作品原文

冰心 《梦》

她回想起童年的生涯，真是如同一梦罢了！穿着黑色带金线的军服，佩着一柄短短的军刀，骑在很高大的白马上，在海岸边缓辔徐行的时候，心里只充满了壮美的快感，几曾想到现在的自己，是这般的静寂，只拿着一枝笔儿，写她幻想中的情绪呢？
她男装到了十岁，十岁以前，她父亲常常带她去参与那军人娱乐的宴会。朋友们一见都夸奖说，“好英武的一个小军人！今年几岁了？”父亲先一面答应着，临走时才微笑说，“他是我的儿子，但也是我的女儿。”
她会打走队的鼓，会吹召集的喇叭。知道毛瑟枪里的机关。也会将很大的炮弹，旋进炮腔里。五六年父亲身畔无意中的训练，真将她做成很矫健的小军人了。
别的方面呢？平常女孩子所喜好的事，她却一点都不爱。这也难怪她，她的四围并没有别的女伴，偶然看见山下经过的几个村里的小姑娘，穿着大红大绿的衣裳，裹着很小的脚。匆匆一面里，她无从知道她们平居的生活。而且她也不把这些印象，放在心上。一把刀，一匹马，便堪过尽一生了！女孩子的事，是何等的琐碎烦腻呵！当探海的电灯射在浩浩无边的大海上，发出一片一片的寒光，灯影下，旗影下，两排儿沉豪英毅的军官，在剑佩锵锵的声里，整齐严肃的一同举起杯来，祝中国万岁的时候，这光景，是怎样的使人涌出慷慨的快乐眼泪呢？
她这梦也应当到了醒觉的时候了！人生就是一梦么？
十岁回到故乡去，换上了女孩子的衣服，在姊妹群中，学到了女儿情性：五色的丝线，是能做成好看的活计的；香的，美丽的花，是要插在头上的；镜子是妆束完时要照一照的；在众人中间坐着，是要说些很细腻很温柔的话的；眼泪是时常要落下来的。女孩子是总有点脾气，带点娇贵的样子的。
这也是很新颖，很能造就她的环境——但她父亲送给她的一把佩刀，还长日挂在窗前。拔出鞘来，寒光射眼，她每每呆住了。白马呵，海岸呵，荷枪的军人呵……模糊中有无穷的怅惘。姊妹们在窗外唤她，她也不出去了。站了半天，只掉下几点无聊的眼泪。
她后悔么？也许是，但有谁知道呢！军人的生活，是怎样的造就了她的性情呵！黄昏时营幕里吹出来的笳声，不更是抑扬凄婉么？世界上软款温柔的境地，难道只有女孩儿可以占有么？海上的月夜，星夜，眺台独立倚枪翘首的时候：沉沉的天幕下，人静了，海也浓睡了，——“海天以外的家！”这时的情怀，是诗人的还是军人的呢？是两缕悲壮的丝交纠之点呵！
除了几点无聊的英雄泪，还有甚么？她安于自己的境地了！生命如果是圈儿般的循环，或者便从“将来”，又走向“过去”的道上去，但这也是无聊呵！
十年深刻的印象，遗留于她现在的生活中的，只是矫强的性质了——她依旧是喜欢看那整齐的步伐，听那悲壮的军笳。但与其说她是喜欢看，喜欢听，不如说她是怕看，怕听罢。
横刀跃马，和执笔沉思的她，原都是一个人，然而时代将这些事隔开了……
童年！只是一个深刻的梦么？

作品译文

Dreamlike Childhood
Bing Xin

Whenever she looks back on the past, her childhood always seems to be a mere dream! How in those days it used to fill her heart with great pleasure to find herself the very picture of magnificent beauty when, clad in a gold-threaded naval uniform and armed with a saber at her waist, she ambled along with a loose rein on a giant of a white horse, little knowing that she would someday be reduced to being a solitary writer wielding the pen to depict her dreams and emotions!
She was always dressed like a male child until she was ten. Before that, her father would often take her with him when he attended dinner parties arranged for the recreation of servicemen. Her father’s friends, the moment they saw her, would praise her by saying, “What a heroic little soldier! How old are you now?” Her father would end up the small talk smilingly with, “She’s my son as well as my daughter.”
She learned how to beat the drum for soldiers marching in parade and blow the bugle for fall-in. She was familiar with the mechanism of a Mauser. She also knew how to feed a big shell into the barrel of a cannon. True, the five to six years of military training she received inadvertently by the side of her father ended up in making a sprightly little soldier of her.
And what’s more, she didn’t share the same likes with ordinary girls. That was nothing unusual because, being the only little girl in the neighborhood, she had no female playmates at all. Occasionally she caught glimpses of some young country girls, dressed in bright green or red and with bound feet, trudging past below the mountain. But she had no way of knowing their day-to-day life, and nor did she give much thought to what she saw. The saber, the horse -- that was what she would like to have for lifelong company. Things about young females – how trivial and boring they seemed to her! With the boundless expanse of the ocean gleaming coldly now here and now there under the radiance of the searchlight, steadfast naval officers, standing in two rows under the light and flag, would solemnly raise their glasses in unison to drink to their motherland amidst the rattle of sabers. Fancy the very scene moving her to copious tears of joy!
Soon it was about time for her to wake up from the dream! After all, life is a dream, isn’t it?
After she returned to her native place at the age of ten, she began to dress like a girl and, through associating with her young female relatives, gradually learned the girlish ways of thinking and behavior. For instance, silk thread of all colors was fancied for beautiful needlework; fragrant brilliant flowers should be put in hair for decoration; dressing should be followed by taking a look in a mirror; when sitting among a crowd, a girl should speak in a soft and delicate tone; she should be lachrymose and normally somewhat petulant like a pampered child.
The new surroundings, however, were also conducive to her upbringing. But the saber, given her by her father, was still hanging by her window. She would be struck by its cold gleam whenever she unsheathed it. Ah, the white horse, the seashore, the soldiers carrying rifles on their shoulders … how the vague memories would bring her infinite anxiety and sadness! When her young female relatives called to her from outside the window, she would refuse to leave her room. She would instead stand inside for hours, nostalgic tears trickling down in drops.
Was she overcome with regret? Maybe, but who knows! How the military life had shaped her disposition! How rhythmical and plaintive the bugle sounded from the barracks at twilight! Were tender feelings and soft passions exclusive to young girls? Imagine on a starry night on the moonlit sea, a lone soldier on duty at the watch tower, gun in hand and head up. And all was quiet under the dark sky and the sea was sound asleep. “Home beyond the sea and sky!” At a moment like this, the poet and the soldier in her would co-exist like two spectacular strands of silk twisted together!
What else could she do except weep a few futile heroic tears? She had to reconcile herself to the present way of life. How nice it would be if she could have her life to live over again! But that was mere fantasy!
Now what the ten unforgettable years has left her is a strong character. She is still fond of watching soldiers march in step and hearing the solemn and stirring call of a bugle. Nay, that’s not what she is so much fond as afraid of watching.
Whether wielding a sword on galloping horse or holding a pen in deep thought, she is the same person. Only time has made all the difference…
Childhood! It’s an indelible dream, isn’t it?