kira86 于2019-01-29发布 l 已有人浏览
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20 Owl Moon


It was late one winter night, long past my bedtime, when Pa and I went owling. There was no wind. The trees stood still as giant statues. And the moon was so bright that the sky seemed to shine. Somewhere behind us a train whistle blew, long and low, like a sad, sad song. I could hear it through the woolen cap Pa had pulled down over my ears. A farm dog answered the train, and then a second dog joined in. They sang out, trains and dogs, for a real long time. And when their voices faded away it was as quiet as a dream.

那是一个冬天的深夜,早已过了我该睡觉的时间,爸爸和我去看猫头鹰。外面没有风,一棵棵树像一座座巨型雕塑静静伫立。月光皎洁,似乎照亮了整片天空。一阵火车的汽笛声从我们身后的某个地方传来,悠长而低沉,如一曲悲歌。爸爸已经将我的毛线帽拉下来盖住了我的耳朵,但我还是能听到那汽笛声。农场里的一只狗应着汽笛声狂吠起来,接着,第二只狗也加入进来。汽笛声与狗吠声此起彼伏, 着实持续了好一阵子。当它们的声音渐渐消退,四周一片静谧,犹如梦境。

We walked on toward the woods, Pa and I. Our feet crunched over the crisp snow and little gray footprints followed us. Pa made a long shadow, but mine was short and round. I had to run after him every now and then to keep up, and my short, round shadow bumped after me. But I never called out. If you go owling you have to be quiet, that's what Pa always says. I have been waiting to go owling with Pa for a long, long time.


We reached the line of pine trees, black and pointy against the sky, and Pa held up his hand. I stopped where I was and waited. He looked up, as if searching the stars, as if reading a map up there. The moon made his face into a silver mask. Then he called out, "Whoo-whoo-who-who-whooo- whoo" the sound of a Great Horned Owl "Whoo-whoo-who-who-whooo- whoo". Again he called out. And then again. After each call he was silent and for a moment we both listened. But there was no answer.


Pa shrugged and I shrugged. I was not disappointed. My brothers all said sometimes there's an owl and sometimes there isn't.


We walked on. I could feel the cold, as if someone's icy hand was palm-down on my back. And my nose and the tops of my cheeks felt cold and hot at the same time. But I never said a word. If you go owling you have to be quiet and make your own heat.


We went into the woods. The shadows were the blackest things I had ever seen. They stained the white snow. My mouth felt furry , for the scarf over it was wet and warm. I didn't ask what kinds of things hide behind black trees in the middle of the night. When you go owling you have to be brave.


Then we came to a clearing in the dark woods. The moon was high above us. It seemed to fit exactly over the center of the clearing and the snow below it was whiter than the milk in a cereal bowl. I sighed and Pa held up his hand at the sound. I put my mittens over the scarf over my mouth and listened hard. And then Pa called, "Whoo-whoo-who-who-who- whooooooo. Whoo-whoo-who-who-who-whooooooo."


I listened and looked so hard that my ears hurt and my eyes got cloudy with the cold. Pa raised his face to call out again, but before he could open his mouth an echo came threading its way through the trees. "Whoo-whoo- who-who-who-whooooooo." Pa almost smiled. Then he called back, "Whoo-whoo-who-who-who-whooooooo." Just as if he and the owl were talking about supper or about the woods or the moon or the cold. I took my mitten off the scarf off my mouth, and I almost smiled, too. The owl's call came closer, from high up in the trees on the edge of the meadow. Nothing in the meadow moved. All of a sudden an owl shadow, part of the big tree shadow, lifted off and flew right over us. We watched silently with heat in our mouths, the heat of all those words we had not spoken. The shadow hooted again. Pa turned on his big flashlight and caught the owl just as it was landing on a branch. For one minute, three minutes, maybe even a hundred minutes, we stared at one another. Then the owl pumped its great wings and lifted off the branch like a shadow without sound. It flew back into the forest.

我使劲听,使劲看,我的耳朵冻得生疼,视线也变得模糊。爸爸仰起脸打算再喊一遍,但他还没来得及张嘴,一只猫头鹰的回应声就穿过树林传来。“呼呼——呼呼呼——呼!”爸爸脸上有了笑意。接着他回应了一声“呼呼——呼呼呼——呼!”就好像他在和那只猫头鹰聊天,谈论着晚餐、树林、月色或是寒冷的天气。我把手套从嘴边的围巾上拿下来,脸上也有了笑意。从草地边缘的树的上方传来了猫头鹰的叫声,而且越来越近。但草地上仍然一点儿动静都没有。突然,一只猫头鹰的影子从刚才那棵树的树影中分离出来,径直飞到我们上 方。我们静静地看着,心里那些激动的话语涌到嘴边,却都忍着没有说出口。那个黑影再次发出了叫声。爸爸打开他那支大手电筒,将亮光照在那只正要降落枝头的猫头鹰身上。一分钟,三分钟,甚至或许是一百分钟,我俩就这么和那只猫头鹰对视着。然后,那只猫头鹰扇动起它那双巨大的翅膀,如一道黑色的魅影,无声无息地从它落脚的树枝腾空而起,飞回了树林深处。

Time to go home, Pa said to me. I knew then I could talk and I could even laugh out loud. But I was a shadow as we walked home. When you go owling you don't need words or warm or anything but hope. That's what Pa says. The kind of hope that flies on silent wings under a shining Owl Moon.


(By Jane Yolen)

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