日本人撤走了。 硕大的、单薄的像一片剪纸一样的圆月，在升上高粱梢头的过程中，面积凝缩变小，并渐渐放射出光辉。 多灾多难的高粱们在月光中肃立不语，间或有一些高粱米坠落在黑土上，好像高粱们晶莹的泪珠。	WHEN THE JAPANESE troops withdrew, the full moon, thin as a paper cutout, rose in the sky above the tips of the sorghum stalks, which had undergone such suffering. Grain fell sporadically like glistening tears.
空气中腥甜的气息浓烈稠密，人血把我们村南这一片黑土地都给泡透了。	A sweet odour grew heavy in the air; the dark soil of the southern edge of our village had been thoroughly soaked by human blood.
村子里的火光像狐狸尾巴一样耸动着，时不时响起木头烧焦的爆裂声，焦糊味道从村子里弥散出来，与高粱地里的血腥味掺合一起，形成一种令人窒息的怪味。	Lights from fires in the village curled like foxtails, as occasional pops, like the crackling of dry wood, momentarily filled the air with a charred odour that merged with the stifling stench of blood.
爷爷胳膊上的老伤口累发了，疮面迸裂，流了那么多乌黑的花白的腥臭脓血。	The wound on Granddad's arm had turned worse, the scabs cracking and releasing a rotting, oozing mixture of dark blood and white pus.
爷爷要父亲帮助他挤压伤口。	He told Father to squeeze the area around the wound.
父亲用冰凉的小手指，胆颤心惊地挤压着爷爷胳膊上的伤口附近青紫色的皮肤，挤一下，噗噗冒出一串虹膜般的气泡，伤口里有一股酱菜般的腐败气息。	Fearfully, Father placed his icy fingers on the discoloured skin around the suppurating wound and squeezed, forcing out a string of air bubbles that released the putrid smell of pickled vegetables.
爷爷从远处的一丘坟墓上，揭来一张用土坷垃压在坟尖上的黄表纸，他要父亲从高粱秸上刮下一些碱卤般的白色粉末放在纸上。	Granddad picked up a piece of yellow spirit currency that had been weighted down by a clod of earth at the head of a nearby gravesite and told Father to smear some of the salty white powder from the sorghum stalks on it.
父亲用双手托着放了一小堆高粱粉的黄表纸，献到爷爷面前。	
爷爷用牙齿拧开一颗手枪子弹，倒出一些灰绿色的火药，与白色的高粱粉末掺合在一起，捏起一撮，要往伤口上撒，父亲小声问： “爹，不掺点黑土？”	Then he removed the head of a cartridge with his teeth and poured the greenish gunpowder onto the paper, mixed it with the white sorghum powder, and took a pinch with his fingers to daub on the open wound. 'Dad,' Father said, 'shall I mix some soil into it?'
爷爷想了一会，说：“掺吧。”	Granddad thought for a moment. 'Sure, why not?'
父亲从高粱根下挖起一块黑土，用手搓得精细，撒在黄表纸上。	Father bent down and picked up a clod of dark earth near the roots of a sorghum stalk, crumbled it in his fingers, and spread it on the paper.
爷爷把三种物质拌匀，连同那张黄表纸，拍在伤口上，父亲帮着爷爷把那根肮脏不堪的绷带扎好。	After Granddad mixed the three substances together and covered the wound with them, paper and all, Father wrapped a filthy strip of bandage cloth around it and tied it tight.
父亲问：“爹，疼得轻点了吗？”	'Does that make it feel better, Dad?'
爷爷活动了几下胳膊，说：“好多了，豆官，这样的灵丹妙药，什么样的重伤也能治好。”	Granddad moved his arm back and forth. 'Much better, Douguan. An elixir like this will work on any wound, no matter how serious.'
“爹，俺娘那会儿要是也敷上这种药就不会死了吧？” 父亲问。	'Dad, if we'd had something like that for Mother, she wouldn't have died, would she?'
“是，是不会死……”	'No, she wouldn't have. . . .'
爷爷面色阴沉地说。	Granddad's face clouded.
“爹，你早把这个药方告诉我就好啦，俺娘伤口里的血咕嘟咕嘟往外冒，我就用黑土堵啊堵啊，堵住一会儿，血又冲出来。	'Dad, wouldn't it've been great if you'd told me about this before? Mother was bleeding so much I kept packing earth on the wounds, but that only stopped it for a while.
