幾天前,我看到住在美國的朋友寫來的短訊,紐約的第一場雪降臨了。這讓我想到,即使多年生活在那裡的人,看到每年的第一場雪難免會掀起興奮之情。這也讓我想起自己第一次看到雪的情景,後來放在我第一篇的英文寫作裡。
寫那個英文短文時,我已經在一個公司裡上班,應一位英文老師的要求而寫,這樣的課則是為來自外國的員工而開。出我意料之外,他非常讚賞這篇文章,而且斷言我來美國以前已經是個作家。我很誠實地說,我不是。但內心裡不禁蠢蠢欲動,或許我適合文學寫作也說不定,雖然過去從來沒有人鼓勵我這麼做,只有人告誡我千萬不要存此遐想。
下面是我的原文,以及藉助Google Translate的幫忙所做的翻譯。譯文放在原文的前面。
(Google Translate)
我來到美國的第一年是在北卡羅來納的羅利度過的。那時,除了攻讀數學學位以外,幾乎沒有什麼讓我感到自傲的事情,即使我大學時的背景與數學截然不同。現在回想起來,那裡的生活忙碌又迷惘。秋季伊始不久,白晝漸短,光線漸暗,冬天即將到來。由於對那裡的環境還陌生,我無需室外的溫度就能體會到內心深處的寒冷。
有一天,我像往常一樣坐在辦公室的桌前做作業。一位同學走了進來,打斷了我。「你怎麼還坐在那裡?」她問道:「不知道外面發生了什麼事情嗎?」我當時一定滿臉困惑,因為還不太能適應英語的對話。「你自己看!」她說著,輕輕擦了擦窗玻璃。啊,外面下雪了!這是我人生中第一次見到雪!那是一場暴風雪,天空陰沉,但人們依然在雪中穿行,既興奮又忐忑。我在那裡待了一會兒,看著這一切,直到下堂課的時間來臨。我坐在沒有窗戶的教室裡,每當有人站在門口撣去肩上的積雪,我都能感到濕潤的冷空氣吹了進來。然後,課程開始了。只有偶爾短暫的沉默,讓我彷彿還能聽到窗外的雪花在無聲地飄落著。
所有的課程結束以後,我走出教室往家的方向走去,發現這場在南方極為罕見的暴風雪已經停止。紅磚鋪成的地面已被積雪覆蓋,只有幾條小路是鏟雪人清理出來的。有些學生正在互相打雪仗。突然間,我心中湧起一股感傷之情。我想把眼前的景象寫信告訴朋友。我匆匆趕回家,趕忙寫起了信來,眼鏡上還殘留著房間裡的水汽。
多年過去了,我仍然沒有收到朋友對我那晚的信所做的回應。但這段記憶一直留在我的腦海裡,隨時準備在下雪的時候再度被喚起。
(英文原文)
I spent my first year in this country at Raleigh, North Carolina. There was nothing much I could be proud of at that time except that I was pursuing a degree in mathematics, even though I had a fundamentally different background in my undergraduate years. Life was busy and hazy there as I can recall now. Soon after the beginning of the fall, the days became shorter and dimmer and the winter was ready to settle in. Being still a stranger to that environment, I did not need the lower outdoor temperature to tell me how cold I felt deep in my heart.
It was a day when I was, as usual, sitting at my desk in the office to work on my homework. One of my classmates walked in and interrupted me. “Are you still sitting there?” said she, “Don’t you know what is happening outside now?” I must have responded to her with my puzzled face, which had not been adapted to English conversations so well yet. “Look for yourself!” She said and rubbed the window pane a little bit for me. Ah, it was snowing there! The first snow I had ever seen in my whole life! It was a stormy snow that the sky was darkened and yet people were still walking in it with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. I stayed there watching for a while until it was time for the next class. As I sat in the windowless classroom, I could still feel the cool air with rich moisture blowing in whenever someone stood at the door and wiped snow from their shoulders. Then the class began. Only a brief silence now and then helped me to imagine the snow still falling outside soundlessly.
When I finished all the classes on that day and walked for home, the snow storm, so rare in the South, was already over. The ground paved with red bricks was now covered with snow. Only a few paths had been cut by shovelers. Some students were battling each other with snow balls. All of a sudden, I had a sentimental feeling in my heart. I began to have a desire to write my friends about the scene I was watching. I rushed home and wrote letters while my eyeglasses were still clouded with room steam.
Years later I still have not received any response from my friends about the things I wrote them on that evening. But this piece of memory remains in my mind and is ready to be released whenever a snow falls onto the ground again.








