The Good Lion善良的獅子

歐內斯特·海明威 譯/劉榮躍 Ernest Hemingway

Once upon a time there was a lion that lived in Africa with all the other lions. The other lions were all bad lions and every day they ate zebras and wildebeests and every kind of antelope. Sometimes the bad lions ate people too. They ate Swahilis， Umbulus and Wandorobos1 and they especially liked to eat Hindu traders. All Hindu traders are very fat and delicious to a lion.

But this lion， that we love because he was so good， had wings on his back. Because he had wings on his back the other lions all made fun of him.

“Look at him with the wings on his back，” they would say and then they would all roar with laughter.

“Look at what he eats，” they would say because the good lion only ate pasta and scampi because he was so good.

The bad lions would roar with laughter and eat another Hindu trader and their wives would drink his blood， going lap， lap， lap with their tongues like big cats. They only stopped to growl with laughter or to roar with laughter at the good lion and to snarl at his wings. They were very bad and wicked lions indeed.

But the good lion would sit and fold his wings back and ask politely if he might have a Negroni or an Americano and he always drank that instead of the blood of the Hindu traders. One day he refused to eat eight Masai cattle and only ate some tagliatelli and drank a glass of pomodoro.

This made the wicked lions very angry and one of the lionesses， who was the wickedest of them all and could never get the blood of Hindu traders off her whiskers even when she rubbed her face in the grass， said， “Who are you that you think you are so much better than we are？ Where do you come from， you pasta-eating lion？ What are you doing here anyway？” She growled at him and they all roared without laughter.

“My father lives in a city where he stands under the clock tower and looks down on a thousand pigeons， all of whom are his subjects. When they fly they make a noise like a rushing river. There are more palaces in my fathers city than in all of Africa and there are four great bronze horses that face him and they all have one foot in the air because they fear him.

“In my fathers city men go on foot or in boats and no real horse would? ? enter the city for fear of my father.”

“Your father was a griffon，” the wicked lioness said， licking her whiskers.

“You are a liar，” one of the wicked lions said. “There is no such city.”

“Pass me a piece of Hindu trader，” another very wicked lion said. “This Masai cattle is too newly killed.”

“You are a worthless liar and the son of a griffon，” the wickedest of all the lionesses said. “And now I think I shall kill you and eat you， wings and all.”

This frightened the good lion very much because he could see her yellow eyes and her tail going up and down and the blood caked on her whiskers and he smelled her breath which was very bad because she never brushed her teeth ever. Also she had old pieces of Hindu trader under her claws.

“Dont kill me，” the good lion said. “My father is a noble lion and always has been respected and everything is true as I said.”

Just then the wicked lioness sprang at him. But he rose into the air on his wings and circled the group of wicked lions once， with them all roaring and looking at him. He looked down and thought， “What savages these lions are.”

He circled them once more to make them roar more loudly. Then he swooped low so he could look at the eyes of the wicked lioness who rose on her hind legs to try and catch him. But she missed him with her claws. “Adios2，” he said， for he spoke beautiful Spanish， being a lion of culture. “Au revoir3，” he called to them in his exemplary French.

They all roared and growled in African lion dialect.

Then the good lion circled higher and higher and set his course for Venice. He alighted in the Piazza and everyone was delighted to see him. He flew up for a moment and kissed his father on both cheeks and saw the horses still had their feet up and the Basilica looked more beautiful than a soap bubble. The Campanile was in place and the pigeons were going to their nests for the even-ing.

“How was Africa？” his father said.

“Very savage， father，” the good lion replied.

“We have night lighting here now，” his father said.

“So I see，” the good lion answered like a dutiful son.

“It bothers my eyes a little，” his father confided to him. “Where are you going now， my son？”

“To Harrys Bar，” the good lion said.

“Remember me to Cipriani and tell him I will be in some day soon to see about my bill，” said his father.

“Yes， father，” said the good lion and he flew down lightly and walked to Harrys Bar on his own four paws.

In Ciprianis nothing was changed. All of his friends were there. But he was a little changed himself from being in Africa.

“A Negroni， Signor4 Barone？” asked Mr. Cipriani.

But the good lion had flown all the way from Africa and Africa had changed him.

“Do you have any Hindu trader sandwiches？” he asked Cipriani.

“No， but I can get some.”

“While you are sending for them， make me a very dry martini.” He added， “With Gordons gin.”

“Very good，” said Cipriani. “Very good indeed.”

Now the lion looked about him at the faces of all the nice people and he knew that he was at home but that he had also traveled. He was very happy.

