我在雨中撈月亮

青 萍／文 甄春亮／譯

南方讓我留戀的只有那溫柔的憂郁的雨……我固執地認為這南方的雨同我一樣，漂泊在異鄉哭泣#65377;

這條古樸的巷，被籠在迷蒙的雨霧中，讓我恍如走進戴望舒的《雨巷》那種詩境里，這里可會飄過一個丁香樣的姑娘，她可是“默默行著，冷漠#65380;凄清又惆悵……”

我低著頭，想著那個丁香般的姑娘，任雨肆意飄在我身上#65377;

忽然我意識到有人在扯我的衣角，我抬頭看見一個小小的女孩七八歲的樣子，她正仰著臉，不顧那細雨，那雙眼睛正被雨濡濕，讓我疑心可是那夏夜的星躲入那長長的睫毛下面#65377;我溫柔地向她笑笑，童稚的語音已響起#65377;

“姐姐，你可是要在南方撈月亮?”

我笑了，八成小姑娘剛學了課本《撈月亮》，于是我逗她:“小妹妹，你看姐姐像猴子嗎?”我擠擠眼做鬼臉#65377;

“不像，可是老師說來南方打工是撈月亮呢!”小女孩認真地說著，小辮翹著，被雨沾得黑亮黑亮的#65377;

“你怎么知道姐姐是要來‘撈月亮’?”我好奇的又很認真地問她#65377;

小女孩用手指指前面不遠的工廠，那是我剛走出的地方#65377;

“書上寫月亮一碰就碎了，我想它一定不好撈……”小姑娘說著，用手在兜里掏什么#65377;

“這個，送給你#65377;”那是一張白白的圓紙片，那個圓不是很規則，甚至還有一個小小的豁口兒，小姑娘說是在手工課上做的“月亮”，下次她會做個更好的送給我#65377;(下轉第37頁)

(上接第35頁)

雨仍然飄著，那月亮欲透未透，很美很美，我虔誠地接過那枚“月亮”，擁緊了她小小的身子#65377;我想我的筆是太拙了，我竟無法寫出那一刻小女孩帶給我的巨大震撼#65377;

“丁丁——”一個母親的聲音傳來#65377;

小女孩給了我一個天使般的笑，轉身向那拐角處奔去，消失了#65377;

“在南方撈月亮#65377;”是的，撈一個夢想，也許你什么都得不到，可是生命中只要有了希望你就不能輕言放棄#65377;我捧住了一個圣潔的希望#65377;

于是每當雨夜，我就會想起那個叫“丁丁”的小女孩，想起那雨中的月亮#65377;

In the South the only thing I cannot bear to part is the gentle melancholy rain， which I obstinately think resembles me， an aimless wanderer weeping in an unknown place.

Walking in an ancient， simple lane shrouded in the hazy rain one day， I seemed to be returning to the setting of Dai Wangshu＇s poem 《A Lane in the Rain》 and I wondered if a lilac-like girl， indifferent， lonely and disconsolate， would appear before my eyes.

Lowering my head， I thought about the girl， unaware of the falling rain.

Suddenly I felt a tug at the edge of my coat. I raised my head and spotted a girl of seven or eight years old looking up at me， her eyes， already wet in the drizzle， making me doubt if they were two summer night stars hidden under her long eye-lash. I gently smiled at her and a childish voice came，“Are you here in the South fishing up the moon?”

I beamed on her， thinking she must have learned the text 《Monkeys Fish Up The Moon》. So I pulled faces at her and teasingly asked，“Do you think I look like a monkey?”

“No，you don＇t. But my teacher tells us working here in the South is fishing up the moon!“she said earnestly， her plait raised， black and shining in the rain.

Curious， I asked seriously， “How do you know I am here fishing up the moon?”

She pointed to the factory not far from us. That was the place I had just left.

“The textbook says the moon breaks as soon as it is touched. I think it difficult to fish it up...”she said， fumbling for something in her pocket.

“This is for you.”It was a piece of white paper， imperfectly round in shape with a notch in it.

She told me it was a moon， a piece of handwork she did in class， and she would give a better one next time.

The rain was still falling.The moon， half-drenched， looked exceptionally beautiful. I sincerely accepted her “moon”and held her tightly in my arms. I thought I was too incompetent to write the great chock she had given me.

“Ding Ding!”her mother called.

She gave me an angelic smile， turned round， scurried to the street corner and disappeared.

Indeed fishing up the moon in the South was trying to fulfill a dream. Possibly you would gain nothing. However you should never give up so long as you have a hope. I held the “moon”as if holding a sacred hope.

Consequently whenever it rains in the night， I shall recall the little girl and her rain-drenched moon.