一個海員的圣誕禮物的英譯漢散文

一個海員的圣誕禮物的英譯漢散文

　　A Sailor's Christmas Gift

　　一個海員的圣誕禮物

　　Last year at Christmas time my wife，three boys，and I were in France，on our way from Paris to Nice．For five wretched days everything had gone wrong．Our hotels were “tourist traps”；our rented car broke down；we were all restless and irritable in the crowded car．On Christmas Eve，when we checked into a dingy hotel in Nice，there was no Christmas spirit in our hearts．

　　去年，在圣誕節期間，我和我的妻子以及我們的三個孩子，從法國踏上由巴黎到尼斯的旅途。由于接連五天的惡劣天氣，旅途上一切很不順心。我們下榻的旅館盡是些敲詐勒索旅客的“陷阱”；我們租用的那輛汽車老是發生故障，在擁擠不堪的車子上大家個個顯得煩躁不安。圣誕節前夕，我們住進了尼斯的一家旅店，這家旅店又臟又暗，我們打心眼里感覺不到絲毫的節日氣氛。

　　It was raining and cold when we went out to eat．We found a drab little joint shoddily decorated for the holiday．It smelled greasy．Only five tables in the restaurant were occupied．There were two German couples，two French families，and an American sailor，by himself．In the corner a piano player listlessly played Christmas music．

　　我們外出就餐時，天正下著小雨，天氣寒冷。我們找到了一家死氣沉沉的小餐館。為點綴一下節日的氣氛，這家餐館剛剛做了番粗劣的裝潢。一進門就聞到一股刺鼻的油污氣味。整個餐廳只有五張桌子有人就餐：兩對德國夫婦，兩戶法國家庭和一名孑然一身的美國水手。在餐廳的一個角落里，有位鋼琴師在無精打采地彈奏著圣誕樂曲。

　　I was too stubborn and too tired and miserable to leave．I looked around and noticed that the other customers were eating in stony silence．The only person who seemed happy was the American sailor．While eating，he was writing a letter，and a half－smile lighted his face．

　　我情緒低落，加之疲憊不堪，執意不愿離開這兒去找別的餐館了。我環顧四周，見這里的顧客一個個沉默不語，只顧吃著、喝著，唯獨那位美國水手看上去興高采烈。他一邊吃著，一邊寫信，面帶微笑，神采奕奕。

　　My wife ordered our meal in French．The waiter brought us the wrong thing．I scolded my wife for being stupid．She began to cry．The boys defended her，and I felt even worse．

　　我的妻子給我們叫來了法國式的飯菜，而服務員給我們端來的卻是別的東西。我斥責妻子盡干些蠢事，她哭了起來。孩子們一個個都護著他們的媽媽，于是我的情緒變得更加糟糕。

　　Then，at the table with the French family on our left，the father slapped one of his children for some minor infraction，and the boy began to cry．On our right，the German wife began berating her husband．

　　繼而，坐在我們左側餐桌上的那家法國人父親因為一點雞毛蒜皮的小事動手打了他的一個孩子一記耳光，那個小男孩哇哇大哭起來。在我的右邊，那個德國婦女不知因何緣故開始喋喋不休地數落、責罵起她的丈夫來。

　　All of us were interrupted by an unpleasant blast of old air．Through the front door came an old French flower woman．She wore a dripping，tattered overcoat，and shuffled in on wet，rundown shoes．Carrying her basket of flowers，she went from one table to the other．

　　我們大家都被一陣令人不快、死灰復燃的陳規陋習弄得心煩意亂。這時，從前門進來一個賣花的法國老嫗。她渾身濕透，衣衫襤褸，腳穿一雙水淋淋的破鞋，手里提著花籃，沿桌叫賣。

　　"Flowers，monsieur？Only one franc．"

　　“買花嗎，先生？一束才一個法郎哩。”

　　No one bought any．

　　誰也沒有答理她。

　　Wearily she sat down at a table between the sailor and us．To the waiter she said，"A bowl of soup．I haven't sold a flower all afternoon．" To the piano player she said hoarsely，"Can you imagine，Joseph， soup on Christmas Eve？"

　　她疲憊不堪，在水手和我們之間的那張餐桌旁邊坐了下來，對服務員說："請來碗湯吧。整整一下午，我連一朵花也不曾脫手。"接著，她轉向那位鋼琴師，用嘶啞的聲音問，"在圣誕節前夕喝碗湯，約瑟夫，你能設想這種滋味嗎？"

　　He pointed to his empty "tipping plate"．

　　鋼琴師指了指身旁的那只空空如也的"放小費的盤子"。

　　The young sailor finished his meal and got up to leave．Putting on his coat，he walked over to the flower woman's table．

　　那位年輕的海員已用罷晚餐，欠起身來準備離開餐館。他披上外套，走到賣花老嫗的桌前。