要是那会儿加上高粱白粉和枪子药就好啦……”	If I'd known to add some white sorghum powder and gunpowder, everything would have been fine. . . .'
爷爷在父亲的细声碎语中，用那只伤手往手枪里压子弹；日本人的迫击炮弹，在村子的围子上炸起了一团团焦黄的烟雾。	All the while Father was rambling, Granddad was loading his pistol. Japanese mortar fire raised puffs of hot yellow smoke all up and down the village wall.
父亲的勃朗宁手枪压在日本洋马肚子下边了。 在下午最后的搏斗中，父亲拖着一杆比他矮不了多少的日本马枪，爷爷还用着那支德国造“自来得”手枪。 连续不断地射击，使本来就过了青春年华的这支“自来得”迅速奔向废铁堆。	Since Father's Browning pistol lay under the belly of the fallen horse, during the final battle of the afternoon he used a Japanese rifle nearly as tall as he was; Granddad used his German automatic, firing it so rapidly it spent its youth and was ready for the trash heap.
父亲觉得爷爷的手枪筒子都弯弯曲曲的抻长了一节。	
尽管村子里火光冲天，但高粱地里，还是呈现出一派安恬的宁静夜色。	Although battle fires still lit up the sky above the village, an aura of peace and quiet had settled over the sorghum fields.
更加凄清的皎皎月光洒在魅力渐渐衰退的高粱萎缩的头颅上。	
父亲拖着枪，跟着爷爷，绕着屠杀场走着，滋足了血的黑土像胶泥一样，陷没了他们的脚面。 人的尸体与高粱的残躯混杂在一起。	Father followed Granddad, dragging his rifle behind him as they circled the site of the massacre. The blood-soaked earth had the consistency of liquid clay under the weight of their footsteps; bodies of the dead merged with the wreckage of sorghum stalks.
一汪汪的血在月下闪烁着。 模糊的狰狞嘴脸纵横捭阖，扫荡着父亲最后的少年岁月。	Moonlight danced on pools of blood, and hideous scenes of dismemberment swept away the final moments of Father's youth.
高粱棵子里似乎有痛苦的呻吟声，尸体堆中好像有活物的蠕动，父亲想唤住爷爷，去看看这些尚未死利索的乡亲。 他仰起脸来，看到爷爷那副绿锈斑斑、丧失了人的表情的青铜面孔，把话儿压进了喉咙。	Tortured moans emerged from the field of sorghum, and here and there among the bodies some movement appeared. Father was burning to ask Granddad to save those fellow villagers who were still alive, but when he saw the pale, expressionless look on his father's bronze face, the words stuck in his throat.
在特别关键的时刻，父亲总是比爷爷要清醒一些，他的思想可能总是浮在现象的表面，深入不够，所以便于游击吧！	During the most critical moments, Father was always slightly more alert than Granddad, perhaps because he concentrated on surface phenomena; superficial thought seems ideally suited to guerrilla fighting.
爷爷的思想当时麻木地凝滞在一个点上，这一点或许是一张扭歪的脸，或许是一管断裂的枪、一颗飞躜着的尖头子弹。	At that moment, Granddad looked benumbed; his thoughts were riveted on a single point, which might have been a twisted face, or a shattered rifle, or a single spent bullet.
其他的景物他视而不见，其他的声音他听而不闻。	He was blind to all other sights, deaf to all other sounds.
爷爷这种毛病或特点，在十几年后，发展得更加严重。	This problem – or characteristic – of his would grow more pronounced over the coming decade.
他从日本北海道的荒山僻岭中归国之后，双目深不可测，盯住什么就像要把什么烧焦似的。	He returned to China from the mountains of Hokkaido with an unfathomable depth in his eyes, gazing at things as though he could will them to combust spontaneously.
父亲却永远没达到这种哲学的思维深度。	Father never achieved this degree of philosophical depth.
一九五七年，他历尽千难万苦，从母亲挖的地洞里跑出来时，双眼还像他少年时期一样，活泼、迷惘、瞬息万变。	In 1957, after untold hardships, when he finally emerged from the burrow Mother had dug for him, his eyes had the same look as in his youth: lively, perplexed, capricious.
他一辈子都没弄清人与政治、人与社会、人与战争的关系，虽然他在战争的巨轮上飞速旋转着，虽然他的人性的光芒总是力图冲破冰冷的铁甲放射出来。	He never did figure out the relationship between men and politics or society or war, even though he had been spun so violently on the wheel of battle. He was forever trying to squeeze the light of his nature through the chinks in his body armour.
