写 给 母 亲Written for My Mother

文/贾平凹 译/胡宗锋 罗宾·吉尔班克（）

By Jia Pingwa

写 给 母 亲Written for My Mother

文/贾平凹 译/胡宗锋 罗宾·吉尔班克（Robin Gilbank）

ByJia Pingwa

人活着的时候，只是事情多，不计较白天和黑夜。人一旦死了日子就堆起来：算一算，再有二十天，我妈就三周年了。

[2]三年里，我一直有个奇怪的想法，就是觉得我妈没有死，而且还觉得我妈自己也不以为她就死了。常说人死如睡，可睡的人是知道要睡去，睡在了床上，却并不知道在什么时候睡着的呀。我妈跟我在西安生活了十四年，大病后医生认定她的各个器官已在衰竭，我才送她回棣花老家维持治疗。每日在老家挂上液体了，她也清楚每一瓶液体完了，儿女们会换上另一瓶液体的，所以便放心地闭了眼躺着。到了第三天的晚上，她闭着的眼是再没有睁开，但她肯定还是认为她在挂液体了，没有意识到从此再不醒来，因为她躺下时还让我妹把给她擦脸的毛巾洗一洗，梳子放在了枕边，系在裤带上的钥匙没有解，也没有交代任何后事啊。

When people are alive, they do not care about day and night because they can only occupy themselves with a finite number of matters. Once a person has passed away, the days pile up:according to my reckoning, in twenty days’ time it will be the third anniversary of my mother’s death.

[2] During these three years, I have been seized by a queer sensation, namely I have felt that my mother is not actually gone. I have also felt that my mother shares the sense that she has not departed.It is said that dying is like going to sleep,but while the sleeper knows he must slumber on a bed he does not know when exactly he will drift off. For fourteen years, my mother lived together with me in Xi’an. After a serious illness, the doctor confirmed that all of her organs were in a state of terminal exhaustion. I then decided to send her back to our home village of Dihua, where she might continue to receive medical care. Every day, in my home village, she knew that once one bag of intravenous medicine was spent,her children would feed another into the drip. She simply shut her eyes and lay down there at ease. On the third night, her closed eyes did not open, but she was certain that the drip remained attached. She didn’t realize that thereafter she would never regain consciousness because when she lay down she asked my younger sister to wash her facecloth. The comb lay beside her pillow. The key tied to her belt stayed fastened. She did not convey her final wishes.

[3]三年以前我每打喷嚏，总要说一句：这是谁想我呀？我妈爱说笑，就接茬说：谁想哩，妈想哩！这三年里，我的喷嚏尤其多，往往错过吃饭时间，熬夜太久，就要打喷嚏，喷嚏一打，便想到我妈了，认定是我妈还在牵挂我哩。

[3] Three years ago, whenever I sneezed I would always ask “who is missing me?” My mother loved to crack jokes. She would pick up where I left off and say “who is missing? Your mother is missing you!” During these three years, I have sneezed with greater regularity. Usually, when I am late for a meal or stay up for too long I will sneeze. When I sneeze I think of my mother and I am certain that my mother is still missing me.

[4]我妈在牵挂着我，她并不以为她已经死了，我更是觉得我妈还在，尤其我一个人静静地待在家里，这种感觉就十分强烈。我常在写作时，突然能听到我妈在叫我，叫得很真切，一听到叫声我便习惯地朝右边扭过头去。从前我妈坐在右边那个房间的床头上，我一伏案写作，她就不再走动，也不出声，却要一眼一眼看着我，看得时间久了，她要叫我一声，然后说：世上的字你能写完吗，出去转转么。现在，每听到我妈叫我，我就放下笔走进那个房间，心想我妈从棣花来西安了？当然是房间里什么也没有，却要立上半天，自言自语我妈是来了又出门去街上给我买我爱吃的青辣子和萝卜了。或许，她在逗我，故意藏到挂在墙上的她那张照片里，我便给照片前的香炉里上香，要说上一句：我不累。

[5]整整三年了，我给别人写过十多篇文章，却始终没给我妈写过一个字，因为所有的母亲，儿女们都认为是伟大又善良，我不愿意重复这些词语。我妈是一位普通的妇女，缠过脚，没有文化，户籍还在乡下，但我妈对于我是那样的重要。已经很长时间了，虽然再不为她的病而提心吊胆了，可我出远门，再没有人啰啰嗦嗦地叮咛着这样叮咛着那样，我有了好吃的好喝的，也不知道该送给谁去。

[4] My mother is missing me. She does not believe that she has passed away. I am even more convinced that she is still alive. This feeling is especially intense when I stay quietly alone at home.Often, when I am writing I will suddenly hear that my mother is calling me. The voice is real and sincere. On hearing her call, I will customarily twist my head to the right. Before, my mother used to perch on the edge of the bed in the room to the right-hand side. When I craned over and began to write, she would stop walking around and not make a peep.Instead she would keep her eyes fixed on me. After having stared at me for a long time, she would call out for me and then say, “Can you finish writing all the words in the world? Go out and walk for a while.” Now, whenever I hear that my mother is calling me I will lay down my pen and walk into the room. I wonder if my mother has come to Xi’an from Dihua? Of course, there is nothing in the room, but I will stand there for a long time and say to myself that my mother has returned, but popped out onto the street to buy my favourite green peppers and radishes. Or perhaps, she is pulling my leg by deliberately hiding behind her portrait hung on the wall? I will then burn incense in the censing bowl in front of the picture and add one sentence: “I am not tired.”

[5] Over those three years, I have composed dozens of articles for others, but never written one single character for my mother. This is because in the eyes of their children all mothers are great and kind. I do not want to repeat this cliché.My mother was an ordinary woman with bound feet. She was illiterate and her household registration certificate was still that of a peasant. However, my mother was so important to me. After a long, long time the thought of her illness no longer brings my heart into my mouth. And yet whenever I prepare to venture to a distant place there is no longer anybody nagging me to do this and that. When I am given fine food and drink, I no longer know to whom I should send them.

[6]在西安的家里，我妈住过的那个房间，我没有动一件家具，一切摆设还原模原样，而我再没有看见过我妈的身影。我一次又一次难受着又给自己说，我妈没有死，她是住回乡下老家了。今年的夏天太湿太热，每晚被湿热醒来，恍惚里还想着该给我妈的房间换个新空调了。待清醒过来，又宽慰着我妈在乡下的新住处里，应该是清凉的吧。

[7]三周年的日子一天天临近，乡下的风俗是要办一场仪式的，我准备着香烛花果，回一趟棣花了。但一回棣花，就要去坟上，现实告诉着我，妈是死了，我在地上，她在地下，阴阳两隔，母子再也难以相见，顿时热泪肆流，长声哭泣啊。

[6] In my home in Xi’an, I have not moved a stick of furniture in the room where my mother formerly lived. Everything has been left in its original state.However, I have never glimpsed my mother’s shadow. Again and again, I have repeated gravely to myself: “My mother is not dead. She has gone to live in the countryside.” This summer it is too hot and humid. Every night when the heat and humidity wakes me, in a trance I think that I should install a new air conditioner for my mother. When I spring back to my senses, I comfort myself that my mother is living in a new place in the countryside.That place must be cool.

[7] The date of the third anniversary is drawing near. According to the custom of the countryside we should hold a special ceremony. I am preparing candles, incense,and fruits, ready to go back to Dihua. But once I return to Dihua, I have to visit her grave. The reality is that my mother has passed away. I am on the ground and she is beneath it. Life and death separate us.The mother and son can never cross paths again. Tears cascade down my face accompanied by a long wail.