The next morning he was torn bodily by his mother from the grip of sleep.Then came the meagre breakfast, the tramp through the dark, and the pale glimpseof day across the housetops as he turned his back on it and went in through thefactory gate. It was another day, of all the days, and all the days were alike.
第二天早上他又被母亲从沉睡中拉了起来，然后又是那贫乏的早餐，他又在进入工厂大门的时候转身看了看屋顶上那已微微露出的阳光。这是别的一天，也同其他的一天一模一样 从未改变。
And yet there had been variety in his life -- at the times he changed fromone job to another, or was taken sick. When he was six, he was little mother andfather to Will and the other children still younger. At seven he went into themills -- winding bobbins. When he was eight, he got work in another mill. His new job was marvellously easy. All he had to do was to sit down with a little stick in his hand and guide a stream of cloth that flowed past him. This stream of cloth came out of the maw of a machine, passed over a hot roller, and went on its way elsewhere. But he sat always in the one place, beyond the reach of daylight, a gas-jet flaring over him, himself part of the mechanism.
当然他的生活曾有过变化——在哪个时候他也曾从一个工作换到另一个工作上，也曾生病。那个时候他才六岁，他已经成为了Will以及妹妹的小父亲与小母亲了。在七岁时他走进工厂——开始绕锭子。当他八岁时他去了另一家工厂做工。他的新工作非常简单。他所要做的不过是坐在一边用一根小木棍引导着在他面前不断流过去的布就够了。这些布从机器里出来之后，经过一个热滚筒然后继续流向了其他的地方。但他一直坐在同一个地方，一个阳谷也触达不到的地方，一个煤气灯在他头上发着光亮 他自己则成为了机械的一部分。
He was very happy at that job, in spite of the moist heat, for he was still young and in possession of dreams and illusions. And wonderful dreams he dreamed as he watched the streaming cloth streaming endlessly by. But there was no exercise about the work, no call upon his mind, and he dreamed less and less, while his mind grew torpid and drowsy. Nevertheless, he earned two dollars a week, and two dollars represented the difference between acute starvation and chronic underfeeding.
那个时候他对这份非常满意，虽然那个地方又热又潮湿，但他拥有年轻人的梦想与幻想。当他看着无止境的织布流过时他也正处在一个美妙的梦境中。但这是一份不需要经验的工作，不需要任何思考，当他的思维渐渐被麻痹 变得呆滞时，他便梦得越来越少了。尽管如此他还是赚到了1礼拜2块钱的工资，这两块钱就代表了快被饿死以及长期吃不饱之间的区别。
But when he was nine, he lost his job. Measles was the cause of it. After herecovered, he got work in a glass factory. The pay was better, and the work demanded skill. It was piece-work, and the more skilful he was, the bigger wages he earned. Here was incentive. And under this incentive he developed into a remarkable worker. It was simple work, the tying of glass stoppers into small bottles. At his waist he carried a bundle of twine. He held the bottles between his knees so that he might work with both hands. Thus, in a sitting position and bending over his own knees, his narrow shoulders grew humped and his chest was contracted for ten hours each day. This was not good for the lungs, but he tied three hundred dozen bottles a day.
但当他9岁时，他丢失了自己的工作。麻疹是造成这个的罪魁祸首。在康复之后，他在一家玻璃厂工作。这份工作的工资更高了 要要求技巧。这是一份按工计费的工作 他完成的工作越多 他获得的薪水也就越高。这是一个激励机制。而在这种激励机制下他慢慢的成长为一个出色的工人。这是一个简单的工作。给用来塞到小瓶子里的玻璃塞系上绳子。他在自己的腰间系上了绳子，并将瓶子放在自己的双膝之间 这样他就能用双手工作了。因为总是这样一直坐着，弯腰至膝盖着工作，他瘦窄的肩膀变驼了，而他的胸部每天要一直压缩十个小时。这对他的肺很不好，可是他一天能扎三百打瓶子。
The superintendent was very proud of him, and brought visitors to look at him. In ten hours three hundred dozen bottles passed through his hands. This meant that he had attained machine-like perfection. All waste movements were eliminated. Every motion of his thin arms, every movement of a muscle in the thin fingers, was swift and accurate. He worked at high tension, and the result was that he grew nervous. At night his muscles twitched in his sleep, and in the daytime he could not relax and rest. He remained keyed up and his muscles continued to twitch. Also he grew sallow and his lint-cough grew worse. Then pneumonia laid hold of the feeble lungs within the contracted chest, and he lost his job in the glass-works.
