《换生灵及其他故事》开篇：英文原著带中文翻译

He might have been a hundred years away, he thought, as he sped along the road on the jaunting-car; he might have been a hundred years away instead of a meager dozen, so strange did everything appear to him. Every turn of the way, every stone, every smoking farm-house, every green field, was new. Even the sea to the right of him, beside which he had played for nineteen years, was dramatically unexpected. Faintly the whole landscape came back to him; hazily, as though he were seeing for the first time a scene that had been inadequately described in a book.

他坐在轻便马车上沿路疾驰，心想，自己仿佛已离开一百年，而不是区区十二年，因为眼前一切都显得那么陌生。路上的每一个转弯，每一块石头，每一座冒着炊烟的农舍，每一片碧绿的田野，都是新的。就连他右侧那片海，那片他曾在旁边玩耍了十九年的海，也出乎意料地陌生。整片风景隐隐约约地回到他心中，朦朦胧胧，仿佛他第一次看到一处只在书里被草草描述过的景色。

First, there was the road itself, broad, undulating, rising and falling, like an artist's fancy. Then, right and left, fields of delicate blue-green corn, soft as no carpet could be; and great meadows of hay, sprinkled with white and red clover; long stretches of potatoes with delicate pink and mauve flowers; and here and there a gnarled apple orchard. Huge chestnut trees lined the way, and mellow farm-houses showed cozily, with their dun thatched roofs. Cows grazed in the distance—shining, mottled Jerseys and stocky Kerrys, black as ink.

首先是那条路本身，宽阔起伏，时高时低，如同艺术家的想象。接着，左右两边是娇嫩的蓝绿色玉米田，柔软得胜过任何地毯。大片干草草地，点缀着白色和红色的三叶草。长长的马铃薯田里开着娇嫩的粉色和淡紫色花朵。偶尔还有一片扭曲的苹果园。巨大的栗树夹道而立，柔和的农舍顶着暗褐色茅草屋顶，显得舒适宜人。远处有牛在吃草，有光亮斑驳的泽西牛，也有墨黑结实的凯里牛。

In the background the purple Mourne Mountains loomed like strange giants; and beside him the sea plashed musically, with a sound reminiscent of the chiming of bells. It was all surprisingly mellow, surprisingly rich, like the land which the spies of Joshua reported to lie past the Jordan's banks. Grant's eyebrows raised in puzzlement.

背景里，紫色的莫恩山脉像奇异的巨人般隐隐耸立。他身旁，海水拍打作响，富有音乐感，让人想起钟声齐鸣。一切都柔和得惊人，丰饶得惊人，就像约书亚派去的探子所报告的那片约旦河对岸之地。格兰特困惑地扬起了眉毛。

The brick-faced driver looked at him with a horseman's shrewd eyes.

那位红脸膛的赶车人用一双熟悉马匹的精明眼睛看着他。

"I knew you the first time I put eyes on you," he said in his clipped Ulster accent. "You 're Thomas Grant's son—Willie John—that went away to America twelve years ago last March. And why should n't I know you? Many 's the time I drove you when you were that high." He gave the dapper little mare a flick of the whip. "I suppose you 'll be settling down and staying at home now?" he asked.

「我第一眼看见你就认出你了，」他带着阿尔斯特人那种短促的口音说。「你是托马斯·格兰特的儿子，威利·约翰，去年三月间离开这里去美国，到现在十二年了。我怎么会认不出你？你当年才那么高的时候，我不知多少次赶车送你。」他轻轻抽了那匹利落的小母马一鞭。「我猜你现在要安顿下来，留在家里了吧？」他问道。

"No; I don't think I will," Grant answered; and he smiled as he heard his voice slip into the musical singsong it had n't known for many years. "I 'll be going back in a month or so."

「不，我想我不会，」格兰特回答。他听见自己的声音滑进多年未有的那种音乐般的抑扬调子，不禁笑了。「我一个月左右就要回去。」

They whipped along past the sea for another mile, the little mare's hoofs striking the white road as true and as staccato as drumsticks. A strip of salt-marsh spun toward them. Eastward, over the sea, a flock of birds hove. Their wings flapped wearily, and as they flew landward they uttered faint whimpering cries.

他们沿着海边又疾驰了一英里，小母马的蹄子敲在白色道路上，准确而短促，像鼓槌一样。一片盐沼迎面旋转而来。向东，海面上空，一群鸟出现了。它们的翅膀疲倦地拍打着，飞向陆地时发出微弱的呜咽叫声。

"The wild geese." The driver pointed them out with his whip. "They're coming back to the marsh. They 're queer birds."

「野鹅。」赶车人用鞭子指了指它们。「它们正回到沼泽来。它们是些古怪的鸟。」

Grant watched them as they came. Their cries came sharp and complaining through the air, high-pitched, querulous, turbulent. And still there seemed to be something satisfied in them, like the sobbing of a child who has received what he wants but cannot stop for a moment.

格兰特看着它们飞来。它们的叫声尖锐而抱怨，高高地穿过空气，急躁、哀怨、纷乱。可其中似乎又有某种满足，像一个孩子得到了想要的东西，却一时停不下来，只能抽泣。

"I often heard my grandfather say—and it's little he did n't know about birds," the driver went on "that there is n't a queerer bird in the world than the barnacle goose. The moment they can fly they 'll leave the country. My grandfather saw them in Egypt, and he saw them in France, traveling all the time; but they can never get the taste of the Irish marshes out of their mouths, and they come back. The young ones go and the old ones stay. Even a bird does n't get sense until it's taught."

「我常听我祖父说，他对鸟的事知道得可不少，」赶车人继续说，「世上没有比藤壶鹅更古怪的鸟了。它们一能飞就会离开这个国家。我祖父在埃及见过它们，也在法国见过它们，一直在旅行。可它们永远没法把爱尔兰沼泽的味道从嘴里忘掉，于是又回来。年轻的走，年老的留。就连鸟也得有人教才有见识。」