The Good Lion善良的狮子

欧内斯特·海明威 译/刘荣跃 Ernest Hemingway

Once upon a time there was a lion that lived in Africa with all the other lions. The other lions were all bad lions and every day they ate zebras and wildebeests and every kind of antelope. Sometimes the bad lions ate people too. They ate Swahilis， Umbulus and Wandorobos1 and they especially liked to eat Hindu traders. All Hindu traders are very fat and delicious to a lion.

But this lion， that we love because he was so good， had wings on his back. Because he had wings on his back the other lions all made fun of him.

“Look at him with the wings on his back，” they would say and then they would all roar with laughter.

“Look at what he eats，” they would say because the good lion only ate pasta and scampi because he was so good.

The bad lions would roar with laughter and eat another Hindu trader and their wives would drink his blood， going lap， lap， lap with their tongues like big cats. They only stopped to growl with laughter or to roar with laughter at the good lion and to snarl at his wings. They were very bad and wicked lions indeed.

But the good lion would sit and fold his wings back and ask politely if he might have a Negroni or an Americano and he always drank that instead of the blood of the Hindu traders. One day he refused to eat eight Masai cattle and only ate some tagliatelli and drank a glass of pomodoro.

This made the wicked lions very angry and one of the lionesses， who was the wickedest of them all and could never get the blood of Hindu traders off her whiskers even when she rubbed her face in the grass， said， “Who are you that you think you are so much better than we are？ Where do you come from， you pasta-eating lion？ What are you doing here anyway？” She growled at him and they all roared without laughter.

“My father lives in a city where he stands under the clock tower and looks down on a thousand pigeons， all of whom are his subjects. When they fly they make a noise like a rushing river. There are more palaces in my fathers city than in all of Africa and there are four great bronze horses that face him and they all have one foot in the air because they fear him.

“In my fathers city men go on foot or in boats and no real horse would    enter the city for fear of my father.”

“Your father was a griffon，” the wicked lioness said， licking her whiskers.

“You are a liar，” one of the wicked lions said. “There is no such city.”

“Pass me a piece of Hindu trader，” another very wicked lion said. “This Masai cattle is too newly killed.”

“You are a worthless liar and the son of a griffon，” the wickedest of all the lionesses said. “And now I think I shall kill you and eat you， wings and all.”

This frightened the good lion very much because he could see her yellow eyes and her tail going up and down and the blood caked on her whiskers and he smelled her breath which was very bad because she never brushed her teeth ever. Also she had old pieces of Hindu trader under her claws.

“Dont kill me，” the good lion said. “My father is a noble lion and always has been respected and everything is true as I said.”

Just then the wicked lioness sprang at him. But he rose into the air on his wings and circled the group of wicked lions once， with them all roaring and looking at him. He looked down and thought， “What savages these lions are.”

He circled them once more to make them roar more loudly. Then he swooped low so he could look at the eyes of the wicked lioness who rose on her hind legs to try and catch him. But she missed him with her claws. “Adios2，” he said， for he spoke beautiful Spanish， being a lion of culture. “Au revoir3，” he called to them in his exemplary French.

They all roared and growled in African lion dialect.

Then the good lion circled higher and higher and set his course for Venice. He alighted in the Piazza and everyone was delighted to see him. He flew up for a moment and kissed his father on both cheeks and saw the horses still had their feet up and the Basilica looked more beautiful than a soap bubble. The Campanile was in place and the pigeons were going to their nests for the even-ing.

“How was Africa？” his father said.

“Very savage， father，” the good lion replied.

“We have night lighting here now，” his father said.

“So I see，” the good lion answered like a dutiful son.

“It bothers my eyes a little，” his father confided to him. “Where are you going now， my son？”

“To Harrys Bar，” the good lion said.

“Remember me to Cipriani and tell him I will be in some day soon to see about my bill，” said his father.

“Yes， father，” said the good lion and he flew down lightly and walked to Harrys Bar on his own four paws.

In Ciprianis nothing was changed. All of his friends were there. But he was a little changed himself from being in Africa.

“A Negroni， Signor4 Barone？” asked Mr. Cipriani.

But the good lion had flown all the way from Africa and Africa had changed him.

“Do you have any Hindu trader sandwiches？” he asked Cipriani.

“No， but I can get some.”

“While you are sending for them， make me a very dry martini.” He added， “With Gordons gin.”

“Very good，” said Cipriani. “Very good indeed.”

Now the lion looked about him at the faces of all the nice people and he knew that he was at home but that he had also traveled. He was very happy.

