松尾芭蕉

Long， long ago there lived at the foot of the mountain a poor farmer and his aged， widowed mother. They owned a bit of land which supplied them with food， and they were humble， peaceful， and happy.

Shining was governed by a despotic2 leader who though a warrior， had a great and cowardly shrinking from anything suggestive of3 failing health and strength. This caused him to send out a cruel proclamation. The entire province was given strict orders to immediately put to death all aged people. Those were barbarous days， and the custom of abandoning old people to die was not uncommon. The poor farmer loved his aged mother with tender reverence， and the order filled his heart with sorrow. But no one ever thought twice about4 obeying the mandate of the governor， so with many deep and hopeless sighs， the youth prepared for what at that time was considered the kindest mode of death.

Just at sundown， when his days work was ended， he took a quantity of5 unwhitened rice6 which was the principal food for the poor， and he cooked， dried it， and tied it in a square cloth， which he swung in a bundle around his neck along with a gourd filled with cool， sweet water. Then he lifted his helpless old mother to his back and started on his painful journey up the mountain. The road was long and steep; the narrow road was crossed and re-crossed by many paths made by the hunters and woodcutters. In some place， they got lost and confused， but he gave no heed. One path or another， it mattered not. On he went， climbing blindly upward―ever upward towards the high bare summit of what is known as Obatsuyama， the mountain of the “abandoning of the aged.”

The eyes of the old mother were not so dim but that they noted the reckless hastening from one path to another， and her loving heart grew anxious. Her son did not know the mountains many paths and his return might be one of danger， so she stretched forth her hand and snapping the twigs from brushes as they passed. She quietly dropped a handful every few steps of the way so that as they climbed， the narrow path behind them was dotted at frequent intervals with tiny piles of twigs. At last the summit was reached. Weary and heart sick， the youth gently released his burden and silently prepared a place of comfort as his last duty to the loved one. Gathering fallen pine needles， he made a soft cushion and tenderly lifted his old mother onto it. He wrapped7 her padded coat more closely about the stooping8 shoulders and with tearful eyes and an aching heart he said farewell.

The trembling mothers voice was full of unselfish love as she gave her last injunction. “Let not thine9 eyes be blinded， my son.” She said. “The mountain road is full of dangers. LOOK carefully and follow the path which holds the piles of twigs. They will guide you to the familiar path farther down”. The sons surprised eyes looked back over the path， then at the poor old， shriveled hands all scratched and soiled by their work of love. His heart broke within and bowing to the ground， he cried aloud： “oh， Honorable mother， your kindness breaks my heart！ I will not leave you. Together we will follow the path of twigs， and together we will die！”

Once more he shouldered his burden （how light it seemed now） and hastened down the path， through the shadows and the moonlight， to the little hut in the valley. Beneath the kitchen floor was a walled closet for food， which was covered and hidden from view. There the son hid his mother， supplying her with everything she needed， continually watching and fearing she would be discovered. Time passed， and he was beginning to feel safe when again the governor sent forth heralds10 bearing an unreasonable order， seemingly as a boast of his power. His demand was that his subjects should present him with a rope of ashes.

The entire province trembled with dread. The order must be obeyed yet who in all Shining could make a rope of ashes？ One night， in great distress， the son whispered the news to his hidden mother. “Wait！” she said. “I will think. I will think.” On the second day she told him what to do. “Make rope of twisted straw，” she said. “Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it on a windless night.” He called the people together and did as she said and when the blaze died down11， there upon the stones， with every twist and fiber showing perfectly， lay a rope of ashes.

The governor was pleased at the wit of the youth and praised greatly， but he demanded to know where he had obtained his wisdom. “Alas！ Alas！” cried the farmer， “the truth must be told！” and with deep bows he related12 his story. The governor listened and then meditated in silence. Finally he lifted his head. “Shining needs more than strength of youth，” he said gravely. “Ah， that I should have forgotten the well-known saying， ‘with the crown of snow， there cometh wisdom！” That very hour the cruel law was abolished， and custom drifted into13 as far a past that only legends remain.

