作者簡介：張潔（1937-），北京人，我國當(dāng)代女作家?，F(xiàn)任美國文學(xué)藝術(shù)院榮譽(yù)院士、北京作協(xié)副主席、中國作協(xié)理事等。代表作有長篇小說《沉重的翅膀》、短篇小說《有一個(gè)青年》、中篇小說《祖母綠》和散文《愛，是不能忘記的》等及一些文藝短論?！锻谒j菜》作于1978年。當(dāng)時(shí)，國內(nèi)撥亂反正，社會安定，經(jīng)濟(jì)發(fā)展走上了正軌，人民生活有了明顯的好轉(zhuǎn)，高等學(xué)校恢復(fù)了招生考試。舊社會的痛苦，新社會的傷痕，永遠(yuǎn)銘刻在父母一輩的心里。做父母的總是希望孩子們，不能忘記歷史，不能忘記苦難，要珍惜現(xiàn)在，要開創(chuàng)未來，有一個(gè)他們未曾生活過的新的生活。

譯者簡介：龍輝（1988-），男，湖南衡陽人，云南民族大學(xué)外國語學(xué)院研究生。研究方向：英語筆譯研究。

[中圖分類號]：H059 [文獻(xiàn)標(biāo)識碼]：A

[文章編號]：1002-213（2013）-19-00-03

挖薺菜

◎ 張潔

我對薺菜，有著一種特殊的感情……

小的時(shí)候，我是那么饞！剛抽出嫩條還沒打花苞的薔薇枝，把皮一剝，我就能吃下去；剛割下來的蜂蜜，我會連蜂房一起放進(jìn)嘴巴里；更別說什么青玉米棒子、青棗、青豌豆啰。所以，只要我一出門兒，碰上財(cái)主家的胖兒子，他就總要跟在我身后，拍著手、跳著腳地叫著：“饞丫頭！饞丫頭！”羞得我連頭也不敢回。

我感到又羞惱，又冤屈！七八歲的姑娘家，誰愿意落下這么個(gè)名聲？可是有什么辦法呢？我餓??！我真不記得什么時(shí)候，那種饑餓的感覺曾經(jīng)離開過我，就是現(xiàn)在，每當(dāng)我回憶起那個(gè)時(shí)候的情景，留在我記憶里最鮮明的感覺，也還是一片饑餓……

吃那些沒收進(jìn)主人家倉房里的東西，我還一次也沒有被人家抓到過。倒不是因?yàn)槲业倪\(yùn)氣格外好，而是人們多半并不想認(rèn)真地懲罰一個(gè)饑餓的孩子。可有一次，我在財(cái)主家的地里掰玉米棒子，被他的大管家發(fā)現(xiàn)了，他立刻拿著一根又粗又直的木頭棒子，毫不留情地緊緊向我追來。我沒命地逃著。我想我一定跑得飛快，因?yàn)轱L(fēng)在我的耳朵旁邊呼呼直響。不知是我被嚇昏了，還是平時(shí)很熟悉的那些田間小路有意捉弄我，為什么面前偏偏橫著一條小河？追趕我的人越來越近了。我害怕到了極點(diǎn)，便不顧一切地縱身跳進(jìn)那條河。

河水并不很深，但是足以沒過我那矮小的身子。我一聲不響地掙扎著，撲騰著，身子失去了平衡。冰涼的河水嗆得我好難受，我?guī)缀醣尺^氣去，而河水卻依舊在我身邊不停地流著，流著……在由于恐怖而變得混亂的意識里，卻出奇清晰地反映出岸上那個(gè)追趕我的人的殘酷笑聲。

我簡直不知道我是怎么樣才爬上對岸的。更使我喪氣的是腳上的鞋子不知什么時(shí)候掉了一只。我實(shí)在沒有勇氣重新回頭去找那只丟失了的鞋子，可我也不敢回家，我怕媽媽知道。不，我并不是怕她打我。我是怕看見她那雙被貧困的生活折磨得失去了光彩的、哀愁的眼睛。那雙眼睛，會因?yàn)槲襾G失了鞋子而更加暗淡。

我獨(dú)自一人游蕩在田野里。太陽落山了，琥珀色的晚霞漸漸地從天邊退去。遠(yuǎn)處，廟里的鐘聲在薄幕中響起來。羊兒咩咩地叫著，由放羊的孩子趕著回圈了；烏鴉也呱呱地叫著回巢去了。夜色越來越濃了，村落啦，樹林子啦，坑洼啦，溝渠啦，好像一下子全都掉進(jìn)了神秘的沉寂里。我聽見媽媽在村口焦急地呼喚著我的名字，只是不敢答應(yīng)。一種比饑餓更可怕的東西平生頭一次潛入了我那童稚的心……

