I’m gonna see my FATHER 潘帕

爱无言

http://blog.tianya.cn/blogger/post_show.asp?idWriter=0&Key=0&BlogID=11045&PostID=532930


仇父心理据说在弗洛伊德那里很可以找到些依据。可是我不懂心理学，也不懂我父亲。从前他憎恶我，我不知道为什么。我从Junot Diaz的一篇小说里看到这样一句话：I was the one who was always in trouble with my dad. It was my God-given duty to piss him off, to do everything the way he hated. 但是What way exactly？我不知道，也许处处与他相反？又或者恰恰与他相同：
　　他说，别学我的样。
　　我说，别学我的样。
　　他吼，我跟你说别学我的样。
　　我说，我跟你说别学我的样。
　　他扬起手，“啪”，煽在我脸上。
　　——凭什么？
　　——我是你爸爸。
　　【Father】
　　
　　克里玛的小说里写过一个傻乎乎的儿子，才五岁便从自家阳台上跳下来，自杀。因为他想杀死他的父亲，可是太小，杀不动，只好自寻了断。克里玛说，那位父亲，虽然有些诗人的气质，但本质上是个骗子。就象我的父亲，他常在暴打过我之后，显得心满意足，走到闲庭信步，数落风流人物。——You’re a cheater！Diaz在他挨打的时候就拼命幻想当众向父亲这样咆哮，光天化日之下。——过去我以为这只是儿子聊以自慰的想象，后来我怀疑父亲是不是也这么想，他的不安表现在总是疑心我刻意模仿他。搞笑，继而搞臭。每个人都赞叹孩子越来越象他的时候，他却十分尴尬，非常不爽。可我发誓不是故意的，也许起初我只是想讨他喜欢，只是后来我和他一样，自己也不能分辨了。我象非法复制品一样不可遏制地满街泛滥，惟妙惟肖中潜伏着错字和乱码。【Fatherlike】
　　
　　俄国出产过一部电影叫“The Thief”，港译作“我的爸，是你吗？”，象是克里玛那篇小说的翻版。不过电影里面这一位父亲根本就是个假货，他收留了一对母子，只为了博取周围人的信任。每到一地住下，他就忙着讨左邻右舍的欢心，请大家喝酒看戏，然后乘隙将财物席卷一空，带着母子俩逃往下一处。可是就在母亲发现真相而痛苦不堪的时候，孩子却偏偏开始喜欢他了，因为他看似一条好汉，为人义气豪爽，有一次四下无人的时候，他露出自己的胸膛，胸毛深处文着一幅斯大林像，他神秘地对孩子说，这是我爸爸。只是他难免落没。这部电影的最后，孩子杀死了假父亲，用他留下的手枪。电影拍摄于1997年，克里玛的小说大概写于六七十年代。我是当中这二、三十年。【Fatherland】
　　
　　Don B有个小说叫做Dead Father。书中的人物问Dead Father，你是父亲，我如今也有儿子了，为什么你总压我一头？Dead Father说，因为我没有父亲，因为我从没当过儿子。真是一朝为人子，朝朝为人子，哀莫大焉。【Fathership】【Fatherless】
　　
　　我和那个杀父心切的可怜孩子一样，活在反复的煎熬之中，一面勇敢地想象，一面胆怯地苟且。后来我选择了落荒而逃，远离父亲和种种杀他的念头。二十年过后，我还没有自己的儿子，只能以此消极地对抗他和抵抗自己。弑父并不算悲剧，悲剧在于弑父预演了儿子自己的下场，甚至决定了父子之间的某种温情。【Fatherhood】。他老了，好像张楚唱过，“已不是对手”。我打算回去看看他，不过要酷一点。一路上我将再想一遍《在细雨中呼喊》里的孙广才，老二从养父家回来找他的时候摸到村头——“我那时不知道他就是我的父亲，但他吸引了我，我就走到他身边，响亮地说：‘我要找孙广才。’”我要找孙广才。这是余华迄今为止写得最酷的一句。【Fatherfucker】

爱无言

星期天在纸老虎书店里碰到了《芒果街上的小屋》，一眼就知道这是我的书，于是不管不给打折的全价就带回了家，从这里知道了潘帕，译者！ 于是又摸到了他的博客，感受他的心就喜欢啊，虽然他那里是有着浓稠的惆怅的....

《芒果街上的小屋》有英语原文，不敢先看中文，一篇篇的看英文原文，大多能看懂，但是还是看不出英语语言的美，可是潘帕翻译的中文却是那么美，为了感受不到这英语的美，很气自己......

