寫 給 母 親Written for My Mother

文/賈平凹 譯/胡宗鋒 羅賓·吉爾班克（）

By Jia Pingwa

寫 給 母 親Written for My Mother

文/賈平凹 譯/胡宗鋒 羅賓·吉爾班克（Robin Gilbank）

ByJia Pingwa

人活著的時候，只是事情多，不計較白天和黑夜。人一旦死了日子就堆起來：算一算，再有二十天，我媽就三周年了。

[2]三年里，我一直有個奇怪的想法，就是覺得我媽沒有死，而且還覺得我媽自己也不以為她就死了。常說人死如睡，可睡的人是知道要睡去，睡在了床上，卻并不知道在什么時候睡著的呀。我媽跟我在西安生活了十四年，大病后醫生認定她的各個器官已在衰竭，我才送她回棣花老家維持治療。每日在老家掛上液體了，她也清楚每一瓶液體完了，兒女們會換上另一瓶液體的，所以便放心地閉了眼躺著。到了第三天的晚上，她閉著的眼是再沒有睜開，但她肯定還是認為她在掛液體了，沒有意識到從此再不醒來，因為她躺下時還讓我妹把給她擦臉的毛巾洗一洗，梳子放在了枕邊，系在褲帶上的鑰匙沒有解，也沒有交代任何后事啊。

When people are alive, they do not care about day and night because they can only occupy themselves with a finite number of matters. Once a person has passed away, the days pile up:according to my reckoning, in twenty days’ time it will be the third anniversary of my mother’s death.

[2] During these three years, I have been seized by a queer sensation, namely I have felt that my mother is not actually gone. I have also felt that my mother shares the sense that she has not departed.It is said that dying is like going to sleep,but while the sleeper knows he must slumber on a bed he does not know when exactly he will drift off. For fourteen years, my mother lived together with me in Xi’an. After a serious illness, the doctor confirmed that all of her organs were in a state of terminal exhaustion. I then decided to send her back to our home village of Dihua, where she might continue to receive medical care. Every day, in my home village, she knew that once one bag of intravenous medicine was spent,her children would feed another into the drip. She simply shut her eyes and lay down there at ease. On the third night, her closed eyes did not open, but she was certain that the drip remained attached. She didn’t realize that thereafter she would never regain consciousness because when she lay down she asked my younger sister to wash her facecloth. The comb lay beside her pillow. The key tied to her belt stayed fastened. She did not convey her final wishes.

[3]三年以前我每打噴嚏，總要說一句：這是誰想我呀？我媽愛說笑，就接茬說：誰想哩，媽想哩！這三年里，我的噴嚏尤其多，往往錯過吃飯時間，熬夜太久，就要打噴嚏，噴嚏一打，便想到我媽了，認定是我媽還在牽掛我哩。

[3] Three years ago, whenever I sneezed I would always ask “who is missing me?” My mother loved to crack jokes. She would pick up where I left off and say “who is missing? Your mother is missing you!” During these three years, I have sneezed with greater regularity. Usually, when I am late for a meal or stay up for too long I will sneeze. When I sneeze I think of my mother and I am certain that my mother is still missing me.

[4]我媽在牽掛著我，她并不以為她已經死了，我更是覺得我媽還在，尤其我一個人靜靜地待在家里，這種感覺就十分強烈。我常在寫作時，突然能聽到我媽在叫我，叫得很真切，一聽到叫聲我便習慣地朝右邊扭過頭去。從前我媽坐在右邊那個房間的床頭上，我一伏案寫作，她就不再走動，也不出聲，卻要一眼一眼看著我，看得時間久了，她要叫我一聲，然后說：世上的字你能寫完嗎，出去轉轉么。現在，每聽到我媽叫我，我就放下筆走進那個房間，心想我媽從棣花來西安了？當然是房間里什么也沒有，卻要立上半天，自言自語我媽是來了又出門去街上給我買我愛吃的青辣子和蘿卜了。或許，她在逗我，故意藏到掛在墻上的她那張照片里，我便給照片前的香爐里上香，要說上一句：我不累。

