A Mother in Mannville by Marjorie Rawlings楊美芬譯

 

A Mother in Mannville

 

Marjorie Rawlings

    The orphanage is high in the Carolina mountains. Sometimes in winter the snowdrifts are so deep that the institution is cut off from the village below, from all the world. Fog hides the mountain peaks, the snow swirls down the valleys, and a wind blows so bitterly that the orphanage boys who take the milk twice daily to the baby cottage reach the door with fingers stiff in an agony of numbness.

    "Or when we carry trays from the cookhouse for the ones that are sick," Jerry said, "we get our faces frostbit, because we can't put our hands over them. I have gloves," he added. "Some of the boys don't have any."

    He liked the late spring, he said. The rhododendron was in bloom, a carpet of color, across the mountainsides, soft as the May winds that stirred the hemlocks. He called it laurel.

    "It's pretty when the laurel blooms," he said. "Some of it's pink and some of it's white."

    I was there in the autumn. I wanted quiet, isolation, to do some troublesome writing. I wanted mountain air to blow out the malaria from too long a time in the subtropics. I was homesick, too, for the flaming of maples in October, and for corn shocks and pumpkins and black-walnut trees and the lift of hills. I found them all, living in a cabin that belonged to the orphanage, half a mile beyond the orphanage farm. When I took the cabin, I asked for a boy or man to come and chop wood for the fireplace. The first few days were warm, I found what wood I needed about the cabin, no one came, and I forgot the order.

    I looked up from my typewriter one late afternoon, a little startled. A boy stood at the door, and my pointer dog, my companion, was at his side and had not barked to warn me. The boy was probably twelve years old, but undersized. He wore overalls and a torn shirt, and was barefooted.

    He said, "I can chop some wood today."

    I said, "But I have a boy coming from the orphanage."

    "I'm the boy."

    "You? But you're small."

    "Size don't matter, chopping wood," he said. "Some of the big boys don't chop good. I've been chopping wood at the orphanage a long time."

    I visualized mangled and inadequate branches for my fires. I was well into my work and not inclined to conversation. I was a little blunt.

    "Very well. There's the ax. Go ahead and see what you can do."

    I went back to work, closing the door. At first the sound of the boy dragging brush annoyed me. Then he began to chop. The blows were rhythmic and steady, and shortly I had forgotten him, the sound no more of an interruption than a consistent rain. I suppose an hour and a half passed, for when I stopped and stretched, and heard the boy's steps on the cabin stoop, the sun was dropping behind the farthest mountain, and the valleys were purple with something deeper than the asters.

    The boy said, "I have to go to supper now. I can come again tomorrow evening."

    I said. "I'll pay you now for what you've done," thinking should probably have to insist on an older boy. "Ten cents an hour?"

    "Anything is all right."

    We went together back of the cabin. An astonishing amount of solid wood had been cut. There were cherry logs and heavy roots of rhododendron, and blocks from the waste pine and oak left from the building of the cabin.

    "But. you've done as much as a man," I said, "This is a splendid pile."

    I looked at him, actually, for the first time. His hair was the color of the corn shocks and his eyes, very direct, were like the mountain sky when rain is pending--gray, with a shadowing of that miraculous blue. As I spoke, a light came over him, as though the setting sun had touched him with the same suffused glory with which it touched the mountains. I gave him a quarter.

    "You may come tomorrow," I said, "and thank you very much."

    He looked at me, and at the coin, and seemed to want to speak, but could riot, and turned away.

    "I'll split kindling tomorrow," he said over his thin ragged shoulder. "You'll need kindling and medium wood and logs and backlogs."

    At daylight I was half wakened by the sound of chopping. Again it was so even in texture that I went back to sleep. When I left my bed in the cool morning, the boy had come and gone. and a stack of kindling was neat against the cabin wall. He came again after school in the afternoon and worked until time to return to the orphanage. His name was Jerry; he was twelve years old, and he had been at the orphanage since he was four. I could picture him at four, with the same grave gray-blue eyes and the same--independence? No, the word that comes to me is "integrity."

    The word means something very special to me, and the quality for which I use it is a rare one. My father had it--there is another of whom I am almost sure--but almost no man of my acquaintance possesses it with the clarity, the purity, the simplicity of a mountain stream. But the boy Jerry had it. It .is bedded on courage, but it is more than brave. It is honest, but it is more than honesty. The ax handle broke one day. Jerry said the woodshop at the orphanage would repair it. I brought, money to pay for the job and he refused it.

    ''I'II pay for it,” he said.” I broke it. I brought the ax down careless”

    "But no one hits accurately every time,” I told him. “The fault was in the wood of the handle. I’ll see man from whom I bought it.”

    It. was only then that he would take the money. He was standing back of his own carelessness. He was a free-will agent and he chose to do careful work, and if he failed, he took the responsibility without subterfuge.

    And he did for me the unnecessary thing, the gracious thing that we find done only by the great of heart. Things no training can teach for they are done. on the instant, with no predicated experience. He found a cubbyhole beside the fireplace that I had not noticed. There, of his own accord, he put kindling and "medium" wood, so that I might always have dry fire material ready in case of sudden wet weather. A stone was loose in the rough walk to the cabin. He dug a deeper hole and steadied it, although he came, himself, by a short cut over the bank. I found that when I tried to return his thoughtfulness with such things as candy and apples, he was wordless. "Thank you" was, perhaps, an expression for which he had had no use, for his courtesy was instinctive. He only looked at the gift and at me, and a curtain lifted, so that I saw deep into the clear well of his eyes, and gratitude was there, and affection, soft over the firm granite of his character.

    He made simple excuses to come and sit with me. I could no more have turned him away than if he had been physically hungry. I suggested once that the best time for us to visit was just before supper, when I left off my writing. After that, he waited always until my typewriter had been some time quiet. One day I worked until nearly dark. I went outside the cabin, having forgotten him. I saw him going up over the hill in the twilight toward the orphanage. When I sat down on my stoop, a place was warm from Us body where he had been sitting.

    He became intimate, of course, with my pointer, Pat. There is a strange communion between a boy and a dog. Perhaps they possess the same singleness of spirit, the same kind of wisdom, it is difficult to explain, but it exists. When I went across the state for a weekend, I left the dog in Jerry's charge. I gave him the dog-whistle and the key to the cabin, and left sufficient food. He was to come two or three times a day and let out the dog and feed and exercise him. I should return Sunday night, and Jerry would take out the dog for the last time Sunday afternoon and then leave the key under an agreed hiding place.