《城市画报》的访谈  


作者：潘帕 提交日期：2006-7-24 17:30:00   

�牐牫鞘谢�报：您写过“我住在一个外国人混居的地方，以说西班牙语人为多，兼有中国人、印度人、阿拉伯人，黑白两种美国人反而很少。”那是怎样的一段经历？
�牐犈伺粒壕褪欠�译“芒果”的那段时间，还写博客、读书、泡美术馆。听上去很美。可是孤单一点，拮据稍稍，每到一个城市首先要查好博物馆的免费开放日。平时我住在一栋很旧的公寓里，我的邻居有一位墨西哥妇女，一位俄国男子和一位伊朗老太。墨西哥妇女很开朗，每到星期天就收拾屋子，敞开门放出拉丁歌声和她的小猫；俄国男子是很坚毅的造型，象传说中的KGB，他形影独行，是个同性恋者；伊朗老太太披方格头巾，很整齐，可她一句英语也不会说，她的生活全由她的侄儿照顾，她的侄儿过去在德黑兰大学教书，现在在美国开出租车。从我住的地方到最近的图书馆只有几分钟的路程，美国的公共图书管系统很发达，我在那里把之前喜欢的一些作家挑出来重新读，因为过去能接触到的原文很有限，象PAVIC, MCEWAN, BOYD, PYCHON, DON B, BORGES, CORTAZAR。 我的命运里面潜伏着一段段这样的空白期，尽管生活有点困顿，但态度可以很抽离。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：通过什么途径遇到了“芒果”？它最初吸引你的是什么？
�牐犈伺粒涸谖易钣邢械氖焙�,有朋友向我推荐了不少好书。在那份书单中，“芒果”是我唯一受用的。当时随手译了一些放在我的私人讨论版上。虽然我抗拒，可编辑坚持认为我是合适的译者，幸好出的是双语对照本。“芒果”吸引我的当然是语言，带着童话的气氛和少女的香味。还有她的态度，生活虽然艰辛，可是没有愁苦和哀怨。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：整本书中，个人最喜欢的章节是？
�牐犈伺粒何蚁不队幸唤谒德芬椎谋硇挚�着一辆偷来的凯迪拉克带着一伙孩子四处兜风，不一会儿被警察带走的故事(Louie,His Cousin & His Other Cousin)。这是生活给我们的奖赏：享受廉价的幸福和经验莫名的错愕。不止是小孩子，大人们其实也是这么无厘头，他们自己不觉得罢了。我读到这个故事的时候觉得很搞笑，我很喜欢。“猴子花园”我也很喜欢，像整本“芒果”的浓缩版，很精致，色彩又丰富。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：翻译过程中是否遇到过什么麻烦？
�牐犈伺粒鹤畲蟮穆榉呈俏椅薮犹逖樯倥�的心思。她们跳过的皮筋，她们穿过的裙子，她们拌嘴， 她们卖乖。她们怎样学习成长？比如“髋骨”，比如在“猴子花园” 里男孩子们和萨莉玩的“游戏”，她们一定得经历我们不曾有过的尴尬。男孩和女孩是两种不同的语言，任何两个人是两种不同的语言，不同的语言在根本上是隔绝的，翻译是一种本质上的困难，是一种妥协的呈现。我把它看得比较极端，当作人的基本生存状态。所以从这个角度上来讲，最大的麻烦也许是我对翻译这种行为本身没有信心，挺绝望的。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：推荐友雅来画插图是出于什么原因？您怎样评价她的作品？
�牐犈伺粒何一姑挥谢�会认识友雅。有段时间她的一些作品贴在ABBS和“涂鸦王国”，网上有很多FANS，我是其中沉默的大多数。善良的，忧郁的，呢喃的，我觉得她的画有这样的气质。谢谢编辑促成这件好事，这是我对“芒果”唯一的小小贡献，我觉得。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：“虚构即现实”这个博客对你来说具有什么意义？为什么没有继续写下去？
�牐犈伺粒耗侵荒艽�表一段没有意义的过去。我现在回头重看那时的文章，感觉文字与最初的动机或情绪相差得很远。虽然我仍然相信，写读书的体验可以用来表达个人的情感，可是我怀疑那时写过的文章真的是不是做到过一两次。可能我找到了一种说话的方式，可是没能表达自己。而写一个没有人看的博客，表达自己是唯一的动因。所以文字具有天然的欺骗性，不但欺骗读者，还欺骗作者。有一些陌生的朋友表示喜欢那些文字，我猜想是因为其中小小的装饰风格，你喜欢，我当然很高兴，也许这就是意义。我停了写是因为生活翻过了一页。如果把生活比作一本书，那段博客就是一页插图，翻过去又是印得密密麻麻的字，累赘、琐碎，不过更有质感。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：不再写博客之后，又遇到了哪些好看的书？最近一次阅读的是什么书？
�牐犈伺粒憾恋阶钪档猛萍龅男乱坏愕男∷凳荍UNOT DIAZ的《DROWN》。JUNOT DIAZ也是拉丁移民，写的也是典型移民题材，和“芒果”不同，他的小说俏皮、不羁，完全男人味。
�牐犠罱�一次阅读是重读“动物凶猛”，我喜欢王朔，虽然小说罗嗦了点。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：还记得大学时代的阅读经历吗？? 那时喜欢的书现在还继续喜欢吗？
�牐犈伺粒何易罱�和朋友闲聊的时候发现我们往往会仍然喜欢过去喜欢的音乐，可是抛弃过去喜欢的书。不知道是不是真的。同听音乐相比，阅读是比较次等的享受。前者直接刺激感官而通灵，而阅读需要耐心分解和体悟，这给了文字太多作案时间，刚刚还说到文字天生就有欺骗性，所以时间一久，我们离弃的书多一点。我读大学时看的闲书很少，工科，太忙了，那个时候看的大概都是余华格非苏童，读英文小说是后来的事，那时中文小说已经没得挑了。
�牐�
�牐牫鞘谢�报：“办工厂的你”和“翻译芒果的你”有哪些相同与不同之处？“他们”之间会起冲突吗？
�牐犈伺粒何易约好痪醯糜惺裁床煌�，我的生活就是这样一段一段的，我读过几次书，做过几种职业，住过几座城市。不过我没有不同时期相互重叠的朋友，这样很安全，让我每开始一种新的生活，都有机会重新做人。生活在这些片断之间没有让我觉得有什么不适，反而我才应该是拼接这些片断的唯一逻辑。在日落的余晖里，我坐在工厂前面的空地上和两个工人聊天。胖子说他过去在家乡做代课教师，又开了个店铺修理电器，眼镜和他同一个村，以前是个皮鞋匠。虽然文学离现在那么远，我居然无端地从胖子的闲谈中嗅出一点巴尔扎克的味道。