但事实上，他的人性即使能在某一瞬间放射出璀璨的光芒，这光芒也是寒冷的、弯曲的，掺杂着某种深刻的兽性因素。	
后来，爷爷和父亲绕着屠杀场转了十几个圈子的时候，父亲悲泣着说：“爹…… 我走不动啦……”	Granddad and Father circled the site of the massacre a dozen times, until Father said tearfully, 'Dad . . . I can't walk any more. . . .'
爷爷从机械运动中醒过来，他牵着父亲后退几十步，坐在没浸过人血的比较坚硬干燥的黑土上。	Granddad's robot movements stopped; taking Father's hand, he backed up ten paces and sat down on a patch of solid, dry earth.
村子里的火声加剧了高粱地里的寂寞清冷；金黄色的微弱火光在银白色的月光中颤抖。	The cheerless and lonely sorghum field was highlighted by the crackle of fires in the village. Weak golden flames danced fitfully beneath the silvery moonlight.
爷爷坐了片刻，像半堵墙样往后倒去。 父亲把头伏在爷爷的肚子上，朦胧入睡。	After sitting there for a moment, Granddad fell backward like a capsized wall, and Father laid his head on Granddad's belly, where he fell into a hazy sleep.
他感觉到爷爷那只滚烫的大手轻轻抚摸着自己的头，父亲想起十几年前在奶奶怀里吃奶的情景。	He could feel Granddad's feverish hand stroking his head, which sent his thoughts back nearly a dozen years, to when he was suckling at Grandma's breast.
那时候他四岁，对奶奶硬塞到他嘴里的淡黄色乳房产生了反感。	He was four at the time, and growing tired of the yellowed nipple that was always thrust into his mouth.
他含着酸溜溜硬梆梆的乳头，心里涌起一股仇恨。 他用小兽一样凶狠的眼睛上望着奶奶迷幻的脸，狠狠地咬了一口。	Having begun to hate its sour hardness, he gazed up into the look of rapture in Grandma's face with a murderous glint in his eyes and bit down as hard as he could.
他感到奶奶的乳房猛一收缩，奶奶的身体往上一耸。	He felt the contraction in Grandma's breast as her body jerked backward.
一丝甜味的液体温暖着他的口腔。 奶奶在他屁股上用力打了一巴掌，然后把他推出去。	Trickles of a sweet liquid warmed the corners of his mouth, until Grandma gave him a swat on the bottom and pushed him away.
他跌倒了，坐起来，看着奶奶那个像香瓜一样垂着的乳房上一滴滴下落的艳红的血珍珠，眼中无泪，干嚎了几声。	He fell to the ground, his eyes on the drops of fresh red blood dripping from the tip of Grandma's pendulous breast. He whimpered, but his eyes were dry.
奶奶痛苦地抽搐着，眼泪乱纷纷溢出。	Grandma, on the other hand, was crying bitterly, her shoulders heaving, her face bathed in tears.
他听到奶奶骂他是个恶狼崽子，跟那个恶狼爹是一样的畜牲。	She lashed out at him, calling him a wolf cub, as mean as his wolf of a father.
父亲后来才知道，就是他四岁那一年，爷爷在爱着奶奶的同时，又爱上了奶奶雇来的小姑娘——已经长成了漆黑发亮的大姑娘恋儿。	Later on he learned that that was the year Granddad, who loved Grandma dearly, had fallen in love with the hired girl, Passion, who had grown into a bright-eyed young woman.
父亲咬伤奶奶时，爷爷因厌烦奶奶的醋劲，在邻村买了一排房屋，把恋儿接去住了。	At the moment when Father bit Grandma, Granddad, who had grown tired of her jealousy, was living with Passion in a house he'd bought in a neighbouring village.
据说我这个二奶奶也不是盏省油的灯，奶奶惧她五分——这都是以后一定要完全彻底说清楚的事情——二奶奶为我生过一个小姑姑。	Everyone said that this second grandma of mine was no economy lantern, and that Grandma was afraid of her, but this is something I'll clear up later. Second Grandma eventually had a girl by Granddad.
一九三八年，日本兵用刺刀把我小姑姑挑了，一群日本兵把二奶奶给轮奸了——这也是以后要完全彻底说清楚的事情。	In 1938, Japanese soldiers murdered this young aunt of mine with a bayonet, then gang-raped Second Grandma – this, too, I'll clear up later.
