作品原文

茅盾 《叩门》

答，答，答！

我从梦中跳醒来。

——有谁在叩我的门？我迷惘地这么想。我侧耳静听，声音没有了。头上的电灯洒一些淡黄的光在我的惺忪的脸上。纸窗和帐子依然是那么沉静。

我翻了个身，朦胧地又将入梦，突然那声音又将我唤醒。在答，答的小响外，这次我又听得了呼——呼——的巨声。是北风的怒吼罢？抑是“人”的觉醒？我不能决定。但是我的血沸腾。我似乎已经飞出了房间，跨在北风的颈上，砉然驱驰于长空！

然而巨声却又模糊了，低微了，消失了；蜕化下来的只是一段寂寞的虚空。

——只因为是虚空，所以才有那样的巨声呢！我哑然失笑，明白我是受了哄。

我睁大了眼，紧裹在沉思中。许多面孔，错落地在我眼前跳舞；许多人声，嘈杂地在我耳边争讼。蓦地一切都寂灭了，依然是那答，答，答的小声从窗边传来，像有人在叩门。

“是谁呢？有什么事？”

我不耐烦地呼喊了。但是没有回音。

我捻灭了电灯。窗外是青色的天空内耀着几点寒星。这样的夜半，该不会有什么人来叩门，我想；而且果真是有什么人呀，那也一定是妄人：这样唤醒了人，却没有回音。

但是打断了我的感想，现在门外是殷殷然有些像雷鸣。自然不是蚊雷。蚊子的确还有，可是躲在暗角里，早失却了成雷的气势。我也明知道不是真雷，那在目前也还是太早。我在被窝内翻了个身，把左耳朵贴在枕头上，心里凝惑这殷殷然的声音只是我的耳朵的自鸣。然而忽地，又是——

答，答，答！

这第三次的叩声，在冷空气中扩散开来，格外地响，颇带些凄厉的气氛。我无论如何再耐不住了，我跳起身来，拉开了门往外望。

什么也没有。镰刀形的月亮在门前池中送出冷冷的微光，池畔的一排樱树，裸露在凝冻了的空气中，轻轻地颤着。

什么也没有，只一条黑狗爬在门口，侧着头，像是在那里偷听什么，现在是很害羞似的垂了头，慢慢地挨到檐前的地板下，把嘴巴藏在毛茸茸的颈间，缩做了一堆。

我暂时可怜这灰色的畜生，虽然一个忿忿的怒斥掠过我的脑膜：

是你这工于吠声吠形的东西，丑人作怪似的惊醒了人，却只给人们一个空虚！

英文译文

The Knocking
Mao Dun

Tap, tap, tap.

I awoke from my dream with a start.

“Who’s that knocking at the door?” I wondered, at a loss to know. I strained my ears and listened intently. There wasn’t a sound. The lamp overhead gave out a pallid glow, shining dimly on my face, still half asleep. The paper windows and hanging scroll remained as still and silent as before.

I turned over, and was about to drift back hazily into my dream when suddenly the sound awoke me again. This time, besides that slight tap-tapping, I could hear also a great howling sound. Was it the angry roar of the North Wind? Or the awakening of Man? I couldn’t be sure. But my blood surged with exhilaration, as if I had already flown out of the room, straddled the neck of the North Wind and galloped off into space.

Yet that great sound became indistinct again, became fainter, and disappeared; all that remained from this metamorphosis was a lonely void.

“That great sound only happened precisely because there was this void for it to fill in the first place,” I laughed, realising that I’d been fooled.

Eyes wide open now, I became immersed in thought. A multitude of faces danced randomly before my eyes, whilst in my ears, a cacophony of voices fought to be heard. Then, suddenly, everything vanished, and there was that little tap, tap, tapping again, coming from over by the window, as if someone was knocking at the door.

“Who’s there? What’s the matter?” I shouted impatiently. But there was no reply.

I put out the light. Outside the window, a few cold stars shimmered in the blue-black sky. No-one should be knocking at my door at this time of the night, I thought. And even suppose someone really were doing so, it must surely be an ignorant good-for-nothing—waking people up like this yet giving no reply.

Yet these musings were cut short again—this time, the sound from outside my door was a rumbling, like the sound of thunder. Naturally, it couldn’t be the thunderous din of mosquitoes. Certainly, there were mosquitoes around, but they were all hidden in dark corners, long since having lost any impetus to make such a sound. I knew too that it wasn’t real thunder, for it was still too early for that just then. I turned over under my quilt, pressing my left ear firmly into the pillow, suspecting that this rumbling was nothing more than a ringing in my ears. Yet suddenly, there it was again: that tap, tap, tap!

This third time, the knocking seemed to spread through the cold air, more penetrating than ever, bringing with it a sense of mournful desolation. I could stand it no longer: I leapt up, flung open the door and stared outside.

There was nothing. The faint light of a sickle moon shone cold and dim in the pond beyond my door, whilst a row of cherry trees, bare and denuded, trembled slightly in the frozen air.

There was nothing; nothing except a black dog cringing in the doorway, its head cocked, as if eavesdropping son something. Now it hung its head, as if abashed, sidling slowly off to the floor under the eaves, burying its muzzle in its soft furry neck, withdrawing into a heap.

I felt a momentary sense of pity for this ashen beast, but then my mind was seized by a furious reproach:

You wretched cur—only fit to follow the rest of the pack. You wake people up, startling them in their deep sleep like an apparition; and yet all you leave them with is a void.