爱无言

哦，我要去当当订潘帕翻译的所有的书，《圣诞忆旧集》《最初的爱情，最后的仪式》....

爱无言

Darius& the Clouds
You can never have too much sky. You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful. Still, we take what we can get and make the best of it.

Darius, who doesn't like school, who is sometimes stupid and mostly a fool, said something wise today, though most days he says nothing. Darius, who chases girls with firecrackers or a stick that touched a rat and thinks he's tough, today pointed up because the world was full of clouds, the kind like pillows.

You all see that cloud, that fat one there? Darius said, See that? Where? That one next to the one that look like popcorn. That one there. See that. That's God, Darius said.God? somebody little asked. God, he said, and made it simple.

Translation:

大流士和云

你永远不能拥有太多的天空。你可以在天空下睡去，醒来又沉醉。在你忧伤的时候，天空会给你安慰。可是忧伤太多，天空不够。蝴蝶也不够，花儿也不够。大多数美的东西都不够。于是，我们取我们所能取，好好地享用。
　　大流士 ，不喜欢上学的他，有时很傻，几乎是个笨人，今天却说了一句聪明的话，虽然大多数日子他什么都不说。大流士，喜欢用爆竹，用碰过老鼠的小棍子去追逐女孩，还以为自己很了不起的他，今天却指着天空，因为那里有满天的云朵，像枕头样的云朵。
　　你们都看到那朵云了，那朵胖乎乎的云了？大流士说，看到了？哪里？那朵看起来像爆米花的旁边的那朵。那边那朵。看，那是上帝。大流士说。上帝？有个小点的问道。上帝。他说。简洁地说。

爱无言

Cathy Queen of Cats

Cathy who is queen of cats has cats and cats and cats. Baby cats, big cats, skinny cats, sick cats. Cats asleep like little donuts. Cats on top of the refrigerator. Cats taking a walk on the dinner table. Her house is like cat heaven.

You want a friend, she says. Okay, I'll be your friend. But only till next Tuesday. That's when we move away. Got to. Then as if she forgot I just moved in, she says the neighborhood is getting bad.

