论文部分内容阅读
I Love Girl （Part 1）
I am Oog. I love Girl. Girl loves Boog.
It is bad situation.
Boog and I are very different people. For example， we have different jobs.
My job is Rock Thrower. I will explain what that is. There are many rocks all over the place and people are always tripping[绊倒] on them. So when I became a man， at age eleven， the Old Person said to me， “Get rid of all the rocks.” Since that day， ten years ago， I have worked very hard at this. Whenever it is light outside， I am gathering rocks and throwing them off the cliff.
Boog’s job is Artist. I will explain what that is. When he became a man， the Old Person said to him， “Cut down the trees so we have space to live.” But Boog did not want to do this， so now he smears[涂抹] paint inside caves. He calls his smears “pictures.” Everybody likes to look at them. But the person who likes to look at them most is Girl.
I love Girl. I will explain what that is. When I look at her， I feel sick like I am going to die. I have never had the Great Disease （obviously， because I am still alive）. But my uncle described it to me. He said there is a tightness in your chest， you cannot breathe， and you have anger toward the Gods. I was going to ask him to explain more， but then he died. My point is： Girl makes me feel this way， like I am going to die. There are many women in the world. By last count， seven. But she is the only one I ever loved.
Girl lives on Black Mountain. It is called Black Mountain because （1） it is mountain and（2） it is covered in black rocks. Every day， Girl has to climb over the rocks to get to the river. It is too hard. She has small legs and she is often getting stuck[被卡住的]. So one day I decided， “I will clear a path from Girl’s cave to the river.”
I have been working on Girl’s path for many years， picking up the black rocks and carrying them away. I never throw her rocks off the cliff like normal rocks. Instead， I put them in a pile[堆] next to my cave. I like to look at the pile， because it reminds[使想起] me of how I am helping Girl.
I have made good progress on Girl’s path， but there are still many rocks left. The job would go faster， but I am clearing the path in secret by the light of the moon. The reason is—I am afraid to talk to Girl. If she found out it was me clearing all the rocks， I’m sure she would say something to me like “Hello” or “Hi there.”And then I would be in trouble. Because the truth is I am not so good at making words.
Boog is very good at making words. For example， last week he showed off his new picture at the Main Cave. Everyone was expecting it to be a horse or a bear（all his pictures so far have been horses， bears， or a mix of horses and bears）. But this picture was not of any animal. It was just a bunch of red streaks[条纹]. People were angry.
“I wanted animals，” the Old Person said. “Where are the animals？”
It was bad situation. I thought that Boog would lose his job or maybe be killed by stones. But then Boog stood on a rock and spoke.
“My art is smart，” he said. “And anyone who does not get it is stupid.”
Everyone was quiet. We looked at the Old Person to see what he would say.
The Old Person squinted[眯着眼看] at the red streaks for a while. Then he rubbed his chin[下巴] and said， “Oh， yes， now I get it. It is smart. People who do not get it are stupid.”
A few seconds later， everyone else got it.
“It is smart，” they said. “It is smart！”
The only person who did not get it was me. My beard began to sweat. I was scared that someone would ask me to make words about the picture. I headed slowly for the exit. I was almost out of the cave when Boog pointed his finger at me.
“Do you like it， Oog？”
Everyone stopped making words and looked at me.
“It is smart，” I said. I meant for my voice to sound big， but it came out small.
Boog smiled.
“Ah，” he said. “Then why don’t you explain it to us？”
I felt a burning on my skin. It was sort of like when you fall into a cooking fire and your body catches on fire. I looked at my feet and people started laughing.
I looked up at Girl to see if she was one of the ones laughing. She was not （thank Gods）. But she could hear all the other people laughing and that was just as bad.
The next day， I decided to become an Artist. I told my plan to Oog （there are several of us named Oog—I’m sorry if it is confusing） and he said， “You can’t be an Artist. It is hard.”
Oog agreed with him.
“You’re a Rock Thrower，” he said. “Stick with[坚持]
that.”
I was angry at Oog. Partly because he always takes Oog’s side. But mostly because I did not agree with his words.
“I am going to make a picture，” I told the others. “A good one.”
“Who are you going to show it to？” Oog said. “Your mother？” Everyone laughed： Oog， Oog， Moog， even Oog.
“No，” I said. “I will show it to Girl.”
No one made words after that.