爷爷和父亲都困乏极了，爷爷感到他臂上的枪伤在蹦蹦跳跳，整条胳膊火烫。	Granddad and Father were exhausted. The wound throbbed in Granddad's arm, which seemed to be on fire.
爷爷和父亲都感到他们的脚胀满了布鞋，他们想象着让溃烂的脚晾在月光下的幸福，但都没有力气起身把鞋扒掉了。	Father's feet had swollen until his cloth shoes nearly split their seams, and he fantasised about the exquisite pleasure of airing the rotting skin of his feet in the moonlight. But he didn't have the strength to sit up and take off his shoes.
他们躺着，昏昏沉沉似睡非睡。	
父亲翻了一个身，后脑勺子搁在爷爷坚硬的肚子上，面对星空，一缕月色照着他的眼。	Instead, he rolled over and rested his head on Granddad's hard stomach so he could look up into the starry night and let the moon's rays light up his face.
墨水河的喑哑低语一波波传来，天河中出现了一道道蛇状黑云，仿佛在蜿蜒游动，又仿佛僵化不动。	He could hear the murmuring flow of the Black Water River and see black clouds gather in the sky above him.
父亲记得罗汉大爷说过，天河横缠，秋雨绵绵。	He remembered Uncle Arhat's saying once that, when the Milky Way lay horizontally across the sky, autumn rains would fall.
父亲只见过一次真正的秋水，那时候高粱即将收割，墨水河水暴涨，堤坝决裂，洪水灌进了田地和村庄。	He had only really seen autumn water once in his life. The sorghum was ready for harvest when the Black Water River rose and burst its banks, flooding both the fields and the village.
在滉滉大水中，高粱努力抻着头，耗子和蛇在高粱穗子上缠绕盘踞着。	The stalks strained to keep their heads above water; rats and snakes scurried and slithered up them to escape drowning.
父亲跟着罗汉大爷走在临时加高的土围子上，看着仿佛从天外涌来的黄色大水，心里惴惴不安。	Father had gone with Uncle Arhat to the wall, which the villagers were reinforcing, and gazed uneasily at the yellow water rushing towards him.
秋水经久不退，村里百姓捆扎起木筏子，划到高粱地里去，用镰刀割下生满绿色芽苗的高粱穗子。	The villagers made rafts from kindling and paddled out to the fields to hack off the ears of grain, which were already sprouting new green buds.
一捆捆湿漉漉的、暗红的、翠绿的高粱穗子，把木筏子压得随时都要沉底的样子。	Bundles of soaked deep-red and emerald-green ears of sorghum weighted down the rafts so much it's a wonder they didn't sink.
又黑又瘦赤脚光背戴着破烂斗笠的男人，十字劈叉站在筏子上，用长长的木杆子，一左一右地用力撑着，筏子缓慢地向土围子靠拢。	The dark, gaunt men, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing conical straw hats, stood with their legs akimbo on the rafts, poling with all their strength as they rocked from side to side.
村里街道上也水深及膝，骡马牛羊都泡在水里，水上漂着牲畜们稀薄的排泄物。	The water in the village was knee-high, covering the legs of livestock, whose waste floated on the surface.
如果秋阳夕照，水面上烁金熔铁，远处尚未割掉头颅的高粱们，凸出水面一层金红。 大群的野鸭飞翔在高粱头上，众多的翅膀扇起阴凉的风，把高粱间的水面吹出一片细小的皱纹。	In the dying rays of the autumn sun, the water shone like liquefied metal; tips of sorghum stalks too far away to be harvested formed a canopy of golden red just above the rippling surface, over which flocks of wild geese flew.
父亲看到高粱板块之间，有一道明亮宽阔的大水在缓缓流动，与四周漶漫的黄水形成鲜明的界限，父亲知道那是墨水河。	Father could see a bright, broad body of water flowing slowly through the densest patch of red sorghum, in sharp contrast to the muddy, stagnant water around him; it was, he knew, the Black Water River.
撑筏子的男人们大口喘着气，互相问讯着，慢慢地向土围子靠拢，慢慢地向爷爷靠拢。	
一个青年农夫的筏子上，躺着一条银腹青脊的大草鱼，一根柔韧的细高粱秸子穿住草鱼的腮。	On one of the rafts lay a silver-bellied, green-backed grass carp, a long, thin sorghum stalk stuck through its gills.