Cathy's father will have to fly to France one day and find her great great distant grand cousin on her father's side and inherit the family house. How do I know this is so? She told me so. In the meantime they'll just have to move a little farther north from Mango Street, a little farther away every time people like us keep moving in.

Translation:
猫皇后凯茜养了好多好多好多猫。猫宝宝、大个猫、瘦猫、病猫。睡姿像个面包圈的猫。爬到冰箱顶上的猫。在餐桌上散步的猫。她的房子就像个猫天堂。
　　你想要个朋友。她说，好的，我会做你的朋友，可只能做到下星期二，那时我们就得搬走了，不得不搬了。然后，她似乎忘了我才搬进来，说，这个社区的人越来越杂了。
　　凯茜的父亲有一天会要飞到法国去，找到远方的、她父亲那边的远远远房表亲，去继承家宅。我是怎么知道这些的呢？是她告诉我的。同时，他们要从芒果街向北面搬迁，离开这里一点路，在每次像我们这样的人家不断搬进来的时候。

爱无言

A house of my own

Not a flat. Not an apartment in back. Not a man’s house. Not a daddy’s. A house all my own. With my porch and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias. My books and my stories. My two shoes waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake a stick at. Nobody’s garbage to pick up after.
Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.

Translation:
不是小公寓.也不是阴面的大公寓.也不是哪个男人的房子.也不是爸爸的房子.是完完全全属于我自己的.那里有我的前廊我的枕头,我漂亮的紫色矮牵牛.我的书和我的故事.我的两只等在床边的鞋.不用和谁去作对.没有别人扔下的垃圾要拾起.
只是一所寂静如雪的房子,一个自己归去的空间,洁净如同诗笔未落的纸.

爱无言

Those who don't

Those who don't know any better come into our neighborhood scared. They think we're dangerous, They think we will attack them with shiny knives. They are stupid people who are lost and got here by mistake.

But we aren't afarid. We know the guy with the crooked eye is Davey the Baby brother, and the tall one next to him in the straw brim, that's Rosa's Eddie V.,and the big one that looks like a dumb grown man,he's Fat Boy, though he's not fat anymore nor a boy.

All brown all around,we are safe. But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and our knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled uptight and our eyes look straight.Yeah,That's is how it goes and goes.

Translation:
那些人不明白我们的人进到我们的社区会害怕。他们以为我们很危险。他们以为我们会用亮闪闪的刀子袭击他们。他们是些笨人，不小心迷了路走到了这里。
可是我们不害怕。我们知道那个斜眼的是戴夫小宝的弟弟，站在他旁边戴着草帽的高个儿是罗莎家的埃迪'V',而那个大个，看上去像个沉默的大人的，他是胖孩，虽然他不再胖了也不再是小孩。
到处都是棕色的人，我们是安全的。可是看看我们开进另一个肤色的街区时，我们的膝盖就抖啊抖，我们紧紧的摇上车窗，眼睛直直地看着前面，是的，情形一直一直是这样的。

爱无言

The House on Mango Street

We didn’t always live on Mango Street. Before that we lived on Loomis on the third floor, and before that we lived on Keeler. Before Keeler it was Paulina, and before that I can’t remember. But what I remember most is moving a lot. Each time it seemed there’d be one more of us. By the time we got to Mango Street we were six --- Mama, Papa, Carlos, Kiki, my sister Nenny and me.

The house on Mango Street is ours, and we don’t have to pay rent to anybody, or share the yard with the people down stairs, or be careful not to make too much noise, and there isn’t a landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. But even so, it's not the house we’d thought we’d get.

We had to leave the flat on Loomis quick. The water pipes broke and the landlord wouldn’t fix them because the house was too old. We had to leave fast. We were using the washroom next door and carrying water over in empty milk gallons. That’s why Mama and Papa looked for a house, and that’s why we moved into the house on Mango Street, far away, on the other side of town.

They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real that would be ours for always so we wouldn’t have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the house on T.V.And we’d have a basement and at least three washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldn’t have to tell everybody. Our house would be white with trees around it, a great big yard and grass growing without a fence. This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.

But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It’s small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you’d think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling in places, and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard, only four little elms the city planted by the curb. Our back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they’re ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom. Everybody has to share a bedroom—Mama and Papa, Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny.

Once when we were living on Loomis, a nun from my school passed by and saw me playing out front. The Laundromat downstairs had been boarded up because it had been robbed two days before and the owner had painted on the wood YES WE’RE OPEN so as not lose business.

