雙語對照 ● Growing Roots　成長的樹根

Growing Roots　成長的樹根

◎ Philip Gulley

When I was growing up, I had an old neighbor named Dr. Gibbs. He didn’t look like any doctor I’d ever known. He never yelled at us for playing in his yard. I remember him as someone who was a lot nicer than circumstances warranted.

在我還是孩子的時候，我有一個老鄰居叫吉布斯醫(yī)生。他不像我認識的任何一個醫(yī)生。我們在他的院子里玩耍，他從來不罵我們。我記得他是一個非常和藹的人。

When Dr. Gibbs wasn’t saving lives, he was planting trees. His house sat on ten acres, and his life’s goal was to make it a forest.

吉布斯醫(yī)生不去拯救生命的時候，就會去種植樹木。他的住所占地10英畝，他的人生目標就是將它變成一片森林。

The good doctor had some interesting theories concerning plant husbandry. He came from the “No pain, no gain” school of horticulture[45]. He never watered his new trees, which flew in the face of conventional wisdom. Once I asked why. He said that watering plants spoiled them, and that if you water them, each successive tree generation will grow weaker and weaker. So you have to make things rough for them and weed out the weenie trees early on.

這個好心的醫(yī)生對于植物畜牧業(yè)有一番有趣的理論。他來自一個“不勞無獲”的園藝學校。他從不給他新種的樹澆水，這顯然有悖于常理。有一次我問為什么，他說澆水會寵壞了它們，如果澆水，每一棵成活的樹的后代會變得越來越嬌弱。所以，你必須讓它們的生長環(huán)境變得艱苦些，盡早淘汰那些弱不禁風的樹。

He talked about how watering trees made for shallow roots, and how trees that weren’t watered had to grow deep roots in search of moisture. I took him to mean that deep roots were to be treasured.

他還告訴我用水澆灌的樹的根是如何淺，而那些沒有澆水的樹的根就必須深深扎進泥土深處搜尋水分。我將他的話理解為：深根是十分寶貴的。

So he never watered his trees. He’d plant an oak and, instead of watering it every morning, he’d beat it with a rolled-up newspaper. Smack! Slap! Pow! I asked him why he did that, and he said it was to get the tree’s attention.

所以他從不給他的樹澆水。他種了一棵橡樹，每天早上，非但不給它澆水，還用一張卷起的報紙抽打它?！芭?！噼！砰！”我問他為什么這樣做，他說這是為了引起樹的注意。

Dr. Gibbs went to glory a couple of years after I left home. Every now and again, I walked by his house and looked at the trees that I’d watched him plant some twenty-five years ago. They’re granite strong now. Big and robust. Those trees wake up in the morning and beat their chests and drink their coffee black.

在我離開家兩年后，吉布斯醫(yī)生就去世了。每一次，我走過他的房子時，就會看看那些25年前我曾看著他種下的那些樹。如今它們已像巖石般硬朗了。枝繁葉茂，生氣勃勃。這些樹在早晨醒過來，拍打著胸脯，啜飲著苦難的汁水。

I planted a couple of trees a few years back. Carried water to them for a solid summer. Sprayed them. Prayed over them. The whole nine yards. Two years of coddling has resulted in trees that expect to be waited on hand and foot. Whenever a cold wind blows in, they tremble and chatter their branches. Sissy trees.

幾年前，我也曾種下兩三棵樹。整整一個夏天我都堅持為它們澆水。給它們噴殺蟲劑，為它們祈禱。整整九平方碼大的地方。結果，兩年的溺愛使這兩棵樹弱不禁風。每當寒風吹起，它們就顫抖起來，枝葉直打顫。嬌里嬌氣的樹。

Funny things about those trees of Dr. Gibbs’. Adversity and deprivation[46]seemed to benefit them in ways comfort and ease never could.

吉布斯醫(yī)生的樹真是有趣。逆境和折磨帶給它們的益處，似乎是舒適和安逸永遠都無法給予的。

Every night before I go to bed, I check on my two sons. I stand over them and watch their little bodies, the rising and falling of life within. I often pray for them. Mostly I pray that their lives will be easy. But lately I’ve been thinking that it’s time to change my prayer.

每天晚上睡覺前，我都要看看兩個兒子。我俯視著他們那幼小的身體，生命就在其中起落沉浮。我經常為他們祈禱，祈禱他們的生活能一帆風順。但近來，我想是時候該改變我的祈禱詞了。

This change has to do with the inevitability of cold winds that hit us at the core. I know my children are going to encounter hardship, and I’m praying they won’t be naive. There’s always a cold wind blowing somewhere.

這種改變與寒風將不可避免地直擊我們的要害。我知道我的孩子們會遇到困難，我祈禱他們不會幼稚而脆弱。某些地方總會有寒風吹過。

So I’m changing my prayer. Because life is tough, whether we want it to be or not. Too many times we pray for ease, but that’s a prayer seldom met. What we need to do is pray for roots that reach deep into the Eternal, so when the rains fall and the winds blow, we won’t be swept asunder.

所以，我改變了我的祈禱詞。因為無論我們愿不愿意，生活總是艱難的。我們已祈禱了太多的安逸，但卻少有實現(xiàn)。我們所要做的是祈禱深植我們的信念之根，這樣，當雨落風吹時，我們就不會被傷害。

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