青年农夫把草鱼提起来向围子上的人炫耀。 草鱼有半截人高，腮上流着血，圆张着嘴，用呆滞的眼睛悲哀地看着我父亲……	The farmer proudly held it up to show the people on the wall; it was nearly half as tall as he was. Blood oozed from its gills, and its mouth was open as it looked at my father with dull, sorrowful eyes.
父亲想到，那条大鱼怎样被罗汉大爷买回，奶奶怎样亲手把鱼剖肚刮鳞，烧成一大锅鱼汤，鱼汤的鲜美回忆勾起父亲的食欲。	Father was thinking about how Uncle Arhat had bought a fish from a farmer once, and how Grandma had scraped the scales from its belly, then made soup out of it; just thinking about that delicious soup gave him an appetite.
父亲坐起来，说：“爹，你不饿吗？	He sat up. 'Dad,' he said, 'aren't you hungry?
爹，我饿了，你弄点东西给我吃吧，我要饿死啦……”	I am. Can you find me something to eat? I'm starving. . . .'
爷爷坐起，在腰里摸索着，摸出三夹零六颗子弹。 爷爷从身边找到那支手枪，拉开枪栓，压进一条子弹，一松栓子弹上膛，勾一下机，啪啦一声响，一粒子弹飞出膛。	Granddad sat up and fished around in his belt until he found a bullet, which he inserted into the cylinder; then he snapped it shut, sending the bullet into the chamber. He pulled the trigger, and there was a loud crack.
爷爷说：“豆官，咱们…… 找你娘去吧……”	'Douguan,' he said, 'let's go find your mother. . . .'
父亲一惊，尖利地说：“不，爹，俺娘死啦，咱还活着，我肚子饿，你带我去找点东西吃。”	'No, Dad,' Father replied in a high-pitched, frightened voice, 'Mother's dead. But we're still alive, and I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat.'
父亲把爷爷拖起来。	Father pulled Granddad to his feet.
爷爷自言自语地说着：“到哪里去？	'Where?' Granddad mumbled.
到哪里去？”	'Where can we go?'
父亲牵着爷爷的手，在高粱棵子里，一脚高一脚低，歪歪斜斜，仿佛是奔着挂得更高、更加寒如冰霜的月亮走。	So Father led him by the hand into the sorghum field, where they walked in a crooked line, as though their objective was the moon, hanging high and icy in the sky.
尸体堆里，响起一阵猛兽的咆哮。	A growl emerged from the field of corpses.
爷爷和父亲立即转身回头，看到十几对鬼火一样闪烁的绿眼睛和一团团遍地翻滚的钢蓝色的影子。	Granddad and Father stopped in their tracks and turned to see a dozen pairs of green eyes, like will-o'-the-wisps, and several indigo shadows tumbling on the ground.
爷爷掏出枪，对着两只绿眼一甩，一道火光飞去，那两只绿眼灭了，高粱棵子里传来垂死挣扎的狗叫。	Granddad took out his pistol and fired at two of the green eyes; the howl of a dying dog accompanied the extinguishing of those eyes.
爷爷连射七枪，一群受伤的狗在高粱丛中、尸体堆里滚来滚去。	Granddad fired seven shots in all, and several wounded dogs writhed in agony among the corpses.
爷爷对着狗群打完了所有的子弹，没受伤的狗逃窜出几箭远，对着爷爷和父亲发出愤怒的咆哮。	While he was emptying his pistol into the pack, the uninjured dogs fled into the sorghum field, out of range, where they howled furiously at the two humans.
爷爷的自来得手枪射出的最后几粒子弹飞行了三十几步远就掉在了地上。	The last couple of bullets from Granddad's pistol had travelled only thirty paces or so before thudding to the ground.
父亲看到弹头在月光中翻着筋斗飞行，缓慢得伸手就可抓住。	Father watched them tumble in the moonlight, so slowly he could have reached out and caught them.
枪声也失去了焦脆的青春喉咙，颇似一个耄耋之年的老头子在咳嗽吐痰。	And the once crisp crack of the pistol sounded more like the phlegmatic cough of a doddering old man.
爷爷举起枪来看了一下子，脸上露出悲痛惋惜的表情。	A tortured, sympathetic expression spread across Granddad's face as he looked down at the weapon in his hand.
“爹，没子弹啦？” 父亲问。	'Out of bullets, Dad?'
爷爷和父亲从县城里用小山羊肚腹运载回来的五百发子弹，在十几个小时里已经发射完毕。	The five hundred bullets they'd brought back from town in the goat's belly had been used up in a matter of hours.