Where do you live? She asked.
There, I said pointing up to the third floor.
You live there?

There. I had to look to where she pointed –-- the third floor, the paint peeling, wooden bars Papa had nailed on the windows so we wouldn’t fall out. You live there? The way she said it made me feel like nothing. There. I lived there. I nodded.

I knew then I had to have to house. A real house. One I could point to .but this isn’t it. The house on Mango Street isn’t it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go.

Translation:
我们先前不住芒果街。先前我们住Loomis的三楼。再先前我们住Keeler。Keeler 再往前是Paulina，再前面，我就不记得了。我记得最清楚的是，搬了好多次家。似乎每搬一次，我们就多出一个人。搬到芒果街是，我们有了六个——妈妈、爸爸、卡洛斯、奇奇，妹妹蕾妮和我。
芒果街上的小屋是我们的，我们不用交房租给任何人，或者和楼下的人合用一个院子，或者小心翼翼别弄出太多的声响，这里也没有拿扫帚猛敲天花板的房东。可就算这样，它也不是我们原来以为自己可以得到的那样的房子。
我们得赶紧搬出Loomis的公寓。水管破了，房东不愿意修理，因为房子太老。我们得快快离开。我们借用着邻居的卫生间，用空的牛奶壶把水装过来。这就是为什么爸妈要找房子，这就是为什么我们搬进了芒果街上的小屋，远远的，从城市的那一边。
他们一直对我们说，有一天，我们会搬进一所房子，一所真正的大屋，永远属于我们，那样我们就不用每年搬家了。我们的房子会有自来水和好用的水管。里面还有真正的楼梯，不是门厅台阶，而是像电视上的房子里那样的楼梯。我们会有一个地下室和至少三个卫生间，那样洗澡的时间就不用告诉每个人。我们的房子会是白色的，四周是树木，还有一个很大的原子，草儿生长着，没有篱笆吧他们圈起来。这是爸爸手握彩票时提到的房子，这是妈妈在给我们讲睡前故事里幻想着的房子。
可是芒果街上的小屋全然不是他們讲的那样。它很小，是红色的，门前一方窄台阶，窗戶小得让你觉得它们像是在屏着呼吸。几处墙砖蛀成了粉。前门那么鼓，你要用力推才进得來。这里沒有前院，只有四棵市政栽在路边的小榆树。屋后有个小车库，是用來装我们还没买的小汽车的，还有个小院子，夾在两边的楼中间，越发显得小了。我们的房子里有楼梯，可那只是普通的门厅台阶，而且房子里只有一个卫生间。每个人都要和別人合用一间卧室——妈妈和爸爸、卡洛斯和奇奇、我和蕾妮。
我们住在Loomis时，有一回学校的嬷嬷经过那里，看到我在房前玩。楼下的自助洗衣店被用木板封了起来，因为两天前刚被洗劫过。为了不走掉生意，主人在木头上涂抹了几个字：“是的，我们在营业。”
“你住哪里呀？”她问。
那里。我说，指了指三楼。
你住在那里？
那里。我不得不朝他指的地方看去——三层楼上，那里墙皮斑驳，窗上横着几根木条，是爸爸钉上去的，那样我们就不会掉出来。你住在那里？她说话的样子让我觉得自己什么都不是。那里，我住在那里。我点头。
于是，我明白，我得有一所房子。一所真正的大屋。一所可以指给别人看的房子。可这里不是。芒果街上的小屋不是。目前就这样，妈妈说。这是暂时的，爸爸说。可恶知道事情是怎样的。

爱无言

The boys and girls

The boys and the girls live in separate world. The boys in their universe and we in ours. My brotxmfish for example. They’ve got plenty to say to me and Nenny inside the house. But outside they can’t be seen talking to girls. Carlos and Kiki are each other’s best friend…not ours.

Nenny is too young to be my friend. She’s just my sister and that was not my fault. You don’t pick your sisters, you just get them and sometimes they come like Nenny.

She can’t play with those Vargas kids or she’ll turn our just like them. And since she comes right after me, she is my responsibility.

Someday I will have a best friend all my own. One I can tell my secrets to. One who will understand my jokes without my having to explain them. Until then I am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor.