监工对他感到很自豪经常带来访者来看他。在10个小时内300个瓶子就从他的手中流出。这意味着他就像机器一样的完美，所有多余的动作已经被删除。他瘦弱手臂的每个动作，纤细手指上的每个举动都无比迅捷且精准。他工作时一直保持着高度紧张，这让他渐渐的变得有些神经质。由于白天没有时间放松与休息 晚上睡觉时他的肌肉总会不住抽搐。他的身体总是绷紧了弦所以他的肌肉也总是不住抽搐。他的肤色蜡黄而咳嗽的毛病则越来越严重了。肺炎让他那藏在被压缩着的胸腔中的肺变得更加糟糕，这也让他失去了在玻璃厂的工作。
Now he had returned to the jute mills where he had first begun with winding bobbins. But promotion was waiting for him. He was a good worker. He would next go on the starcher, and later he would go into the loom room. There was nothing after that except increased efficiency.
现在他又回到了一开始绕过锭子的那家麻织厂，而升职仍然等待着他。他是一个出色的工人。下一步他会成为一个浆衣工人（我也不知道是什么 ╮(╯▽╰)╭╮），再之后他就到了织布间。之后就到了头 而他也只能提高自己的工作效率了。
The machinery ran faster than when he had first gone to work, and his mindran slower. He no longer dreamed at all, though his earlier years had been full of dreaming. Once he had been in love. It was when he first began guiding the cloth over the hot roller, and it was with the daughter of the superintendent.
机器比他第一次上班时那台转的快多了，他的脑袋也越发迟钝。他已经不再幻想任何东西，虽然在他早些年纪 对未来还是充满了憧憬。有一次他曾坠入爱河。让是他第一次始引导着布匹绕过热滚筒的时候，而她则是一个监工的女儿。
She was much older than he, a young woman, and he had seen her at a distance only a paltry half-dozen times. But that made no difference. On the surface of the cloth stream that poured past him, he pictured radiant futures wherein he performed prodigies of toil, invented miraculous machines, won to the mastership of the mills, and in the end took her in his arms and kissed her soberly on the brow.
她比他大得多是一个年轻的姑娘，而他仅仅在远处看到过她5-6次，但那不算什么。他从不断流过的布面上，描绘出了他的光辉前途，他会产出惊人的劳动成果，发明精妙的机器，赢得工厂主管的位置，到最后他会抱住她 并庄严的吻上她的前额。
But that was all in the long ago, before he had grown too old and tired to love. Also, she had married and gone away, and his mind had gone to sleep. Yet it had been a wonderful experience, and he used often to look back upon it as other men and women look back upon the time they believed in fairies. He had never believed in fairies nor Santa Claus; but he had believed implicitly in the smiling future his imagination had wrought into the steaming cloth stream.
但这已经是很久之前的事情了，在他还没有变得太老 以及 对爱情失去信心时的事情。当然她也已经结婚并远走他乡，同时他的思维也从此坠入了梦乡。当然这是一次不错的经验，他经常会回顾这件事 就像其他男人或者女人回顾他们的童话一样。他从不相信任何童话故事或者圣诞老人，但他一直暗中相信着这个在川流不息的织布中 他为自己描绘的美妙场景。
He had become a man very early in life. At seven, when he drew his first wages, began his adolescence. A certain feeling of independence crept up in him, and the relationship between him and his mother changed. Somehow, as an earner and breadwinner, doing his own work in the world, he was more like an equal with her. Manhood, full-blown manhood, had come when he was eleven, at which time he had gone to work on the night shift for six months. No child works on the night shift and remains a child.
他过早的在生活中扮演了一个男人的角色。在七岁时他获得了自己的第一份工资开始了自己的青年期。一种独立的感觉慢慢爬上心头，他与母亲之间的关系也发生着转变。不知怎么地 他成为了挣钱养家的一份子，有了自己的一份工作 他已经与他的母亲拥有了同等的地位。男子气概，当他十一岁的时候他就有了十足的男子气概，那个时候他已经做了六个月的夜班了。没有任何一个孩子在做了夜班之后还能保留着孩子气。
There had been several great events in his life. One of these had been when his mother bought some California prunes. Two others had been the two times when she cooked custard. Those had been events. He remembered them kindly. And at that time his mother had told him of a blissful dish she would sometime make --"floating island," she had called it, "better than custard." For years he had looked forward to the day when he would sit down to the table with floating island before him, until at last he had relegated the idea of it to the limbo of unattainable ideals.
