雙語全文 ● 魯迅——孔乙己

Kong Yiji

 

The layout of Luzhen’s taverns is unique. In each， facing you as you enter， is a bar in the shape of a carpenter’s square where hot water is kept ready for warming rice wine. When men come off work at midday and in the evening they spend four coppers on a bowl of wine—or so they did twenty years ago； now it costs ten—and drink this warm， standing by the bar， taking it easy. Another copper will buy a plate of salted bamboo shoots or peas flavoured with aniseed to go with the wine， while a dozen will buy a meat dish； but most of the customers here belong to the short-coated class，few of whom can afford this. As for those in long gowns， they go into the inner room to order wine and dishes and sit drinking at their leisure.

 

At the age of twelve I started work as a pot-boy in Prosperity Tavern at the edge of the town. The boss put me to work in the outer room， saying that I looked too much of a fool to serve long-gowned customers. The shortcoated customers there were easier to deal with， it is true， but among them were quite a few pernickety ones who insisted on watching for themselves while the yellow wine was ladled from the keg， looked for water at the bottom of the wine-pot， and personally inspected the pot’s immersion into the hot water. Under such strict surveillance， diluting the wine was very hard indeed. Thus it did not take my boss many days to decide that this job too was beyond me. Luckily I had been recommended by somebody influential， so he could not sack me. Instead I was transferred to the dull task of simply warming wine.

 

After that I stood all day behind the bar attending to my duties. Although I gave satisfaction at this post， I found it somewhat boring and monotonous. Our boss was a grim-faced man， nor were the customers much pleasanter， which made the atmosphere a gloomy one. The only times when there was any laughter were when Kong Yiji came to the tavern. That is why I remember him.

 

孔乙己

 

魯鎮(zhèn)的酒店的格局，是和別處不同的：都是當(dāng)街一個(gè)曲尺形的大柜臺(tái)，柜里面預(yù)備著熱水，可以隨時(shí)溫酒。做工的人，傍午傍晚散了工，每每花四文銅錢，買一碗酒，——這是二十多年前的事，現(xiàn)在每碗要漲到十文，——靠柜外站著，熱熱的喝了休息；倘肯多花一文，便可以買一碟鹽煮筍，或者茴香豆，做下酒物了，如果出到十幾文，那就能買一樣葷菜，但這些顧客，多是短衣幫，大抵沒有這樣闊綽。只有穿長(zhǎng)衫的，才踱進(jìn)店面隔壁的房子里，要酒要菜，慢慢地坐喝。

 

我從十二歲起，便在鎮(zhèn)口的咸亨酒店里當(dāng)伙計(jì)，掌柜說，樣子太傻，怕侍候不了長(zhǎng)衫主顧，就在外面做點(diǎn)事罷。外面的短衣主顧，雖然容易說話，但嘮嘮叨叨纏夾不清的也很不少。他們往往要親眼看著黃酒從壇子里舀出，看過壺子底里有水沒有，又親看將壺子放在熱水里，然后放心：在這嚴(yán)重監(jiān)督之下，羼水也很為難。所以過了幾天，掌柜又說我干不了這事。幸虧薦頭的情面大，辭退不得，便改為專管溫酒的一種無聊職務(wù)了。

 

我從此便整天的站在柜臺(tái)里，專管我的職務(wù)。雖然沒有什么失職，但總覺有些單調(diào)，有些無聊。掌柜是一副兇臉孔，主顧也沒有好聲氣，教人活潑不得；只有孔乙己到店，才可以笑幾聲，所以至今還記得。

 

Kong Yiji was the only long-gowned customer who used to drink his wine standing. A big， pallid man whose wrinkled face often bore scars， he had a large， unkempt and grizzled beard. And although he wore a long gown it was dirty and tattered. It had not by the look of it been washed or mended for ten years or more. He used so many archaisms in his speech that half of it was barely intelligible. And as his surname was Kong， he was given the nickname Kong Yiji from kong， yi， ji， the first three characters in the old-fashioned children’s copybook. Whenever he came in， everyone there would look at him and chuckle. And someone was sure to call out：

 

“Kong Yiji！ What are those fresh scars on your face？”

 

Ignoring this， he would lay nine coppers on the bar and order two bowls of heated wine with a dish of aniseed-peas. Then someone else would bawl：

 

“You must have been stealing again！”

 

“Why sully a man’s good name for no reason at all？” Kong Yiji would ask， raising his eyebrows.