    My return was belated and fog filled the mountain passes so treacherously that I dared not drive at night. The fog held the next morning, and it was Monday noon before I reached the cabin. The dog had been fed and cared for that morning. Jerry came early in the afternoon, anxious.

    "The superintendent said nobody would drive in the fog," he said. "I came just before bedtime last night and you hadn't come. So I brought Pat some of my breakfast this morning. I wouldn't have let anything happen to him,"

    "I was sure of that. I didn't worry."

    "When I heard about the fog, I thought you'd know."

    He was needed for work at the orphanage and he had to return at once. I gave him a dollar in payment, and he looked at it and went away. But that night he came in the darkness and knocked at the door.

    '"Come in, Jerry," I said, "if you're allowed to be away this late."

    "I told maybe a story," he said. "I told them I thought you would want to see me."

     "That's true," I assured him, and I saw his relief. "I want to hear about how you managed with the dog."

    He sat by the fire with me, with no other light, and told me of their two days together. The dog lay close to him, and found a comfort there that I did not have for him. And it seemed to me that being with my dog and caring for him had brought the boy and me, too, together, so that he felt that he belonged to me as well as to the animal.

    "He stayed right with me," he told me, "except when he ran in the laurel. He likes the laurel. I took him up over the hill and we both ran fast. There was a place where the grass was high and I lay down in it and hid. I could hear Pat hunting for me. He found my trail and he barked. When he found me, he acted crazy, and he ran around and around me, in circles."

    We watched the flames.

    "That's an apple log,” he said. “It burns the prettiest of any wood”

    We were very close.

    He was suddenly impelled to speak of things he had not spoken of before, nor had I cared to ask him.

    "You look a little bit like my mother," he said. "Especially in the dark, by the fire."

    "But you were only four, Jerry, when you came here. You have remembered how she looked, all these years?"

    "My mother lives in Mannville," he said.

    For a moment, finding that he had a mother shocked me as greatly as anything in my life has ever done, and I did not know why it disturbed me. Then I understood my distress. I was filled with a passionate resentment that any woman should go away and leave her son. A fresh anger added itself. A son like this one—The orphanage was a wholesome place, the executives were kind, good people, the food was more than adequate, the boys were healthy, a ragged shirt was no hardship, nor the doing of clean labor. Granted, perhaps, that the boy felt no lack, what blood fed the bowels of a woman who did not yearn over this child's lean body that had come in parturition out of her own? At four he would have looked the same as now. Nothing, I thought, nothing in life could change those eyes. His quality must be apparent to an idiot, a fool. I burned with questions I could not ask. In any case, I was afraid, there would be pain.

    "Have you seen her, Jerry-- lately?"

    "I see her every summer. She sends for me."

    I wanted to cry out, "Why are you not with her? How can she let you go away again?"

    He said, "She comes up here from Mannville whenever she can. She doesn't have a job now."

    His face shone in the firelight.

    "She wanted to give me a puppy, but they can't let any one boy keep a puppy. You remember the suit I had on last Sunday?" He was plainly proud. "She sent me that for Christmas. The Christmas before that"--he drew a long breath, savoring the memory--"she sent me a pair of skates."

    "Roller skates?"

    My mind was busy, making pictures of her, trying to understand her. She had not, then, entirely deserted or forgotten him. But why, then-- 1 thought, "I must not condemn her without knowing."

    "Roller skates. I let the other boys use them. They're always borrowing them. But they're careful of them."

    What circumstance other than poverty--

    "I'm going to take the dollar you gave me for taking care of Pat," he said, "and buy her a pair of gloves."

    I could only say, "That will be nice. Do you know her size?"

    "I think it's 8/.," he said.

    He looked at my hands.

    "Do you wear 8'/?" he asked,

    "No. I wear a smaller size, a 6."

    "Oh! Then I guess her hands are bigger than-yours."

    I hated her. Poverty or no, there was other food than bread, and the soul could starve as quickly as the body. He was taking his dollar to buy gloves for her big stupid hands, and she lived away from him. in Mannville, and contented herself with sending him skates.

    "She likes white gloves," he said. "Do you think I can get them for a dollar?"

    "I think so," I said.

    I decided that I should not leave the mountains without seeing her and knowing for myself why she had done this thing.

    The human mind scatters its interests as though made of thistle-down and every wind stirs and moves it. I finished my work. It did not please me, and I gave my thoughts to another field. I should need some Mexican material.

    I made arrangements to close my Florida place. Mexico immediately, and doing the writing there, if conditions were favorable. Then, Alaska with my brother. After that, heaven knew what or where.

    1 did not take time to go to Mannville to see Jerry's mother, nor even to talk with the orphanage officials about her. I was a trifle abstracted about the boy, because of my work and plans. And after my first fury at her-- we did not speak of her again--his having a mother, any sort at all, not far away, in Mannville, relieved me of the ache I had had about him. He did not question the anomalous relation. He was not lonely. It was none of my concern.

    He came every day and cut my wood and did small helpful favors and stayed to talk. The days had become cold, and often I let him come inside the cabin. He would lie on the floor in front of the fire, with one arm across the pointer, and they would both doze and wait quietly for me. Other days they ran with a common ecstasy through the laurel, and since the asters were now gone, he brought me back vermilion maple leaves, and chestnut boughs dripping with imperial yellow. I was ready to go.

    I said to him, "You have been my good friend, Jerry. I shall often think of you and miss you. Pat will miss you too. I am leaving tomorrow."

    He did not answer. When he went away, I remember that a new moon hung over the mountains, and I watched him go in silence up the hill. I expected him the next day, but he did not come. The details of packing my personal belongings, loading my car, arranging the bed over the seat, where the dog would ride, occupied me until late in the day. I closed the cabin and started the car, noticing that the sun was in the west and I should do well to be out of the mountains by nightfall. I stopped by the orphanage and left the cabin key and money for my light bill with Miss dark.

    "And will you call Jerry for me to say good-by to him?"

    "I don't know where he is," she said. "I'm afraid he's not well. He didn't eat his dinner this noon. One of the other boys saw him going over the hill into the laurel. He was supposed to fire the boiler this afternoon. It's not like him; he's unusually reliable."

    I was almost relieved, for I knew I should never see him again, and it would be easier not to say good-by to him.

    I said, "I wanted to talk with you about his mother-- why he's here-- but I'm in more of a hurry than I expected to be. It's out of the question for me to see her now too. But here's some money I'd like to leave with you to buy things for him at Christmas and on his birthday. It will be better than for me to try to send him things. I could so easily duplicate-- skates, for instance."