在他生命中曾发生过几次重要的事件。一件是他的母亲曾给他带来了加利福尼亚的梅干。另外两件则是他的母亲给他做了牛奶蛋糕。他还记得它们有多么的甜美。那时他母亲告诉他，有一天她会给他做一种非常好吃的美食——“浮岛”，她说“比牛奶蛋糕还好吃”。后几年他总盼着在桌前能够看到浮岛，直到他最后觉得这是一个可望而不可及的奢望。
Once he found a silver quarter lying on the sidewalk. That, also, was a great event in his life, withal a tragic one. He knew his duty on the instant the silver flashed on his eyes, before even he had picked it up. At home, as usual,there was not enough to eat, and home he should have taken it as he did his wages every Saturday night. Right conduct in this case was obvious; but he never had any spending of his money, and he was suffering from candy hunger. He was ravenous for the sweets that only on red-letter days he had ever tasted in his life.
有一次他发现了一枚2角5分的银币落在路边。这也是他生命中的重大事件，同时也是一个悲剧。当银币闪耀他眼中还没捡起来时，他就意识到自己的责任。家里人通常吃不太饱，而他应该将这枚银币与周末的工资一起上交。显而易见这是正确的行为，但他从来没有自己花过一分钱，而他也被渴望糖果的欲望折磨了许久。他太渴望吃一口糖果了 在他的生命中只有在过节的时候才有机会尝上一口。
He did not attempt to deceive himself. He knew it was sin, and deliberately he sinned when he went on a fifteen-cent candy debauch. Ten cents he saved for a future orgy; but not being accustomed to the carrying of money, he lost the ten cents. This occurred at the time when he was suffering all the torments of conscience, and it was to him an act of divine retribution. He had a frightened sense of the closeness of an awful and wrathful God. God had seen, and God had been swift to punish, denying him even the full wages of sin.
他没有想要欺骗自己。当他用1角5分满足了欲望后，他便知道这是一种罪，一种明知故犯的罪。还有1角他留作日后的狂欢，但由于没有带钱的习惯 他最终丢失了这1角钱。在这件事发生的时候他正遭受着良心上的折磨，着对他来说是一种神圣的报应。他有对于那个怒气冲冲可怕的上帝有一种本能的畏惧，他觉得是那个上帝看见了这件事并迅速降下了惩罚，让他无福消瘦这罪恶的银币。
In memory he always looked back upon that event as the one great criminal deed of his life, and at the recollection his conscience always awoke and gave him another twinge. It was the one skeleton in his closet. Also, being so made and circumstanced, he looked back upon the deed with regret. He was dissatisfied with the manner in which he had spent the quarter. He could have invested it better, and, out of his later knowledge of the quickness of God, he would have beaten God out by spending the whole quarter at one fell swoop. In retrospect he spent the quarter a thousand times, and each time to better advantage.
当他的重温这段在他生命中罪恶的往事时，他的良知总会再次被惊醒并给他带来另一次的刺痛。那是他生命中不可告人的一个丑事。同时由于他的个性与环境，当他回首过去总会感到后悔。他总是对那枚银币耿耿于怀。他本可以将它更好的地方，再者当他后来意识到上帝惩罚的迅捷之后，他一直想把这笔钱一下子用完，让上帝来个措手不及。后来，他重新计划了成百上千次，觉得每次都更赚了。
There was one other memory of the past, dim and faded, but stamped into his soul everlasting by the savage feet of his father. It was more like a nightmare than a remembered vision of a concrete thing -- more like the race-memory of man that makes him fall in his sleep and that goes back to his arboreal ancestry.
这儿还有一件事停留在他的记忆中，虽然他对这些记忆都已经感到模糊不清，但他父亲野蛮的脚却一直铭刻在他的心灵中。预期说这是一个具体的记忆不如说是一场噩梦——或者说像一个人对于原始人种的追忆，使他梦见他住在树上的祖先。
This particular memory never came to Johnny in broad daylight when he was wide awake. It came at night, in bed, at the moment that his consciousness was sinking down and losing itself in sleep. It always aroused him to frightened wakefulness, and for the moment, in the first sickening start, it seemed to him that he lay crosswise on the foot of the bed. In the bed were the vague forms of his father and mother. He never saw what his father looked like. He had but one impression of his father, and that was that he had savage and pitiless feet.
这特殊的记忆从来没有在他清醒的时候露出过。他只在晚上，躺在床上，神志渐渐模糊，快要睡着了的时候才回忆起来。它常常把他惊醒把他吓得浑身发抖，而且总是使他在刚惊醒的那种不舒服的一刹那里，他觉得自己好像横躺在床上而床上还仿佛躺着他的父亲和母亲。他从来没有看见过他父亲的相貌。他只有一个印象，他父亲有一双野蛮的，无情的脚。
His earlier memories lingered with him, but he had no late memories. All days were alike. Yesterday or last year were the same as a thousand years -- or a minute. Nothing ever happened. There were no events to mark the march of time.Time did not march. It stood always still. It was only the whirling machines that moved, and they moved nowhere -- in spite of the fact that they moved faster.