很久很久以前，大山腳下住著一位窮苦的農(nóng)夫和他寡居的老母。母子倆有一小塊兒田地賴以過活，生活簡樸、平靜而快樂。

西寧藩（音譯）受一位獨(dú)裁的領(lǐng)主統(tǒng)治。他盡管是武士出身，卻異常懼怕看到健康或體力出現(xiàn)一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)衰退的跡象。為此，他頒下一道殘酷的命令，嚴(yán)令處死全藩所有的老人。那還是野蠻時代，遺棄老人致死的風(fēng)俗并非罕見。這可憐的農(nóng)夫敬愛年老的母親，可這道命令讓他愁腸百結(jié)。說到執(zhí)行領(lǐng)主的敕令，無人敢猶豫不決。于是，在滿懷絕望的長吁短嘆之后，年輕人只好準(zhǔn)備以那時公認(rèn)最仁慈的死亡方式處置老母親。

日落時分，一俟收工，農(nóng)夫便取了一些糙米煮熟曬干，那是窮人家的主食，然后用一塊方布包好，和裝滿水的葫蘆一起掛在脖子上，那水清冽甘甜。他隨后便背起無助的老母親，開始了艱難的上山之旅。這條路又長又陡，窄窄的山道被獵戶和伐木工踩踏出一條又一條的岔路小徑。他們不知在何處迷了路，搞不清方向，但農(nóng)夫也不理會。走這條路還是那條路，這都無關(guān)緊要。他走啊，走啊，漫無目的地往上爬，這座因“棄老”而聞名的山叫作奧巴茲山（音譯），他朝那光禿禿的絕頂爬去。

老母親還不至兩眼昏花到覺察不出兒子因著急趕路而在各個小道間胡亂穿行。慈愛的母親不禁擔(dān)憂。兒子對山間這么多的羊腸小道并不熟，歸途難免遇險。行進(jìn)途中，她便伸出一只手去折灌木的嫩枝。兒子一邊爬，母親一邊悄悄地隔幾步就拋下一把枝條。這樣，他們身后的小道每隔一段都點(diǎn)綴著一小捆一小捆的枝子。終于到了山頂，年輕人又累又傷心，把母親輕輕放下，便一聲不響收拾了一處舒適的所在給慈母最后一次盡孝。他把掉落的松針收集起來，做成一個軟軟的墊子，抱起母親輕輕放在上面。他扶著母親略駝的肩背，幫她把棉襖裹得更緊了些，隨后含淚忍痛跟母親告別。

母親對兒子做了最后的囑托，老人家聲音顫抖，飽含無私的舐犢之情。“兒呀，你的眼睛可要亮堂。”她說，“山路兇險。仔細(xì)看清楚了，順著有一捆捆枝子的路走，就能找到那條熟悉的小路下山了?！眱鹤訚M眼驚訝，轉(zhuǎn)頭去望走過的路，又看看老母親那雙因?yàn)閹椭膼鄣膬鹤佣粍潅⑴K的手。他的心碎了。之后，他跪倒在地大聲哭道：“哦，好媽媽，您的愛讓兒子心都碎了！我不會丟下您不管，咱們一起沿著有樹枝的路走，就是死也要死在一道！”

兒子再一次背起母親（似乎現(xiàn)在很輕），沿著小路下山，穿過陰影和月光，回到了山谷里的小茅屋。廚房地板下有一間用來儲存食物的封閉地窖，蓋住了，不為人見。他把母親藏在那里，提供她所需的一切，一直小心謹(jǐn)慎，生怕她被人發(fā)現(xiàn)。光陰荏苒，就在他滿以為風(fēng)頭已過的時候，領(lǐng)主又派傳令官發(fā)布了一條不可理喻的命令，似乎就是為了耀武揚(yáng)威。他命令臣民呈交一根由灰燼做成的繩子。

全藩民眾都驚懼不已。敕令必須得到執(zhí)行，可是在西寧藩，誰能做出一根灰燼繩呢？一天夜里，兒子一籌莫展，把這事悄悄告訴了藏身地窖的母親。“等等！”她說，“讓我想想，讓我想想?！钡诙欤愀嬖V兒子該如何做?！鞍训静輸Q成繩子，”她說，“然后鋪在一排扁平石頭上，夜里無風(fēng)的時候用火燒了?！眱鹤咏衼硭泥?，按母親的辦法做?；鹈缦绾?，扁平石上露出一根灰燼繩，每一處扭結(jié)、每一根纖維都看得清清楚楚。

領(lǐng)主對年輕人的才智很滿意，贊嘆不已，但要他交代怎么想出這么絕妙的法子?！鞍?，唉，”農(nóng)夫叫道，“我一定說實(shí)話！”他深深鞠了幾躬，把事情原原本本講了出來。領(lǐng)主聽完默默思考。最終，他抬起了頭?！拔鲗幏粌H僅需要年輕人的力量?！彼麌?yán)肅地說，“唉，我真不該忘了那句有名的諺語：‘頭白似雪，智慧自來！”殘酷的法令立即廢除，棄老的風(fēng)俗也自然變成久遠(yuǎn)的傳說。? □

（譯者為“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽獲獎?wù)撸?/p>