（To be continued…）
我叫奥戈。我爱女孩。女孩爱布戈。
这是坏情况。
我和布戈是截然不同的两个人。比如，我们有着不同的工作。
我的工作是扔石头。我会解释那是什么的。这地方到处都是石头，老是绊倒人。所以当我11岁成年时，老人对我说：“弄走这些石头。”从那天起，十年来，我都非常努力地扔石头。只要外面天亮着，我都会去捡石头，然后把它们扔到山崖下面去。
布戈是个艺术家。我会解释那是什么的。当他成年时，老人对他说：“把这些树砍了，这样我们就有地方住了。”但布戈不想干这个，所以现在他在洞穴里涂抹色彩。他把他抹出来的东西叫做“画”。所有人都喜欢看“画”。但最喜欢看画的人是女孩。
我爱女孩。我会解释那是什么的。当我看着她的时候，感觉像是要死一样地难受。我从未得过致命的疾病（当然了，因为我还活着）。但我的叔叔和我描述过致命的疾病是什么样的。他说你会觉得胸口发紧，无法呼吸，对诸神感到愤怒。我想让他再多解释一点，但没过多久他就死了。我的意思是：女孩让我有这种感觉，像是要死了一样的感觉。这个世界上有很多女人。上一次统计是—七个。但她是我唯一爱过的女人。
女孩住在黑山上。那地方叫做黑山是因为：（1）它是一座山；（2）山上布满黑色的石头。每一天，女孩都要爬过那些石头到河边去。这太难了。她的双腿细小，常常被石头卡住。所以有一天，我决定：“从女孩的洞穴到河边，我要为女孩清出一条道路来。”
我在女孩的这条路上干了许多年，捡起黑石，然后把它们拿走。我从不把她的石头像普通的石头一样扔下山崖，而是在我的洞边把它们堆成一堆。我喜欢看着这个石头堆，因为它让我想起我是怎么帮助女孩的。
我在女孩的这条路上进展不错，但还是有很多石头需要搬。这工作得加快速度，但我只在月光下偷偷地干。原因是—我害怕和女孩说话。如果她发现是我在清除所有的这些石头，我保证她一定会对我说些像“你好”或“嗨，你好”之类的话。然后，我就有麻烦了。因为说真的，我不太会说话。
布戈非常善谈。例如上周，他在主洞里展示他的新画。大家都期待它会是一匹马或一头熊（目前为止，他画的要么是马，要么是熊，要么是马熊混合体）。但这幅画上没有任何动物，有的只是一些红色条纹。大家生气了。
“我要动物”，老人说。“动物去哪儿了？”
这是坏情况。我想布戈也许会丢了工作，或者会被石头砸死。但布戈站到一块岩石上讲话。
“我的艺术是机智的，”他说道。“看不懂它的人是愚蠢的。”
大家都沉默了。我们看着老人，想听听看他怎么说。
老人眯起眼看了一会儿那些红色条纹，然后他擦了擦下巴，说：“噢，是的，现在我懂了。它是机智的，不懂的人是愚蠢的。”
几秒钟后，大家都懂了。
“它是机智的，”他们说。“它是机智的！”
唯一看不懂的人是我。我紧张得胡子都开始冒汗了。我害怕有人要我对这幅画发表看法。我慢慢地向出口挪动。当我就要走到洞外的时候，布戈指向我。
“奥戈，你喜欢它吗？”
所有人都停止说话，看着我。
“它是机智的，”我说。我想大声说出来，但说出口时却很小声。
布戈笑了。
“啊，”他说，“那你为什么不解释给我们听呢？”
我觉得我的皮肤在燃烧。那感觉就像是你掉进了做饭的火里，浑身都着了火一样。我看着自己的双脚，人们开始大笑。
我抬头看向女孩，看她是不是也在笑。她没笑（谢天谢地）。但她会听到其他人在笑我，这一样很糟糕。
第二天，我决定要成为一个艺术家。我将我的计划告诉奥戈（我们有好几个人都叫奥戈—抱歉这让人感到困惑）。奥戈说：“你做不了艺术家。那很难的。”
奥戈同意他的看法。
“你是个扔石头的，”他说。“坚持做下去吧。”
我对奥戈感到愤怒。部分原因是他总是站在奥戈那一边。但主要还是因为我不同意他的话。
“我打算画幅画儿，”我告诉其他人，“一幅好画”。
“你打算画给谁看？”奥戈说，“你妈妈？”
所有人都笑了：奥戈、奥戈、莫戈，甚至还包括奥戈。
“不，”我说。“我会画给女孩看。”
没有人再说话了。
（未完待续……）
I am Oog. I love Girl. Girl loves Boog.