这些过去已久的事常常在他的思绪中盘旋，但他对与近日发生的事情不太记得了。每天都一尘不变 昨天和去年都是一样，仿佛事隔千年——或者只过了一分钟。从来没有出过一点事情。一点也没有什么标志着时间流逝的事。时间一点也没有前进。它好像站住不动了。只有那些旋转不停的机器在动，可是，尽管它们转得更快了，它们也移不到哪儿去。
When he was fourteen, he went to work on the starcher. It was a colossal event. Something had at last happened that could be remembered beyond a night's sleep or a week's pay-day. It marked an era. It was a machine Olympiad, a thing to date from. "When I went to work on the starcher," or, "after," or "before I went to work on the starcher," were sentences often on his lips.
当他十四岁时就到了浆车间工作了。这是个大事件。除了整晚的睡眠以及发薪日这是唯一能够被纪念的一天了。这是机械界的奥林匹克，是一个值得被纪念的日子。从此以后“当我去浆车间的时候/之后/之前”成为了他嘴上的口头禅。
He celebrated his sixteenth birthday by going into the loom room and taking a loom. Here was an incentive again, for it was piece-work. And he excelled, because the clay of him had been moulded by the mills into the perfect machine. At the end of three months he was running two looms, and, later, three and four.
他在十六岁的时候进入了织衣间并自己操控了一台织衣机便当作庆祝了自己的生日。这又是一个带有刺激按件计薪的工作。而他做得异常出色 就像被捏成人形的机器一样（那个时候好像还没机器人的概念）。在最后三个月他甚至能操控2台织布机 然后是四台 然后是五台。
At the end of his second year at the looms he was turning out more yards than any other weaver, and more than twice as much as some of the less skilful ones. And at home things beganto prosper as he approached the full stature of his earning power. Not, however, that his increased earnings were in excess of need.The children were growing up. They ate more. And they were going to school, and school-books cost money. And somehow, the faster he worked, the faster climbed the prices of things. Even the rent went up, though the house had fallen from bad to worse disrepair.
在第二年年末他已经能够比工厂内所有的工人产出的更多了，甚至比那些技术还不熟练的工人多了两倍。他们家的家境逐渐开始变得好了些，而他也达到了自己所能做到的最快。但他赚得越多 家里的开销也随之增长，孩子们都在长大 他们吃得更多了。而且他们还要去上学，学费 书本 这都需要钱。不知怎么第，他做得越快 赚得越多，东西的价格也就爬得越快。甚至连房租也涨了，可是房子却因为失修，反而变得越来越坏了。
He had grown taller; but with his increased height he seemed leaner than ever. Also, he was more nervous. With the nervousness increased his peevishness and irritability. The children had learned by many bitter lessons to fight shy of him. His mother respected him for his earning power, but somehow her respect was tinctured with fear.
他长得更高了 但看上去却越发瘦弱了。同时他也变得更加神经质，而这也让他越发暴躁与易怒。孩子们在许多教训中了解到惹怒他的后果。他母亲因为他能够挣钱养家而尊重他，但也有一部分是处于对他的畏惧。
There was no joyousness in life for him. The procession of the days he never saw. The nights he slept away in twitching unconsciousness. The rest of the time he worked, and his consciousness was machine consciousness. Outside this his mind was a blank. He had no ideals, and but one illusion; namely, that he drank excellent coffee. He was a work-beast. He had no mental life whatever; yet deep down in the crypts of his mind, unknown to him, were being weighed and sifted every hour of his toil, every movement of his hands, every twitch of his muscles, and preparations were making for a future course of action that would amaze him and all his little world.
他的生命中已经失去了任何的快乐。所谓生命的价值是 他从来也没有看见过。夜晚总是在无意识的沉睡中度过。剩下的时间他几乎都在工作，像个机器一样的工作。除此之外 他的大脑就是一片空白。他没有理想，没有幻想，即便有 说的也是他那所谓极好的咖啡。他是一头只会工作的野兽。他的生活没有任何精神上的向往，然而在他未知的内心深处，他每一小时的劳碌，手的每一个动作，肌肉的每一次扭动，都由他毫不自觉地仔细衡量过了，而这所做的一切都是为了为他以及他那个小小的天地创造出一个令人激动的未来。
It was in the late spring that he came home from work one night aware of unusual tiredness. There was a keen expectancy in the air as he sat down to the table, but he did not notice. He went through the meal in moody silence, mechanically eating what was before him. The children um'd and ah'd and made smacking noises with their mouths. But he was deaf to them.
