《英国乡间的家》 中英互译

《英国乡间的家》中英互译沿着被野黑莓藤蔓勾出边的碎石路往里走，第三座爬满洋常春藤的石屋就是了。石灰岩的墙根长着一层暗绿色的苔藓，每年初夏，西墙上攀的白玫瑰会开得把半扇木窗都盖住，风一吹就有甜香钻进门缝。石屋有个斜斜的瓦屋顶，烟囱总在早餐时间飘出浅灰色的烟，那是厨房的铸铁炉子烧着泥炭块，铜壶在炉子上咕嘟响，烤架上的全麦吐司溢着麦香，我总往瓷盘里抹两大勺自制的杏子酱，就着加了牛奶的伯爵茶吃，盘子边会放一小朵刚从花园摘的香豌豆。屋子后面的花园圈着齐肩高的山楂树篱，一半种香草，一半种蔬菜，角落的旧苹果树上挂着我去年编的鸟窝，每天清早都有知更鸟落在上面跳。迷迭香长成了半人高的丛，薰衣草开紫花的时候会引来成群的熊蜂，番茄藤顺着旧竹竿爬上去，结的果子红得发亮，摘下来擦一擦就能咬，满口腔都是太阳晒出来的甜。篱笆缝里总钻出野蓝色风车菊，小花开整整一个夏天，我从来不拔，由着它们抢蔬菜的养分，坐在廊下就能看见一片蓝紫色晃在风里。午后变天是常有的事，黑云压过来的时候，雨就顺着廊下的木瓦往下掉，织成一片灰蒙蒙的帘子，把远处坡上的绵羊群都藏起来。我总把橡木摇椅搬到廊口，脚边放着装着刚摘的黑莓的陶碗，膝盖上摊着一本翻了半本的勃朗特小说，风带着雨的潮气吹过来，混着远处泥炭烟和湿青草的味道，远处村庄教堂的钟敲过三点，钟声混着雨声飘过来，闷闷的，像有人隔着一块绒布说话。这时候住在半英里外的寡妇梅洛太太总会撑着黑布伞推门进来，她篮子里总装着刚烤好的司康饼，带着黄油的香气，我们就就着凝脂奶油喝茶，听雨声砸在玫瑰叶子上，说些去年夏天摘蓝莓的旧话。天黑下来的时候雨大多会停，我们把客厅的壁炉点起来，橡木块烧得噼啪响，火星顺着烟囱往上飘。墙角的唱机放着老爵士唱片，沙沙的电流声混着炉火的声音，整个屋子都暖融融的。墙上挂着祖父三十年代在湖区徒步的时候画的水彩，画里的灰色山峰和白色云影，和窗外现在的天色一模一样。地毯是外祖母织的，米黄色的底上织着红色的野玫瑰，走上去软乎乎的，小猫总蜷在地毯靠近壁炉的角落打呼。窗外的橡树林里会传出猫头鹰的鸣叫声，远远的，牧场的马也会打一声响鼻，风摇着白玫瑰的枝条蹭着窗玻璃，轻轻沙沙响。我靠在沙发上翻白天没看完的书，手边的玻璃杯里泡着接骨木花，甜香漫开，就觉得这样的日子，从指甲缝里都浸着安稳，比任何繁华的都市日子都更像家。Walkinalongthegravelpathedgedwithwildblackberryvines,andthethirdstonecottagesmotheredinivyisit.Darkgreenmossclingstothebaseofthelimestonewalls,andeveryearlysummer,thewhiteclimbingrosesonthewestwallbloomsothicklytheycoverhalfthewoodenwindowpane;whenthewindblows,sweetscentseepsthroughthegapunderthedoor.Thecottagehasaslopingtiledroof,andthechimneyalwayspuffspalegraysmokeatbreakfasttime—thecast-ironstoveinthekitchenisburningpeatblocks,acopperpotbubblingonthefire,wholemealtoastontherackoozingwheatyaroma.Ialwaysspreadtwolargespoonfulsofhomemadeapricotjamonmyporcelainplate,eatitwithEarlGreyteamixedwithmilk,andtuckasmallfreshlypickedsweetpeabesidetheplate.Thegardenbehindthehouseisenclosedbyashoulder-highhawthornhedge,halfplantedwithherbsandhalfwithvegetables.AnoldappletreeinthecornerholdsabirdhouseIwovelastyear,andarobinhopsoniteveryearlymorning.Rosemaryhasgrownintoabushhalfastallasaman;whenlavenderbloomspurple,itattractsswarmsofbumblebees.Tomatovinesclimbupoldbamboocanes,bearingbrightredfruitsthatyoucanwipeandbiteinto,fullofthesweetnesssun-bakedintotheflesh.Wildbluecornflowersalwayspushthroughthegapsinthehedge,theirsmallbloomslastingallsummer.Ineverpullthemout,letthemstealnutrientsfromthevegetables,andIcanseeapatchofblue-purpleswayinginthewindfromtheporch.Itiscommonfortheweathertoturnintheafternoon.Whendarkcloudsrollin,raindripsdownthewoodentilesoftheporch,weavingahazygraycurtainthathidestheflockofsheeponthedistantslope.Ialwaysdragmyoakrockingchairtotheporchentrance,putaceramicbowloffreshlypickedblackberriesbymyfeet,andleaveahalf-readBrontënovelopenonmyknee.Thewindbringsdamprainair,mixedwiththesmellofdistantpeatsmokeandwetgrass.Thechurchbellinthevillagestrikesthreeo'clock,thesounddriftingovermixedwiththepatterofrain,muffled,likesomeonespeakingthroughapieceofflannel.Atthistime,Mrs.Mellow,thewidowwholiveshalfamileaway,willalwayspushopenthegardengateholdingablackumbrella,herbasketalwaysholdingfreshlybakedsconesthatsmellofbutter.Wedrinkteawithclottedcream,listentotherainhittheroseleaves,andchataboutoldstoriesofpickingblueberrieslastsummer.Whenitgetsdark,therainmostlystops.Welightthefireplaceinthelivingroom,oakblockscracklingastheyburn,sparksfloatingupthechimney.Anoldjazzrecordplaysonthegramophoneinthecorner,thesoftstaticmixingwiththecrackleofthefire,warmingthewholehousefromcornertocorner.OnthewallhangsawatercolormygrandfatherpaintedwhenhehikedtheLakeDistrictinthe1930s;thegraypeaksandwhitecloudshadowsinthepaintingareexactlythesameastheskyoutsidethewindowtonight.Thecarpetwaswovenbymygrandmother,redwildroseswovenintoabeigebase,softunderfoot.Thekittenalwayscurlsupinthecornerofthecarpetnearthefireplace,purringsoftly.Anowlhootsintheoakwoodoutsidethewindow,faintanddistant,ahorseinthepasturesnortsloudly,thewindswaystherosebranchesbrushingagainstthewindowpane,makingasoftrustlingsound.IleanagainstthesofareadingthebookIdidn'tfinishduringthe