Translation:
男孩和女孩生活在不同的世界。男孩在他们的天地里，我们在我们的天地里。比如我的弟弟们。在家里，他们有很多话跟我和蕾妮说。可是到了外面，他们就不能被人家看见和女孩说话。卡洛斯和奇奇是彼此最要好的朋友…… 不是我们的。
蕾妮还很小，做不了我的朋友。她只是我的妹妹，这不是我的错。你不能挑选妹妹，你只是就那么得到了她们，某些时候他们就像蕾妮一样到来。
她不能去和法加斯家的孩子们玩，要不然，她会变得和他们一样。既然她跟在我后面来了，她就是我的责任。
有一天，我会有一个我自己的、最要好的朋友。一个我可以向她吐露秘密的朋友。一个不用我解释就能听懂我的笑话的朋友。在那之前，我将一直是一个红色气球，一个被泊住的气球。

爱无言

My name
In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.

It was my great-grandmother’s name and now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of horse—which is supposed to be bad luck if you’re born female—but I think this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don’t like their women strong.

My great-grandmother. I would’ve liked to have known her, a wild horse of a woman, so wild she wouldn’t marry. Until my great-grandfather threw a sack over her head and carried her off. Just that, as if she were a fancy chandelier. That’s the way he did it.

And the story goes she never forgave him. She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she dory because she couldn`t be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window.

At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver, not quite as thick as sister`s name—Magdalena--- which is uglier than mine. Magdalena who at least can come home and become Nenny. But I am always Esperanza.

I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody see. Esperanza as Lasiandra or Maritza or Zeze the X.Yes. something like Zeze the X will do.

Translation:
在英语里，我的名字的意思是希望。在西班牙语里，它意味着太多的字母。它意味着哀伤，意味着等待。它就像数字九。一种泥泞的色彩。它是没到星期天早晨，爸爸刮胡子是播放的墨西哥唱片，呜咽的歌。
它过去是我曾祖母的名字，现在是我的。她也是一个属马的女人，和我一样，生在中国的马年——如果你生为女人，这会被认为是霉运——可是我想，这是个中国谎，因为，中国人和墨西哥人一样，不喜欢他们的女人强大。
我的曾祖母。要是我见过她多好，女人中的野马，野得不想嫁人。直到我的曾祖父用麻袋套住她的头把她扛走。就那样扛着，好像她是一盏华贵的枝型吊灯。那就是他的办法。
后来，她永远没有原谅他。她用一生向窗外凝望，像许多女人那样凝望，胳膊肘之前忧伤。我想知道她是否随遇而安；是否会为做不成她想做的人而伤怀。埃斯佩朗莎。我继承了她的名字，可我不想继承她在窗边的位置。
在学校里，他们说我的名字很滑稽，音节好像是铁皮做的，会碰痛嘴巴里的上颚。可是在西班牙语里，我的名字是更柔和的东西做的，像银子，没有的妹妹的名字那么浑厚。他叫玛格达蕾娜，这名字没我的美。玛格达蕾娜回到家里可以叫蕾妮。可我总是埃斯佩朗莎。
我想要取一个新的名字，他更像真正的我，那个没人看到过的我。埃斯佩朗莎换成黎桑德拉或者玛芮查或者泽泽X。一个像泽泽X的名字就可以了。

爱无言

Our good days
If you give me five dollars I will be your friend forever. That’s what the little one tells me.

Five dollars is cheap since I don’t have any friends except Cathy who is only my friend till Tuesday.

Five dollars, five dollars.

She is trying to get some body to chip in so they can buy a bicycle from this kid named Tito. They already have ten dollars and all they need is five more.

Don’t talk to them, says Cathy. Can’t you see they smell like a broom.

But I like them. Their clothes are crooked and old. They are wearing shiny Sunday shoes without socks. It makes their bald ankles all red, but I like them. Especially the big one who laughs with all her teeth. I like her even though she lets the little one do all the talking.

Five dollars, the little one says, only five.

Cathy is tugging my arm and I know whatever I do next will make her mad forever.

Wait a minute, I say, and run inside to get the five dollars I have three dollars saved and I take two of Nenny’s. She’s not home, but I’m sure she’ll be glad when she finds out we own a bike. When I get back, Cathy is gone like I knew she would be , but I don’t care. I have two new friends and a bike too.

My name is Lucy, the big one says. This here is Rachel my sister.

I’m her sister, says Rachel. Who are you?

And I wish my name was Cassandra or Alexis or Maritza—anything but Esperanza—but when I tell them my name they don’t laugh.

We come from Texas, Lucy says and grins. Her was born here, but me I’m Texas.

You mean she, I says.

No, I’m from Texas, and doesn’t get it.