It is bad situation.
Boog and I are very different people. For example， we have different jobs.
My job is Rock Thrower. I will explain what that is. There are many rocks all over the place and people are always tripping[绊倒] on them. So when I became a man， at age eleven， the Old Person said to me， “Get rid of all the rocks.” Since that day， ten years ago， I have worked very hard at this. Whenever it is light outside， I am gathering rocks and throwing them off the cliff.
Boog’s job is Artist. I will explain what that is. When he became a man， the Old Person said to him， “Cut down the trees so we have space to live.” But Boog did not want to do this， so now he smears[涂抹] paint inside caves. He calls his smears “pictures.” Everybody likes to look at them. But the person who likes to look at them most is Girl.
I love Girl. I will explain what that is. When I look at her， I feel sick like I am going to die. I have never had the Great Disease （obviously， because I am still alive）. But my uncle described it to me. He said there is a tightness in your chest， you cannot breathe， and you have anger toward the Gods. I was going to ask him to explain more， but then he died. My point is： Girl makes me feel this way， like I am going to die. There are many women in the world. By last count， seven. But she is the only one I ever loved.
Girl lives on Black Mountain. It is called Black Mountain because （1） it is mountain and（2） it is covered in black rocks. Every day， Girl has to climb over the rocks to get to the river. It is too hard. She has small legs and she is often getting stuck[被卡住的]. So one day I decided， “I will clear a path from Girl’s cave to the river.”
I have been working on Girl’s path for many years， picking up the black rocks and carrying them away. I never throw her rocks off the cliff like normal rocks. Instead， I put them in a pile[堆] next to my cave. I like to look at the pile， because it reminds[使想起] me of how I am helping Girl.
I have made good progress on Girl’s path， but there are still many rocks left. The job would go faster， but I am clearing the path in secret by the light of the moon. The reason is—I am afraid to talk to Girl. If she found out it was me clearing all the rocks， I’m sure she would say something to me like “Hello” or “Hi there.”And then I would be in trouble. Because the truth is I am not so good at making words.
Boog is very good at making words. For example， last week he showed off his new picture at the Main Cave. Everyone was expecting it to be a horse or a bear（all his pictures so far have been horses， bears， or a mix of horses and bears）. But this picture was not of any animal. It was just a bunch of red streaks[条纹]. People were angry.
“I wanted animals，” the Old Person said. “Where are the animals？”
It was bad situation. I thought that Boog would lose his job or maybe be killed by stones. But then Boog stood on a rock and spoke.
“My art is smart，” he said. “And anyone who does not get it is stupid.”
Everyone was quiet. We looked at the Old Person to see what he would say.
The Old Person squinted[眯着眼看] at the red streaks for a while. Then he rubbed his chin[下巴] and said， “Oh， yes， now I get it. It is smart. People who do not get it are stupid.”
A few seconds later， everyone else got it.
“It is smart，” they said. “It is smart！”
The only person who did not get it was me. My beard began to sweat. I was scared that someone would ask me to make words about the picture. I headed slowly for the exit. I was almost out of the cave when Boog pointed his finger at me.
“Do you like it， Oog？”
Everyone stopped making words and looked at me.
“It is smart，” I said. I meant for my voice to sound big， but it came out small.
Boog smiled.
“Ah，” he said. “Then why don’t you explain it to us？”
I felt a burning on my skin. It was sort of like when you fall into a cooking fire and your body catches on fire. I looked at my feet and people started laughing.
I looked up at Girl to see if she was one of the ones laughing. She was not （thank Gods）. But she could hear all the other people laughing and that was just as bad.
The next day， I decided to become an Artist. I told my plan to Oog （there are several of us named Oog—I’m sorry if it is confusing） and he said， “You can’t be an Artist. It is hard.”
Oog agreed with him.
“You’re a Rock Thrower，” he said. “Stick with[坚持]
that.”
I was angry at Oog. Partly because he always takes Oog’s side. But mostly because I did not agree with his words.
“I am going to make a picture，” I told the others. “A good one.”
“Who are you going to show it to？” Oog said. “Your mother？” Everyone laughed： Oog， Oog， Moog， even Oog.
“No，” I said. “I will show it to Girl.”
No one made words after that.