從前有一只狮子，他与别的所有狮子生活在非洲。别的狮子都很邪恶，他们每天吃斑马、牛羚和各种羚羊。有时那些邪恶的狮子还吃人，他们吃斯瓦希里人、乌布鲁人和万多罗博人，特别喜欢吃印度商人。印度商人都很肥胖，吃起来味美可口。

但是这只狮子——我们喜欢他，因为他很善良——背上长着翅膀，因此受到别的所有狮子嘲笑。

他们总说：“瞧他，背上长着翅膀呢。”然后哈哈大笑。

他们总说：“看看他吃的啥。”因为善良的狮子只吃面食和蒜味大虾，他太善良了。

那些邪恶的狮子总会哈哈大笑，然后再吃掉一个印度商人，让母狮喝他的血，像大猫那样用舌头一下下舔着喝。只有在对善良的狮子龇牙哈哈大笑或对着他的翅膀发出咆哮时，他们才停止进食。他们的确是非常邪恶的坏狮子。

不过善良的狮子总是收起翅膀坐下，礼貌地问自己是否可以喝杯内格罗尼酒或美式咖啡——他总喝那些东西，不喝印度商人的血。一天，他拒绝去吃马塞人养的八头牛，只是吃了点干制面条，喝了一杯西红柿汁。

这让邪恶的狮子们很气愤。其中有一只母狮最坏，即使用草地擦脸，也擦不干净腮须上印度商人的血迹。她说：“你是谁？你以为自己比我们好很多吗？你这个吃面食的狮子从哪里来的？你究竟在这儿干什么？”母狮朝他吼叫，邪恶的狮子全都咆哮起来，没有笑。

“我爸爸住在城里，他站在钟楼下面俯视着上千只鸽子，那都是他的臣民。鸽子飞走时发出急流般的声响。我爸爸城里的宫殿比整个非洲的都多，他面前有四匹青铜大马，他们都提起一只脚，因为害怕我爸爸。

“在我爸爸的城里，人们步行或坐船出行，真正的马不会进入城里，因为害怕我爸爸。”

“你爸爸是个半狮半鹫的怪物。”邪恶的母狮舔着腮须说道。

“你撒谎。”一只邪恶的狮子说，“没有这样的城市。”

“递给我一块印度商人的肉吧。”另一只非常邪恶的狮子说，“这头马塞牛刚被杀死不久。”

“你是个不中用的骗子，是半狮半鹫怪物的儿子。”最邪恶的母狮说，“现在我想我应该杀了你，把你连同翅膀全都吃了。”

这让善良的狮子很害怕，因为他看到母狮发黄的眼睛，尾巴上下摆动着，腮须上的血结成块。他闻到母狮很臭的口气，因为母狮从不刷牙。母狮爪子下面还有几块印度商人的陈肉。

“别杀我。”善良的狮子说，“我爸爸是一只高贵的狮子，一直受到大家尊敬，我说的都是实话。”

就在那时，这只邪恶的母狮向他扑去。但他张开翅膀飞起来，绕着邪恶的狮子飞了一圈。他们全都看着他吼叫。他看着下面，心想：“这些狮子真野蛮。”

他再次绕着他们飞了一圈，让他们吼叫得更大声。然后他猛冲下去，这样就能看到邪恶的母狮的眼睛。母狮后腿直立，站起来试图抓住他，可是没有抓住。“再见。”这只有文化的狮子用熟练的西班牙语说道。“再见。”他又用标准的法语对他们说道。

狮子们都咆哮起来，用非洲狮的方言吼叫着。

然后善良的狮子盘旋着，越来越高，而后启程向威尼斯飞去。他停落在圣马可广场，人人都高兴见到他。他向上飞了一会儿，吻了吻爸爸两边的脸颊，看见那些马仍然提起一只脚，大教堂比肥皂泡还漂亮。钟楼立在原地，鸽子正飞回巢过夜。

“非洲怎么样？”爸爸问。

“很野蛮，爸爸。”善良的狮子回答。

“咱们这儿有夜间照明了。”爸爸说。

“我看见啦。”善良的狮子恭顺地回答。

“有点儿刺眼。”爸爸吐露说，“你现在要去哪里，儿子？”

“去哈里酒吧。”善良的狮子说。

“代我向奇普里亚尼问好，告诉他最近哪天我会把账单付了。”爸爸说。

“好的，爸爸。”善良的狮子说。他轻轻飞落下去，四脚着地走到哈里酒吧。

奇普里亚尼店里的一切都没变化。他所有的朋友都在那儿。不过他去了一趟非洲，自己有了一点儿变化。

“来杯内格罗尼酒吗，巴罗内先生？”奇普里亚尼先生问。

但是善良的狮子从非洲一路飞来，非洲改变了他。

“有印度商人三明治吗？”他问奇普里亚尼。

“没有，不过我可以弄来一些。”

“你差人弄来期间，给我调杯马提尼酒。”他补充道，“用哥顿金酒。”

“好的。”奇普里亚尼说。“当然，好的。”

现在，这只狮子看着身边所有好人的面容，他知道自己回家了，不过也旅行过了。他十分开心。