Mountain 山

The Mountain

The mountain held the town as in a shadow I saw so much before I slept there once: I noticed that I missed stars in the west, Where its black body cut into the sky. Near me it seemed: I felt it like a wall Behind which I was sheltered from a wind. And yet between the town and it I found, When I walked forth at dawn to see new things, Were fields, a river, and beyond, more fields. The river at the time was fallen away, And made a widespread brawl on cobble-stones; But the signs showed what it had done in spring; Good grass-land gullied out, and in the grass Ridges of sand, and driftwood stripped of bark. I crossed the river and swung round the mountain. And there I met a man who moved so slow With white-faced oxen in a heavy cart, It seemed no hand to stop him altogether. "What town is this?" I asked. "This? Lunenburg." Then I was wrong: the town of my sojourn, Beyond the bridge, was not that of the mountain, But only felt at night its shadowy presence. "Where is your village? Very far from here?" "There is no village--only scattered farms. We were but sixty voters last election. We can't in nature grow to many more: That thing takes all the room!" He moved his goad. The mountain stood there to be pointed at. Pasture ran up the side a little way, And then there was a wall of trees with trunks: After that only tops of trees, and cliffs Imperfectly concealed among the leaves. A dry ravine emerged from under boughs Into the pasture. "That looks like a path. Is that the way to reach the top from here?-- Not for this morning, but some other time: I must be getting back to breakfast now." "I don't advise your trying from this side. There is no proper path, but those that have Been up, I understand, have climbed from Ladd's. That's five miles back. You can't mistake the place: They logged it there last winter some way up. I'd take you, but I'm bound the other way." "You've never climbed it?" "I've been on the sides Deer-hunting and trout-fishing. There's a brook That starts up on it somewhere--I've heard say Right on the top, tip-top--a curious thing. But what would interest you about the brook, It's always cold in summer, warm in winter. One of the great sights going is to see It steam in winter like an ox's breath, Until the bushes all along its banks Are inch-deep with the frosty spines and bristles-- You know the kind. Then let the sun shine on it!" "There ought to be a view around the world From such a mountain--if it isn't wooded Clear to the top." I saw through leafy screens Great granite terraces in sun and shadow, Shelves one could rest a knee on getting up-- With depths behind him sheer a hundred feet; Or turn and sit on and look out and down, With little ferns in crevices at his elbow. "As to that I can't say. But there's the spring, Right on the summit, almost like a fountain. That ought to be worth seeing." "If it's there. You never saw it?" "I guess there's no doubt About its being there. I never saw it. It may not be right on the very top: It wouldn't have to be a long way down To have some head of water from above, And a good distance down might not be noticed By anyone who'd come a long way up. One time I asked a fellow climbing it To look and tell me later how it was." "What did he say?" "He said there was a lake Somewhere in Ireland on a mountain top." "But a lake's different. What about the spring?" "He never got up high enough to see. That's why I don't advise your trying this side. He tried this side. I've always meant to go And look myself, but you know how it is: It doesn't seem so much to climb a mountain You've worked around the foot of all your life. What would I do? Go in my overalls, With a big stick, the same as when the cows Haven't come down to the bars at milking time? Or with a shotgun for a stray black bear? 'Twouldn't seem real to climb for climbing it." "I shouldn't climb it if I didn't want to-- Not for the sake of climbing. What's its name?" "We call it Hor: I don't know if that's right." "Can one walk around it? Would it be too far?" "You can drive round and keep in Lunenburg, But it's as much as ever you can do, The boundary lines keep in so close to it. Hor is the township, and the township's Hor-- And a few houses sprinkled round the foot, Like boulders broken off the upper cliff, Rolled out a little farther than the rest." "Warm in December, cold in June, you say?" "I don't suppose the water's changed at all. You and I know enough to know it's warm Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm. But all the fun's in how you say a thing." "You've lived here all your life?" "Ever since Hor Was no bigger than a----" What, I did not hear. He drew the oxen toward him with light touches Of his slim goad on nose and offside flank, Gave them their marching orders and was moving.

