夏日游湖

E. B. 懷特

【導讀】E. B. 懷特（1899—1985），美國當代著名小說家、散文家，《紐約客》（The New Yorker）專職撰稿人。1971年獲美國“國家文學獎章”，1978年獲普利策特別文藝獎，代表作《夏洛的網》（Charlottes Web，1952）、《精靈鼠小弟》（Stuart Little，1945）等。

本文節選自懷特1942年出版的散文集《人各有異》（One Mans Meat）中的“再度游湖”（Once More to the Lake）一文。在文中，懷特回憶了自己8月盛夏帶兒子重返緬因游湖的經歷，并重溫了自己兒時父親帶他夏日游湖的快樂記憶。除了描寫盛夏的湖光山色，懷特還刻畫了人們的夏日生活，有烈日下釣魚、喝汽水、看海龜、喂鱸魚的悠閑，也有燥熱的夜晚難以入眠的苦惱，還有雷陣雨中游泳嬉戲的暢快。夏日里似曾相識的炎熱與激情，使懷特將自己幼時與父親的游湖經歷和現在帶兒子游湖的經歷交織在了一起，這不僅是懷特對往昔歲月的追憶，也是他對親情的深刻感悟。

Summertime， oh summertime， pattern of life indelible1， the fade- proof lake， the woods unshatterable， the pasture with the sweet fern and the juniper forever and ever， summer without end; this was the background， and the life along the shore was the design， the cottages with their innocent and tranquil design， their tiny docks with the flagpole and the American flag floating against the white clouds in the blue sky， the little paths over the roots of the trees leading from camp to camp and the paths leading back to the outhouses and the can of lime for sprinkling， and at the souvenir counters at the store the miniature birch-bark canoes and the post cards that showed things looking a little better than they looked. This was the American family at play， escaping the city heat， wondering whether the newcomers at the camp at the head of the cove were “common” or “nice，” wondering whether it was true that the people who drove up for Sunday dinner at the farmhouse were turned away because there wasnt enough chicken.

We had a good week at the camp. The bass were biting well and the sun shone endlessly， day after day. We would be tired at night and lie down in the accumulated heat of the little bedrooms after the long hot day and the breeze would stir almost imperceptibly outside and the smell of the swamp drift in through the rusty screens. Sleep would come easily and in the morning the red squirrel would be on the roof， tapping out his gay routine. I kept remembering everything， lying in bed in the mornings—the small steamboat that had a long rounded stern like the lip of a Ubangi2， and how quietly she ran on the moonlight sails， when the older boys played their mandolins and the girls sang and we ate doughnuts dipped in sugar， and how sweet the music was on the water in the shining night， and what it had felt like to think about girls then.

After breakfast we would go up to the store and the things were in the same place—the minnows3 in a bottle， the plugs and spinners disarranged and pawed over by the youngsters from the boys camp， the fig newtons and the Beemans gum. Outside， the road was tarred and cars stood in front of the store. Inside， all was just as it had always been， except there was more Coca Cola and not so much Moxie and root beer and birch beer and sarsaparilla. We would walk out with a bottle of pop apiece and sometimes the pop would backfire up our noses and hurt. We explored the streams， quietly， where the turtles slid off the sunny logs and dug their way into the soft bottom; and we lay on the town wharf and fed worms to the tame bass. Everywhere we went I had trouble making out which was I， the one walking at my side， the one walking in my pants.

One afternoon while we were there at that lake a thunderstorm came up. It was like the revival of an old melodrama that I had seen long ago with childish awe. The second-act climax of the drama of the electrical disturbance over a lake in America had not changed in any important respect. This was the big scene， still the big scene. The whole thing was so familiar， the first feeling of oppression and heat and a general air around camp of not wanting to go very far away. In mid-afternoon （it was all the same） a curious darkening of the sky， and a lull in everything that had made life tick; and then the way the boats suddenly swung the other way at their moorings with the coming of a breeze out of the new quarter， and the premonitory rumble. Then the kettle drum， then the snare， then the bass drum and cymbals， then crackling light against the dark， and the gods grinning and licking their chops in the hills. Afterward the calm， the rain steadily rustling in the calm lake， the return of light and hope and spirits， and the campers running out in joy and relief to go swimming in the rain， their bright cries perpetuating the deathless joke about how they were getting simply drenched， and the children screaming with delight at the new sensation of bathing in the rain， and the joke about getting drenched linking the generations in a strong indestructible chain. And the comedian who waded in carrying an umbrella.

