评论
打印
3.Waiting for the Breeze
3.祈盼清风
Lying in bed, by an open window, and listen."No air-conditioning, how can you sleep?" my fiend asks, horrified. I've just revealed that my family had decided to shut the air-conditioner off and trim our electric bill.
窗边静躺，细心聆听“不开空调？能睡得着吗？”听说家人要为了节省电费而把家里的空调关掉时，我的朋友一脸惊愕。
“Nobody opens a window,day or night,”warns another friend, whose windows have been painted shut for a decade.“This is the 1990s．It's not safe.”
“不管是白天还是晚上都没有人开窗户”另一个朋友警告到，他的窗户都已经关了十年了。“现在是20世纪90年代。这可不安全”
On its first night of our cost-cutting adventure, it's only eighty-five degrees. We're not going to suffer, but the three kids grumble anyway. They've grown up in 72-degree comfort,insulated from the world outside.
在大胆尝试节电的第一天晚上，气温不过华氏85°而已，我们并不觉得难受，但三个孩子却怨声连天。他们一直在华氏72°的舒适温度下成长，与世隔绝。
“How do you open these windows?” my husband asks．Jiggling the metal tabs, he finally releases one. A potpourri of bug bodies decorates the sill. As we spring the windows one by one, the night noises howl outside and in.
“你怎么不开窗户啊？”我的丈夫问道。他摇动了金属杆，并打开了一扇窗。一片小虫群尸体遍布整个窗台。当我们把窗户一扇扇打开时，外面夜晚的喧嚣声进到了室内。
"It's too hot to sleep." my thirteen-year-old daught moans. "I'm about to die from this heat!" her brother hollers down the hall. "Just try it tonight." I tell them. In truth, I'm too tired to argue for long. My face is sweaty, but I lie quietly, listening to the criket choirs outside. That remind me of childhood. The neighbor's dog howls．Probably a trespassing squirrel．It's been years since I've taken the time to really listen to the night.
“太热了！怎么睡啊！”我十三岁的女儿不停嘀咕着。“热死我啦！”他弟弟的牢骚声也从客厅的另一头传来。我只好说：“今晚就试着忍一忍，好吗？”其实我根本没有余力多做解释。脸上也出汗了。我静静地躺着，聆听着窗外蟋蟀的合奏曲，思绪被牵回到了童年时光。邻居家的狗叫着。也许是因为一直擅自闯入的小松鼠。我好多年都没有静下心来听一听夜晚的声音了。
I think about my grandma, who lived to ninety-two and still supervised my mom's garden until just few weeks before she died. And then I'm back there in her house in the summer heat of my child hood. I moved my pillow to the foot of grandma's bed and angled my face toward the open window. I flipped the pillow, hunting for the cooller side.
这是我禁不住想起了外婆，她活到了92岁，直到去世前的几个礼拜，她一直都帮助妈妈照料着花园。回到童年炎热的夏天，回到了外婆的小屋，我把枕头移到外婆的床位，脸朝着窗。之后我又把枕头翻了过来，让比较凉爽的一头朝上。
Grandma sees me thrashing, "if you just watch for the breeze," she says, "you'll cool off and fall asleep." She cranks up the Vanetian Blinds. I stare at the filmy white curtain, willing it to flutter. Lying still and waiting, I suddenly notice that life outside the window, the bug chorus. Neighbours, porch-sitting late, speaking in hazy words with sanded edges that soothe me.
看到我翻来翻去地睡不着，外婆说：“只要用心去感受和祈盼，风会来的，这样你就可以一身清凉地入梦乡了。”她把百叶窗拉了起来，于是我就一直注视着朦胧的白窗帘，等待它的飘动。静静地躺着，祈盼着，这时我忽然找到，窗外世界的生命。小虫的清唱；门廊外闲聊着的邻居，他们模糊不清的喋喋细语开始催我入眠
"Mom, did you hear that?" my seven-year-old blurts, "I think it was an owl family."
“妈妈，您听到了吗？”我7岁的孩子囔道，“我觉得那是一头猫头鹰一家子在叫。”
"Probably." I tell him, "Just keep listening!"
“很有可能！”我跟他说，“再仔细听!”
Without the droning air-conditioner, the house is oddly peaceful, and the unfiltered noise seems close enough to touch. I hope I'm awake tonight that the first breeze sneaks in.
没有了空调机的嗡嗡声，房间飘逸着一种奇异的祥和气氛，还有未经过滤的、亲近的伸手就可触及的夜声。真的希望，当第一缕清风悄然而至的时候，我依然能够迎接她的到来。
