第1个回答 2012-12-16
" mother " Mo Yan
I was born in Shandong County, a remote and backward rural areas. At the age of 5, is China's history of the last hard times. Life is for my first memory is the mother sitting in a pear tree with white flowers in full bloom, a laundry with purplish red mallet, in a piece of white stone, beat the scene of potherb. Green juice flows to the ground, splashing into the mother 's chest, the air filled with vegetable juice bitter taste. The wooden club beat wild sound, dull and wet, let my heart felt a sudden contraction. This is a sound, color, smell the picture, my life is the starting point of my memory, and literature at the beginning of the road. My ears, nose, eyes, body to hold the life, to feel things. Stored in my memory in my mind, this is a sound, color, smell, shape of the solid memory, living integrated image. The feeling of life and memory of the way things, to a certain extent determines the novel appearance and characteristics. The memories of the picture made me difficult to forget is, worried mother, in the toil, the mouth was humming a ditty! At that time, in our large family, his mother is the most difficult, the most serious is the mother of hunger. She beat the wild side cry is consistent with common sense, but she did not weep but sing, this detail, until today, I was not very well understood that it contains the meaning of. I have seen on television a let me unforgettable picture: Israel's heavy artillery bombardment of Beirut, billowing smoke has not dissipated, a haggard, covered in mud old lady from the house out of a small box, the box is filled with a few green cucumber and few green celery. She stood by the roadside selling vegetables. When a reporter of the camera at her, she raised high fist, hoarse voice but abnormal said firmly: our future generations living in the land, even to eat here in the soil, we could survive! The old lady's words let me be struck with fright, woman, mother, the land, the life, the great concept in my mind writhed, makes me feel an indestructible spiritual power, this even eating sand to live the faith, it is human life and growth in nature through the disaster and guarantee. The value of life and respect, it is the soul of literature. In the famine years, I saw many because of hunger and lost dignity situations, for example to get a piece of cake, a group of children around the village of commissariat storekeeper barking like a dog. Keepers said, who is most like, bean cake as reward for who. I was the child of a dog. We are learning as well. The keeper took that piece of cake is to throw out, the children rush on like a swarm of hornets snatch that piece of cake. This scene was my father saw the eyes. After returning home, and criticized by my father. He also criticized me sharply. Grandpa said to me: the mouth is an aisle, either the table delicacies from land and sea, or root bark, eat the stomach are the same, why for a piece of cake and barking like a dog? People should have the guts! They say, at that time did not convince me, because I know the table delicacies from land and sea and root bark eat the stomach is not the same! But I also feel their words have a dignity, it is human dignity, but also with him. People, not like a dog. My mother taught me, people have to endure hardship, refuse to be cowed or submit to live; my father and grandfather and my education people to live with dignity. Their education, although I was not very well understood, but also enable me to get a major event at the judge standard of value.
参考资料：一点一点翻译滴
第2个回答 2012-12-24
I was born in Shandong County, a remote and backward rural areas. At the age of 5, is China's history of the last hard times. Life is for my first memory is the mother sitting in a pear tree with white flowers in full bloom, a laundry with purplish red mallet, in a piece of white stone, beat the scene of potherb. Green juice flows to the ground, splashing into the mother 's chest, the air filled with vegetable juice bitter taste. The wooden club beat wild sound, dull and wet, let my heart felt a sudden contraction.
The memories of the picture made me difficult to forget is, worried mother, in the toil, the mouth was humming a ditty! At that time, in our large family, his mother is the most difficult, the most serious is the mother of hunger. She beat the wild side cry is consistent with common sense, but she did not weep but sing, this detail, until today, I was not very well understood that it contains the meaning of.
My mother didn't read the book, does not know the word, her suffering, it is difficult to describe. War, famine, disease, in that misery, what are the forces supporting her live, what strength makes her hungry, Ill still singing? I was his mother, always wanted to talk to her about this problem, but every time I don't feel qualified to the mother. At one time, the village of continuous Dutch act a few women, I be rather baffling to feel an intense fear. At that time, our home is the most difficult moment, father was framed, home of stored grain little, mothers have a recurrence of an old illness, no money. I always worry about mother walks up the commit suicide. When I returned from work, he would shout, only heard my mother answered, heart felt settled. Once came back from work was late in the evening, the mother did not answer my call, I hurried to the byre, mill, the toilet to find, no mother. I feel the most terrible things happen, not to cry loudly. At this time, the mother came in from the outside. The mother of my cry very dissatisfied, she thought a person especially men should not cry. She asked why I cry. I talk ambiguously, dare not to tell her my fears. Mother understood my meaning, she said to me: children, rest assured, the devil that I won't go!
Mother's words while the accent is not high, but I suddenly got a sense of security and hope for the future. Many years later, when I recall my mother this sentence, my heart is full of touching, it is a mother to her heavy-hearted son made a solemn promise. To live, no matter how hard it is to live! Now, although the mother had been called to the devil, but his mother the words contained in the face of suffering struggled to survive, will accompany me, encourage me.
I have seen on television a let me unforgettable picture: Israel's heavy artillery bombardment of Beirut, billowing smoke has not dissipated, a haggard, covered in mud old lady from the house out of a small box, the box has several green cucumber and green celery root. She stood by the roadside selling vegetables. When a reporter of the camera at her, she raised high fist, hoarse voice but abnormal said firmly: our future generations living in the land, even to eat here in the soil, we could survive!
The old lady's words let me be struck with fright, woman, mother, the land, the life, the great concept in my mind writhed, makes me feel an indestructible spiritual power, this even eating sand to live the faith, it is human life and growth in nature through the disaster and guarantee. The value of life and respect, it is the soul of literature.