红发小女孩

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  生活中从不缺少美,只是我们缺少欣赏美的眼光和视角,我们在匆匆忙忙中往往错过了很多美好的事物。不妨偶尔放缓前行的脚步,停下来看看四周的风景,你会惊讶地发现曾忽略的风景能给你带来如此多的愉悦。
  
  Bill and Gordon sat on a bench in the shade of the trees and listened to the magpies注1 whisper-carol[欢唱] to each other as they wove[交织] between the feet of afternoon
  shoppers in Bairnsdale注2. Nothing was spoken between the men; they simply sat and absorbed the magpie-
  atmosphere, each interpreting the song in his own way.
  The men had come into Bairnsdale in the hope of
  finding Gordon’s uncle who, they had been told, was helping his wife with the shopping. The men hadn’t seen him yet, but there was no rush. The magpie was singing, that’s all that mattered at this moment; that, and the tiny little girl with the red hair who was sitting with her dad, both enraptured[使陶醉] by the whisperings of the birds.
  “She’s a Koorie注3,” Gordon said to Bill.
  “How’d you know that?”
  “You can see it.” Gordon scratched[搔,抓] his ankle. “Anyway, that’s her father and you can tell he is.”
  “How you know he’s her father?” Bill asked as he
  adjusted his battered[打扁了的] old hat.
  “She just said ‘Daddy’.”
  “You got better ears than me.” Bill smiled, and continued: “She’s pretty.” Bill nodded acknowledgement[承认] to the father of the child. “Uncle,” he muttered[咕哝], respectfully[尊敬地].
  Gordon stood, hitched up[拉起] his trousers and retied the twine[细绳] that did for a belt—“Gotta get a belt today”—and then walked over to the window of the supermarket. When he returned he stood in front of Bill and spoke: “Don’t think he’s in there. Got a feeling his truck broke down coming in this morning.”
  Bill swung suddenly to his left side, then back, playing peek-a-boo[躲猫猫] with the little red haired girl. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
  “Do you mind giving it a bit longer?”
  “The magpies are singing sacred[神圣的] songs to this little girl—and she knows it,” Bill replied, scratching the stubble[胡子茬] on his cheek.
  Gordon sat beside Bill and listened to the magpies and watched the little girl.
  Neither man spoke for quite some time. The little girl had curled up[卷起] into her father’s side on the bench
  opposite the men; she looked tired, her eyes occasionally
  closing. Her father seemed asleep. Bill knew he’d seen him back in the old days of “land rights” politics注4 but couldn’t find the name. It didn’t really matter—the magpies were standing in front of the little girl and whispering to her between a scrap[小片] of dropped food from some passer-by or an inattentive[疏忽的] insect.
  “She’s beautiful, yay.” Bill’s statement needed no answer but was replied to with an
  emphatic[肯定的] nod. “Red hair and a face like that mob[一群人] over in the desert.”
  “Pitjantjatjara注5. Western mob.” (PRON:
  pi-juhn-JAH-ruh)
  “Yeh, that mob. But this one’s got a white mum, I’ll bet. One with red hair.” Bill smiled and swung to look at Gordon. “Pretty, yay.”
  “Yep!” Gordon seemed to have drifted into a different space.
  The men remained silent, Bill entranced[使着迷]
  by the little girl, Gordon throwing the occasional
  unconcerned glance either way along the
  footpath. The magpies had finished their lullaby to the now sleeping little girl and had moved away to a dropped half-croissant[新月形面包] in front of the hot bread shop. And somewhere in the dream of autumn sun and reverie[幻想], the little girl’s mother had gathered up her husband and child to the side of her laden[装满的] shopping trolley[手推车] and
  disappeared in the maze[迷宫] of cars in the car-park.
  The mother, Bill vaguely[含糊地] remembered, shone like the sun at sunset, a lithe[自然优雅的] and
  beautiful woman with skin like milk. The little girl had her mother’s colouring and her father’s
  features.
  “What you fellas doing down here?” The voice was like gravel[砂砾] and sand. Bill looked up into dappled[斑点的] and sparkling sun to seen Gordon hurriedly standing and shaking his uncle’s hand.
  “Uncle!” Gordon beamed[微笑示意]. “Watching a little girl, listening to the magpies and waiting for you.”
  “She was a Koorie with the most beautiful red hair. Some fella gunna be a lucky man in eighteen years.” Bill smiled. “Till then, we’re the lucky fellas, yay.”
  
