諾貝爾文學經典:《寵兒》第1章Part 3

Three pulling at your skirts and just one raising hell from the other side. Be thankful, why don'tyou? I had eight. Every one of them gone away from me. Four taken, four chased, and all, I expect,worrying somebody's house into evil." Baby Suggs rubbed her eyebrows. "My first-born. All I can remember of her is how she loved the burned bottom of bread. Can youbeat that? Eight children and that's all I remember."

"That's all you let yourself remember," Sethe had told her, but she was down to one herself — onealive, that is — the boys chased off by the dead one, and her memory of Buglar was fading fast.
Howard at least had a head shape nobody could forget. As for the rest, she worked hard toremember as close to nothing as was safe. Unfortunately her brain was devious. She might behurrying across a field, running practically, to get to the pump quickly and rinse the chamomile sapfrom her legs. Nothing else would be in her mind. The picture of the men coming to nurse her wasas lifeless as the nerves in her back where the skin buckled like a washboard. Nor was there thefaintest scent of ink or the cherry gum and oak bark from which it was made. Nothing. Just thebreeze cooling her face as she rushed toward water. And then sopping the chamomile away withpump water and rags, her mind fixed on getting every last bit of sap off — on her carelessness intaking a shortcut across the field just to save a half mile, and not noticing how high the weeds hadgrown until the itching was all the way to her knees. Then something. The plash of water, the sightof her shoes and stockings awry on the path where she had flung them; or Here Boy lapping in thepuddle near her feet, and suddenly there was Sweet Home rolling, rolling, rolling out before hereyes, and although there was not a leaf on that farm that did not make her want to scream, it rolleditself out before her in shameless beauty. It never looked as terrible as it was and it made herwonder if hell was a pretty place too. Fire and brimstone all right, but hidden in lacy groves. Boyshanging from the most beautiful sycamores in the world. It shamed her — remembering thewonderful soughing trees rather than the boys. Try as she might to make it otherwise, thesycamores beat out the children every time and she could not forgive her memory for that.

剩下三個牽着你的裙子，只有一個從陰間過來折騰。知足吧，幹嗎不呢？我生過八個。每一個都離開了我。四個給逮走了，四個被人追捕，到頭來呀，我估計，個個兒都在誰家裏鬧鬼呢。"貝比·薩格斯揉着眉毛。"我的頭一胎。想起她，我只記得她多麼愛吃煳麪包嘎巴。你比得了嗎？八個孩子，可我只記得這麼點兒。"
"你只讓自己記得這麼點兒。"塞絲這樣告訴她，然而她自己也面臨着同一個難題——那可是個大活人吶——兒子們讓死的那個趕跑了，而她對巴格勒的記憶正迅速消失着。

霍華德好歹還有一個誰也忘不了的頭形呢。至於其餘的一切，她儘量不去記憶，因爲只有這樣纔是安全的。遺憾的是她的腦子迂迴曲折，難以捉摸。比如，她正匆匆穿過一片田地，簡直是在奔跑，就爲儘快趕到壓水井那裏，洗掉腿上的春黃菊汁。她腦子裏沒有任何別的東西。那兩個傢伙來吃她奶水時的景象，已經同她後背上的神經一樣沒有生命（背上的皮膚像塊搓衣板似的起伏不平）。腦子裏也沒有哪怕最微弱的墨水氣味，或者用來造墨水的櫻桃樹膠和橡樹皮的氣味。什麼也沒有。只有她奔向水井時冷卻她的臉龐的輕風。然後她用破布蘸上壓水井的水，泡溼春黃菊，頭腦完全專注於把最後一滴汁液洗掉——由於疏忽，僅僅爲了省半英里路，她抄近道穿過田野，直到膝蓋覺得刺癢，才留意野草已長得這麼高了。然後就有了什麼。也許是水花的飛濺聲，被她扔在路上的鞋襪七扭八歪的樣子，或者浸在腳邊的水窪裏的"來，小鬼"；接着，猛然間，"甜蜜之家"到了，滾哪滾哪滾着展現在她眼前，儘管那個農莊裏沒有一草一木不令她失聲尖叫，它仍然在她面前展開無恥的美麗。它看上去從來沒有實際上那樣可怖，這使她懷疑，是否地獄也是個可愛的地方。毒焰和硫磺當然有，卻藏在花邊狀的樹叢裏。小夥子們吊死在世上最美麗的梧桐樹上。這令她感到恥辱——對那些美妙的颯颯作響的樹的記憶比對小夥子的記憶更清晰。她可以企圖另作努力，但是梧桐樹每一次都戰勝小夥子。她因而不能原諒自己的記憶。