鳥叫的聲音

張造云

A bird probably seemed to step into a maze when she broke into my bedroom. It happened occasionally1 in the city， I think. The birds are anything but happy about going to the city since the city is just a concrete2 jungle3. For birds， a single tree can be a hard-won place for living. Unfortunately it is so small that it decreases the birds interest； most birds coming here are just sparrows. Village provides good places for birds. Cabins4 are their toys. Grackle5， swallow6 and other wild birds are all friends of the village.

She came to visit me because of being a friend. My eyes were on this bird curiously. It was not a sparrow， not a grackle， or not a swallow. Its tiny body looked like a little shy girl. I knew she was the bird usually staying on the undershrub7 or osmanthus8 trees， with yellow feather and short beak9， however I could not tell her name. All the appearance I could tell was this. It was not important to give her a name but the fact that she flew into my room.

“Catch it！Catch it！” My daughter was yelling.

Why catch it？ Its just a creature missing the road. Here was a living room for human being. Hers was on the treetop. Leave the house， go and wait for me on the treetop.

“Daddy， why do you let it go？”

I sincerely expect to be a friend of it. Leaving it alone is the best gift to it. I hope it would wait for me after leaving.

Last time I saw The Sound of Singing Birds， a painting by a genius artist， Yue Lang. Many people in literature and art circles said that they didnt understand this painting because the word “sound” was too abstract10 since there were no trees or birds in the picture， how could there

be “sound”？

I didnt know how happy， despairing， helpless and grateful the sound of the bird is until the bird flew into my window. What Yue Lang wanted to express in his abstract art was the call of the nature， just like the happy voice of the birds， I think.

The sound of singing birds， I understand.

“Daddy， the bird is back！” My daughter shouted in a pleasant voice.

I looked at it. Was it？ Was it the bird that used to be here？ I was not sure. May be or may be not. But I prefer to believe it is. Human beings are emotional creatures， so are birds， arent they？

I heard the singing again， without any despairing or unpleasant voice， just like praising this beautiful village， those growing trees and the green pool crossing around my house.

My girl spread her arms curiously just like the bird opened its wings. But the bird flew away. Oh dear bird， my daughter was not going to hurt you. Yue Lang， if you can see this scene， you will be touched deeply or maybe create a new painting called The Youth of Flying Birds.

Caroline McKenzie， a famous English painter wrote to me in an e-mail， “Creation is not to take a photo. I think， even the best realistic painting， can not do much better than a camera. Let thoughts burst forth. How far your heart there is； how far the sound spreads.”

I want to share this quote with Yue Lang； I want to share the sound of birds with my daughter； I want to share this peace and beauty with my village. Once there was a bird flew over a house， and then flew into the room； once there was a bird arrived to guide the village. The morning starts from sunup； starts from the singing of birds.

The sound roused11 my sleeping wife and daughter. I got up early for greeting the first song of birds. It sounded silvery and beautiful. I watched the birds through window. I considered my window as a natural frame. My sight moved as the birds flied； I could not move the window so just let me film it by hands. The birds were flying into my viewfinder； my heart was flying into the pleasant sound up in the sky.

Flying， and flying； remember to wait for me on the treetop.

一只鳥也許誤闖了迷宮，闖入了我的臥室。我想，像這種情況，在城市里是很少見的。城市里是高樓林立的鋼筋森林，鳥兒不喜歡去城市。一棵樹對城市里的鳥兒來說是難得的寄托。可惜這個寄托不成規模，鳥兒的興趣不大，來的大多只是麻雀。村莊給鳥兒提供了很好的棲息地。一座小屋，對鳥兒來說是難得的玩具。白頭翁，燕子以及其他的野鳥都是村莊的朋友。

是朋友就要進屋玩玩的。我好奇地看著這只鳥。不是麻雀，不是白頭翁，不是燕子。它小巧的個子，像一個害羞的小姑娘。我說不出名字，但我知道，就是經常在小灌木、桂花樹上逗留的小鳥，赭黃色的羽毛，喙短小。我能說得出來的相貌特征就這些了。我想給它安個什么名并不重要吧，重要的是它跑到我的臥室里來了。

“抓住它，抓住它！”女兒大聲地喊叫。

為什么要抓住它呢？它是誤入歧途的生靈。這里本是人類的居室，它的臥室在樹梢上吧。離開屋子，去樹梢上等我吧。

“爸爸，你為什么把它給放了？”

我真的希望，和它做朋友，放生就是對它最好的禮遇。我希望，它離開房子后，在樹梢上等我。

上次看鬼才月浪的畫作《鳥叫的聲音》，有好多的文藝界的朋友說，看不懂月浪先生的這幅畫作，說聲音太抽象了，既沒有樹也沒有鳥，哪里有鳥叫的聲音？

自從鳥兒撞進我的臥室后，我才知道鳥叫的聲音可以多么快樂、多么絕望、多么無助、多么感恩。我想，月浪先生的抽象藝術所表達出來的正是一種自然的呼喚，就像那快樂的鳥兒叫聲。

鳥叫的聲音，我懂。

“爸爸，鳥兒又飛回來了。”女兒驚喜地叫道。

我定睛一看。是嗎？會是以前的那只小鳥嗎？我不知道。也許是，也許不是。可我情愿相信是。因為人是有感情的，我想，鳥兒也應該懂點感情，不是嗎？

我又聽到了鳥叫的聲音，那聲音沒有一丁點絕望的聲音，沒有一丁點不如意的聲音，好像在歌唱美麗的村莊、歌唱慢慢長大的樹、歌唱門前屋后那一灣碧塘。

女兒好奇地張開雙手，就像鳥兒張開翅膀。鳥兒飛走了。鳥兒呀，女兒是不會傷害你的。月浪，如果你看到此情此景，也許你會有新的觸動，或許會畫一幅畫叫作《鳥兒飛翔的青春》？

英國著名油畫家凱羅琳·麥肯錫在寫給我的信（e-mail）中提到：“創作不是照相，再好的工筆，我們贏不過相機。要讓思想沖破牢籠，心有多遠，聲音會有多遠。”

我想和月浪一起分享英國朋友的這句話；我想和女兒一起分享鳥叫的聲音；我想和村莊一起分享安詳和美好。曾經有鳥兒飛過房子，飛入臥室；曾經有鳥兒蒞臨指導村莊。早晨從陽光燦爛開始，從鳥叫的聲音里開始。

鳥叫的聲音在清晨喚醒我在睡夢中的妻女。我早早地起了床，為的是迎接鳥叫的第一聲。那聲音銀鈴般美妙。我透過窗欞望著鳥兒。我家的窗戶，就好像是一個天然的畫框，鳥兒飛到哪兒，我的視線移到哪兒；我的窗欞我帶不走，就讓我雙手取景吧。鳥兒飛在我的取景框里；我的心飛在鳥兒快樂的叫聲里。

飛吧，飛吧，記得在樹梢等我。