好像人是在一天中突然衰老一样，枪也是在一天中突然衰老。 爷爷痛感到这支枪越来越违背自己的意志，跟它告别的时候到了。	The pistol had aged overnight, and Granddad came to the painful realisation that it was no longer capable of carrying out his wishes; time for them to part ways.
爷爷把胳膊平伸出去，仔细地看着月光照在枪面上反射出的黯淡的光彩，然后一松手，匣子枪沉重落地。	Holding the gun out in front of him, he carefully studied the muted reflection of the moonlight on the barrel, then loosened his grip and let the gun fall heavily to the ground.
那些绿眼睛的狗又向尸体聚拢过来，起初还畏畏惧惧，绿眼睛里跳着惊惧的火花。	The green-eyed dogs returned to the corpses, timidly at first.
很快，绿眼睛消失，月光照着一道道波浪般翻滚的蓝色狗毛，爷爷和父亲都听到了狗嘴的吧咂声和尸体的撕裂声。	But their eyes quickly disappeared, and the moonlight was reflected off rolling waves of bluish fur; Granddad and Father could hear the sounds of dogs tearing human bodies with their fangs.
“爹，咱到村里去吧。”父亲说。	'Let's go into the village, Dad,' Father said.
爷爷有点犹豫，父亲拉他一把，他就跟着父亲走了。	Granddad wavered for a moment, so Father tugged on him, and they fell into step.
村里的火堆多半熄灭，断壁残垣中，暗红的余烬发散着酷热，街上热风盘旋，浊气逼人，白烟和黑烟交织成团，在烧焦的、烘萎了的树梢间翻腾。	By then most of the fires in the village had gone out, leaving red-hot cinders that gave off an acrid heat amid the crumbling walls and shattered buildings. Hot winds whirled above the village roads. The murky air was stifling.
木料在炭化过程中爆豆般响着，失去支撑的房屋顶盖塌下，砸起冲天的尘烟和灰烬。	Roofs of houses, their supports burned out beneath them, had collapsed in mountains of smoke, dust, and cinders.
土围子上、街道上、尸体狼藉。	Bodies were strewn atop the village wall and on the roads.
我们村子的历史又翻开了新的一页。	A page in the history of our village had been turned.
它原先是一片蛮荒地，荆榛苇茅丛生，狐狸野兔的乐园，后来有了几架牧人的草棚，后来逃来了杀人命犯、落魄酒徒、亡命赌棍…… 他们建造房屋，开垦荒地，拓扑出人的乐园，狐狸野兔迁徙他乡，临别时齐声发出控诉人类的鸣叫。	At one time the site had been a wasteland covered with brambles, underbrush, and reeds, a paradise for foxes and wild rabbits. Then a few huts appeared, and it became a haven for escaped murderers, drunks, gamblers, who built homes, cultivated the land, and turned it into a paradise for humans, forcing out the foxes and wild rabbits, who set up howls of protest on the eve of their departure.
现在它是一片废墟了，人创造的，又被人摧毁。	Now the village lay in ruins; man had created it, and man had destroyed it.
真正的现在的它是在废墟上建立起来的悲喜参半的忧乐园。	It was now a sorrowful paradise, a monument to both grief and joy, built upon ruins.
当一九六○年黑暗的饥馑笼罩山东大地时，我虽然年仅四岁，也隐隐约约地感觉到，高密东北乡从来就没有不是废墟过，高密东北乡人心灵里堆积着的断砖碎瓦从来就没有清理干净过，也不可能清理干净。	In 1960, when the dark cloud of famine settled over the Shandong Peninsula, even though I was only four years old I could dimly sense that Northeast Gaomi Township had never been anything but a pile of ruins, and that its people had never been able to rid their hearts of the shattered buildings, nor would they ever be able to.
那天晚上，所有的房屋都烟飞火灭之后，我家那几十间房屋还在燃烧。 我家的房子燃烧时放出一些翠绿的火苗和一股醉人的酒味，潴留多年的酒气，都在火中升腾起来。	That night, after the smoke and sparks from the other houses had died out, our buildings were still burning, sending skyward green-tinged tongues of flame and the intoxicating aroma of strong wine, released in an instant after all those years.
蓝色的房瓦在大火中弯曲变形，呈现暗红色，疾速地、像弹片一样从火中飞出来。 火光照着爷爷花白的头发，爷爷的满头黑发，在短短的七天里，白了四分之三。	Blue roof tiles, deformed by the intense heat, turned scarlet, then leaped into the air through a wall of flames that illuminated Granddad's hair, which had turned three-quarters grey in the space of a week.