This bike is three ways ours, says Rachel who is thinking ahead already. Mine today, Lucy’s tomorrow and yours day after.

But everybody wants to ride it today because the bike is new, so we decide to take turns after tomorrow. Today is belongs to all of us.

I don’t tell them about Nenny just yet. It’s too complicated. Especially since Rachel almost put out Lucy’s eye about who was going to get to ride it first. But finally we agree to ride it together. Why not?

Because Lucy has long legs she pedals. I sit on the back seat and Rachel is skinny enough to get up on the handlebars which makes the bike all wobble as if the wheels are spaghetti, but after a bit you get used to it.

We ride fast and faster. Past my house, sad and red and crumbly in places, past Mr. Benny’s grocery on the corner, and down the avenue which is dangerous. Laundoromat, junk store, drugstore, windows and cars and more cars , and around the block back to Mango.

People on the bus wave. A very fat lady crossing the street says. You sure got quite a load there.

Rachel shouts. You got quite a load there too. She is very sassy.

Down, down Mango Street we go. Rachel, Lucy, me. Our new bicycle. Laughing the crooked ride back.



Translation:
如果你给我五块钱，我会永远做你的朋友。那个小的这么对我说
五块钱很便宜，因为我没有任何朋友，除了凯茜，她是我星期二之前的朋友。
五块钱啊，五块钱。
她想找人凑钱，那样，他们可以从那个叫提陀的小孩哪里买一辆自行车。她们已经十块了，他们再添五块钱就够了。
只要五块。她说。
别喝他们说话。凯茜说，你难道看不出来他们闻起来像扫把？
可是我喜欢她们。她们的衣服又皱又旧。她们穿的锃亮的礼拜天的鞋子，却没穿短袜。鞋子把她们的光脚踝擦得红红的。我喜欢她们。尤其是那个大的，小的时候露出一口牙齿。我喜欢她，尽管她让小的出来说话。
五块，小的说，只要五块。
凯茜在拽我的胳膊，我知道，接下来我不管做什么，都会让她永远生我的气的。
等等。我说着跑到屋里拿了5块钱。我自己存有三块，又拿了蕾妮2块。她不在家，可我肯定，她发现我们有辆自行车会很高兴的。我回来的时候，凯茜走了，我知道她会这么做，可我不在乎。我有了两个新朋友和一辆自行车。
我叫露西，大的说。这是我妹妹瑞秋。
我是她妹妹。瑞秋说。你是谁？
我希望我的名字是卡桑德拉，或者阿勒克西斯，或者玛芮查——只要不是埃斯佩朗莎，什么名字都可以。可我告诉她们我的名字的时候，她们没有笑。
我从得克萨斯来，露西说着咧嘴一笑。她是在这里出生的，而我在得克萨斯。
你是说她吧。我说。
不，我是从得克萨斯来。她没听明白我的意思。
这辆车我们三个这么分配吧，拉切尔已经想在前面了。今天是我的，明天是露西的，后天是你的。
不过每个人都想今天骑因为它是新的。所以我们决定明天开始轮流。今天属于我们大家的。
我还没有告诉他们蕾妮的事。事情太复杂了。尤其是，为了谁第一个骑的问题，瑞秋差点把露西的眼睛挖出来。最后我们同意一块骑，为什么不呢?
露西腿长，她来踩踏板。我坐在后座上，瑞秋足够苗条，她坐到了前杠上，弄得车子一个劲摇晃，好像轮子是实心意粉做的。不过一会儿我们就习惯了。
我们越骑越快，骑过了我的家，那破落又悲哀、砖墙碎裂的红色小屋，骑过了街角宾尼显示的小卖铺，骑在了危险的大道上。自助洗衣店、旧货店、药店、一个个窗子、一辆辆汽车，越来越多的汽车，都经过了。我们围着街区绕一圈，骑回芒果街。
巴士上的人向我们挥手。一个很胖很胖的女人边过街边说，你们的装载量很大呀。
瑞秋喊道，你的装载量也很大呀。她说话好冒失。
我们沿着芒果街前行。瑞秋、露西、我，还有我们的新自行车。歪歪扭扭的回程，我们一直笑呀笑。

爱无言

laughter
Nenny and I don’t look like sisters…not right away. Not the way you can tell with Rachel and Lucy who have the same fat popsicle lips everybody else in their family. But me and Nenny, we are more alike than you would know. Our laughter for example. Not the shy ice cream bells’ giggle of Rachel and Lucy’s’ family, but all of a sudden and surprise like a pile of dishes breaking. And other things I can’t explain.