說過了這些，人們也許會理解我為什么對薺菜有著那么特殊的感情。

經(jīng)過一個(gè)沒有什么吃食可以尋覓、因而顯得更加饑餓的冬天，大地春回、萬物復(fù)蘇的日子重新來臨了！田野里長滿了各種野菜：雪蒿、馬齒莧、灰灰菜、野蔥……最好吃的是薺菜。把它下在玉米糊糊里，再放上點(diǎn)鹽花，真是無上的美味啊！而挖薺菜時(shí)的那種坦然的心情，更可以稱得上是一種享受：提著籃子，邁著輕捷的步子，向廣闊無垠的田野里奔去。嫩生生的薺菜，在微風(fēng)中揮動它們綠色的手掌，招呼我，歡迎我。我再也不必?fù)?dān)心有誰會拿著大棒子兇神惡煞似地追趕我，我甚至可以不時(shí)地抬頭看看天上吱吱喳喳飛過去的小鳥，樹上綻開的花兒和藍(lán)天上白色的云朵。那時(shí)，我的心里便會不由地升起一個(gè)熱切的愿望：巴不得這個(gè)世界上的一切，都像薺菜一樣是屬于我們每一個(gè)人的。

解放以后，我進(jìn)了城。偶然，在大菜場里，也可以看到人工培植的薺菜出售。長得肥肥大大的，總有半尺來長，洗得干干凈凈，水靈靈的。一小扎，一小扎，碼得整整齊齊地?cái)[在菜攤子上，價(jià)錢也不貴?？晌?，總還是懷念那長在野地里的薺菜，就像懷念那些與自己共過患難的老朋友一樣。

多少年來，每到春天，我總要挑個(gè)風(fēng)和日麗的日子，帶上孩子們到郊區(qū)的野地里去挖薺菜。我明白，孩子們之所以在我的身旁跳著，跑著，尖聲地打著唿哨，多半因?yàn)檫@對他們來說，是一種有趣的游戲——和煦的陽光，綠色的田野，就像一幅優(yōu)美的風(fēng)景畫似的展現(xiàn)在他們面前，使他們的身心全都感到愉快。他們長大一些之后，陪同我去挖薺菜，似乎就變成了對我的一種遷就了，正像那些恭順的年輕人，遷就他們那些因?yàn)樯狭四昙o(jì)而變得有點(diǎn)怪癖的長輩一樣。這時(shí)，我深感遺憾：他們多半不能體會我當(dāng)年挖薺菜的心情！

等到我把一盤用精鹽、麻油、味精、白糖精心調(diào)配好的薺菜放到餐桌上去的時(shí)候（小的時(shí)候，我可是做夢也沒有想到我那可愛的薺菜會享受到今天這樣的“榮華富貴”），他們也還是帶著那種遷就的微笑，漫不經(jīng)心地用筷子挑上幾根薺菜……

看著他們那雙懶洋洋的筷子，我的心里就像翻倒了的五味瓶，什么滋味都有。因?yàn)槲抑?，這種賞光似的遷就，并不只是表現(xiàn)在對挖薺菜這一樁事情上，它還表現(xiàn)在對我們這一代人的一些見解和行為上。在他們看來，我們的有些見解和行為，都像陳列在博物館里的出土文物——離他們的現(xiàn)實(shí)生活太遠(yuǎn)了，不頂用了。自然，我也并不認(rèn)為我們的見解和行為就完全正確。只要他們不覺得厭煩，我甚至愿意跟他們談?wù)勎覀冊谔剿魅松矫嬖?jīng)走過的彎路，以便他們少付出一些不必要的代價(jià)。我真希望我們之間不要成為隔膜很深的兩代人，而是心靈相通的朋友。

孩子，讓我們多談?wù)勑陌桑寢寢尪嘀v講當(dāng)“饞丫頭”時(shí)的故事給你們聽吧。想想你們媽媽當(dāng)年挖薺萊的情景，你們就會珍愛薺菜，珍愛生活。你們就會懂得什么是幸福，怎樣才會得到幸福。

譯文：

On Grubbing for Shepherd’s Purses

◎ 龍輝

To the shepherd’s purses， I always attach a special emotion...

When I was a child， I was so greedy that I could eat the roses’ tender branches without buds after simply peeling. I could also swallow down the honey together with the beehive， let alone the green corn cobs， the green dates and the green peas. Therefore， as long as I ran across the fat son of the landlord， he would clap and jump after me and loudly nickname me “greedy girl”， which made me too shy to look back.