我家的房盖轰隆隆塌陷下去，火焰萎缩片刻，又疯蹿得更高。	A roof came crashing down, momentarily blotting out the flames, which then roared out of the rubble, stronger than ever.
父亲和爷爷都被这一声巨响震荡得胸闷气噎。	The loud crash nearly crushed the breath out of Father and Granddad.
这几十间先庇护了单家父子发财致富后庇护了爷爷放火杀人又庇护着奶奶爷爷父亲罗汉大爷与众伙计们多少恩恩怨怨的房屋完成了它的所谓的“历史的使命”。	Our house, which had sheltered the father and son of the Shan family as they grew rich, then had sheltered Granddad after his murderous deed, then had sheltered Grandma, Granddad, Father, Uncle Arhat, and all the men who worked for them, a sanctuary for their kindnesses and their grievances, had now completed its historical mission.
我恨透了这个庇护所，因为它在庇护着善良、麻醉着真挚的情感的同时，也庇护着丑陋和罪恶。	I hated that sanctuary: though it had sheltered decent emotions, it had also sheltered heinous crimes.
父亲，一九五七年，你躲在我家里间屋里那个地洞里时，你每日每夜，在永恒的黑暗中，追忆流水年月，你至少三百六十次想到了我们家那几十间房屋的屋盖在大火中塌落的情景。 你想到你的父亲我的爷爷在那时刻想到了什么，我的幻想紧追着你的幻想，你的幻想紧追着爷爷的思维。	Father, when you were hiding in the burrow we dug for you in the floor of my home back in 1957, you recalled those days of your past in the unrelenting darkness. On no fewer than 365 occasions, in your mind you saw the roof of your house crash down amid the flames, and wondered what was going through the mind of your father, my granddad. So my fantasies were chasing yours while yours were chasing Granddad's.
爷爷看到这房屋的塌陷的感觉，就像当初爱上恋儿姑娘后，愤然抛弃我奶奶另村去住，但后来又听说奶奶在家放浪形骸与“铁板会”头子“黑眼”姘上一样，说不清是恨还是爱，说不清是痛苦还是愤怒。	As he watched the roof collapse, Granddad became as angry as he'd been the day he abandoned Grandma and moved to another village to be with his new love, Passion. He had learned then that Grandma had shamelessly taken up with Black Eye, the leader of an organisation called the Iron Society, and at the time he wasn't sure what filled his heart – loathing or love, pain or anger.
爷爷后来重返奶奶的怀抱，对奶奶的感情已经混浊得难辨颜色和味道。	When he later returned to Grandma's arms, his feelings for her were so confused he couldn't sort them out.
我们感情上的游击战首先把自己的心脏打得千疮百孔最后又把对方打得千疮百孔。	In the beginning, his emotional warfare scarred only his own heart, and Grandma's scarred only her own. Finally, they hurt each other.
只有当奶奶在高粱地里用死亡的面容对着爷爷微笑时，他才领会到生活对自己的惩罚是多么严酷。	Only when Grandma smiled up at him as she lay dead in the sorghum field did he realise the grievous punishment life had meted out to him.
他像喜鹊珍爱覆巢中最后一个卵一样珍爱着我父亲，但是，已经晚一点了，命运为他安排的更残酷的结局，已在前面路口上，胸有成竹地对他冷笑着。	He loved my father as a magpie loves the last remaining egg in its nest. But by then it was too late, for fate, cold and calculating, had sentenced him to a cruel end that was waiting for him down the road.
“爹，咱的家没了……” 父亲说。	'Dad, our house is gone. . . .' Father said.
爷爷摸着父亲的头，看着残破的家园，牵着父亲的手，在火光渐弱月光渐强的街道上无目标地蹒跚着。	Granddad rubbed Father's head as he stared at the ruins of his home, then took Father's hand and began stumbling aimlessly down the road under the waning light of the flames and the waxing light of the moon.
村头上，一个苍老淳朴的声音问：“是小三吗？	At the head of the village they heard an old man's voice: 'Is that you, Number Three?
怎么没把牛车赶来？”	Why didn't you bring the oxcart?'
爷爷和父亲听到人声，倍觉亲切，忘了疲乏，急匆匆赶过去。	The sound of that voice gave Granddad and Father such a warm feeling they forgot how tired they were and rushed over to see who it was.