那是春末的一天，他从工厂回来和以往一样非常疲惫。他坐下来吃饭的时候，空气中充满了一种喜悦期盼的心情，可是他没有注意。他只是面无表情，一声不响地吃下去，无意识地吃着他面前的东西。孩子们全在唔呀，啊呀地，吃得嘴里哒哒乱响，可是他一点也没听见。
"D'ye know what you're eatin'?" his mother demanded at last, desperately.He looked vacantly at the dish before him, and vacantly at her.
“你知道你吃的是什么吗？”他的母亲最后略带绝望地问他。他看着空空的盘子，又空空地望着她。
"Floatin' island," she announced triumphantly.
“那就是浮岛啊”她得意的宣布
"Oh," he said.
“哦”他说
"Floating island!" the children chorussed loudly.
“这是浮岛。"孩子们高呼道。
"Oh," he said. And after two or three mouthfuls, he added, "guess I ain't hungry to-night."
He dropped the spoon, shoved back his chair, and arose wearily from the table.
"An' I guess I'll go to bed."
“哦”他说。然后他又挖了两三块 最后说道：“我想我今晚不饿。”他丢下了勺子 离开座位缓缓起身。
“我想我得去睡一会儿。”
His feet dragged more heavily than usual as he crossed the kitchen floor. Undressing was a Titan's task, a monstrous futility, and he wept weakly as he crawled into bed, one shoe still on. He was aware of a rising, swelling something inside his head that made his brain thick and fuzzy. His lean fingers felt as big as his wrist, while in the ends of them was a remoteness of sensation vague and fuzzy like his brain. The small of his back ached intolerably. All his bones ached. He ached everywhere. And in his head began the shrieking, pounding, crashing, roaring of a million looms. All space was filledwith flying shuttles. They darted in and out, intricately, amongst the stars. Heworked a thousand looms himself, and ever they speeded up, faster and faster,and his brain unwound, faster and faster, and became the thread that fed the thousand flying shuttles.
他拖着步伐比以往更重的步伐穿过了厨房。现在连脱衣服好像也成为了一件艰巨任务，一个辛苦且无意义的事情。等到他虚弱的爬上床时，仍旧穿着一只鞋。他觉得脑袋里好像有什么东西在向上涌，让他的大脑变得一团乱麻 浑浑噩噩。他觉得他瘦弱的指头涨得跟手腕一样，指尖上也有一种跟他的脑子一样混乱、模糊的感觉。他的脊背和腰疼得受不了。他浑身的骨头都疼。浑身都疼。接着，他脑袋里就出现了无数台织布机的尖叫，撞击，压轧，怒吼的声音。整个空间都充满了飞梭。它们在星星中间错综复杂地穿来穿去。他自己掌握着一千台织布机，它们的速度不断地增加，越来越快，同时，他的脑子也松了弦，越转越快，变成了供给那一千只飞梭的纱线。
He did not go to work next morning. He was too busy weaving colossally on the thousand looms that ran inside his head. His mother went to work, but first she sent for the doctor. It was a severe attack of la grippe, he said. Jennie served as nurse and carried out his instructions. It was a very severe attack, and it was a week before Johnny dressed and tottered feebly across the floor. Another week, the doctor said, and he would be fit to return to work. The foreman of the loom room visited him on Sunday afternoon, the first day of his convalescence. The best weaver in the room, the foreman told his mother. His job would be held for him. He could come back to work a week from Monday.
第二天早晨，他没有去上工。他的脑子里正有一千台织布机拼命的转动。他母亲在上班之前请来了一位医生。他说这是严重的流行性感冒。Jennie于是照医生的嘱咐，看护着他。这场病很厉害，过了一个星期，强尼才能穿上衣服，在房间里拖着脚步走来走去。据医生说，再过一周，他就可以回去上工了。星期天下午，也就是他康复的第一天织布车间的监工来瞧了瞧他。工监工对他母亲说，强尼是织布车间里最好的织布工人。他们会给他保留工作的。他可以周一再来上班。
"Why don't you thank 'im, Johnny?" his mother asked anxiously.
“你为什么不谢谢他呢，Johnny?"他母亲焦急的问他。
"He's ben that sick he ain't himself yet," she explained apologetically to the visitor. Johnny sat hunched up and gazing steadfastly at the floor. He sat in the same position long after the foreman had gone. It was warm outdoors, and he sat on the stoop in the afternoon. Sometimes his lips moved. He seemed lost in endless calculations.
“他现在还病着 没有恢复原样。”她略带歉意地对来访者这样说道。Johnny驼着背坐在一旁直勾勾地盯着地板。在来访者走后他还在同样的位置看着同样的地方。在午后他坐在温暖的门前阶梯上，有时可以看到他的嘴在不停动着，看上去在计算着永远也算不完的问题。
Next morning, after the day grew warm, he took his seat on the stoop. He had pencil and paper this time with which to continue his calculations, and he calculated painfully and amazingly. "What comes after millions?" he asked at noon, when Will came home from school. "An' how d'ye work 'em?"