 

“Good name？ Why， the day before yesterday you were trussed up and beaten for stealing books from the Ho family. I saw you！”

 

At that Kong Yiji would flush， the veins on his forehead standing out as he protested， “Taking books can’t be counted as stealing.... Taking books ... for a scholar ... can’t be counted as stealing.” Then followed such quotations from the classics as “A gentleman keeps his integrity even in poverty，” together with a spate of archaisms which soon had everybody roaring with laughter， enlivening the whole tavern.

 

From the gossip that I heard， it seemed that Kong Yiji had studied the classics but never passed the official examinations and， not knowing any way to make a living， he had grown steadily poorer until he was almost reduced to beggary. Luckily he was a good calligrapher and could find enough copying work to fill his rice bowl. But unfortunately he had his failings too： laziness and a love of tippling. So after a few days he would disappear， taking with him books， paper， brushes and inkstone. And after this had happened several times， people stopped employing him as a copyist. Then all he could do was resort to occasional pilfering. In our tavern， though， he was a model customer who never failed to pay up. Sometimes， it is true， when he had no ready money， his name would be chalked up on our tally-board； but in less than a month he invariably settled the bill， and the name Kong Yiji would be wiped off the board again.

 

孔乙己是站著喝酒而穿長(zhǎng)衫的唯一的人。他身材很高大；青白臉色，皺紋間時(shí)常夾些傷痕；一部亂蓬蓬的花白的胡子。穿的雖然是長(zhǎng)衫，可是又臟又破，似乎十多年沒有補(bǔ)，也沒有洗。他對(duì)人說話，總是滿口之乎者也，教人半懂不懂的。因?yàn)樗湛?，別人便從描紅紙上的“上大人孔乙己”這半懂不懂的話里，替他取下一個(gè)綽號(hào)，叫作孔乙己?？滓壹阂坏降?，所有喝酒的人便都看著他笑，有的叫道，“孔乙己，你臉上又添上新傷疤了！”他不回答，對(duì)柜里說，“溫兩碗酒，要一碟茴香豆。”便排出九文大錢。他們又故意的高聲嚷道，“你一定又偷了人家的東西了！”孔乙己睜大眼睛說，“你怎么這樣憑空污人清白……”“什么清白？我前天親眼見你偷了何家的書，吊著打。”孔乙己便漲紅了臉，額上的青筋條條綻出，爭(zhēng)辯道，“竊書不能算偷……竊書！……讀書人的事，能算偷么？”接連便是難懂的話，什么“君子固窮”，什么“者乎”之類，引得眾人都哄笑起來：店內(nèi)外充滿了快活的空氣。

 

聽人家背地里談?wù)?，孔乙己原來也讀過書，但終于沒有進(jìn)學(xué)，又不會(huì)營(yíng)生；于是愈過愈窮，弄到將要討飯了。幸而寫得一筆好字，便替人家鈔鈔書，換一碗飯吃。可惜他又有一樣壞脾氣，便是好喝懶做。坐不到幾天，便連人和書籍紙張筆硯，一齊失蹤。如是幾次，叫他鈔書的人也沒有了?？滓壹簺]有法，便免不了偶然做些偷竊的事。但他在我們店里，品行卻比別人都好，就是從不拖欠；雖然間或沒有現(xiàn)錢，暫時(shí)記在粉板上，但不出一月，定然還清，從粉板上拭去了孔乙己的名字。

 

After Kong Yiji had drunk half a bowl of wine， his flushed cheeks would stop burning. But then someone would ask：

 

“Kong Yiji， can you really read？”

 

When he glanced back as if such a question were not worth answering，they would continue， “How is it you never passed even the lowest official examination？”

 

At once a grey tinge would overspread Kong Yiji’s dejected， discomfited face， and he would mumble more of those unintelligible archaisms. Then everyone there would laugh heartily again， enlivening the whole tavern.

 

At such time I could join in the laughter with no danger of a dressingdown from my boss. In fact he always put such questions to Kong Yiji himself， to raise a laugh. Knowing that it was no use talking to the men，Kong Yiji would chat with us boys. Once he asked me：

 

“Have you had any schooling？”

 

When I nodded curtly he said， “Well then， I’ll test you. How do you write the hui in aniseed-peas？”

 

Who did this beggar think he was， testing me！ I turned away and ignored him. After waiting for some time he said earnestly：

 

“You can’t write it， eh？ I’ll show you. Mind you remember. You ought to remember such characters， because you’ll need them to write up your accounts when you have a shop of your own.”

