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So now on nights when my mother presented her tests, I performed listlessly, my head propped on one arm. I pretended to be bored. And I was. I got so bored that I started counting the bellows of the foghorns out on the bay while my mother drilled me in other areas. The sound was comforting and reminded me of the cow jumping over the moon. And the next day, I played a game with myself, seeing if my mother would give up on me before eight bellows. After a while I usually counted ony one maybe two bellow at most. At last she was beginning to give up hope.
所以后来，每当晚上妈妈再来考我，我就表现出无精打采，用手撑着头，一副心烦的样子。实际也是如此。当母亲开始其他方面的操练，我厌烦得竟开始数起海湾传来雾笛的次数。那声音令人感到慰藉，使我想到母牛跳过月亮的样子。第二天，我自己做了个游戏：看看雾笛低鸣八次之前母亲是否会放弃。过不多久，我只需数一次或者至多两次就够了。终于，她开始放弃希望。
Two or three months had gone by without any mention of my being a prodigy again. And then one day my mother was watching The Ed Sullivan Show on TV. The TV was old and the sound kept shorting out. Every time my mother got halfway up from the sofa to adjust the set, the sound would go back on and Ed would be talking. As soon as she sat down, Ed would go silent again. She got up, the TV broke into loud piano music. She sat down. Silence. Up and down, back and forth, quiet and loud. It was like a stiff embraceless dance between her and the TV set. Finally she stood by the set with her hand on the sound dial.
两三个月平静地过去了，母亲没再提起让我成才的事。可不久后的一天，母亲在看电视上的埃德·沙利文秀。电视机很旧，声音总是时断时续。可每次母亲从沙发上起身要去调整时，声音恢复，埃德又在说话。可她一坐下，埃德就又变成哑巴。她一起身，电视上就突然高奏钢琴曲；她一坐下，电视就戛然无声。起来，坐下，前前后后，无声，有声。她好像在电视机前僵硬地跳着独舞。最后，她索性守在电视旁，将手按在音量钮上。
She seemed entranced by the music, a little frenzied piano piece with this mesmerizing quality, sort of quick passages and then teasing lilting ones before it returned to the quick playful parts.
她似乎被这音乐吸引住了。这钢琴曲不长，但有点狂乱，有着迷人的特点，乐曲一开始是快节奏的，接着是欢快跳动的节拍，然后又回到嬉戏的部分。
"Ni kan," my mother said, calling me over with hurried hand gestures. "Look here."
“你看，”母亲着急地打着手势招呼我过去，“看这儿。”
I could see why my mother was fascinated by the music. It was being pounded out by a little Chinese girl, about nine years old, with a Peter Pan haircut. The girl had the sauciness of a Shirley Temple. She was proudly modest like a proper Chinese Child. And she also did this fancy sweep of a curtsy, so that the fluffy skirt of her white dress cascaded slowly to the floor like petals of a large carnation.
我明白了母亲为何被那支曲子所吸引。原来演奏者是个中国小女孩。她大约9岁，留着彼得·潘的发式。她既有秀兰·邓波儿的活泼，又持有典型中国式的谦和。她也行了漂亮潇洒的屈膝礼。她那蓬松的白裙下摆像一朵巨大的康乃馨上的片片花瓣慢慢地飘落到舞台上。