    She blinked her honest spinster's eyes.

    孤兒院位於卡羅來納山脈的高處。有時在冬天，雪堆很深，以至於該機構與下面的村莊、與世界各地隔絕了。霧氣遮住了山峰，雪花沿著山谷飛舞，狂風凜冽，每天送兩次牛奶到嬰兒小屋的孤兒院男孩們在到達門口時，手指都僵硬了，痛苦得麻木了。

    「或者，當我們從廚房為病人端托盤時，」傑瑞說，「我們的臉會被凍傷，因為我們不能把手放在上面。 我有手套，」他補充道。 “有些男孩沒有。”

    他說，他喜歡暮春。 杜鵑花盛開，漫山遍野，五月的風吹動著鐵杉，溫柔如地毯。 他稱之為月桂樹。

    「月桂花開的時候很漂亮，」他說，「有些是粉紅色，有些是白色。」

    秋天的時候我在那裡。我想要安靜、孤立，去做一些麻煩的寫作。我想要山間的空氣吹走在亞熱帶生活太久的瘧疾。我也想家，想念十月火紅的楓樹、想念玉米、南瓜、黑胡桃樹和隆起的山丘。我找到了他們所有人，他們住在孤兒院的一間小屋裡，距離孤兒院農場半英里。 當我入住小屋時，我請一個男孩或男人來為壁爐砍柴。最初幾天天氣溫暖，我找到了小屋所需的木材，但沒有人來，我忘了訂單。

    有一天下午晚些時候，我從打字機上抬起頭，有點驚訝。一個男孩站在門口，我的同伴一隻示警狗就在他身邊，沒有用吠叫來警告我。 這個男孩大概十二歲，但個子不高。 他穿著工作服和一件破襯衫，赤著腳。

    他說：“今天我可以幫妳劈柴。」

    我說：「我已經從孤兒院那邊要了人。」

    「你要的人就是我。」

    「個子大小跟砍柴無關，」他說。「有些大男孩不會砍柴，在孤兒院都是我在砍，我砍柴已經砍了很久了。」

     我想像著殘破不堪的樹枝無法用來生火。我正專注於工作，不太願意交談。我有點直言不諱。

    「好吧，就用這把斧頭，來，看看你能做什麼。」

我說完就回去工作，關上門。開始的時候，聽到小男孩用耙子拖地的聲音令我很惱火。 接他開始砍柴。敲擊聲穩定而有節奏，我很快就忘記了他，那聲音就像一場連綿不斷的雨不再打擾我了，差不多一個半小時過去了，當我停下來伸了個懶腰，聽到男孩在小屋裡的腳步聲時，太陽已經落到了最遠的山後面，山谷呈現出比紫苑更深的紫色。

    小男孩說：「我現在要回去吃晚餐。 明天傍晚我會再來。

    我說：「你辛苦勞了，現在我就付給你錢，一小時十分錢怎麼樣？」我不能再把他看成小不點了。

    「多少都可以。」

    我們一起走回小屋後面，看到他砍好的柴，數量驚人。那些柴可是些櫻桃木和杜鵑花的粗根，還有蓋小屋沒用留下的松木和橡木塊，都堅硬得很，很難劈。

    事實上，我第一次看著他。他的頭髮是玉米穗的顏色，他的眼睛直視，就像即將下雨時的山間天空一樣灰色，帶著神奇的藍色陰影。 當我說話的時候，一道光芒照在他身上，彷彿夕陽照耀著他，就像照在山上一樣燦爛。我給了他一個二十五分錢的硬幣。

「你明天可以來，”我說，“非常感謝你。」

    他看看我，又看看那枚硬幣，他想說話卻說不出來，然後轉身走了。

    「明天我會再來，劈些引火用的柴，」他轉過頭來，頭越過他瘦削的肩膀對我說，「你需要引火柴、粗一點柴和原木，還要屯積一些柴備用。」

    天亮的時候，我被劈柴的聲音吵醒了，不過劈柴的聲音平平的，不再驚動我，因此我又睡著了。 當我在涼爽的早晨離開床舖的時候，小男孩來了又走了，一疊引火物整齊地靠在小屋的牆上。下午放學後他又來了，一直工作到返回孤兒院的時候。 他的名字叫傑瑞； 他今年十二歲，從四歲起就住在孤兒院。 我可以想像他四歲時的樣子，有著同樣嚴肅的灰藍色眼睛和同樣的獨立？ 不，我想到的字是「誠信」。

    這個詞對我來說，意味著非常特別的東西，我很少用它。我父親具有這樣的品格——我相信別人也有——只是我認識的人沒有一個人能像山間溪流那樣清澈、純淨、單純，而這小男孩傑瑞卻有，它是以勇氣為基礎，不僅勇敢而已，還有誠實。有一天，斧柄壞了。傑瑞說孤兒院的木工場會修理它。我要給錢以便支付費用，但他拒絕了。

    「我自己付，是我不小心把它壞的，」他說。

    我告訴他：「沒有人能夠每次都劈得很準，問題是出在釜頭的把柄。我去找賣給我的那個人理論。」

    只有到了那時他才肯拿錢，而他卻因為自己的粗心而退縮了。他是一個有自由意志的人，他選擇認真工作，如果失敗了，他會毫不掩飾地承擔責任。

    他為我做了一件不是他份內的事，一件慈悲的事，只有偉大的心靈才能做到這一點。這些事是任何訓練都無法教導出來的，它是即時完成的，沒有任何預設的經驗。他在壁爐旁邊發現了一個我沒有注意到的小房間，沒有經過我指示，自動地，在那裡存了一些引火柴和粗一點的柴，這樣我就可以隨時準備好乾柴，以防突然天氣變得潮濕。通往小屋的道路崎嶇不平，有一塊石頭鬆動了。他挖了一個更深的洞把它固定住，儘管他自己是抄近道越過河岸來的，不走這條路。我發現當我試圖用糖果、蘋果之類的東西來回報他的體貼時，他卻一言不發。連「謝謝」也沒說，也許他不習慣用這樣的話語表達他的謝意，他的禮貌是本能的，他只看了看禮物，看著我，幕布掀開來，我看到他清澈的眼睛深處，感激之情在他堅硬的花崗岩性格上顯得柔和了些。

