57 · 重返故里
Back in the old country
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I stopped to let the car cool off and to study the map. I had expected to be near my objective by now, but everything still seemed alien to me. I was only five when my father had taken me abroad, and that was eighteen years ago. When my mother had died after a tragic accident, he did not quickly recover from the shock and loneliness. Everything around him was full of her presence, continually reopening the wound. So he decided to emigrate. In the new country he became absorbed in making a new life for the two of us, so that he gradually ceased to grieve. He did not marry again and I was brought up without a woman's care; but I lacked for nothing, for he was both father and mother to me. He always meant to go back one day, but not to stay. His roots and mine had become too firmly embedded in the new land. But he wanted to see the old folk again and to visit my mother's grave. He became mortally ill a few months before we had planned to go and, when he knew that he was dying, he made me promise to go on my own.
I hired a car the day after landing and bought a comprehensive book of maps, which I found most helpful on the cross-country journey, but which I did not think I should need on the last stage. It was not that I actually remembered anything at all. But my father had described over and over again what we should see at every milestone, after leaving the nearest town, so that I was positive I should recognize it as familiar territory. Well, I had been wrong, for I was now lost.
I looked at the map and then at the milometer. I had come ten miles since leaving the town, and at this point, according to my father, I should be looking at farms and cottages in a valley, with the spire of the church of our village showing in the far distance. I could see no valley, no farms, no cottages and no church spire—only a lake. I decided that I must have taken a wrong turning somewhere. So I drove back to the town and began to retrace the route, taking frequent glances at the map. I landed up at the same corner. The curious thing was that the lake was not marked on the map. I felt as if I had stumbled into a nightmare country, as you sometimes do in dreams. And, as in a nightmare, there was nobody in sight to help me. Fortunately for me, as I was wondering what to do next, there appeared on the horizon a man on horseback, riding in my direction. I waited till he came near, then I asked him the way to our old village. He said that there was now no village. I thought he must have misunderstood me, so I repeated its name. This time he pointed to the lake. The village no longer existed because it had been submerged, and all the valley too. The lake was not a natural one, but a man-made reservoir.
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I stopped to let the car cool off and to study the map. I had expected to be near my objective by now, but everything still seemed alien to me. I was only five when my father had taken me abroad, and that was eighteen years ago. When my mother had died after a tragic accident, he did not quickly recover from the shock and loneliness. Everything around him was full of her presence, continually reopening the wound. So he decided to emigrate. In the new country he became absorbed in making a new life for the two of us, so that he gradually ceased to grieve. He did not marry again and I was brought up without a woman's care; but I lacked for nothing, for he was both father and mother to me. He always meant to go back one day, but not to stay. His roots and mine had become too firmly embedded in the new land. But he wanted to see the old folk again and to visit my mother's grave. He became mortally ill a few months before we had planned to go and, when he knew that he was dying, he made me promise to go on my own.
I hired a car the day after landing and bought a comprehensive book of maps, which I found most helpful on the cross-country journey, but which I did not think I should need on the last stage. It was not that I actually remembered anything at all. But my father had described over and over again what we should see at every milestone, after leaving the nearest town, so that I was positive I should recognize it as familiar territory. Well, I had been wrong, for I was now lost.
I looked at the map and then at the milometer. I had come ten miles since leaving the town, and at this point, according to my father, I should be looking at farms and cottages in a valley, with the spire of the church of our village showing in the far distance. I could see no valley, no farms, no cottages and no church spire—only a lake. I decided that I must have taken a wrong turning somewhere. So I drove back to the town and began to retrace the route, taking frequent glances at the map. I landed up at the same corner. The curious thing was that the lake was not marked on the map. I felt as if I had stumbled into a nightmare country, as you sometimes do in dreams. And, as in a nightmare, there was nobody in sight to help me. Fortunately for me, as I was wondering what to do next, there appeared on the horizon a man on horseback, riding in my direction. I waited till he came near, then I asked him the way to our old village. He said that there was now no village. I thought he must have misunderstood me, so I repeated its name. This time he pointed to the lake. The village no longer existed because it had been submerged, and all the valley too. The lake was not a natural one, but a man-made reservoir.
我停下车，让发动机冷一冷，也好看看地图。我本以为这时应该已经接近目的地，可四周依然全然陌生。父亲带我出国时，我只有五岁，那已是十八年前的事。母亲在一次悲惨事故后去世，父亲久久无法摆脱打击与孤独。周围的一切，都仿佛留着她的身影，不断揭开他的伤口，于是他决定移民。到了新的国家，他一心为我们父子建立新生活，才渐渐从悲痛中走出来。他没有再婚，我也没得到过女性的照料，却从来不觉得缺少什么，因为他既当父亲，也当母亲。他一直想有一天回故乡看看，但并不打算留下。我们父子的根，早已深深扎在那片新的土地上。不过，他还是想再见见家乡的父老，去母亲墓前看看。可在计划启程的前几个月，他患上了致命的重病。知道自己不久于人世时，他让我答应，一定替他独自走这一趟。
抵达后的第二天，我租了辆车，又买了一本详尽的地图册。横穿乡间时，这本地图帮了大忙，但我原以为，最后一段路用不着它。倒不是我真的还记得什么，而是父亲已经反复描述过：离开最近的镇子后，每经过一个里程碑，我们会看到怎样的景象。因此，我深信自己一定能认出这片故土。可我想错了，此刻，我已经迷路。
我看看地图，又看看里程表。离开镇子后，我已经开了十英里。按照父亲的描述，眼前本该是一座山谷，谷里有农场和村舍，远处还能望见家乡教堂的尖顶。可我什么也没看见，没有山谷，没有农场，没有村舍，也没有教堂尖顶，只有一片湖。我认定，自己一定在什么地方拐错了弯，便开回镇子，重新沿那条路线走，一路不停查看地图。结果，我又来到了同一个拐角。奇怪的是，地图上并没有标出这座湖。我觉得自己仿佛误闯了噩梦里的地方，就像有时做梦会遇见的那样；也像噩梦里一样，四下找不到一个能帮忙的人。幸好，正当我不知下一步该怎么办时，远处出现一名骑马的人，正朝这边来。我等他走近，便问怎样去我们从前的村庄。他说，如今已经没有那个村子了。我以为他听错，又重复了一遍村名。这一次，他指向湖面。原来，村庄已被淹没，整个山谷也一样。这不是天然湖泊，而是一座人工水库。
学完这一课
先用 had expected 说原以为，再用 but 写最终所见。
译文依据整理稿，由本站按中文表达重新校订；解析据吴应时、何景霖整理资料及首轮审校稿；词伙与练习提示为本站学习设计。原PDF第205—208页，2022年2月第3版。