晨讀英語(yǔ)美文：我和我的大提琴
晨讀英語(yǔ)美文：我和我的大提琴
晨讀英語(yǔ)美文：我和我的大提琴
Me and My Cello
Six years ago I, then a fellow of 35, was struck by an impulse of the romantic and irreducible sort, which I have since compared to a torrid scene in The Godfather except that it was not a Sicilian virgin who fired my thoughts but a shapely descendant of the violin family, the cello.Straightaway I obtained a rental instrument of heavy plywood and appeared before Wendell Margrave, professor of musical instruction. It was winter. "You can be as good as you want to be," Margrave said rather mysteriously. On a scrap of paper he drew a staff with the notes E and F. He showed me where to put my fingers on the neck and how to draw the bow. Then he entered my name in his book: 10 a.m. Tuesday. Tuesday followed Tuesday, and soon it was spring.
六年前，我已是35歲的人了，心里卻突然產(chǎn)生一種浪漫卻又無(wú)法減弱的沖動(dòng)，我把這種沖動(dòng)比作電影《教父》里熱烈的一幕。不過(guò)，激起我這種想法的，不是西西里島上的少女，而是提琴家族中外形優(yōu)美的后裔——大提琴。我立刻租了一具厚膠合板制作的大提琴，然后來(lái)到音樂(lè)教授溫德?tīng)?middot;馬格瑞夫面前。那是冬天的事。“你想拉得多好就可以有多好，”馬格瑞夫的話說(shuō)得很玄妙。他在一張紙上畫(huà)出五線譜，標(biāo)上E和F兩個(gè)音調(diào)符。他向我示范手指應(yīng)放在琴頸的什么部位，怎樣運(yùn)弓。然后，他在記事簿上記下我的姓名：星期二上午10時(shí)。一個(gè)又一個(gè)星期二過(guò)去，很快就到了春天。
Thus began my voyage out of ignorance and into the dream. Is there one among us who has not had this dream? Who has not picked up a friend's guitar and felt the songs locked inside? Who has not wondered if he could learn to play the Moonlight Sonata, at least the easy beginning part? It was most remarkable to have a teacher again. E-F, E-F, we played together - and moved on to G. It was a happy time. I was again becoming, and no longer trapped in what I had become.Surely the most abominable recognition of middle life is that we are past changing. Oh, we switch – switch salad dressings and mutual funds -- but we don't change. We do what we can already do. The cello was something I demonstrably couldn't do. Yet each Tuesday I could not do it slightly less.No one was watching, and a good thing. In an upstairs room of my city house, at midnight, I would send out through the open windows long, tortured fragments of Alwin Schroeder's 170 Foundation Studies for Violoncello to mingle with the squeals of cats. The footfalls of unseen passers-by would curiously stop, and then resume in haste.Riding home on the bus one snowy night and perusing the score of Mozart's C-Major Quintet, I felt the page burst into music in my hands. I could by then more or less read a score, and was humming the cello line, when suddenly all five parts blossomed harmonically in my head. The fellow across the aisle stared. I met his glance with tears, actually hearing the music in my head for the first time. Could he hear it too, perhaps? No, he got off at the next stop.
我就是這樣開(kāi)始了從無(wú)知駛向夢(mèng)想的航行。我們當(dāng)中有誰(shuí)沒(méi)做過(guò)這樣的夢(mèng)?誰(shuí)沒(méi)拿起過(guò)朋友的吉他而感覺(jué)到其中所藏著的妙歌仙曲?誰(shuí)沒(méi)有思忖著自己能否學(xué)會(huì)演奏《月光》奏鳴曲，哪怕是開(kāi)頭容易的那部分?再次有個(gè)老師真是再好不過(guò)了。E——F，E——F，我們一起拉，然后移到G調(diào)。這是一段愉快的時(shí)光。我再次有了變化，變得不再深陷在已成形的自我里了。當(dāng)然，中年人最不愿承認(rèn)的，就是自己已經(jīng)錯(cuò)過(guò)了能改變的時(shí)候。噢，我們也改變——變變色拉的調(diào)料，換換互惠基金——但我們自己并無(wú)變化。我們做已經(jīng)會(huì)做的事情，拉大提琴是我顯然不會(huì)做的事情，不過(guò)，每星期二，我多少總得學(xué)會(huì)一點(diǎn)。沒(méi)有人看我拉琴，這是件好事。午夜時(shí)分，我在城里住宅的樓上房間里，經(jīng)常拉阿爾溫·舒羅德的《大提琴基本練習(xí)曲170首》，從敞開(kāi)的窗戶傳出長(zhǎng)時(shí)間折磨人的練習(xí)曲片段，和貓的抗議聲混在一起。看不見(jiàn)過(guò)路人，但聞其腳步聲好奇地停下，然后又匆匆走開(kāi)。在一個(gè)飄雪的夜晚，我乘公共汽車回家，在車上仔細(xì)閱讀莫扎特C大調(diào)五重奏的總譜。我覺(jué)得樂(lè)譜在我手中突然變成了音樂(lè)。當(dāng)時(shí)，我已多少能閱讀總譜，小聲哼著大提琴的調(diào)子，突然，那五個(gè)部分如花一般很和諧地在我腦中開(kāi)放。坐在我對(duì)面的人盯著我看。我迎著他的目光時(shí)，眼里含著淚，這的確是我第一次在心中聽(tīng)到了音樂(lè)。也許他也能聽(tīng)到?不，他第二站就下車了。
As the years slipped by, my daughter passed into the teen-age vale, developing a youthful proficiency on the piano. My goal was that she and I would one day perform together. I also wanted to perform in public with and for my peers, and to be secretly envied.I continue to play, to perform, but it is not the same. Fantasy, it turns out, is debased in the attainment. Before, when I heard a cello, it was all beauty and light. Now, as the TV camera pushes in close to Rostropovich's face, I recognize that charismatic grin as a mask of fierce determination. Even for him, the cello is an intractable instrument, unforgiving of ambition. I picked up my cello, screw tight the hairs of the bow and soar once more into Belle Nuit, the vibrato still wobbling like an unbalanced tire. As good as I wanted to be, I am as good as I'm going to get. It is good enough.
時(shí)間一年年地過(guò)去，我女兒已是十幾歲的少女，成長(zhǎng)為熟練的青年鋼琴手。我的目標(biāo)是有朝一天能和女兒一起演奏。我還向往能同像我一樣的音樂(lè)愛(ài)好者們?cè)诠矆?chǎng)所演奏，而且有人在暗中羨慕我。我繼續(xù)練琴、演奏，但情形和從前大不一樣了。結(jié)果是，幻想在實(shí)現(xiàn)后魅力大減。從前我聽(tīng)到大提琴，覺(jué)得那聲音是美麗和光彩的組合?，F(xiàn)在，電視鏡頭放出羅斯特羅波維奇的面部特寫(xiě)時(shí)，我發(fā)現(xiàn)他那充滿魅力的笑臉其實(shí)是堅(jiān)定決心的面具。即使對(duì)他來(lái)說(shuō)，大提琴也是難以駕馭的樂(lè)器——它對(duì)雄心萬(wàn)丈的人也一樣鐵面無(wú)情。我拿起我的大提琴，擰緊弓毛，再一次悠揚(yáng)地奏起《夜色美麗》，顫音仍然顫抖如同不平衡的輪胎。以前我想拉一手好琴，現(xiàn)在我已做到了，我和我想的一樣好。這就已經(jīng)夠了。