 

It seemed to me that I was still very far from having a shop of my own；in addition to which， our boss never entered aniseed-peas in his accountbook. Half amused and half exasperated， I drawled， “I don’t need you to show me. Isn’t it the hui written with the element for grass？”

 

Kong Yiji’s face lit up. Tapping two long fingernails on the bar，he nodded. “Quite correct！” he said. “There are four different ways of writing hui. Do you know them？”

 

孔乙己喝過半碗酒，漲紅的臉色漸漸復(fù)了原，旁人便又問道，“孔乙己，你當(dāng)真認(rèn)識(shí)字么？”孔乙己看著問他的人，顯出不屑置辯的神氣。他們便接著說道，“你怎的連半個(gè)秀才也撈不到呢？”孔乙己立刻顯出頹唐不安模樣，臉上籠上了一層灰色，嘴里說些話；這回可是全是之乎者也之類，一些不懂了。在這時(shí)候，眾人也都哄笑起來：店內(nèi)外充滿了快活的空氣。

 

在這些時(shí)候，我可以附和著笑，掌柜是決不責(zé)備的。而且掌柜見了孔乙己，也每每這樣問他，引人發(fā)笑?？滓壹鹤约褐啦荒芎退麄冋勌?，便只好向孩子說話。有一回對(duì)我說道，“你讀過書么？”我略略點(diǎn)一點(diǎn)頭。他說，“讀過書，……我便考你一考。茴香豆的茴字，怎樣寫的？”我想，討飯一樣的人，也配考我么？便回過臉去，不再理會(huì)?？滓壹旱攘嗽S久，很懇切的說道，“不能寫罷？……我教給你，記著！這些字應(yīng)該記著。將來做掌柜的時(shí)候，寫賬要用。”我暗想我和掌柜的等級(jí)還很遠(yuǎn)呢，而且我們掌柜也從不將茴香豆上賬；又好笑，又不耐煩，懶懶的答他道，“誰要你教，不是草頭底下一個(gè)來回的回字么？”孔乙己顯出極高興的樣子，將兩個(gè)指頭的長(zhǎng)指甲敲著柜臺(tái)，點(diǎn)頭說，“對(duì)呀對(duì)呀！……回字有四樣寫法，你知道么？”我愈不耐煩了，努著嘴走遠(yuǎn)。孔乙己剛用指甲蘸了酒，想在柜上寫字，見我毫不熱心，便又嘆一口氣，顯出極惋惜的樣子。

 

But my patience exhausted， I scowled and moved away. Kong Yiji had dipped his finger in wine to trace the characters on the bar. When he saw my utter indifference his face fell and he sighed.

 

Sometimes children in the neighbourhood， hearing laughter， came in to join in the fun and surrounded Kong Yiji. Then he would give them aniseedpeas， one apiece. After eating the peas the children would still hang round，their eyes fixed on the dish. Growing flustered， he would cover it with his hand and bending forward from the waist would say， “There aren’t many left， not many at all.” Straightening up to look at the peas again， he would shake his head and reiterate， “Not many， I do assure you. Not many， nay，not many at all.” Then the children would scamper off， shouting with laughter.

 

That was how Kong Yiji contributed to our enjoyment， but we got along all right without him too.

 

One day， shortly before the Mid-Autumn Festival I think it was， my boss who was slowly making out his accounts took down the tally-board.“Kong Yiji hasn’t shown up for a long time，” he remarked suddenly. “He still owes nineteen coppers. ” That made me realize how long it was since we had seen him.

 

“How could he？” rejoined one of the customers. “His legs were broken in that last beating up. ”

 

“Ah！”said my boss.

 

“He’d been stealing again. This time he was fool enough to steal from Mr. Ding， the provincial-grade scholar. As if anybody could get away with that！ ”

 

“So what happened？”

 

“What happened？ First he wrote a confession， then he was beaten. The beating lasted nearly all night， and they broke both his legs.”

 

“And then？”

 

“Well， his legs were broken.”

 

有幾回，鄰舍孩子聽得笑聲，也趕熱鬧，圍住了孔乙己。他便給他們茴香豆吃，一人一顆。孩子吃完豆，仍然不散，眼睛都望著碟子?？滓壹褐嘶?，伸開五指將碟子罩住，彎腰下去說道，“不多了，我已經(jīng)不多了。”直起身又看一看豆，自己搖頭說，“不多不多！多乎哉？不多也。”于是這一群孩子都在笑聲里走散了。

 

孔乙己是這樣的使人快活，可是沒有他，別人也便這么過。

 

有一天，大約是中秋前的兩三天，掌柜正在慢慢的結(jié)賬，取下粉板，忽然說，“孔乙己長(zhǎng)久沒有來了。還欠十九個(gè)錢呢！”我才也覺得他的確長(zhǎng)久沒有來了。一個(gè)喝酒的人說道，“他怎么會(huì)來？……他打折了腿了。”掌柜說，“哦！”“他總?cè)耘f是偷。這一回，是自己發(fā)昏，竟偷到丁舉人家里去了。他家的東西，偷得的么？”“后來怎么樣？”“怎么樣？先寫服辯，后來是打，打了大半夜，再打折了腿。”“后來呢？”“后來打折了腿了。”“打折了怎樣呢？”“怎樣？……誰曉得？許是死了。”掌柜也不再問，仍然慢慢的算他的賬。

 

“Yes， but after？”

 

“After？...Who knows？ He may be dead.”