    他找了個簡單的藉口來和我坐在一起。如果他真的餓了，我就不會拒絕他。我曾經建議他說，我們見面的時間最好是晚餐之前，那時候我停止寫作。此後，他總是等到我的打字機安靜了一段時間。有一天我工作到天快黑了。我走出小屋，忘記了他。我看見他在暮色中翻過山坡，朝著孤兒院走去。當我坐在門廊上時，我發現他坐過的地方有一處還有餘溫。

   當然，他和我的狗帕特變得很親密。 男孩和狗之間有一種奇怪的交流。 也許他們擁有同樣的純一精神，同樣的智慧。 這很難解釋，但確實存在。 當我週末穿越州時，我把狗交給傑瑞照顧。 我給了他狗哨和小屋鑰匙，並留下了足夠的食物。 他每天要來兩三次，把狗放出來，給它餵食，讓它鍛鍊身體。 我應該在週日晚上回來，傑瑞會在周日下午最後一次帶狗出去，然後把鑰匙放在約定的藏放處。 

    我回來得很晚，山上的道路佈滿了大霧，我不敢在晚上開車。隔天早上，大霧依然很濃，我到達小屋的時已經是周一中午了。那天早上，這隻狗已經被餵食過，照顧得很好。下午傑瑞很早就來了，他很著急。

    他說：「院長說沒有人會在大霧中開車的，所以昨晚睡前我就來過，看妳還沒有回來，今天早上我買了一些早餐給帕特吃， 我不會讓牠餓肚子。」

    「雖然院長這樣說，但我並不擔心。」

    「當我聽說有大霧，我想你也會知道。

    孤兒院需要他工作，他必須立即返回。 我給了他一塊錢，他看了一眼就走了。那天晚上，他卻在黑暗中來敲門。

    「進來，傑瑞，」我說，「這麼晚了，院方還允許你離開！」

「我編了一個故事，告訴他們說，妳想見我，」他說。

「是的，我的確想聽聽你怎麼對待那隻狗。」我說，看到他鬆了一口氣。」

    他和我一起坐在爐旁邊，沒有其他燈光，只有柴燃燒的發出來的光輝，他向我講述了他跟狗在一起兩天的生活。那隻狗躺在他身邊，並在那裡找到了我所沒有的安慰。 在我看來，和我的狗在一起，並且照顧了他，也讓我小男孩在一起，他覺得他既屬於我，也屬於這隻動物。

    「牠跟我在一起的時候，」小男孩告訴我，「牠喜歡叢裡跑。 我帶牠上山，跑很快。 有一個地方草很高，我就躺在裡面躲了起來。我能聽到牠在找我。 他找到了我的聖杯，然後大叫起來。 當他找到我的時候，顯得很瘋狂，繞著我團團轉。

    「那根柴是蘋果樹幹，」他說，「比別的樹幹燒得更旺。」

    我們坐得很近。

    他突然忍不住講了一些他以前沒說過的事情，這些事其實我懶得問他。

    「妳看起來有點像我媽媽，」他說。「尤其是在黑暗中，在火邊，更像。」

    我母親住在曼維爾，」他說。

    我母親住在曼維爾，」他說。

我聽到他母親還在的那一瞬間，非常震驚，我一生中從未有過的震驚，不知道為什麼，我會這樣，後來我才明白。向來我痛恨女人拋棄親生的孩子，像傑瑞這樣的孩子，雖然孤兒院是一個好地方，管理人員很善良，人也很好，食物綽綽有餘，收容的孩子都很健康，穿的襯衫破爛一點，分配的工作並不辛苦，。或許，這些孩不會感到匱乏，就算這樣，一個女人怎麼硬得起心，捨得把自己瘦弱的孩子丟給別人撫養呢？傑瑞四歲的時候，看起來應該跟現在一樣，那雙眼睛，任何事都改變不了它，這一點令我心裡充滿了無法說出來的痛。

    …「傑瑞，你最近見過她嗎？」

    「我每年夏天都會見到她。 她派人來找我。」

    我差一點叫出來：「你為什麼不跟她在一起？ 她怎麼能再放你走呢？

    他說：「只要有機會，她就會從曼維爾來到這裡。 她現在沒有工作。」

    他的臉在火光下閃閃發亮。

「她送我一隻小狗，可是這裡不能養小狗。你還記得上週日我穿的那套衣服嗎？」他得意地說。 「是聖誕節她送給我的，我說的是上上個聖誕節，」——他深深地吸了一口氣，回味著這段記憶又說，我媽也送給我一雙溜冰鞋。」

    「溜冰鞋？」

    我忙著在腦子裡勾勒出他母親的模樣，以便理解她。 看來，她並沒有完全忘記他拋棄他，「我不能在不知情的情況下譴責她。」

    「我把溜冰鞋借給其他男孩用。 他們都小心用它。」

    我覺得，這些孩子除了貧窮之外，人情義理還在。 

    「我用你給我照顧帕特的錢，買了一雙手套，想送給她，」他說。

    「那太好了。你知道她的尺寸嗎？」我只能這樣說。

    「我猜是 8號半，」他說。

    他看著我的手。

    「你戴是8號半嗎？」他問。

    「不。 我戴的是小一點，6 號。」

    「哦！ 那我猜她的手比你大。」

   不管貧窮與否，除了麵包之外還有其他食物，靈魂也可能像身體一樣很快就餓了。 這個孩子拿著自己的錢為他母親那隻笨拙的大手買手套，而她卻住在離他很遠的曼維爾，只送了他一雙溜冰鞋就自以為施了什麼大恩， 我實在很不以為然。

    「她喜歡白手套，你認為我用一塊錢可以買到嗎？”他說：

      「我想可以吧，」我說。

    我想了解他母親為什麼把他丟在這個山區？ 在我在我還未見到她之前，決定不離開。

     人類的心靈就像薊花絨毛一樣，每陣風都會吹動，它的花絮四處發散。我完成了我的工作，這件事另讓我很不舒服，只好把注意力轉移到了另一個領域。我需要一些墨西哥材料。

    我已經安排關閉我在佛羅裡達的住所。如果條件允許的話，我會立即前往墨西哥，在那裡寫作。然後跟我哥哥一起去阿拉斯加。以後還會去哪裡，懷會發生了什麼事，只有天曉得！

    我沒有花時間去曼維爾探望傑瑞的母親，也沒有去孤兒院跟官員談論他母親的情況。由於我的工作和計劃，我對這個男孩有點心不在焉。在我第一次對她發怒之後——我們再也沒有提起過她——他在不遠的曼維爾有一位母親，不管她是什麼母親，都減輕了我對他一直以來的痛苦。他沒有質疑這種異常關係。他並不可愛。這可不關我的事。

