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Message of the Land---- Pira Sudham

Yes, these are our rice fields. They belonged to my parents and forefathers. The land is more than three centuries old. I'm the only daughter in our family and it was I who stayed with my parents till they died. My three brothers moved out to their wives' houses when they got married. My husband moved into our house as is the way with us in Esarn. I was then eighteen and he was nineteen. He gave me six children. Two died in infancy from sickness. The rest, two boys and two girls, went away as soon as we could afford to buy jeans for them. Our oldest son got a job as a gardener in a rich man's home in Bangkok but later an employment agency sent him to a foreign land to work. My other son also went far away.

One of our daughters is working in a textile factory in Bangkok, and the other has a job in a store. They come home to see us now and then, stay a few days, and then they are off again. Often they send some money to us and tell us that they are doing well. I know this is not always true. Sometimes, they get bullied and insulted, and it is like a knife piercing my heart. It's easier for my husband. He has ears which don't hear, a mouth which doesn't speak, and eyes that don't see. He has always been patient and silent, minding his own life.

All of them remain my children in spite of their long absence. Maybe it's fate that sent them away from us. Our piece of land is small, and it is no longer fertile, bleeding year after year and, like us, getting old and exhausted. Still my husband and I work on this land. The soil is not difficult to till when there is a lot of rain, but in a bad year, it's not only the ploughs that break but our hearts, too.

No, we two haven't changed much, but the village has. In what way? Only ten years ago, you could barter for things, but now it's all cash. Years ago, you could ask your neighbors to help build your house, reap the rice or dig a well. Now they'll do it only if you have money to pay them. Plastic things replace village crafts. Men used to make things with fine bamboo pieces, but no longer. Plastic bags litter the village. Shops have sprung up, filled with colorful plastic things and goods we have no use for. The young go away to towns and cities leaving us old people to work on the land. They think differently, I know, saying that the old are old-fashioned. All my life, I have never had to go to a hairdresser, or to paint my lips or nails. These rough fingers and toes are for working in the mud of our rice fields, not for looking pretty. Now young girls put on jeans, and look like boys and they think it is fashionable. Why, they are willing to sell their pig or water buffalo just to be able to buy a pair of jeans. In my day, if I were to put on a pair of trousers like they do now, lightning would strike me.

I know, times have changed, but certain things should not change. We should offer food to the monks every day, go to the temple regularly. Young people tend to leave these things to old people now, and that's a shame.

Why, only the other day I heard a boy shout and scream at his mother. If that kind of thing had happened when I was young, the whole village would have condemned such an ungrateful son, and his father would surely have given him a good beating.

As for me, I wouldn't change, couldn't change even if I wanted to. Am I happy or unhappy? This question has never occurred to me. Life simply goes on. Yes, this bag of bones dressed in rags can still plant and reap rice from morning till dusk. Disease, wounds, hardship and scarcity have always been part of my life. I don't complain.

The farmer: My wife is wrong. My eyes do see—they see more than they should. My ears do hear—they hear more than is good for me. I don't talk about what I know because I know too much. I know for example, greed, anger, and lust are the root of all evils.

I am at peace with the land and the conditions of my life. But I feel a great pity for my wife. I have been forcing silence upon her all these years, yet she has not once complained of anything.

I wanted to have a lot of children and grandchildren around me but now cities and foreign lands have attracted my children away and it seems that none of them will ever come back to live here again. To whom shall I give these rice fields when I die? For hundreds of years this strip of land has belonged to our family. I know every inch of it. My children grew up on it, catching frogs and mud crabs and gathering flowers. Still the land could not tie them down or call them back. When each of them has a pair of jeans, they are off like birds on the wing.

Fortunately, my wife is still with me, and both of us are still strong. Wounds heal over time. Sickness comes and goes, and we get back on our feet again. I never want to leave this land. It's nice to feel the wet earth as my fingers dig into the soil, planting rice, to hear my wife sighing, "Old man, if I die first, I shall become a cloud to protect you from the sun." It's good to smell the scent of ripening rice in November. The soft cool breeze moves the sheaves, which ripple and shimmer like waves of gold. Yes, I love this land and I hope one of my children comes back one day to live, and gives me grandchildren so that I can pass on the land's secret messages to them.

参考译文

关于土地

是的，我家的稻田在那里，它们属于我的父母和祖先们，这片土地有三百多年的历史了。

我是家中唯一的姑娘，同父母一起生活，直到他们去世。三位兄长成家后，都住到各自妻子家去。

按照伊桑的风俗，我的丈夫也来到我家生活。当时我18岁，他19岁。我们生育了六个孩子，其中两个因病夭折，活下来的是两个儿子和两个女儿，在我能为他们买得起牛仔裤的时候，他们就远走高飞了。长子得到了一份工作，是在曼谷的一个富人家里做园丁，后来被一家职业介绍所派往国外工作。另一个儿子也远走他乡。

我的一个女儿现在在曼谷一家纺织厂上班，另一个在商店上班。她们不时地回家看我，住上几天，然后又走了。她们经常会给我寄钱，告诉我她们过得很好。我知道，这并不都是真的。有时，她们会被欺负、遭受侮辱，这时，我的心就会像被刀子刺穿一样难受。我丈夫就好多了，他有耳听不到，有嘴不能说，右眼不能看，永远有耐心，永远沉默着。