一个弓着腰的老头，迎着他们上来，把眼睛几乎贴到爷爷脸上打量着。	A hunched-over elderly man rose to greet them, carefully sizing up Granddad with his ancient eyes, nearly touching his face.
爷爷对老头那两只警觉的眼睛不满意，老头嘴里喷出的铜臭气使爷爷反感。	Granddad didn't like his watchful look and was repulsed by the greedy stench that came from his mouth.
“不是我家小三子。” 老头子遗憾地晃晃脑袋，坐回去。	'You're not my Number Three,' the old man said unhappily, his head wobbling as he sat down on a pile of loot.
他的屁股下边堆了一大堆杂物，有箱、柜、饭桌、农具、牲口套具、破棉絮、铁锅、瓦盆……	There were trunks, cupboards, dining tables, farm tools, harnesses, ripped comforters, cooking pots, earthenware bowls.
老头坐在小山一样的货物上，像一只狼守护着自己的猎物。	He was sitting on a small mountain of stuff and guarding it as a wolf guards its kill.
老头身后的柳树上，拴着两头牛犊子、三只山羊，一头小毛驴。	Behind him, two calves, three goats, and a mule were tied to a willow tree.
爷爷咬牙切齿地骂道：“老狗！	'You old dog!' Granddad growled through clenched teeth.
你给我滚下来！”	'Get the hell out of here!'
老头子从货堆上蹲起，友善地说：“哎，兄弟，别眼红吆，俺这是不惧生死从火堆里抢出来的！”	The old man rose up on his haunches and said amiably, 'Ah, my brother, let's not be envious. I risked my life to drag this stuff out of the flames!'
“你给我下来，我操死你活妈！”	'I'll fuck your living mother! Climb down from there!'
爷爷怒骂。	Granddad lashed out angrily.
“你这人好没道理，我一没招你，二没惹你，你凭什么骂人？” 老头宽容地谴责着我爷爷。	'You have no right to talk to me like that. I didn't do anything to you. You're the one who's asking for trouble. What gives you the right to curse me like that?' he complained.
“骂你？	'Curse you?
老子要宰了你！	I'll goddamn kill you!
老子们抗日救国，与日本人拼死拼活，你们竟然趁火打劫！	We're not in a desperate struggle with Japan just so you can go on a looting binge!
畜牲，老畜牲！	You bastard, you old bastard!
豆官，你的枪呢？”	Douguan, where's your gun?'
“扔到洋马肚子底下啦！”父亲说。	'It's under the horse's belly,' Father said.
爷爷纵身跳上货堆，飞起一脚，把那老头踢到货堆下。	Granddad jumped up onto the mountain of stuff and, with a single kick, sent the old man sprawling onto the ground.
老头子跪在地上，哀求道：“八路老爷饶命，八路老爷饶命……”	He rose to his knees and begged, 'Spare me, Eighth Route Master, spare me!'
爷爷说：“老子不是八路，也不是九路。	'I'm not with the Eighth Route Army,' Granddad said, 'or the Ninth Route.
老子是土匪余占鳌！”	I'm Yu Zhan'ao the bandit!'
“余司令饶命，余司令，这些东西，放到火里也白白烧毁了……	'Spare me, Commander Yu, spare me! What good would it do to let all this stuff burn?
俺村来‘倒地瓜’的不光我一个，值钱的东西都被那些贼给抢光啦，俺老汉腿脚慢，拾掇了一点破烂……”	I'm not the only "potato picker" from the village. Those thieves got all the good stuff. I'm too old and too slow, and all I could find was this junk.'
爷爷搬起一张木桌子，对准老头那秃脑门砸下去。	Granddad picked up a wooden table and threw it at the old man's bald head.
老头惨叫一声，抱住流血的头，在地上转着圈乱钻。	He screamed and held his bleeding scalp as he rolled in the dirt.
爷爷抓着他的衣领，把他提起来，对着那张痛苦的老脸，说：“‘倒地瓜’的好汉子！” 然后猛力捣了一拳，老头脸上腻腻地响了一声，仰面朝天摔在地上，爷爷又走上前去，对着老头的脸，狠命踹了一脚。	Granddad reached down and picked him up by his collar. Looking straight into those tortured eyes, he said, 'Our hero, the "potato picker", then raised his fist and drove it with a loud crack into the old man's face, sending him crumpling to the ground, face up. Granddad walked up and kicked him in the face, hard.