A Sandpiper to Bring You Joy带来欢乐的鹬

鲁思·彼得森　许书明/译

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach， a distance of three or four miles， whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up， her eyes as blue as the sea.

我在离我住处不远的沙滩上第一次碰见她时，她才6岁。每当这个世界让我感到苦闷压抑时，我就开上三四英里的车来到这片沙滩。她在用沙子盖城堡或是别的什么。她抬起头来，眼睛跟大海一样湛蓝。

“Hello，” she said.

“你好。”她说。

I answered with a nod， not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

我点头回答。说实在的，我没有心思理一个小孩子。

“Im building，” she said.

“我在盖东西。”她说。

“I see that. What is it？” I asked， not caring.

“我看见了。那是什么呀？”我漫不经心地问道。

“Oh， I dont know， I just like the feel of sand.”

“啊，我不知道。我只是喜欢沙子的感觉。”

That sounds good， I thought， and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper1 glided by.

那听上去不错，我自忖，然后我把鞋子脱掉。这时一只鹬滑翔而过。

“Thats a joy，” the child said.

“那是一种欢乐。”那孩子说道。

“Its a what？”

“是什么？”

“Its a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.”

“一種欢乐。我妈妈说，鹬会给我们带来欢乐。”

The bird went glissading2 down the beach. “Good-bye joy，” I muttered to myself， “hello pain，” and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

那鸟沿着海滩滑降。“再见，欢乐。”我喃喃自语，“你好，痛苦。”说完就转身继续往前走去。我情绪低落；我的生活仿佛彻底失去了平衡。

“Whats your name？” She wouldnt give up.

“你叫什么名字？”那女孩就是不放过我。

“Ruth，” I answered. “Im Ruth Peterson.”

“鲁思，”我回答说，“鲁思·彼得森。”

“Mines Wendy...Im six.”

“我叫温迪，我6岁了。”

“Hi， Wendy.”

“你好，温迪。”

She giggled. “Youre funny，” she said.

她咯咯地笑了。“你真有趣。”她说。

In spite of my gloom， I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

尽管有些忧郁，我也笑了，脚步没有停下。她那音乐般的笑声从背后传来。

“Come again， Mrs. P，” she called. “Well have another happy day.”

“彼太太，下次再来吧，”她叫道，“我们还会有快乐的一天。”

The days and weeks that followed belong to others： a group of unruly Boy Scouts3， PTA4 meetings， and ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. “I need a sandpiper，” I said to myself， gathering up my coat.

以后的几天甚至几周是属于别人的：一群闹哄哄的童子军、家长教师联谊会的会议，还有我那生病的妈妈。一天早上，我洗完碗，看到阳光明媚。“我需要一只鹬。”我心中暗想，拿起了上衣。

The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly， but I strode along， trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared.

海滨在等我，那千变万化的大海可以带给人抚慰。微风略有寒意，可我阔步前进，试图重新获得我需要的宁静。我已经把那女孩忘了，所以她出现时，我吓了一跳。

“Hello， Mrs. P，” she said. “Do you want to play？”

“你好，彼太太。”她说道，“你想玩吗？”

“What did you have in mind？” I asked， with a twinge of annoyance.

“你想玩什么？”我问道，带着一丝厌烦。

“I dont know， you say.”

“我不知道。你说吧。”

“How about charades5？” I asked sarcastically.

“玩字谜游戏怎么样？”我故意问道。

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. “I dont know what that is.”

她又发出了清脆的笑声，“我不知道那是什么。”

“Then lets just walk.” Looking at her， I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.

“那我们就散散步吧。”我看着她，注意到她的脸柔弱白皙。

“Where do you live？” I asked.

“你住在哪儿？”我问道。

“Over there.” She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.

“那边。”她手指着一排避暑小屋。

Strange， I thought， in winter. “Where do you go to school？”

奇怪，我心想，怎么冬天来避暑。“你在哪儿上学？”

“I dont go to school. Mommy says were on vacation.”

“我不上学。妈妈说我们在度假。”

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach， but my mind was on other things. When I left for home， Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better， I smiled at her and agreed.

我们在海滩上漫步，她喋喋不休地说着小女孩的那些事，我却在想别的。我要回家时，温迪说那一天过得很愉快。我感觉出奇地好，朝她笑了笑表示同意。

Three weeks later， I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

三个星期后，我濒临崩溃，冲向常去的海滩。我甚至没有心思同温迪打招呼。我好像看见她的母亲站在前廊，真想要求她把孩子留在家里。

“Look， if you dont mind，” I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me， “Id rather be alone today.” She seems unusually pale and out of breath.