    他每天都會來幫我砍柴，還幫了我做些些小忙，留下來聊天。天氣變冷了，我讓他進到屋子裡來。他就躺在壁爐前的地板上，一隻手放在教鞭上，和狗打瞌睡，靜靜地，等我工作停下來。其他日子，他和狗一起在月桂樹下狂喜地奔跑，由於紫苑花已經凋零了，他便帶回了朱紅色的楓葉和滴著帝王黃的栗樹枝給我。我已經準備好出發了。

我對他說：」傑瑞，你一直是我的好朋友。我會經常想起你，想念你。帕特也會。我明天就要走。」

    我對他說：「傑瑞，你一直是我的好朋友。我會經常想起你，我會想念你的。帕特也會。我明天就要走了。」

    他沒有回答。當他離開時，我記得一輪新月懸掛在山上，我默默地看著他走上山坡。我期待他第二天出現。但他沒有來。打包個人物品、裝車、佈置座位上的床以及狗坐的地方等細節讓我忙到很晚。我關上車廂，發動了汽車，發現太陽已經西斜，夜幕降臨之前我應該可以走出山區。我在孤兒院停了下來，把小屋鑰匙和電費留給了克拉克小姐。

    「你能幫我打電話給傑瑞，跟他道別嗎？」

    「我不知道他在哪裡，」她說，「恐怕他身體不太好。今天中午他沒吃晚飯。另一個男孩看到他翻山越嶺，跑到月桂樹叢裡去了。他今天下午應該去燒鍋爐，沒去。這不像他平時的樣子；他平時特別可靠。」

    我鬆了一口氣，知道我不會再見到他了，不說再見，反而覺得輕鬆些。

    我說：「我想跟你談談他母親的事——為什麼會把他留在這裡——但我比我預想的還要匆忙。我現在也不可能見到她了。但我想把一些錢留給你，聖誕節和生日時買東西給他。這樣比我自己寄東西給他要好些。我本來想送他溜冰鞋。」

她眨著老處女那種誠實的的眼睛。

    「在這裡溜冰鞋沒有多大用處，」她說。

    她這樣回答，她愚笨的回答令我惱火。

    我說：「我的意思是說，如果我不知道他媽媽早就送給他溜冰鞋，我可能會選擇溜冰鞋，不過他有了，我不想給他同樣的東西。」

    她盯著我。

    「我不明白他在說什麼，」她說。「他哪裡有母親，他也沒有溜冰鞋。」

 

 

    

 

  

林芯羽2025古典吉他線上獨奏會(May’s Classical Guitar Recital)

 

陳老師：

 

小女芯羽在方銘健教授的指導下，於寒假期間完成了第一場線上獨奏會，跟老師分享。

 

觀看網址：

https://youtu.be/emqXOcNn-uk?si=t-B-f0LjNF3GmAG2

 

學生 林義傑 敬上

因為我們太窮了 墨西哥 Juan Rulfo 作 陳垣三譯

     因為我們太窮了    

墨西哥  Juan  Rulfo

 

 

    近來每樣事情變得越來越遭。

    上個禮拜哈辛達姑媽死了，禮拜六埋葬她的時候，並沒什麼不好的徵兆，可是從那天起，老天開始下起雨來，令我老爸很懊惱，大麥收割後，需要有陽光晒，雨卻來得大快了，根本來不及收藏，只能將它堆成斜斜的一堆，眼巴巴地看著大雨毀壞了莊稼全部收成。

    就在昨天，我妹妹妲赤亞才剛好過十二歲生日，我老爸送給她的那一頭牛又被河水沖走了。三天前的破曉時分，河水就開始上漲。當時我正在酣睡中，河水沖擊堤岸的喧嘩聲把我吵醒。我手抓著蓋被跳下床來，彷彿夢見屋頂塌了下來。待我弄清楚是河水聲，便又回到床上，很快又睡著了。

    當我起床時，天空已佈滿了烏雲，河水喧嘩聲更響，更近了。我已嗅到洪水的臭味，就像焚燒垃圾的氣味一樣。

    我走出去眺望，河水已漫過了堤岸。它還在慢慢地上漲，沿著大街，流進那個叫做「咚咚鼓」的女人家裡。你可以聽見水花拍擊畜攔門扉的聲音。「咚咚鼓」匆匆忙忙地跑前跑後，把她飼養的小雞拋到街上，以便遷移到沒有淹水的地方。

    對岸哈辛達姑媽的家，靠近河的灣流處，畜欄旁那棵羅望子樹，大概是被洪水沖走了，因為你已看不到它了，它是這村子中僅有的一棵。每個人都可以看出，這場洪水是幾年來罕見的。

    妺妹跟我在下午又去看河水。洪水更加混濁，它快要漫過那座橋。我們停留了幾個鐘頭，一點也不感覺疲倦。我們沿著峽谷走著，聽聽人家在說什麼。走下山坡，走向河畔，喧嘩的水聲使你祇能看到他們的嘴巴在動，但一句話也聽不清楚。他們望著河水沿著峽谷上漲，心裡盤算著會造成多大災害。我在那裡才知道河水捲走了雪賓汀娜，那是一頭母牛的名字，我老爸送給坦赤亞的，牠生有一隻白耳朵與一隻紅耳朵，以及一雙美麗的大眼睛。

    我不明白這頭母牛為什麼想渡河，牠一定曉得河水跟平常不一樣。雪賓汀娜是從不肯休息的，即使連睡覺時也在走動。讓牠這樣溺死實在沒道理。每天早晨，我都會去開畜欄的門放牠出來。如果我不去開門，牠就會整天閉著眼睛，在畜欄裡打轉，跟一般母牛睡覺的方式一樣。

    大概這就是為什麼，牠會有這種下場的緣故！我想牠一定是在走路時睡著了，而當牠意識到洪水沖擊牠的肋骨時，才醒過來。牠睜開眼睛一看，面前的情況使牠嚇慌。牠想轉回頭去，可是被洪水一次又一次地沖倒。我猜想牠必定吼叫著求救，祇有天曉牠曾怎樣吼叫過。

    我碰到一個男人，他親眼看到牠被洪水沖走。我問他是否也見到牠身邊還有一頭小牛，他說沒留意。他祇記得好像有一頭牛，渾身有斑點，肚子脹得大大的，從他面前漂過，而後便沉了下去了。他正忙著打撈漂流的樹幹和樹枝，以便當做燒柴用的，沒工夫去管牠是否再浮起來。