下一个早晨，在天气变得温暖后 他又坐在了那儿。他拿了支笔与纸继续着他的计算，他计算得很痛苦也非常令人感到惊奇 “在百万之后是什么？”在Will从学校回来后 他立刻问道。“你怎么算的？”
That afternoon finished his task. Each day, but without paper and pencil, he returned to the stoop. He was greatly absorbed in the one tree that grew across the street. He studied it for hours at a time, and was unusually interested when the wind swayed its branches and fluttered its leaves. Throughout the week he seemed lost in a great communion with himself. On Sunday, sitting on the stoop, he laughed aloud, several times, to the perturbation of his mother, who had not heard him laugh in years.
在那个下午他完成了这个任务。然后每一天他都要坐在阶梯上 但却不用笔与纸了。街道对面有一棵树，完全吸引了他的追意思。他会一连几个钟头地瞧着它，每逢风吹得它的枝条摇摇摆摆，叶子飘动的时候，他就觉得非常有趣。这一周他看上去迷失在与自己内心的交流中。星期日，他坐在台阶上，放声大笑了几次，这惊到了他的母亲，她已经有好几天没有听到他笑了。
Next morning, in the early darkness, she came to his bed to rouse him. He had had his fill of sleep all week, and awoke easily. He made no struggle, nor did he attempt to hold on to the bedding when she stripped it from him. He lay quietly, and spoke quietly.
下一个早晨，在黎明之时 天还暗着，她来到了他的窗前 准备把他来气。他已经睡了一个礼拜，所以很早就醒了。当她把被子掀开的时候 他没有挣扎地抓住被子。他就这样静静地躺着，静静地说。
"It ain't no use, ma."
“这是在做无用功，老妈。”
"You'll be late," she said, under the impression that he was still stupid with sleep.
“你会迟到的。”她说，对于他仍然愚蠢地躺在床上感到吃惊。
"I'm awake, ma, an' I tell you it ain't no use. You might as well lemme alone. I ain't goin' to git up."
“我醒着，老妈，我告诉你 这是没用的。你应该让我一个人。我不会起来的。”
"But you'll lose your job!" she cried.
“但你会失去你的工作的。”她大叫道。
"I ain't goin' to git up," he repeated in a strange, passionless voice.
“我不会起来的。”他用一种毫无感情 奇怪的语气说道。
She did not go to work herself that morning. This was sickness beyond any sickness she had ever known. Fever and delirium she could understand; but this was insanity. She pulled the bedding up over him and sent Jennie for the doctor.
这天早晨，她也没有上工。这种病超出了她的认知。发热或昏迷，她倒知道 可这是精神错乱啊。于是她给他盖好被，叫珍妮去请医生。
When that person arrived, Johnny was sleeping gently, and gently he awoke and allowed his pulse to be taken.
医生来的时候，他睡得很安稳。他轻轻地醒过来，让医生给他按脉。
"Nothing the matter with him," the doctor reported. "Badly debilitated, that's all. Not much meat on his bones."
“他没什么事情。”医生说。“就是操劳过度，尽是骨头 没啥肉。”
"He's always been that way," his mother volunteered.
“他一直这样。”他的母亲补充道。
"Now go 'way, ma, an' let me finish my snooze."
“现在 老妈你可以走了，让我小睡一会儿。”
Johnny spoke sweetly and placidly, and sweetly and placidly he rolled over on his side and went to sleep. At ten o'clock he awoke and dressed himself. He walked out into the kitchen, where he found his mother with a frightened expression on her face.
他的声音很柔和，很平静，然后很柔和，很平静地翻过身，又睡着了。十点钟的时候，他醒了，穿上了衣服。走到厨房里，看见他母亲脸上带着惊恐的表情。
"I'm goin' away, ma," he announced, "an' I jes' want to say good-by." She threw her apron over her head and sat down suddenly and wept. He waited patiently.
“我要走了，老妈。”他这样说道。“我只是来说个再见。”她把围巾蒙在了头上 坐在那儿哭泣，他在一旁耐心地等待。
"I might a-known it," she was sobbing.
“我就知道。”她呜咽着。
"Where?" she finally asked, removing the apron from her head and gazing up at him with a stricken face in which there was little curiosity.
“去哪儿？”她将脸从围巾上抬起 带着一脸受伤与一丝好奇地问道。
"I don't know -- anywhere."