尽管他们总是离家很久，我还是这么关爱我的孩子们。或许是命运吧，它把我的孩子们从我身边带到远方。我家的那块田很小，已不再肥沃，年复一年地流失养分，就像我们日益变老、衰竭。尽管如此，我和丈夫还在这里劳作，雨水多时，耕作并不难。年景不好时，断裂破碎的，不只是犁铧，还有我们的心。

没有，我们两个都没什么变化，变化的是这个村庄。是怎么变的呢？十年前，人们还是物物交换，但是现在，全用钞票了。几年前，可以请邻居帮忙盖房子、收稻谷、挖井。而现在，要付钱才行。塑料用品取代了村子里的手工艺品。过去，人们用精美的竹片做东西，但是现在已不复存在。村子里，塑料袋扔的满地都是。雨后春笋般地出现了一些商店，出售着花花绿绿的塑料用品，以及我们用不着的东西。年轻人们进城去了，留下我们这群老人，守着这片土地。我知道，他们有自己的想法，觉得老年人都过时了。我一辈子都没去

过理发店，没涂过口红，没染过指甲。我们粗糙的手指和脚趾是用来在稻田里劳作的，不是为了美丽。现在，年轻的姑娘们穿着牛仔裤，看起来跟男孩似的，她们认为这就是时髦。为什么，他们愿意把猪、水牛给卖了，仅仅是为了买条牛仔裤？在我们当年，要是我想她们现在这样穿上牛仔裤，将会引起轩然大波。

我知道，时代已经变了，但是有的东西不该变化。我们应该每天为僧侣施舍饭食，定期去寺庙。现在年轻人们总是把这些东西抛给老年人，这是可耻的。

为什么？那天我听到一个男孩朝自己的母亲大吼大叫。如果我年轻时有这样的事，全村人肯定会指责这样不知好歹的儿子，他的父亲肯定给他一顿好打。

至于我，我还没变，即使我想改变，也不会的。我过得幸福，还是不幸福呢？我从来不会去想这样的问题。日子平淡地过着，这幅破旧衣服下的老身骨还能起早贪黑地种地、收稻子。疾病、受伤、困苦、缺吃少穿从来与我无缘。我从不抱怨。

农夫：我妻子说的不对。我的双眼可以看见东西--甚至还可看到视野之外的东西。我的双耳可以听到声音--除了能听到好话，也能听到不值得听的。我不会谈我所知道的东西，因为我知道的太多。比如，我知道什么是贪婪、生气，也知道欲望是所有罪恶的根源。

对土地和生活境况，我保持着平和的态度。但是对妻子，我感到十分遗憾。这些年我被迫对她保持沉默，然而她从不抱怨什么。

我曾希望有一群儿孙绕膝，但是现在，城市和外国把他们吸引去，看来没人想回来过日子了。我是不是应该在临死时把这些稻田留给他们？几百年来，这片土地都属于我家。我对它非常了解，我的孩子们就在这里长大，他们在田间捉青蛙、逮螃蟹、采花儿。然而这片土地却不能拴住他们，也不能把他们唤回。当他们个个都穿上牛仔裤时，就都像鸟儿一样地飞走了。

还好，老伴儿还在身边，我们俩都还很硬朗。随着时间的流逝，伤口愈合了。疾病来了又去，我们一次次地振作起来。我从不想离开这片土地，向泥土深处挖去，用手指感受湿润的泥土，听着老伴儿叹息道，“老家伙，要是我先死，我会化作一片云，遮挡着你免受日晒，” 这样的感觉多美好！十一月里，闻着快要成熟的稻米的香味，多惬意啊！微微的凉风吹过稻穗，稻田里泛起波浪，发出金子般的微光。是的，我爱这片土地，我希望哪个孩子有一天回来生活，为我传宗接代，这样我就可以把这土地的信息传给他们。

词汇释义

1.barter n. 物物交换,实物交易 v. 物物交换,交换

例句：
The colonists bartered calico for Indian land.
殖民者以印花布交换印地安人的土地。

2.breeze n. 微风,轻而易举的事

例句：
The wheat rippled in the breeze.
小麦在微风中起伏波动。

3.hardship n. 艰难,困苦

例句：
Hardship disposes man to meet adversity.
艰苦能让人适应逆境。

4.pierce v. 刺穿,穿透,洞悉

例句：
The needle pierced her finger.
针刺进了她的手指。

5.ripple n. 涟波,涟漪,波纹 v. 使...起涟漪,起微波,起潺潺声

例句：
The breeze rippled the quiet water.
微风吹皱了平静的水面。

6.sheaf n. 束

例句：
The speaker had a sheaf of notes on the desk in front of him.
演讲者在他面前的桌子上放着一叠笔记。

词组讲解

1.belong to v. 属于

例句：
Does this radio belong to you?
这台收音机是你的吗？

2.now and then adv.偶尔

例句：
I like to go to the opera now and then.
我喜欢偶尔去看歌剧.

3.in spite of adv.尽管

例句：
She came in spite of her cold.
她虽然着凉还是来了。

4.used to v. 惯常, 惯于

例句：
We used to go there every year.
我每年都去那儿。

5.spring up v.发生, 萌芽, 生长, 出现

例句：
After world war II, new nations spring up like bamboo shoots after spring rain.
二战以后，新国家如同雨后春笋似地出现。

6.pity for v. 怜悯某人

例句：
I pity her for her helplessness.
我因她的无助而觉得她可怜。