從前有一只獅子，他與別的所有獅子生活在非洲。別的獅子都很邪惡，他們每天吃斑馬、牛羚和各種羚羊。有時那些邪惡的獅子還吃人，他們吃斯瓦希里人、烏布魯人和萬多羅博人，特別喜歡吃印度商人。印度商人都很肥胖，吃起來味美可口。

但是這只獅子——我們喜歡他，因為他很善良——背上長著翅膀，因此受到別的所有獅子嘲笑。

他們總說：“瞧他，背上長著翅膀呢。”然后哈哈大笑。

他們總說：“看看他吃的啥。”因為善良的獅子只吃面食和蒜味大蝦，他太善良了。

那些邪惡的獅子總會哈哈大笑，然后再吃掉一個印度商人，讓母獅喝他的血，像大貓那樣用舌頭一下下舔著喝。只有在對善良的獅子齜牙哈哈大笑或對著他的翅膀發出咆哮時，他們才停止進食。他們的確是非常邪惡的壞獅子。

不過善良的獅子總是收起翅膀坐下，禮貌地問自己是否可以喝杯內格羅尼酒或美式咖啡——他總喝那些東西，不喝印度商人的血。一天，他拒絕去吃馬塞人養的八頭牛，只是吃了點干制面條，喝了一杯西紅柿汁。

這讓邪惡的獅子們很氣憤。其中有一只母獅最壞，即使用草地擦臉，也擦不干凈腮須上印度商人的血跡。她說：“你是誰？你以為自己比我們好很多嗎？你這個吃面食的獅子從哪里來的？你究竟在這兒干什么？”母獅朝他吼叫，邪惡的獅子全都咆哮起來，沒有笑。

“我爸爸住在城里，他站在鐘樓下面俯視著上千只鴿子，那都是他的臣民。鴿子飛走時發出急流般的聲響。我爸爸城里的宮殿比整個非洲的都多，他面前有四匹青銅大馬，他們都提起一只腳，因為害怕我爸爸。

“在我爸爸的城里，人們步行或坐船出行，真正的馬不會進入城里，因為害怕我爸爸。”

“你爸爸是個半獅半鷲的怪物。”邪惡的母獅舔著腮須說道。

“你撒謊。”一只邪惡的獅子說，“沒有這樣的城市。”

“遞給我一塊印度商人的肉吧。”另一只非常邪惡的獅子說，“這頭馬塞牛剛被殺死不久。”

“你是個不中用的騙子，是半獅半鷲怪物的兒子。”最邪惡的母獅說，“現在我想我應該殺了你，把你連同翅膀全都吃了。”

這讓善良的獅子很害怕，因為他看到母獅發黃的眼睛，尾巴上下擺動著，腮須上的血結成塊。他聞到母獅很臭的口氣，因為母獅從不刷牙。母獅爪子下面還有幾塊印度商人的陳肉。

“別殺我。”善良的獅子說，“我爸爸是一只高貴的獅子，一直受到大家尊敬，我說的都是實話。”

就在那時，這只邪惡的母獅向他撲去。但他張開翅膀飛起來，繞著邪惡的獅子飛了一圈。他們全都看著他吼叫。他看著下面，心想：“這些獅子真野蠻。”

他再次繞著他們飛了一圈，讓他們吼叫得更大聲。然后他猛沖下去，這樣就能看到邪惡的母獅的眼睛。母獅后腿直立，站起來試圖抓住他，可是沒有抓住。“再見。”這只有文化的獅子用熟練的西班牙語說道。“再見。”他又用標準的法語對他們說道。

獅子們都咆哮起來，用非洲獅的方言吼叫著。

然后善良的獅子盤旋著，越來越高，而后啟程向威尼斯飛去。他停落在圣馬可廣場，人人都高興見到他。他向上飛了一會兒，吻了吻爸爸兩邊的臉頰，看見那些馬仍然提起一只腳，大教堂比肥皂泡還漂亮。鐘樓立在原地，鴿子正飛回巢過夜。

“非洲怎么樣？”爸爸問。

“很野蠻，爸爸。”善良的獅子回答。

“咱們這兒有夜間照明了。”爸爸說。

“我看見啦。”善良的獅子恭順地回答。

“有點兒刺眼。”爸爸吐露說，“你現在要去哪里，兒子？”

“去哈里酒吧。”善良的獅子說。

“代我向奇普里亞尼問好，告訴他最近哪天我會把賬單付了。”爸爸說。

“好的，爸爸。”善良的獅子說。他輕輕飛落下去，四腳著地走到哈里酒吧。

奇普里亞尼店里的一切都沒變化。他所有的朋友都在那兒。不過他去了一趟非洲，自己有了一點兒變化。

“來杯內格羅尼酒嗎，巴羅內先生？”奇普里亞尼先生問。

但是善良的獅子從非洲一路飛來，非洲改變了他。

“有印度商人三明治嗎？”他問奇普里亞尼。

“沒有，不過我可以弄來一些。”

“你差人弄來期間，給我調杯馬提尼酒。”他補充道，“用哥頓金酒。”

“好的。”奇普里亞尼說。“當然，好的。”

現在，這只獅子看著身邊所有好人的面容，他知道自己回家了，不過也旅行過了。他十分開心。