“我不知道——任何地方”
As he spoke, the tree across the street appeared with dazzling brightness on his inner vision. It seemed to lurk just under his eyelids, and he could see it whenever he wished.
当他说话时 对街的那棵树在他心中发出了耀眼的光芒。这棵树好像就藏在他的眼皮底下，只要他想看 他就能看到。
"An' your job?" she quavered.
“那你的工作呢？”她问道。
"I ain't never goin' to work again."
“我不会再去工作了。”
"My God, Johnny!" she wailed, "don't say that!"
“哦，我的上帝Johnny！”她悲呼道“不要这样说！”
What he had said was blasphemy to her. As a mother who hears her child deny God, was Johnny's mother shocked by his words.
对她而言 他说的话简直就像亵渎神明。Johnny的母亲被他这段话给震惊了，就像听到自己的孩子在否认上帝的存在一样。“
"What's got into you, anyway?" she demanded, with a lame attempt at imperativeness.
“你的内心中到底发生了什么。”她带着无力的命令式口吻问道。
"Figures," he answered. "Jes' figures. I've ben doin' a lot of figurin' this week, an' it's most surprisin'."
“数数”他回答道。“只是在数数，我这周一直在数数 结果很惊人。”
"I don't see what that's got to do with it," she sniffled.
“我看不出这两件事之间有什么关联。”她抽泣道。
Johnny smiled patiently, and his mother was aware of a distinct shock at the persistent absence of his peevishness and irritability. "I'll show you," he said. "I'm plum' tired out. What makes me tired? Moves. I've ben movin' ever since I was born. I'm tired of movin', an' I ain't goin' to move any more. Remember when I worked in the glass-house? I used to do three hundred dozen a day. Now I reckon I made about ten different moves to each bottle. That's thirty-six thousan' moves a day. Ten days, three hundred an' sixty thousan' moves a day. One month, one million an' eighty thousan' moves. Chuck out the eighty thousan' -- " he spoke with the complacent beneficence of a philanthropist -- "chuck out the eighty thousan', that leaves a million moves a month -- twelve million moves a year.
强尼耐心地笑了笑，他母亲看到他已经消失的暴躁与易怒觉得越发吃惊。“我给你说说，”他说，“我累极了。什么让我这么类？动作。我从一生下来就在做动作。我已经厌倦懂了，我再也不想动了。还记得我在玻璃厂干活的时候吧？那时候，我每天要扎三百打瓶子。照我的做法，大概扎一个瓶子要十个动作。这样，一天就是三万六千个动作。十天就是三十六万个动作。一个月，一百万零八千个动作。把那八千去掉不算——他就像个慈善家一样的那样说道“把八千去掉不算，一个月就是整整一百万个动作”——一年就是一千二百万个动作。
"At the looms I'm movin' twic'st as much. That makes twenty-five million moves a year, an' it seems to me I've ben a movin' that way 'most a million years.
“在织布间 我要做两倍的动作。这就是两千五百次一年，这就像我把几百万年的动作都用完了似得。
"Now this week I ain't moved at all. I ain't made one move in hours an' hours. I tell you it was swell, jes' settin' there, hours an' hours, an' doin' nothin'. I ain't never ben happy before. I never had any time. I've ben movin' all the time. That ain't no way to be happy. An' I ain't goin' to do it any more. I'm jes' goin' to set, an' set, an' rest, an' rest, and then rest some more."
“这周我终于不用再懂了。我终于不用再一个小时接一个小时地懂了。我告诉你吧，这太美妙了 仅仅是坐在这儿 一个小时接一个小时 什么都不用做。我从来没有这么快乐过。我从来没有拥有过自己的时间，我总是在动。这样根本得不到任何的快乐，我不要再做这些了。我要坐着，就这样休息 然后继续休息 再休息得更多。”
"But what's goin' to come of Will an' the children?" she asked despairingly.
“那Will和其他孩子呢 怎么办？“她绝望地问道。
"That's it, `Will an' the children,'" he repeated. But there was no bitterness in his voice. He had long known his mother's ambition for the younger boy, but the thought of it no longer rankled. Nothing mattered any more. Not even that.
“这就是了，Will还有其他孩子。”他重复道，但他的声音中并没有苦涩。他早知道自己的母亲对于弟弟抱有期望，但现在已经不再让他痛苦了。与他不再有什么关系了，甚至不算一件事儿了。
"I know, ma, what you've ben plannin' for Will -- keepin' him in school to make a bookkeeper out of him. But it ain't no use, I've quit. He's got to go to work."