    因此，我們無法知道小牛是否仍然活著，或者已隨母牛沉到河裡去了。求求老天救救牠們吧！啊，我家所遭遇到的麻煩，總該會過去的吧！祇是我妺妹妲赤亞，現在什麼都沒有了。我的意思是說，我老爸辛苦工作，才買下了雪賓汀娜。那時牠還不過是一頭小牛，是買來送給坦亦亞做生日禮物的。其實這頭小牛，是要作為她將來嫁妝的本錢用的，希望她長大了之後，不會重蹈覆轍，步上她那兩個姐姐的後塵，去當妓女。

    依照父親的看法，兩個姐姐之所以變壞，是因為我們太窮的緣故。她們倆一向不滿足。還是小姑娘時，就常常對生活抱怨。後來便跟鄰近的壞男人來往，很快學會了一切壞事。她們聽得出半夜裏男人在外面召喚她們的囗哨，以後甚至在白天也會公然跑出去。白天，她們隔不多久，便要去河邊汲水，但有時你會吃驚地看見，她們正躲在畜欄內，裸露著身體，跟一個男人在地上翻滾，或是那個男人壓在她身上。

    後來我老爸在屋裡捉到她們，使勁地提著她們，走了好遠，才把她們摔在街上。從此她們便離家去珂育特拉，或者別的什麼地方，我不大清楚。不過我知道她們是變得更壞了。

    這就是為什麼我老爸替坦赤亞操心。不要她像她兩個姐姐，要她長大後，正正當當地嫁個好男人。那頭母牛雪賓汀娜就是她婚姻的保障，只要想到那頭美麗的母牛，任誰都有勇氣娶她。如今那頭母牛失去了，想想，我們的處境是多艱難呀！

    現在僅剩下的希望，是那頭小牛是否仍然活著。求求老天不要叫牠也陪伴著母牛葬身河底。假若小牛溺死了，妺妹妲赤亞難保不變壞，這更加深我老母的不安。

    我老母常說，老天不曉得為什麼要這樣懲罰她，給她生了這樣的女兒。她說從她老祖母起一直到現在，她們家從末有過壞女人。她們都是虔誠地信奉神，敬畏神的人。她想，她會接二連三地生出妓女的女兒來，一定是她以前做過什麼壞事、犯過什麼罪，只是記不起來了，因此她每次想起這些不愉快的事，便一邊哭泣一邊說：「神會寬恕她們的。」

    但我老爸說，想念她們是沒有用的，她們本來就很壞，現在應該操心的是妲赤亞。她發育得太快了，乳房看起來像姐姐一樣，顯著地高聳著，使人看了便心神不寧。

    「就是這樣，」父親說，「每個男人都開始注意她啦，她很惹眼。等著瞧吧！到頭來她也會像她那兩個姐姐那樣下流。」因此妲赤亞成為父親最大的隱憂。

    妲赤亞這時哭得很傷心。她知道洪水已殺害了雪賓汀娜。她穿著玫瑰色的衣裳，站在我身旁，注視著河水，哭泣她的牛。兩行骯髒的眼淚氾濫在她的臉上，你會認為她驅體內的洪水也是洶湧澎湃的。

    我將手臂圍繞著她，安慰她，但她渾然不覺，祇是放聲大哭。哭聲像河水沖擊岸堤般的喧嘩，她哭得全身發抖。河水仍然上漲，混濁的水花從河裡濺上她的臉，她的胸脯頂著一雙乳頭，隨著哭泣起伏著，顯然她心中有什麼開始在膨脹，也開始在毀滅她。 

蕃薯

 

蕃薯

　　女兒喜歡吃蕃薯。

　　我們住在臺灣的時候，那時她還是個小學生，每次看到巷口賣蕃薯的老人出現，一定吵著要買。

　　那個賣蕃薯的老人是個退伍軍人，不像一般臺灣賣蕃薯的小販，手拿著一個竹筒做的叫鳴器，轉得呱呱地叫著，以便招徠客人；而他卻只是不聲不響，定時出現在固定的地點，然而小孩都很清楚，自動跑過來圍著他，叫著：「爺爺，我要買蕃薯。」他的臉圓圓的，濃眉大眼，嘴唇很薄，他那堅毅的神情，卻敵不住歲月的無情的摧殘，一條一條皺紋橫在他的額頭，眼角也明顯出現幾條魚尾巴。他仍舊理著平頭，穿著一件無領、短袖、灰色的軍用襯衫，露出曬得發紅而變黑的頸部和胳脖，皮膚已經顯出乾燥皺疊的現象。他步履蹣跚，推著一部銹得可以拖去廢棄場丟棄的推車，上面擺著一個烤蕃薯的大甕子，像行軍一樣走遍我家附近的大街小巷。

　　他從來不跟我們講話。女兒一走過去，他只問要買幾條蕃薯，便翻開大甕子的蓋子，伸手到裡面去抓。我探頭一看，底層是燒紅了的木炭，旁邊圍著一圈鐵絲，蕃薯就用鐵鉤掛在那圈鐵絲上面。我猜想甕裡的溫度一定很高，但他卻神情自若地從裡面掏出蕃薯，用手捏一捏，然後抽掉鐵鉤，把蕃薯放在磅稱上，他說多少就多少，不容討人家跟他討價還價，也不許說他蕃薯烤得太焦，或說這條蕃薯太小，想換另一條大一點的，他會立刻板起臉孔，把秤好的蕃薯又用鐵鉤鉤住，放進大甕子裡悶，不賣給你了。我看過好幾次他是這樣對付帶著孩子來買蕃薯的媽媽，即使孩子哭鬧著要買，他也不理，繼續照顧下一個顧客。這時媽媽只好自討沒趣，罵一罵自己的孩子：「死囝仔，再吵，打死你！」，拉著孩子悻悻然離去，走遠了，大聲說，「他的蕃薯有什麼好吃，下次我帶你去別的地方買。」

　　幾天後，我看到同一位媽媽又帶著孩子，低聲下氣地站在推車旁邊等候賣蕃薯的老人從甕子裡掏出蕃薯來，不管番薯是不是烤得太焦，或者賣給她的蕃薯太小，她都不敢吭聲，買到了番薯交給她的孩子，看起來，她就喜形於色。

　　我一向買東西就不會討價還價，說多少就給多少，經常被陌生的小販「抓糊」，然而賣蕃薯的老人對我來說，算是熟人，他卻不把我當熟人，常拿了一些烤得像木炭的蕃薯給我，女兒發現不能吃，我只能叫她拿著回家，丟進垃圾桶。