“哎，抱歉，”温迪追上我时，我气恼地说，“今天我想一个人待着。”她显得特别苍白，上气不接下气。

“Why？” she asked.

“为什么呢？”她问道。

I turned to her and shouted， “Because my mother died！” and thought， my God， why was I saying this to a little child？

我转向她吼道：“因为我妈妈死了！”可是一说完，我就想，上帝啊，我为什么跟一个小孩子说这个？

“Oh，” she said quietly， “then this is a bad day.”

“啊，”她轻声说，“那今天是个坏日子。”

“Yes， and yesterday and the day before and—oh， go away！”

“是，昨天也是，前天也是，還有——哦，你走吧！”

“Did it hurt？”

“痛苦吗？”

“Did what hurt？” I was exasperated with her， with myself.

“什么痛苦吗？”我跟她也跟自己发火。

“When she died？”

“她死的时候痛苦吗？”

“Of course it hurt！” I snapped， misunderstanding， wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

“当然痛苦！”我恼怒地说道，误解了她的意思，心中只想着自己。我大步走开了。

A month or so after that， when I next went to the beach， she wasnt there. Feeling guilty， ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her， I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

大约过了一个月，我再次去海滩时，温迪不在那儿。我感到内疚和羞愧，承认有些想念她。散完步，我走到她家的小屋，敲了敲门。一个蜜色头发、面容憔悴的年轻女人开了门。

“Hello，” I said， “Im Ruth Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”

“您好，”我说，“我是鲁思·彼得森。今天没见到您家小姑娘，想见见，不知道她在不在。”

“Oh yes， Mrs. Peterson， please come in. Wendy talked of you so much. Im afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance， please， accept my apologies.”

“啊，哦，彼得森太太，请进。温迪总是说起您。恐怕她是打扰您了。如果她讨您嫌了，请接受我的歉意。”

“Not at all—shes a delightful child，” I said， suddenly realizing that I meant it. “Where is she？”

“一点儿也没有——她是个讨人喜欢的孩子。”我说道，顿时意识到这是真心话，“她在吗？”

“Wendy died last week， Mrs. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didnt tell you.”

“彼得森太太，温迪上个星期就走了。她得了白血病。也许她没有告诉您。”

Struck dumb， I groped for a chair. My breath caught.

我一下子愣住了，伸手摸到一把椅子撑住。我感觉有些透不过气。

“She loved this beach so when she asked to come， we couldnt say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks， she declined rapidly...” Her voice faltered， “She left something for you...if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look？”

“她爱这片海滩，所以每次她要来，我们都无法拒绝。在这儿她看起来好得多，度过了许多她所谓的快乐时光。但是前几周，病情急剧恶化……”她颤声说道，“她给您留了点儿东西……我得找一找。您能等一会儿吗，我这就去找？”

I nodded stupidly， my mind racing for something， anything， to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope， with MRS. P printed in bold， childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues—a yellow beach， a blue sea， and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed： A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

我愣愣地点了点头，拼命想找出些话跟这位和善的年轻女士说，什么话都好。她递给我一个脏兮兮的信封，上面端端正正写着几个稚拙的粗体字——彼太太。信封里是一幅蜡笔画，颜色鲜艳——黄色的海滩、蓝色的大海，还有一只棕色的鸟。下边工整地写着：带来欢乐的鹬。

Tears welled up6 in my eyes， and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendys mother in my arms. “Im so sorry， Im sorry， Im so sorry，” I muttered over and over， and we wept together.

淚水涌出眼眶，我那颗几乎忘却了爱的心又敞开了。我紧紧抱住温迪的母亲。“抱歉，很抱歉，真的很抱歉。”我一遍又一遍低声说着。我们俩抱头痛哭。

The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words—one for each year of her life—that speak to me of harmony， courage， undemanding love.

如今这幅珍贵的小画已经镶上框挂在我的书房里。画中的六个字——一个字代表她短暂人生的一年——告诉我什么是平和、勇气和无私的爱。

A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color sand—who taught me the gift of love.

这是一个小姑娘送我的礼物。她有着海蓝色的眼睛和沙黄色的头发，是她教我懂得了给予爱。