夏日啊夏日，那生命中難以磨滅的印記，永遠滿湖清波，樹木挺拔，草場遍布甜蕨和杜松，夏日仿佛永遠不會結束。在這樣的湖光山色中，湖濱沿岸的生活就成了別出心裁的設計，湖邊小屋純樸而寧靜。小小的碼頭上立著旗桿，美國國旗在藍天白云下迎風飄揚。小徑跨越一個個樹根，通向一座座營地，又折回戶外廁所和用于噴灑的石灰罐。商店的紀念品柜臺上擺放著樺樹皮獨木舟的微縮模型，還有明信片，明信片上的景物比實物看起來略好些。美國人會逃離城市的暑熱，舉家來此游玩，他們會琢磨湖灣頂頭那塊營地新來的游客是“有些粗俗的”還是“較好親近的”，也會猜想是否真有人星期天晚上驅車前往農莊吃飯卻因雞肉不夠而只得打道回府。

我們在營地度過了愉快的一周。鱸魚頻頻上鉤，太陽始終燦爛，日復一日。經過漫長而炎熱的一天，晚上，疲憊的我們躺在小臥室里，這里已經積攢了一天的熱氣;室外微風徐拂，幾乎察覺不到;濕地的氣味透過生銹的紗窗裊裊襲來。我們很快進入夢鄉。大清早，就有紅松鼠躥上屋頂，跳起歡快的例行舞蹈。那些早晨，我躺在床上，一遍遍回憶著過往——那艘小汽船，又長又圓的船尾活像烏班吉人的嘴唇，在月光下航行是那么安靜，這時歲數稍大的男孩彈奏起他們的曼陀林，女孩們唱著歌，我們吃著蘸了糖的甜甜圈。在星光閃閃的夜晚，湖面上飄蕩的琴聲與歌聲是那樣悅耳動聽！那時想著女孩子們是怎樣一種感受??！

早飯過后，我們去逛商店，所有的東西都還在原來的地方——瓶子里的釣餌小魚;被男孩營的那些孩子扒拉得亂七八糟的人造魚餌和旋式魚餌;還有無花果酥和比曼牌口香糖。店外，馬路鋪著瀝青，店前停著汽車。店內，一如既往，只是可口可樂更多些，莫克西碳酸飲料、根汁汽水、樺木汽水和沙士飲料則沒那么多。出商店的時候，我們每個人都拿了一瓶汽水，有時候氣會反沖鼻子，很難受。我們靜靜地沿溪流漫步，那里有海龜從灑滿陽光的圓木上滑落，一頭鉆進松軟的河底;我們趴在小鎮的碼頭上，丟蟲子給溫順的鱸魚吃。無論我們走到哪里，我都難以分辨哪個是我——是走在我身邊的孩子，還是穿著我褲子的大人。

一天下午，我們在湖邊的時候，突然雷雨大作。仿佛我很久以前看過的一場舊時情節劇重現眼前，那時我還小，看得心生敬畏。劇的第二幕高潮是美國一個湖上電閃雷鳴的情景，與我現在眼前所見差別不大。場面壯觀，跟以前一樣壯觀。從最初壓抑、炎熱的感覺，到營地周圍彌漫著的讓人不敢走太遠的氣氛，一切都是那么熟悉。下午三點左右（和情節劇完全一樣），天空出奇地暗了下來，一切生命活動也都突然停止;接著，一陣微風從別的方向吹來，錨泊處一側的小船突然開始蕩向另一側，轟隆隆的雷聲預示大雨將至。然后依次響起定音鼓、小軍鼓、低音鼓和鈸，最后，漆黑的空中劈過一道閃電，眾神在山上幸災樂禍地咧嘴笑著。之后一片沉靜，雨滴籟籟落入平靜的湖水。光明重現，希望再生，精神煥發，露營者們如釋重負，歡喜地沖到屋外，淋著雨下湖暢游，他們笑著自己全身濕透的模樣，歡快的叫喊讓這種樂趣成為永恒的記憶。孩子們體驗著在雨中沐浴的新鮮感覺，興奮地尖叫，這種全身濕透的樂趣成了一條牢不可破的紐帶，將人們不分長幼地連在了一起。那個撐著雨傘蹚水的人則成了記憶中的滑稽人物。

（譯者單位：北京語言大學）