As a girl of seven years old， I felt ashamed and wronged to have such a notorious fame. But I could do nothing about it， because I was so hungry. Memory failed me when the feeling of starvation had ever disappeared. Even now， whenever I recalled the situation of that time， hunger is still fresh in my memory…

I was never caught stealing the food to be stored in the landlord’s granary. It was not because of my good luck but because most people didn’t have the heart to punish a hungry child. However， once I was stealing corn cobs in the landlord’s field， I was discovered by his housekeeper， who immediately started to chase me mercilessly with a big wooden rod in hand. I ran as fast as possible， so much so that I could hear the wind blowing beside my ears. Having no idea whether I was frightened to death or I was tricked by the paths across the field I usually familiarized， a small river suddenly turned up before me. The housekeeper’s approaching scared me so much that I was forced to plunge into the river without any further thinking.

The river was not very deep but enough to drown me. Lost my balance in the water， I was struggling and flopping about. The river kept running and its chilling water nearly choked me to death. My awareness became confused due to scare， but I was still able to hear the cruel smile from the man on the bank.

Hardly could I remember how I manage to climb onto the bank on the other side of the river. What made me more dejected was one of my shoes was gone. Neither did I have the gut to go back and look for the lost one， nor did I dare to go home for fear of my mother knowing about that. It was not because I was afraid of her beating me but because of being afraid of seeing her grieved eyes deprived of brightness by the impoverished life. They would become much darker due to my lost shoe.

I went about by myself in the field. The setting sun was casting its last amber rays down from the horizon. Bell sound could be heard through the dusk from the temple in the distance. The sheep were baaing and going back at the drive of the child shepherd. The crows were crying before returning to their nests. It was getting darker. All the things around me such as the village， the groove， the hollows and the ditches seemed to fall into a mysterious abyss of silence. I heard my mother call my name in a worried voice at the village entrance， but I daren’t answer her. For the first time in my life had my childish heart been seized by something more frightening than hunger.

After reading those above， you may understand about why I had such a special emotion towards the shepherd’s purses.

Everything returns to life in the spring after a ravenous winter with little food to look for. All kinds of edible wild herbs were growing in the field such as sage brushes， purselanes， goosefoots， green onions...， but my favourite one was still the shepherd’s purse. It was the upmost delicious when cooked with corn gruel and some salt. I also very much enjoyed the calm feeling of grubbing for the shepherd’s purses： a basket in hand， I ran to the open field at a light space. The tender shepherd’s purses were waving their green palms at the breeze as if to greet me and welcome me. No longer did I have to worry about being ferociously pursued by someone carrying a large stick， rather I could at times look up at the passing birds chirping and blooming flowers on the trees as well as the white clouds in the blue sky. From that time on， a seed of dream started to sprout from the bottom of my heart that I wished everything in the world belonged to us everyone just like the shepherd’s purse did.

After the founding of the People’s Republic of China， I became an urban dweller. Occasionally， I could find cultivated shepherd’s purses on sale in the big food market. They were plump in shape and about half a feet in length all looking clean and fresh and juicy. They were cheap and kept in neat and tidy punches and arranged in perfect order at the stall. But to me， I couldn’t help thinking of those growing in the wild just like missing the old friends who had shared sorrows and tough experience with me.

Many years had passed and in every spring I would choose a sunny day and take my children out into the suburbs to dig for the shepherd’s purses. I could understand that they jumped， ran， and shouted at the top of voice mostly because they treated it as an interesting game—the genial sunshine and green field are like a beautiful landscape painting which made them feel ease and happy. When they were older， they seemed to give in to me to accompany me to do it like those filial young men who gave in to their senile and queer elders. At this time， I felt a great pity that they couldn’t understand my feeling of grubbing for the shepherd’s purses in those years.

After I carefully cooked the shepherd’s purse salad with salt， sesame oil， gourmet powder， sugar and put it on the table （When I was a child， I never dreamed about my lovely shepherd’s purses would enjoy today’s “special treat”）， they just faintly took a few with chopsticks， a giving-in smile on the face…

Their lazy chopsticks filled me with mixed feelings of sorrow. I understand， they gave in to me not just on grubbing for shepherd’s purses， but also on the opinions and behaviours of my generation， which had been considered as too far away from their lives to be practical like those unearthed cultural relics displayed in the museum. Of course， never had I insisted our opinions and behaviours should be right all the time. I just want to share with them my zigzag experiences in exploring life lest that they might pay more unnecessary costs. It’s my sincere hope that we become bottom friends rather than two generations with deep gap.

My dear children， let’s talk more and let me tell you more stories about the \"greedy girl\". They will help you cherish shepherd's purses as well as life. Then， you will have a new understanding of what’s happiness， and how to obtain happiness.