　　有一天賣蕃薯的老人顯得心情特別愉快，見人便談，我看他跟一個年輕人談得很開心，還拍拍對方的肩膀。那個年輕人帶著一個小男孩，買了幾條蕃薯，臨走的時候，還互相握手，互相擁抱，非常親密。他看到我帶著女兒站在旁邊等他賣給我番薯，他忽然問我說：「府上哪裡？」

　　我覺得很奇怪，這種問題已經很久沒有人在問了，我怔了一下，回答說：「臺灣啊！」

　　不知道我是不是說錯了話？他立刻把甕子的蓋子一蓋說：「蕃薯賣完了。」

　　我女兒的高度還夠得上看見甕子裡的東西，她說：「還有啊！」

　　我意識到情況不妙，顧不得我女兒願不願意，拉著她的手，二話不說，儘快離開了。

杜清傑書法

 

邱冠霖拍攝堤供

乞丐 莫泊桑 作 陳垣三譯

乞丐

莫泊桑 作  陳垣三譯

    儘管他現在身體痛苦、體弱多病，但他曾經經歷過美好的日子。 

    在他 十五歲的時候，不幸雙腿在瓦維爾公路上被一輛馬車壓斷。從此，他就以乞討為生，拄著拐杖，拖著身子沿著道路穿過農家院，將肩膀抬到耳邊。他的頭看起來就像被夾在兩座山之間。

    這個乞丐名字叫做尼可拉斯‧杜桑特 (Nicholas Toussaint) 是個棄兒，萬聖節前夕，他被萊比萊特 (Les Billettes) 的神父從溝渠裡撿到，受了洗禮。

    有一段日子，阿瓦里男爵夫人允許他睡在城堡旁農場家禽場附近一種鋪著稻草的凹室裡，如果他非常需要的話，會讓他進廚房得到一杯蘋果酒和一塊麵包皮。此外，老太太也經常從窗戶向他丟幾枚硬幣。但她現在已經死了。

    在村莊裡，人們幾乎不給他任何東西——因為他太出名了。四十年來，每個人都厭倦了看到他日復一日地用木拐杖拖著畸形、破爛的身體挨家挨戶走訪。但他無法下定決心去其他地方，因為除了這個國家的這個特定角落，除了這三四個村莊，他不知道哪裡，還可以讓他度過悲慘的一生。他已經限制了自己的乞討行為，無論如何也不會超越自己慣常的界限。

    他甚至不知道除了一直擋住他視野的樹木之外，這個世界是否還延伸到更遠的地方。他不曾問過自己這個問題。農民們厭倦了經常在田野或小路上遇見他，便喊道：「你為什麼不去其他村莊，而總是在這裡一瘸一拐地走來走去？」他沒有回答，只是偷偷溜走了，心裡充滿了對未知的恐懼——那是一個可憐的人的恐懼，他害怕上千種事物——新面孔、嘲諷、侮辱、不認識他的人的懷疑目光，還有路上成雙成對的警察。當他看到它們來臨時，他總是本能地避開，躲在灌木叢中或石堆後面。

    當他在遠處看到他們時，發現他們的製服在陽光下閃閃發光，他突然變得異常敏捷——就像一頭尋找巢穴的野獸一樣敏捷。他扔掉拐杖，像一塊柔軟的抹布一樣倒在地上，盡可能地縮成小身子，像一個赤身裸體的人一樣蹲在掩體下，他破爛的衣服與他蜷縮在下面的泥土融為一體。

    他從來沒有和警察發生過任何衝突，但是避開警察的本能已經融入他的血液中。他似乎從他從未見過的父母那裡繼承了這種能力。

    他無處可藏，無處棲身，沒有任何遮蔽之處。夏天，他睡在戶外；冬天，他則以非凡的本領悄悄地溜進穀倉和馬厩。他總是在被發現之前逃走。他知道所有可以鑽進農場建築的洞，拄著拐杖的他手臂肌肉發達，經常憑藉手腕的力量爬上乾草棚，有時他會在那裡一呆就是四五天，前提是他事先儲存了足夠的食物。

    他的生活和野獸一樣。他置身於人群之中，卻不認識任何人，不愛任何人，在農民心中激起的只是一種漫不經心的蔑視和強烈的敵意。他們給他起了個綽號叫“貝爾”，因為他掛在兩根拐杖之間，就像教堂的鐘掛在支架之間一樣。

    他已經兩天沒吃東西了。現在沒人給他任何東西了。每個人對他的耐心都耗盡了。女人們看見他來時，就站在門口喊道：

    「滾開，你這個沒用的流浪漢！三天前我給過你一塊麵包，又來了！」

    他拄著拐杖走向下一戶人家，在那裡他也受到了同樣的接待。

    女人們站在門口互相說：

    “我們總不能一年到頭都養活那個懶惰的畜生吧！”

    但這「懶惰的畜生」每天都需要食物。

    他走遍了聖伊萊爾、瓦爾維爾和萊斯比萊特斯，卻沒得到一個銅板，甚至連一塊乾麵包皮也沒有。他唯一的希望在圖爾諾勒，但要到達這個地方，他必須沿著公路走五英里，而他感到非常疲憊，幾乎無法向前走一碼。他的肚子和口袋都空了，但他還是繼續上路。

    那是十二月，一陣寒風吹過田野，呼嘯著穿過光禿禿的樹枝；烏雲在漆黑、陰沉的天空中瘋狂地翻騰。瘸著腳拖著身子慢慢地往前走，費力地一次又一次舉起拐杖，用僅存的一條扭曲的腿支撐著自己。

    他不時坐在溝渠邊休息一會兒。飢餓正在蠶食他的命脈，在他混亂、遲鈍的大腦中，他只有一個想法——吃東西——但他不知道該怎麼做。他又繼續了三個小時的痛苦旅程。最後，看到村莊的樹木，他又重新煥發了活力。

    他遇見的第一個農民，向他乞求施捨，回答說：

“原來又是你啊，老流氓！難道我永遠也擺脫不了你嗎？”

    於是「貝爾」繼續上路。每到一處門口，他聽到的都只是難聽的話。他走遍了整個村子，卻沒有得到半個便士。

    然後，他來到附近的農場，在泥濘的土地上辛起討，累得幾乎無法將拐杖從地上抬起來。他到處都受到同樣的接待。那是寒冷、淒涼的一天，人的心都冰冷了，人的脾氣也變得暴躁起來，伸手也不願意伸手給錢，也不願意伸手給食物。

