaven’tblossomedyet.There’snothingtoshakeloose.”ButassoonasMothercaughtsightofgreatbunchesofdarkcloudsintheskyabove,whenthecloudsformed“skytoesandtailfeathers,”thensheknew“thewindandwaterareworking,”andquicklyshewouldsendtheorderoutforthehouseworkerstogetreadyfor“thegreatshakingoftheSweetOsmanthus.”Whenthathappened,wasIeverhappy!

IhelpedwiththespreadingoutofthethickmatsbeneaththeSweetOsmanthusbranches,andthenIgrabbedattheOsmanthusbranchesandgavethemagentletug,andtheOsmanthusflowerswouldshowerdownuponme,andcovermefromthetipofmyearstotheendofmytoenails,andIwouldshout,“Wow!

It’sjustrainlikeraindrops,sweetsmellingraindrops!

Wow!

”MotherwouldwashherhandsandthengatherupsomeoftheOsmanthusflowersontoaplatterofsparklingcrystalglass,andthenitwasofftopayourrespectstotheBuddhaatthefamilyshrine.Fatherwouldlighttheincenseatthealtar.Slenderstrandsofsmokewouldriseandvanishintotheairabove,thetwofragrancesmixedtogether,theBuddhistTempleseemedjustliketheLandoftheImmortals.ThenFather’spoeticchantwouldhappen.Hewouldjustbreakoutintoafourlinepoemheimprovisedrightthereonthespot.

Slenderstreamsoffragranceandhallowedscent

Withholyfumes

HandssoswiftforharvestofOsmanthus

Foretellaprosperousyear

Childrenallknow

Thejoyandmirthof

Thewondrousshaking

Blossomslikedropsofgentleraininfuseachild’sdream

Tenderbeyondallmeasure

Thesepoeticverses…well,perhapstheynotseemallthatspectacular.Butintheeyesofmyheart,IsawaFatherwhostoodtallwithmightygenius,thathecouldcreateverselikethat!

AfterweweredonewiththeshakingandthegatheringoftheOsmanthusflowers,everyoneinthefamilywouldlendahandtotearoffthetinylittletwigletsandleaves,andspreadthemoutonthemats,andwe’dletthesunsenddownitsraystodrythemoutforafewdays.Thenwegatheredthemalltogetherintosteelvats,sotheycouldbemixedwithtealeavesfordrinks,orbeusedtomakeOsmanthusconcentrate,ortosweetencakesatthetimeoftheChineseNewYear.Thewholeyearlong,allthroughourvillage,weweresteepedinthescentofSweetOsmanthus.

IwenttoHangchouformiddleschool.HangchowhadaresortcalledManChuehLung,atinylittlenicheinthemountains.ItwascoveredwithSweetOsmanthus,andwhenthoseflowershittheirpeak,youcouldsmellthemfromheretoforever.Intheautumnwewouldgohiking,andofcoursewejusthadtogotoManChuehLungtoenjoytheSweetOsmanthus.“ToenjoytheSweetOsmanthus”wasjustanexcusethough,fortheimportantthingwastofilluponakindofSweetOsmanthusbroth.InadditiontoSweetOsmanthus,ManChuehLungalsohadchestnuts.Thechestnutswouldripen,andtherewasthisvelvetysoftpeelingonthem,andtheywouldmixandblenditwithlilypodsallthewayfromfamousHis-hu,theWestLake,andontopittheysprinkledOsmanthuspetalsthatgavetheconcoctionanaromathatnomatterwhatyoudid,there’snowayintheworldyoucouldfindthewordstodescribehowgooditwas.AlthoughnoneoftheSweetOsmanthusflowersweresprinkledintothebroth,theystillplayedapartinthearoma,sincethechestnutsthemselvescarriedthescent,havingnestledamidsttheOsmanthusbranches.

Aswehikedalong,wereachedoutandshookthebranches.SweetOsmanthusflowersrangthroughtheairlikerain,somuchsothatyoucouldn’tevenseethedirtontheground,thepathwassoblanketedwiththeflowers.Wetrampedalongrightontopofthem,softthoughtheywere,anddelicate,ohsodelicate.DeepinsidemeIfeltatwingeofsomethingaliketosacrilegeshootthroughme.Thiswa