“我知道的 妈妈，你计划让Will继续在学校上课 等他毕业后成为一位记账员。但现在没什么用力了，我不做了。他必须去上班。”
"An' after I have brung you up the way I have," she wept, starting to cover her head with the apron and changing her mind. "You never brung me up," he answered with sad kindliness. "brung myself up, ma, an' I brung up Will. He's bigger'n me, an' heavier, an' taller. When I was a kid, I reckon I didn't git enough to eat. When he come along an' was a kid, I was workin' an' earnin' grub for him too. But that's done with. Will can go to work, same as me, or he can go to hell, I don't care which. I'm tired. I'm goin' now. Ain't you goin' to say good-by?"
“在我把你养大之后 你就这样对我。”她哭泣道并准备用围巾把脸遮起来 但最后放弃了这个打算。“你从没把我养大”他用一种悲伤 亲切的语气地说道。“是我把自己养大的，妈妈，我还把Will养大了，他现在长得比我更壮 更重 更高。我想是我童年时期营养不足的缘由。当他降生后，我也还是个孩子 却要去工作并照顾他。但现在这一切都结束了。Will已经能够去上班了，就像我一样，或者他可以去死，我已经不再关心了。我累了。我要走了。你不说声再见吗？”
She made no reply. The apron had gone over her head again, and she was crying. He paused a moment in the doorway. "I'm sure I done the best I knew how," she was sobbing. He passed out of the house and down the street. A wan delight came into his face at the sight of the lone tree. "Jes' ain't goin' to do nothin'," he said to himself, half aloud, in a crooning tone. He glanced wistfully up at the sky, but the bright sun dazzled and blinded him.
她没有做出什么回忆。那条围巾又遮住了她的脸，她又在哭泣了。他在门口站了一会儿。“我确信自己已经做到了最好。”她呜咽道。他走出了家门来到了大街上。当他看见那个孤零零的树时他的脸上露出了一丝苍白的笑容。“我什么也不会再做了。”他对自己轻轻说了一句，就像低声轻唱一样。他若有所思地瞧了瞧天空，可是明亮的太阳，照得他眼都花了。
It was a long walk he took, and he did not walk fast. It took him past the jute-mill. The muffled roar of the loom room came to his ears, and he smiled. It was a gentle, placid smile. He hated no one, not even the pounding, shrieking machines. There was no bitterness in him, nothing but an inordinate hunger for rest.
他走了很久不过并不快。当他路过麻织厂时，织布间的声音传到了他的耳朵里，然后他笑了。这一个优雅 宁静的微笑。他并不恨任何人，甚至连那些尖啸着地机器也不恨。他的心里已经没有任何的苦楚，只剩下那非同寻常对于休息的渴求。
The houses and factories thinned out and the open spaces increased as he approached the country. At last the city was behind him, and he was walking down a leafy lane beside the railroad track. He did not walk like a man. He did not look like a man. He was a travesty of the human. It was a twisted and stunted and nameless piece of life that shambled like a sickly ape, arms loose-hanging, stoop-shouldered, narrow-chested, grotesque and terrible.
房子和工厂慢慢变少而空旷的地方则多了，他已经接近了乡下。最后城市被他甩在了深厚，他顺着铁路旁边一条树木茂盛的小路走了下去。他走路的样子不像人。他的样子也不像人。他像一个粗制滥造的人类。那时一个扭曲的，发育不全，没有名字的生物，他踉踉跄跄 两只胳膊松驰地垂着，弓着背 收着胸 活像一个奇怪且可怕的猿猴。
He passed by a small railroad station and lay down in the grass under a tree.All afternoon he lay there. Sometimes he dozed, with muscles that twitched in his sleep. When awake, he lay without movement, watching the birds or looking up at the sky through the branches of the tree above him. Once or twice he laughed aloud, but without relevance to anything he had seen or felt.
他路过了一个小火车站 并在有着一片草地的树下躺着休息。他整整躺了有一个小屋。有时他打着盹儿 肌肉不断地抽搐着。当他醒着时 他没有任何的动作 就望着那些鸟儿 或者通过眼前树枝之间的细缝仰望着天空。有一两次他大声地笑着，不过这跟他所看到的或者感觉到的东西，都没有关系。
After twilight had gone, in the first darkness of the night, a freight train rumbled into the station.When the engine was switching cars on to the side-track, Johnny crept along the side of the train. He pulled open the side-door of an empty box-car and awkwardly and laboriously climbed in. He closed the door. The engine whistled. Johnny was lying down, and in the darkness he smiled.
黄昏已过，第一个夜晚来临的时候，一辆运货火车缓缓开进了站。当火车在机械的引导下进入了另一条铁道时，Johnny就爬到了火车的另一边。他拉开了一节空的火车车厢 笨拙且吃力地爬了进去。他关上了门。火车发出机械的轰鸣。Johnny躺了下来，在黑暗中 他笑了起来。
网友评论