TO LIVE, Chapter I (1)

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TO LIVE, Chapter I (1)
When I was ten years younger than I am now, I had the carefree job of going to the countryside to collect popular folk songs. That year, for the entire summer, I was like a sparrow soaring recklessly. I would wander amid the village houses and the open country, which was full of cicadas and flooded with sunlight. I had a special affection for that bitter tea that farmers brew. There would always be a bucket of just that kind of tea under a tree by the ridge between the fields, and without a second thought I would ladle out enough to fill my tea-stained bowl. Once I'd filled it to the brim, I'd start bullshitting with some of the male workers. The girls would whisper among themselves and then stifle their chuckles as I'd swagger off. I once spent a whole afternoon talking with an old man who kept a melon patch. I ate more melons that day than I ever had in my life. When I stood up to leave, I suddenly realized that I had as much difficulty walking as a pregnant woman. Later that day, I sat on the porch with a woman who had already become a grandmother. As she weaved a pair of straw sandals she sang "Ten Month Pregnancy" for me. What I loved most was sitting before the peasants' houses just as dusk fell. As the sun's rays came down through the delicate branches, I would watch the peasants pour well water onto the ground, cooling the hot dust and sand. Holding the fan they passed over to me, I would try the pickled vegetables, which always tasted like salt. I would watch the girls and talk with the men.
I wore a wide-brimmed straw hat on my head and a pair of slippers on my feet. A towel hung down from my belt behind me; I made it look like a tail patting me on the butt as I walked. All day my mouth was wide open as I yawned, strolling aimlessly through the narrow trails that wove between the fields. My slippers made a funny sound, "ba da ba da," as the dust along the trail went flying upward. It was as if a truck had sped by.
I'd wander all over the place, not even remembering which villages I'd been to and which I hadn't. As I'd approach the next country village, I'd often hear the children yelling, "Hey, that guy who always yawns is back!"
And so the people in the village knew that the man who told dirty stories and sang sad songs had come back again. Actually I learned all those dirty stories and sad songs from them. I knew everything that interested them, and naturally this was also what interested me.

I once came across an old man with a bloody nose and a swollen face sitting atop the ridge crying. His sadness filled his entire body. When he saw me coming he looked up, and his weeping grew louder. I asked him who beat him like this, and, scraping the mud off his pants with his fingernail, he told me with anger that it was that ungrateful son of his. When I asked him why, he kept beating around the bush but wouldn't explain. I immediately surmised that the old man must have been putting the moves on his daughter-in-law. Then on another occasion, I was hurrying on my way at night when the glow of my flashlight fell upon a pair of naked bodies beside a pond. One was pressing against the other. When I shined my light on them, except for a hand scratching a thigh, the two bodies lay absolutely still. I quickly turned off my light and got out of there. One afternoon during the height of the farming season, hoping to get a drink of water, I walked into a house whose doors had been left wide open. A man wearing shorts and looking quite flustered stopped me and led me outside to a well. He eagerly hoisted up a bucket of water for me from the well, then like a rat scurried back into his house.

These were all common occurrences, almost as common as the folk songs I heard.When I gazed at the green earth that surrounded me, I came closer to understanding why the crops here grew so vigorously.


　　我比现在年轻十岁的时候，获得了一个游手好闲的职业，去乡间收集民间歌谣。那一年的整个夏天，我如同一只乱飞的麻雀，游荡在知了和阳光充斥的村舍田野。我喜欢喝农民那种带有苦味的茶水，他们的茶桶就放在田埂的树下，我毫无顾忌地拿起漆满茶垢的茶碗舀水喝，还把自己的水壶灌满，与田里干活的男人说上几句废话，在姑娘因我而起的窃窃私笑里扬长而去。我曾经和一位守着瓜田的老人聊了整整一个下午，这是我有生以来瓜吃得最多的一次，当我站起来告辞时，突然发现自己像个孕妇一样步履艰难了。然后我与一位当上了祖母的女人坐在门槛上，她编着草鞋为我唱了一支《十月怀胎》。我最喜欢的是傍晚来到时，坐在农民的屋前，看着他们将提上的井水泼在地上，压住蒸腾的尘土，夕阳的光芒在树梢上照射下来，拿一把他们递过来的扇子，尝尝他们和盐一样咸的咸菜，看看几个年轻女人，和男人们说着话。
　　我头戴宽边草帽，脚上穿着拖鞋，一条毛巾挂在身后的皮带上，让它像尾巴似的拍打着我的屁股。我整日张大嘴巴打着呵欠，散漫地走在田间小道上，我的拖鞋吧哒吧哒，把那些小道弄得尘土飞扬，仿佛是车轮滚滚而过时的情景。
　　我到处游荡，已经弄不清楚哪些村庄我曾经去过，哪些我没有去过。我走近一个村子时，常会听到孩子的喊叫：
　　“那个老打呵欠的人又来啦。”
　　于是村里人就知道那个会讲荤故事会唱酸曲的人又来了。其实所有的荤故事所有的酸曲都是从他们那里学来的，我知道他们全部的兴趣在什么地方，自然这也是我的兴趣。我曾经遇到一个哭泣的老人，他鼻青眼肿地坐在田埂上，满腹的悲哀使他变得十分激动，看到我走来他仰起脸哭声更为响亮。我问他是谁把他打成这样的？他手指挖着裤管上的泥巴，愤怒地告诉我是他那不孝的儿子，当我再问为何打他时，他支支吾吾说不清楚了，我就立刻知道他准是对儿媳干了偷鸡摸狗的勾当。还有一个晚上我打着手电赶夜路时，在一口池塘旁照到了两段赤裸的身体，一段压在另一段上面，我照着的时候两段身体纹丝不动，只是有一只手在大腿上轻轻搔痒，我赶紧熄灭手电离去。在农忙的一个中午，我走进一家敞开大门的房屋去找水喝，一个穿短裤的男人神色慌张地挡住了我，把我引到井旁，殷勤地替我打上来一桶水，随后又像耗子一样窜进了屋里。这样的事我屡见不鲜，差不多和我听到的歌谣一样多，当我望着到处都充满绿色的土地时，我就会进一步明白庄稼为何长得如此旺盛。

america

I once came across an old man with a bloody nose and a swollen face sitting atop the ridge crying. His sadness filled his entire body. When he saw me coming he looked up, and his weeping grew louder. I asked him who beat him like this, and, scraping the mud off his pants with his fingernail, he told me with anger that it was that ungrateful son of his. When I asked him why, he kept beating around the bush but wouldn't explain. I immediately surmised that the old man must have been putting the moves on his daughter-in-law. Then on another occasion, I was hurrying on my way at night when the glow of my flashlight fell upon a pair of naked bodies beside a pond. One was pressing against the other. When I shined my light on them, except for a hand scratching a thigh, the two bodies lay absolutely still. I quickly turned off my light and got out of there. One afternoon during the height of the farming season, hoping to get a drink of water, I walked into a house whose doors had been left wide open. A man wearing shorts and looking quite flustered stopped me and led me outside to a well. He eagerly hoisted up a bucket of water for me from the well, then like a rat scurried back into his house.


Note:
put the moves on
    US    informal   : to do or say things in an effort to start a sexual relationship with someone
    He accused me of trying to put the moves on his girlfriend.