作品原文

张爱玲 《有女同车》

这是句句真言，没有经过一点剪裁与润色的，所以不能算小说。

电车这一头坐着两个洋装女子，大约是杂种人吧，不然就是葡萄牙人，像是洋行里的女打字员。说话的这一个偏于胖，腰间束着三寸宽的黑漆皮带，皮带下面有圆圆的肚子，细眉毛，肿眼泡，因为脸庞上半部比较突出，上下截然分为两部。她道：“……所以我就一个礼拜没同他说话。他说‘哈罗’，我也说‘哈罗’。”她冷冷地抬了抬眉毛，连带地把整个上半截脸往上托了一托。“你知道，我的脾气是倔强的。是我有理的时候，我总是倔强的。”

电车那一头也有个女人说到“他”，可是她的他不是恋人而是儿子，因为这是个老板娘模样的中年太太，梳个乌油油的髻，戴着时行的独粒头喷漆红耳环。听她说话的许是她的内侄。她说一句，他点一点头，表示领会，她也点一点头，表示语气的加重。她道：“我要翻翻行头，伊弗拨我翻。难我讲我铜钿弗拨伊用哉！格日子拉电车浪，我教伊买票，伊哪哼话？……‘侬拨我十块洋钿，我就搭侬买？’坏咈？……”这里的“伊”，仿佛是个不成材的丈夫，但是再听下去，原来是儿子。儿子终于做下了更荒唐的事，得罪了母亲：“伊爸爸一定要伊跪下来，‘跪呀，跪呀！’伊定规弗肯：‘我做啥要跪啊？’一个末讲：‘定规要侬跪。跪呀！跪呀！’难后来伊强弗过咧：‘好格，好格，我跪！’我说：‘我弗要伊跪。我弗要伊跪呀！’后来旁边人讲：价大格人，跪下来，阿要难为情，难末喊伊送杯茶，讲一声：‘姆妈覅要动气。’一杯茶送得来，我倒‘叭’笑出来哉！”

电车上的女人使我悲怆。女人……女人一辈子讲的是男人，念的是男人，怨的是男人，永远永远。

作品译文

With the Women on the Tram
Eileen Chang

Every word of what follows is true, without the slightest tailoring or embellishment, and cannot be considered fiction.

There were two women dressed in western style sitting on this side of the tram, probably of mixed race or else Portuguese, who looked like they were typists working for a foreign firm. The women speaking was a bit plump, with a three-inch-wide black patent leather belt cinched around her waist and a round belly below. She had slender eyebrows, bags under her eyes, and because her forehead was rather prominent, her face seemed to be divided into two distinct halves. She said, “And so I haven’t spoken to him for a whole week. If he says ‘hello,’ I say ‘hello.’” She arched her eyebrows in a sneer, and the upper half of her face ascended along with them, “You know how stubborn I can be. When I know I’m in the right, I’m always stubborn.”

On the other side of the tram sat another woman speaking of some other “him,” only her “him” was not a lover but a son. She was middle-aged married woman, who looked like the proprietress of a little shop. Her hair was combed back in a lustrous black bun, and a pair of fashionable red lacquer earrings dangled from her ears. The young man listening to her speak must have been her nephew. With each sentence, he nodded his head in sympathy, and then the woman would nod again for emphasis. She said: “I wanted to update my wardrobe, but he wouldn’t let me. So I told him he wouldn’t be getting any spending money from me. The other day we were on the tram, and I told him to buy us tickets. And what do you think he said? ‘Sure, I’ll buy you tickets if you give me ten dollars!’ Awful, isn’t he?”

At first, it seemed that the “he” in question was a worthless husband, but as she went on it became clear that “he” was really her son. Evidently, he had perpetrated some other enormity to offend his mother: “His father insisted that he get down on his knees. ‘Get down on your knees, get down!’ But he refused to give in. ‘Why should I?’ So his father said to him: ‘You are going to get down on your knees and beg for her forgiveness! Go on! Get down!’ It took a long time, but after a while he just couldn’t fight anymore: ‘All right, all right. I’ll do it.’ Which is when I said: ‘I don’t want him to see him on his knees. I don’t want him to do it.” And all the others were saying:
‘He’s all grown up now. It’d be too humiliating for him to get down on his knees. Why don’t you just have him bring you a cup of tea and say something like “Mama, please don’t be angry with me anymore.’” And so he ended up bringing me a cup of tea, and when he came up to me, I couldn’t help laughing out loud….”

The women on the tram filled me with sorrow. Women—women whose lives are consumed in talking about men, thinking about men, resenting men, now and forever.