  比尔和戈登坐在树荫下的长椅上,聆听着钟鹊相互轻声吟唱,它们的歌声和下午在拜恩斯代尔购物的人的脚步声交织在一起。两人并没有交谈;他们只是坐在那儿,沉浸于钟鹊欢快的歌声中——各自对这歌都有自己的
  理解。
  他俩来拜恩斯代尔找戈登的叔叔,被告知他正帮他妻子买东西。两人还没见到他,但他们并不着急。钟鹊正在欢唱,现在最重要的事儿莫过于此;还有一个红发小女孩正和她爸爸坐在一块儿——他俩都陶醉在鸟儿的细语中。
  “她是原住民,”戈登对比尔说。
  “你怎么知道?”
  “你可以看出来,”戈登揉了揉脚踝,“不管怎么说,那是她爸爸,你可以看出来。”
  “你怎么知道他是她爸爸?”比尔问道,他整了整自己那顶压扁的旧帽子。
  “她刚刚叫他‘爸爸’。”
  “你的耳朵比我灵。”比尔笑了笑,接着说:“她很漂亮。”比尔和孩子的父亲点头示意,恭敬地咕哝一声:“大叔。”
  戈登站了起来,拉起裤子,将他用来当作腰带的细绳重新绑紧——“今天得买条腰带”——随后他走到超市的橱窗前。接着他回来了,站在比尔的面前说:“我想他不在里面。感觉他的车今早半路抛锚了。”
  比尔突然转到他的左边,然后又转回来,和那个红发小女孩玩起躲猫猫来。“你打算怎么办?”他问。
  “你介意多等一会儿吗?”
  “钟鹊正在给这小女孩唱圣歌——她听得懂,”比尔回答,挠了挠脸上的胡子茬。
  戈登坐到比尔身旁,一边听着钟鹊歌唱,一边注视着小女孩。
  俩人静默了好一会儿。小女孩的爸爸坐在他们对面的长椅上,她蜷缩在旁;她看起来有点累,双眼时不时眯起来。她爸爸似乎睡着了。比尔知道自己在“原住民土地权利”政策时期见过他,但想不起名字。但这并不重要——钟鹊站在小女孩面前,一边对她低声细语,一边捡起路人投来的小块吃食,有时抓到一只粗心的虫子。
  “她很漂亮,对吧。”比尔的话不需要任何回应,同伴却肯定地点了点头。“红色的头发,脸长得很像沙漠里那个部落的人。”
  “皮坚加加拉。西部土著。”
  “没错,就是那群人。但我打赌这个小女孩的妈妈是白人,有一头红发。”比尔笑了起来,转过头看着戈登。“真漂亮,对吧。”
  “的确!”戈登的思绪似乎跑到别的地方去了。
  两人又沉默了——比尔继续注视着小女孩,戈登时而有意无意地瞟一下人行道的两边。钟鹊为小女孩唱的摇篮曲停了,小女孩睡着了,它们飞到掉落在面包店前面的新月形面包上。仿佛秋日阳光与幻象的梦境一样,小女孩的妈妈推着装满东西的手推车和父女俩汇合,随后消失在停车场的车海中。比尔依稀记得那位妈妈就像落日的阳光般耀眼,是个肤如凝脂、美丽优雅的女子。小女孩继承了妈妈的肤色和爸爸的脸部
  特征。
  “你们两个家伙在这儿做什么?”传来一把砂砾般粗哑的声音。比尔抬起头,看到戈登在炫目的阳光下急忙站起来,和他的叔叔握手。
  “叔叔!”戈登笑着回答。“看小女孩,听钟鹊唱歌,还有等你。”
  “她是原住民,有着一头世界上最漂亮的红发。十八年后有个家伙会幸运(地娶到她)。”比尔笑着说。“在那之前,我们就是幸运的家伙,对吧。”
  
  注1:澳大利亚钟鹊,一种与喜鹊相似的鸟类。
  注2:拜恩斯代尔,澳大利亚维多利亚州的一个城市。
  注3:澳大利亚土著的一种,集中于今天的新南威尔斯和维多利亚,也叫作“Koori”。
  注4:澳大利亚关于原住民拥有土地权利的政策。
  注5:皮坚加加拉土著人,居住于澳大利亚中部沙漠地区。
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