One day we were passing a house that looked, in my mind, like house I had seen in Mexico. I don’t know why. There was nothing about the house that looked exactly like the house I remembered. I’m not even sure why I thought it, but it seemed to feel right.

Look at the house, I said, it looks like Mexico.

Rachel and Lucy look at me like I’m crazy, but before they can let out a laugh, Nenny says: Yes, that’s Mexico all right. That’s what I was thinking exactly.

笑声
蕾妮和我看起来不像姐妹……不是一眼就能看出来的那种。人们可以看出瑞秋和露西是，因为她们有一模一样的雪糕似的厚嘴唇，她们家所有人的嘴唇都是那样的。可我们不是那种像法。我和蕾妮，我们相像的地方比你能看到的多。比如我们的笑声。不是瑞秋和露西一家人那样羞涩的傻笑，像冰淇淋铃声一样，而是突然的、吃惊的笑，像一叠盘子打碎了的感觉。还有其他一些我没法说清楚的地方。

一天我们经过一座房子，我心想，它看起来像我过去在墨西哥见过的房子。我不知道为什么。这房子和我记忆中的房子没什么地方是一模一样的。我甚至不知道为什么我这么想。他它就是给我那种感觉。

看那房子，我说，它看着像是墨西哥的。

瑞秋和露西看着我，好像我在发傻一样。可还没等她们笑出来，蕾妮就说：没错，那就是墨西哥式的。而那恰恰是我当时的想法。

爱无言

Meme Ortiz
Around the back is a yard, mostly dirt,and a greasy bunch of boards that used to be a garage. but what you remember most is this tree, huge, with far aims and mighty families of squirrels in the higher branches. All around, the nighborhood of roofs, black-tarred and A-framed, and in their gutters, the balls that never came back down to earth. Down at the base of the tree, the dog with two names barks into the empty air, and there at the end of the block, looking smaller still, our house with its feet tucked under like a cat.

This is the tree we chose for the First Annual Tarzan Jumping Contest. Meme won. And borke both arms.

么么·奥迪兹
屋后面是个院子，大部分地方是泥土地面，还有一扎油腻腻的模板，是过去的车库。不过，你记得最清的应该是那棵树，巨大，枝干肥硕，高高的枝桠上栖息着繁盛的松鼠家族。从上面张望，周围都是邻里的屋顶，A字形，浇了黑色的沥青。上面的天沟里，躺着一些永远不再着地的皮球。树底下，那条有两个名字的狗在冲着空气狂吠。街区的尽头是我的家，看上去更小了，像只猫儿缩起脚爪窝在那里。
这棵树被我们挑来举行第一届年度人猿泰山跳跃比赛。么么赢了。可是2条胳膊都摔破了。

爱无言

Marin


We never see Marin until her aunt comes home from work, and even then she can only stay out in front. She is there every night with the radio. When the light in her aunt’s room goes out, Marin lights a cigarette and it doesn’t matter if it’s cold out or if the radio doesn’t work or if we’ve got nothing to say to each other. What matters, Marin says, is for the boys to see us and for us to see them. And since Marin’s skirts are shorter and since her eyes are pretty, and since Marin is already older than us in many ways, the boys who do pass by say stupid things like I am in love with those two green apples you call eyes, give them to me why don’t you. And Marin just looks at them without even blinking and is no afraid.

Marin, under the streetlight, dancing by xmfishelf, is singing the same song somewhere. I know. Is waiting for a car to stop, a star to fall, someone to change her life.

玛琳
在玛琳在婶婶下班回家前，我们从来都看不到玛琳。在那以后，她也只能出到房子前面。她每晚都拿个收音机在那里。等她婶婶房间里的灯熄灭后，玛琳就会点一支烟，如果那会儿外面冷，或者收音机不响，或者我们互相没话说，这些都不要紧；要紧的是，玛琳说，要让男孩子看到我们，我们看到男孩子。因为玛琳的裙子更短，因为她的眼睛很漂亮，因为她在很多方面已经比我们成熟，男孩子跑过来说一些蠢话，比如我爱上你说是眼睛的那两个青苹果，你为什么不把它们给我？玛琳只是看着它们，眼睛都不眨一下，也不害怕。
玛琳，街灯下独自起舞的人，在某个地方唱着同一首歌，我知道。她在等一辆小汽车停下来，等着一颗星星坠落，等一个人改变她的生活。