评论
打印
The Earth Poet
大地诗人
Jesse Stuart
杰西·斯图尔特
Nothing ever escaped my father, for he was an earth poet who loved the land and everything on it. He liked to watch things grow. From the time I was big enough for him to lead me by the hand, I went with him over the farm. If I couldn't walk all the way in those early days, he'd carry me on his back. I learned to love many of the things he loved.
任何事情都逃不过我父亲的眼睛，因为他是一位大地诗人，他深情地热爱着这片土地以及这片上的一切。他喜欢观察万物的生长。自从我学会走路后，父亲就常拉着我的手，一道巡视整个农场了。在那段我还年幼的日子里，我还不能走完整段路程，父亲就会背着我走。我学会了热爱他所爱的许多事物。
Sometime in the dim past of my boyhood, my father unloaded me from his back under some white-oak trees just beginning to leaf. "Look at this hill, son," he said, gesturing broadly with a sweep of his hand. "Look up that steep hill toward the sky. See how pretty that new-ground corn is."
我隐约记得童年时的一天，父亲把我从背上放下来，放在几棵刚开始长叶的白橡树下。“看看这座小山，儿子。”他说着，敞开手臂向上一挥。“抬头看看那座伸入云霄陡峭的山峰。瞧瞧那块新开垦的玉米地多美呀！”
This was the first field I can remember my father's taking me to see. The rows of corn curved like dark green rainbows around a high slope with a valley and its little tributaries running down through the center. The corn blades rustled in the wind, and my father said he could understand what the corn blades were saying. He told me they whispered to each other, and this was hard for me to believe. I reasoned that before anything could speak or make a sound it had to have a mouth. When my father said the corn could talk, I got down on my knees and looked a stalk over.
这是我记忆中，父亲带我去看的第一块地。一排排玉米像墨绿色的彩虹一样蜿蜒环绕着高坡和山谷，一条条小河从中间一直延伸下去。玉米叶子在风中沙沙作响，父亲说，他能听懂玉米叶子在说什么。他告诉我说他们正互相说着悄悄话，这简直让我难以置信。我想，任何东西要能说话或发出声响得先有一张嘴。当父亲说玉米可以说话时，我跪下仔细地观察起一棵玉米来。
