雙語散文|蕭 乾——棗核
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棗 核
動身訪美之前，一位舊時同窗寫來封航空信，再三托付我為他帶幾顆生棗核。東西倒不占分量，可是用途卻很蹊蹺。從費(fèi)城出發(fā)前，我們就通了電話。一下車。他已經(jīng)在站上等了。掐指一算，分手快有半個世紀(jì)了，現(xiàn)在都已是風(fēng)燭殘年。
擁抱之后，他就殷切地問我：“帶來了嗎？”我趕快從手提包里掏出那幾顆棗核。他托在掌心，像比珍珠瑪瑙還貴重。
他當(dāng)年那股調(diào)皮勁顯然還沒改。我問起棗核的用途，他一面往衣兜里揣，一面故弄玄虛地說：“等會兒你就明白啦。”
那真是座美麗的山城，汽車開去，一路坡上坡下滿是一片嫣紅。倘若在中國，這里一定會有楓城之稱。過了幾個山坳，他朝楓樹叢中一座三層小樓指了指說：“喏，到了。”汽車拐進(jìn)草坪，離車庫還有三四米，車庫門就像認(rèn)識主人似的自動掀啟。
朋友有點不好意思地解釋說，買這座大房子時，孩子們還上著學(xué)，如今都成家立業(yè)了。學(xué)生物化學(xué)的老伴兒在一家研究所里做營養(yǎng)試驗。
他把我安頓在二樓臨湖的一個房間后，就領(lǐng)我去踏訪他的后花園。地方不大，布置得卻精致勻稱。我們在靠籬笆的一張白色長凳上坐下，他劈頭就問我：“覺不覺得這花園有點家鄉(xiāng)味道？”經(jīng)他指點，我留意到臺階兩旁是他手栽的兩株垂楊柳，草坪中央有個睡蓮池。他感慨良深地對我說：“栽垂柳的時候，我那個小子才五歲，如今在一條核潛艇上當(dāng)總機(jī)械長了。姑娘在哈佛教書。家庭和事業(yè)都如意，各種新式設(shè)備也都有了?？墒俏倚纳峡傁袷侨秉c什么。也許是沒出息，怎么年紀(jì)越大，思鄉(xiāng)越切。我現(xiàn)在可充分體會出游子的心境了。我想廠甸，想隆福寺。這里一過圣誕，我就想舊歷年。近來，我老是想總布胡同院里那棵棗樹。所以才托你帶幾顆種籽，試種一下。”
接著，他又指著花園一角堆起的一座假山石說：“你相信嗎？那是我開車到幾十里以外，一塊塊親手挑選，論公斤買下，然后用汽車?yán)貋淼摹Ｄ鞘俏覀兗业?lsquo;北海’。”
說到這里，我們兩人都不約而同地站了起來。沿著草坪旁用卵石鋪成的小徑，走到“北海”跟前。真是個細(xì)心人呢，他在上面還嵌了一所泥制的小涼亭，一座紅廟，頂上還有尊白塔。朋友解釋說，都是從舊金山唐人街買來的。
他告訴我，時常在月夜，他同老伴兒并肩坐在這長凳上，追憶起當(dāng)年在北海泛舟的日子。睡蓮的清香迎風(fēng)撲來，眼前仿佛就閃出一片荷塘佳色。
改了國籍，不等于就改了民族感情；而且沒有一個民族像我們這么依戀故土的。
Date Stones
Before I set out for the US, a former schoolmate of mine wrote me by airmail, asking me in all earnest to bring him some raw date stones. They were not heavy in weight, yet I was curious about their use.At Philadelphia, shortly before starting out for my friend's place, I called him up. So when I got off the train at the destination, I found him already waiting for me at the station. It was about half a century since we last met, and we were now both in our declining years.
After hugging each other, he asked me eagerly, "Have you brought them with you?" I immediately fished out the date stones from my handbag. He fondled them in his palm as if they were something more valuable than pearls or agates.
Obviously he was just as childlike as before. When I asked about the use of the date stones, he put them into his pocket and replied by way of fooling me deliberately, "You'll understand soon."
It was really a beautiful mountain city. As we drove on, an expanse of rich crimson up and down the slope came into sight. In China a place like this would have been described as a maple city. After passing through several cols, my friend said pointing to a three-storied house amidst the maple trees, "Here we are." The car turned into a lawn and when it was three or four meters away from the garage, its door automatically opened as if it recognized its own master.
My friend looked somewhat ill at ease when he told me this: At the time when he bought this big house, his children had all been at school. Now they had their own homes and jobs. His wife, a biochemist, was a dietician at a research institute.
After assigning me a room on the second floor facing a lake, he showed me around his back garden, which, though not too big, was exquisite and nicely arranged. The moment we sat down on a white bench close to a hedge, he asked me, "Don't you find something here smacking of our native place in China?" At this, I noticed a weeping willow, planted by himself, on either side of a flight of steps as well as a water-lily pond in the middle of the garden. He said with deep feeling, "When I planted the willows, my son was only five. Now he serves as head of chief mechanics in a nuclear submarine. My daughter teaches at Harvard University. I'm happy with my family and my career. I own all modern household facilities I need. But I still feel something lacking. Maybe I'm a bit too foolish. How come the older I become, the more I think of my homeland. Now I fully understand the frame of mind of one residing in a place far away from home. I always think of Changdian and Longfusi. Every time Christmas is celebrated here in America, I think of the lunar New Year back in China. I can never forget the date tree in the courtyard of the house on Zongbu Hutong. That's why I've asked you to bring me some date stones. I'll try to plant them here."
Then he said pointing to a jumble of rockery standing in a corner of the garden, "Believe it or not, the rocks, hand-picked by me, were bought by the kilogram. I drove dozens of kilometers away to haul them back in my car. Look, that's Beihai in our home."
Thereupon, we rose to our feet simultaneously and walked along a cobbled footpath beside the lawn towards the miniature Beihai. What a careful man my friend was! He had had the artificial hill inlaid with a clay pavilion and a red temple, with a white pagoda on top. He said he had bought the decorative objects from China Town in San Francisco.
He also told me that on a moonlit night he and his wife would sit side by side on the bench recalling how they had used to go boating on the Beihai Lake. Meanwhile, as I smelled the faint scent of the water-lilies carried to us by the breeze, I felt as if the beautiful scene of a Chinese lotus pond were flashing past my eyes.
The change of nationality doesn't mean the change of national feeling. No other nation has such a strong attachment for the native land as we Chinese.
蕭乾（1910—1999），作家、文學(xué)翻譯家，曾任《大公報》記者，以散文、特寫著稱。曾任人民文學(xué)出版社顧問?！稐椇恕芬云揭缀啙嵉奈淖郑瑪⑹鲆粋€長期僑居國外的舊時同窗，盡管已改變了國籍，不忘自己是炎黃子孫，一往情深地眷戀故鄉(xiāng)故土和本民族。