    當他走訪完所有他認識的人家後，「貝爾」便倒在了穿過奇凱特農家院子的一條溝渠的角落裡。他的拐杖滑落到地上，一動也不動，飢餓折磨著他，但他幾乎沒有足夠的智慧去充分意識到他那難以言喻的痛苦。

    他不知道自己在等待著什麼，卻懷抱著那種無論發生什麼，人類心中始終存在的模糊的希望。他在十二月刺骨的寒風中，在農家院的一角等待著來自上天或人類的某種神秘的援助，卻絲毫不知道這種援助將從何而來。許多隻黑母雞四處奔跑，在養育一切生物的土地上尋找食物。它們不時用嘴叼起一粒玉米或一隻小昆蟲；然後他們繼續緩慢而堅定地尋找營養物質。

    「貝爾」起初只是看著他們，什麼也沒想。隨後，一個想法出現在他的胃中而不是腦海中——他認為如果把這些家禽放在枯木火上烤熟，會很好吃。

    就在他靠近那頭鮮紅色頭的小黑身體時，他的背部遭到猛烈一擊，他被迫鬆開握著的拐杖，並被擊飛出十步遠。農夫奇凱勃然大怒，像一個被搶劫的農民一樣，對著這個強盜拳打腳踢，而「貝爾」卻毫無還手之力地躺在他面前。

    農場工人也趕過來和他們的主人一起毆打這個跛腳乞丐。然後，當他們厭倦了毆打他時，他們就把他抬走並關在柴棚裡，然後他們去找警察。

    「貝爾」半死不活地躺在地板上，渾身是血，餓得要命。傍晚來臨，然後是黑夜，在過來是黎明。但他還是沒吃飯。

    大約中午時分，警察趕到。他們小心翼翼地打開了木棚的門，擔心乞丐會反抗，因為農夫奇凱堅稱自己遭到了乞丐的攻擊，而且很難自衛。

    但「貝爾」卻無法動彈。他盡力用拐杖支撐自己，但沒有成功。警察以為他是假裝軟弱，就用力將他拉起來，並用拐杖扶住他。

    恐懼感籠罩著他——他天生就害怕制服，害怕在運動員面前比賽，害怕老鼠害怕貓——但透過近乎超人的努力，他成功地保持了直立。

    「向前！」警官說。他走了。農場裡的所有人都目送他離去。女人們向他揮舞拳頭，男人們則嘲笑並侮辱他。他終於被抓了！再見！他從兩名警衛中間走了過去。他鼓起足夠的力量——絕望的力量——拖著自己直到晚上，他太茫然了，不知道自己身上發生了什麼事，他太害怕了，無法理解。

    路上遇見的人們都停下來看著他經過，農夫們嘀咕著：

「一定是小偷。」

    傍晚時分，他到達了鄉鎮。他以前從來沒有去過這麼遠。他完全沒有意識到自己來這裡是為了什麼，也沒有意識到自己會遇到什麼事情。過去兩天發生的所有可怕的、意想不到的事情，所有這些陌生的面孔和房子，都讓他心裡感到沮喪。

    他一句話也不說，因為他什麼都不懂，所以什麼也說不出來。此外，他已經很多年沒有和任何人說話了，幾乎失去了說話的能力，他的想法也太過模糊，無法用語言表達。

    他被關在鎮監獄裡。警方沒有想到他可能需要食物，所以他被單獨留在那裡直到第二天。但當他們在清晨來檢查他時，發現他死在地板上。多麼令人驚奇的事啊！

偶見

明  徐禎卿(1479-1511)

 

偶見

 

深山曲路見桃花，馬上匆匆日欲斜。

可奈玉鞭留不住，又銜春恨到天涯。 

春恨春愁是一種情緒問題，唐   孟郊斬釘截鐵地說　

春物與愁客，遇時各有違。

故花辭新枝，新淚落故衣。

日暮兩寂寞，飄然亦同歸。

唐  秦韜玉〈獨坐吟〉說得比較含蓄：「客愁不盡本如水，草色含情更無已。又覺春愁似草生，何人種在情田裡。」

最能解釋明  徐禎卿〈偶見〉這首詩的意思是清  丘逢甲，他把抗日的軍糧捲走，逃去中國，致使劉永福想繼續抵抗，無糧，無奈也棄甲逃走了，留下了一些殘軍敗將，任日軍屠殺。

 丘逢甲在中國羈留期間，心懷臺灣，寫了六首詩，我把它錄在這裡

序

將行矣，草此數章，聊寫積憤，妹倩張君，請珍藏之，十年之後，有心人重若拱璧矣，海東遺民草。

 

其一

 

宰相有權能割地，孤臣無力可回天。

扁舟去作鴟夷子，回首河山意黯然。

 

其二

 

虎韜豹略且收藏，休說承明執戟郎。

至竟虯髯成底事，宮中一炬類咸陽！

 

其三

 

捲土重來未可知，江山亦要偉人持。

成名豎子知多少，海上誰來建義旗？

 

其四

 

從此中原恐陸沉，東周積弱又於今。

入山冷眼觀時局，荊棘銅駝感慨深。

 

其五

 

英雄退步即神仙，火氣消除《道德》編。

我不神仙聊劍俠，仇頭斬盡再升天。

 

其六

 

亂世團圓骨肉難，弟兄離別正心酸。

奉親且作漁樵隱，到處名山可掛單。

他還把兒子命名丘念台，每到春天，愁就來了，他說：

 

春愁難遣強看山，往事驚心淚欲潸。

四百萬人同一哭，去年今日割臺灣。 

我們再看一看宋  陸遊的《春愁》 

 

春愁茫茫塞天地，我行未到愁先至。

滿眼如雲忽複生，尋人似瘧何由避。

客來勸我飛觥籌，我笑謂客君甘休。

醉自醉倒愁自愁，愁與酒如風馬牛。 

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注释： 桃花

唐  白居易 

下邽庄南桃花

村南無限桃花發，唯我多情獨自來。

日暮風吹紅滿地，無人解惜為誰開。

崔護

 

題都城南莊

 

黃師塔前江水東，春光懶困倚微風。

桃花一簇開無主，可愛深紅愛淺紅？ 

另外一首桃花是崔護的〈題都城南莊〉

去年今日此門中，人面桃花相映紅；

人面不知何處去，桃花依舊笑春風。

 

這首詩的故事很多，也很動人，我在這裡不想再囉嗦 ，請自己觀賞。