（To be continued…）
我叫奥戈。我爱女孩。女孩爱布戈。
这是坏情况。
我和布戈是截然不同的两个人。比如，我们有着不同的工作。
我的工作是扔石头。我会解释那是什么的。这地方到处都是石头，老是绊倒人。所以当我11岁成年时，老人对我说：“弄走这些石头。”从那天起，十年来，我都非常努力地扔石头。只要外面天亮着，我都会去捡石头，然后把它们扔到山崖下面去。
布戈是个艺术家。我会解释那是什么的。当他成年时，老人对他说：“把这些树砍了，这样我们就有地方住了。”但布戈不想干这个，所以现在他在洞穴里涂抹色彩。他把他抹出来的东西叫做“画”。所有人都喜欢看“画”。但最喜欢看画的人是女孩。
我爱女孩。我会解释那是什么的。当我看着她的时候，感觉像是要死一样地难受。我从未得过致命的疾病（当然了，因为我还活着）。但我的叔叔和我描述过致命的疾病是什么样的。他说你会觉得胸口发紧，无法呼吸，对诸神感到愤怒。我想让他再多解释一点，但没过多久他就死了。我的意思是：女孩让我有这种感觉，像是要死了一样的感觉。这个世界上有很多女人。上一次统计是—七个。但她是我唯一爱过的女人。
女孩住在黑山上。那地方叫做黑山是因为：（1）它是一座山；（2）山上布满黑色的石头。每一天，女孩都要爬过那些石头到河边去。这太难了。她的双腿细小，常常被石头卡住。所以有一天，我决定：“从女孩的洞穴到河边，我要为女孩清出一条道路来。”
我在女孩的这条路上干了许多年，捡起黑石，然后把它们拿走。我从不把她的石头像普通的石头一样扔下山崖，而是在我的洞边把它们堆成一堆。我喜欢看着这个石头堆，因为它让我想起我是怎么帮助女孩的。
我在女孩的这条路上进展不错，但还是有很多石头需要搬。这工作得加快速度，但我只在月光下偷偷地干。原因是—我害怕和女孩说话。如果她发现是我在清除所有的这些石头，我保证她一定会对我说些像“你好”或“嗨，你好”之类的话。然后，我就有麻烦了。因为说真的，我不太会说话。
布戈非常善谈。例如上周，他在主洞里展示他的新画。大家都期待它会是一匹马或一头熊（目前为止，他画的要么是马，要么是熊，要么是马熊混合体）。但这幅画上没有任何动物，有的只是一些红色条纹。大家生气了。
“我要动物”，老人说。“动物去哪儿了？”
这是坏情况。我想布戈也许会丢了工作，或者会被石头砸死。但布戈站到一块岩石上讲话。
“我的艺术是机智的，”他说道。“看不懂它的人是愚蠢的。”
大家都沉默了。我们看着老人，想听听看他怎么说。
老人眯起眼看了一会儿那些红色条纹，然后他擦了擦下巴，说：“噢，是的，现在我懂了。它是机智的，不懂的人是愚蠢的。”
几秒钟后，大家都懂了。
“它是机智的，”他们说。“它是机智的！”
唯一看不懂的人是我。我紧张得胡子都开始冒汗了。我害怕有人要我对这幅画发表看法。我慢慢地向出口挪动。当我就要走到洞外的时候，布戈指向我。
“奥戈，你喜欢它吗？”
所有人都停止说话，看着我。
“它是机智的，”我说。我想大声说出来，但说出口时却很小声。
布戈笑了。
“啊，”他说，“那你为什么不解释给我们听呢？”
我觉得我的皮肤在燃烧。那感觉就像是你掉进了做饭的火里，浑身都着了火一样。我看着自己的双脚，人们开始大笑。
我抬头看向女孩，看她是不是也在笑。她没笑（谢天谢地）。但她会听到其他人在笑我，这一样很糟糕。
第二天，我决定要成为一个艺术家。我将我的计划告诉奥戈（我们有好几个人都叫奥戈—抱歉这让人感到困惑）。奥戈说：“你做不了艺术家。那很难的。”
奥戈同意他的看法。
“你是个扔石头的，”他说。“坚持做下去吧。”
我对奥戈感到愤怒。部分原因是他总是站在奥戈那一边。但主要还是因为我不同意他的话。
“我打算画幅画儿，”我告诉其他人，“一幅好画”。
“你打算画给谁看？”奥戈说，“你妈妈？”
所有人都笑了：奥戈、奥戈、莫戈，甚至还包括奥戈。
“不，”我说。“我会画给女孩看。”
没有人再说话了。
（未完待续……）