[5]整整三年了，我給別人寫過十多篇文章，卻始終沒給我媽寫過一個字，因為所有的母親，兒女們都認為是偉大又善良，我不愿意重復這些詞語。我媽是一位普通的婦女，纏過腳，沒有文化，戶籍還在鄉下，但我媽對于我是那樣的重要。已經很長時間了，雖然再不為她的病而提心吊膽了，可我出遠門，再沒有人啰啰嗦嗦地叮嚀著這樣叮嚀著那樣，我有了好吃的好喝的，也不知道該送給誰去。

[4] My mother is missing me. She does not believe that she has passed away. I am even more convinced that she is still alive. This feeling is especially intense when I stay quietly alone at home.Often, when I am writing I will suddenly hear that my mother is calling me. The voice is real and sincere. On hearing her call, I will customarily twist my head to the right. Before, my mother used to perch on the edge of the bed in the room to the right-hand side. When I craned over and began to write, she would stop walking around and not make a peep.Instead she would keep her eyes fixed on me. After having stared at me for a long time, she would call out for me and then say, “Can you finish writing all the words in the world? Go out and walk for a while.” Now, whenever I hear that my mother is calling me I will lay down my pen and walk into the room. I wonder if my mother has come to Xi’an from Dihua? Of course, there is nothing in the room, but I will stand there for a long time and say to myself that my mother has returned, but popped out onto the street to buy my favourite green peppers and radishes. Or perhaps, she is pulling my leg by deliberately hiding behind her portrait hung on the wall? I will then burn incense in the censing bowl in front of the picture and add one sentence: “I am not tired.”

[5] Over those three years, I have composed dozens of articles for others, but never written one single character for my mother. This is because in the eyes of their children all mothers are great and kind. I do not want to repeat this cliché.My mother was an ordinary woman with bound feet. She was illiterate and her household registration certificate was still that of a peasant. However, my mother was so important to me. After a long, long time the thought of her illness no longer brings my heart into my mouth. And yet whenever I prepare to venture to a distant place there is no longer anybody nagging me to do this and that. When I am given fine food and drink, I no longer know to whom I should send them.

[6]在西安的家里，我媽住過的那個房間，我沒有動一件家具，一切擺設還原模原樣，而我再沒有看見過我媽的身影。我一次又一次難受著又給自己說，我媽沒有死，她是住回鄉下老家了。今年的夏天太濕太熱，每晚被濕熱醒來，恍惚里還想著該給我媽的房間換個新空調了。待清醒過來，又寬慰著我媽在鄉下的新住處里，應該是清涼的吧。

[7]三周年的日子一天天臨近，鄉下的風俗是要辦一場儀式的，我準備著香燭花果，回一趟棣花了。但一回棣花，就要去墳上，現實告訴著我，媽是死了，我在地上，她在地下，陰陽兩隔，母子再也難以相見，頓時熱淚肆流，長聲哭泣啊。

[6] In my home in Xi’an, I have not moved a stick of furniture in the room where my mother formerly lived. Everything has been left in its original state.However, I have never glimpsed my mother’s shadow. Again and again, I have repeated gravely to myself: “My mother is not dead. She has gone to live in the countryside.” This summer it is too hot and humid. Every night when the heat and humidity wakes me, in a trance I think that I should install a new air conditioner for my mother. When I spring back to my senses, I comfort myself that my mother is living in a new place in the countryside.That place must be cool.

[7] The date of the third anniversary is drawing near. According to the custom of the countryside we should hold a special ceremony. I am preparing candles, incense,and fruits, ready to go back to Dihua. But once I return to Dihua, I have to visit her grave. The reality is that my mother has passed away. I am on the ground and she is beneath it. Life and death separate us.The mother and son can never cross paths again. Tears cascade down my face accompanied by a long wail.