 

My boss asked no further questions but went on slowly making up his accounts.

 

After the Mid-Autumn Festival the wind grew daily colder as winter approached， and even though I spent all my time by the stove I had to wear a padded jacket. One afternoon， when the tavern was deserted， as I sat with my eyes closed I heard the words：

 

“Warm a bowl of wine.”

 

It was said in a low but familiar voice. I opened my eyes. There was no one to be seen. I stood up to look out. There below the bar， facing the door，sat Kong Yiji. His face was thin and grimy—he looked a wreck. He had on a ragged lined jacket and was squatting cross-legged on a mat which was attached to his shoulders by a straw rope. When he saw me he repeated：

 

“Warm a bowl of wine.”

 

At this point my boss leaned over the bar to ask， “Is that Kong Yiji？ You still owe nineteen coppers. ”

 

“That...I’ll settle next time.” He looked up dejectedly. “Here’s cash. Give me some good wine.”

 

My boss， just as in the past， chuckled and said：

 

“Kong Yiji， you’ve been stealing again！”

 

But instead of stout denial， the answer simply was：

 

“Don’t joke with me.”

 

“Joke？ How did your legs get broken if you hadn’t been stealing？”

 

“I fell，” whispered Kong Yiji. “Broke them in a fall.” His eyes pleaded with the boss to let the matter drop. By now several people had gathered round， and they all laughed with the boss. I warmed the wine， carried it over， and set it on the threshold. He produced four coppers from his ragged coat pocket， and as he placed them in my hand I saw that his own hands were covered with mud—he must have crawled there on them. Presently he finished the wine and， to the accompaniment of taunts and laughter， slowly pushed himself off with his hands.

 

中秋過后，秋風(fēng)是一天涼比一天，看看將近初冬；我整天的靠著火，也須穿上棉祅了。一天的下半天，沒有一個(gè)顧客，我正合了眼坐著。忽然間聽得一個(gè)聲音，“溫一碗酒。”這聲音雖然極低，卻很耳熟?？磿r(shí)又全沒有人。站起來向外一望，那孔乙己便在柜臺(tái)下對(duì)了門檻坐著。他臉上黑而且痩，已經(jīng)不成樣子；穿一件破夾祅，盤著兩腿，下面墊一個(gè)蒲包，用草繩在肩上掛??；見了我，又說道，“溫一碗酒。”掌柜也伸出頭去，一面說，“孔乙己么？你還欠十九個(gè)錢呢！”孔乙己很頹唐的仰面答道，“這……下回還清罷。這一回是現(xiàn)錢，酒要好。”掌柜仍然同平常一樣，笑著對(duì)他說，“孔乙己，你又偷了東西了！”但他這回卻不十分分辯，單說了一句“不要取笑！”“取笑？要是不偷，怎么會(huì)打斷腿？”孔乙己低聲說道，“跌斷，跌，跌……”他的眼色，很像懇求掌柜，不要再提。此時(shí)已經(jīng)聚集了幾個(gè)人，便和掌柜都笑了。我溫了酒，端出去，放在門檻上。他從破衣袋里摸出四文大錢，放在我手里，見他滿手是泥，原來他便用這手走來的。不一會(huì)，他喝完酒，便又在旁人的說笑聲中，坐著用這手慢慢走去了。

 

A long time went by after that without our seeing Kong Yiji again. At the end of the year， when the boss took down the tally-board he said， “Kong Yiji still owes nineteen coppers.” At the Dragon-Boat Festival the next year he said the same thing again. But when the Mid-Autumn Festival arrived he was silent on the subject， and another New Year came round without our seeing any more of Kong Yiji.

 

Nor have I ever seen him since—no doubt Kong Yiji really is dead.

 

Mar-19

 

自此以后，又長(zhǎng)久沒有看見孔乙己。到了年關(guān)，掌柜取下粉板說，“孔乙己還欠十九個(gè)錢呢！”到第二年的端午，又說“孔乙己還欠十九個(gè)錢呢！”到中秋可是沒有說，再到年關(guān)也沒有看見他。

 

我到現(xiàn)在終于沒有見——大約孔乙己的確死了。

 

一九一九年三月。