山

山如同暗中支撑着城镇一样。 有一次我在那里睡觉前看了那么久的山脉： 我注意到因它那黑色的身躯插进天空， 使我错过了西方的星星。 它似乎离我很近：我感觉它如同 身后的一面墙在风中保护着我。 黎明时当我为着看见新事物而向前走， 我发现山与城镇之间， 有田野，一条河，以及远处，更多的田野。 河流那时已快干涸， 泛泛地在鹅卵石上哗哗地流着； 但是从迹象仍可看到它春天的上涨： 不错的草地开了沟，在草里 堆着沙子，浮木被剥去了树皮。 我穿过了河流转向了那山。 在那里我遇见了个人带着头面容苍白 拉着沉重车子的公牛且很慢地移动， 总之让他停下来也没事儿。

“这儿是什么城镇？”我问。

“这儿？卢嫩堡。”

那么我错了：我逗留的城镇， 是在桥那边，倒不是山， 只是在晚上我能感觉它朦胧的存在。 “你的村子在哪儿？离这儿很远？”

“那里没有村子——只有分散的农庄。 上次选举中我们只有六十个投票者。 我们的人数不能自然增加到一个数量： 那东西占了很大的空间！”移了移他的刺棒。 他指着立在那里的山。 山腰上的牧场往上延伸了一小段， 然后是那里的一排树木的树干； 在那之后只有树木的顶端，和悬崖 没有彻底隐蔽在树叶之中。 主枝下面形成的那条干涸溪谷 直到那牧场。

“那看上去像条路。 就是从这里到达山顶的路吗？—— 今天早晨不行，但其他时间： 我现在要回去吃早餐了。”

“我不建议你试着在这边上山。 没有真正的路，那些 上过山的人都是从拉德家开始往上爬。 往后走五英里。你可不能错过那地方： 他们在上个冬天把远处的有些树木伐掉了。 我想带着你，可惜我要走其它路。”

“你从来没有爬过它？”

“我去过山腰 打鹿以及钓鲑鱼。有条小溪 的源头就在那里的什么地方——我听说 在正顶端，最高点——是件另人好奇的事情。 但这小溪使你感兴趣的地方就是， 在夏天溪水总是冷的，而冬天是暖的。 冬天看见它的水汽如同 公牛的呼吸，这也是最伟大景观之一， 水汽顺着堤岸的灌木丛使它们有 一英寸厚的霜状棘刺和毛发—— 你知道那样式。然后就让阳光照在上面！”

“那应该成为是这样一座山上的 世界风景——若一直到山顶都不是 繁茂树木的话。”我透过树叶茂盛的遮帘 看见大块花岗岩在阳光与阴影中成了台地， 攀爬时膝盖可以靠在那个倾斜面—— 身后肯定有一百英尺来高； 或者转动身子且坐在上面向外俯视， 肘部就可以挨着裂缝里长出的蕨类。

“至于那个我不敢说。但泉水是存在的， 正好在山顶，几乎像一个喷泉。 那应该很值得看。”

“如果真的在那儿。 你从来没见过？”

“我想它存在于那里的 事实是不会有疑惑的。我从来没见过。 它也许不会在绝对的顶端： 我想从山间的河源不必一定要从 最上面那么长一路下来， 从那么远爬上来的人或许不会注意 一条从不近不远的距离流下来的溪水。 有一次我请一个正在攀爬的人 去看看然后再告诉我那是什么样子的。”

“他说了什么？”

“他告诉我说在爱尔兰 什么地方的山顶上有片湖。”

“但湖就是不一样。泉水呢？”

“他还没登上足够他可以看见的高度呢。 那就是为什么我不建议你在这边爬山。 他试过这边。我总想自己过去 然后亲眼看看，但你知道是怎么一回事： 去攀爬一座山几乎没有什么意义 因为你已经在这山麓周围工作一辈子了。 我上山做什么？要我穿着工作裤， 拿着根大棍子，如同奶牛在 挤奶时没有回到栅栏里一样？ 或者为着遇见迷路的黑熊而拿着杆猎枪？ 看上去似乎不是真为爬上去而爬呢。”

“如果我不想上去我也不会爬—— 不是因为爬山本身的缘故。那山叫什么？”

“我们叫它霍：我不知道那对不对。”

“一个人能绕着它走吗？会很远吗？”

“你能在周围开车但要保持是在卢嫩堡境内， 不过你所能做的就这些， 它的边界线近近地贴着山脚。 霍就是镇区，镇区就是霍—— 少许房屋散布在山脚周围， 如同巨石折断了上面的悬崖， 比起那静止不动的滚出了一点点远。”

“在十二月暖和，六月寒冷，你说的？”

“我根本不认为是水在改变。 你和我都很明白说它暖和 只是与寒冷的相比，寒冷呢是与暖和。 而所有乐趣就是你怎样说出一件事情。”

“你一辈子都在这里生活？”

“自从霍 的大小还不如一个——”说的什么，我没听到。 他用细长的刺棒轻轻触碰着公牛的鼻子与 后面的胁腹，将绳子朝自己拉了过来， 发出了几声吆喝，然后慢慢向远处移走。