女兒八年級，前兩天貼了女兒的中文作文，中文作文搬家的連接，寫的是七歲那年，搬家時她心裏的感受。後來想起來她一年前還寫過一篇英文版的搬家。貼上來做個比較。因為英文是她的母語，顯然英文版好很多。
我試著把它翻譯成中文，我的翻譯水平有限，還真有些難度。
Rescuing Sunset
拯救晚霞
一串手印從車窗滑下，依舊新鮮，但很快消失在其他的手印中。我靠著車門，端詳著它們，細細地數著每一個，我的哈氣從車窗底升起。爸媽站在車外，爭論著是否該把床墊放在車前麵。他們爭吵的聲音讓我耳鳴，要花太多精力才能聽清楚他們下一句激烈的爭吵。我沒有興趣，我側過頭再好好地看一下我生長了七年的房子。車外，天空染著淡淡的紫紅和蜜色，暗示著又一個黃昏的到來。我在微笑。我生命中的每一天都看著晚霞。那是一個習慣，反射，像敲到你膝蓋骨下麵那個地方，你的腿會不由自主地踢出去。每天下午6：00, 我不自覺地盯著天空，麵帶微笑。可今天是我最後一次在這兒看晚霞。因為我害怕的那一天終於到來了：三月八號，這一天，我要和一切說再見。
事實上我們要搬到一個郊外小城，那裏充斥著兩樣東西：山丘和地老鼠，人類的數目卻隻比零多一點點。一想到這點，我就不免擔心我們都會變尼安德特爾人。一陣慌亂後我意識到，我其實並不是去送死。 我隻不過是和文明說再見。我緊張地喘了口氣，告訴我自己，我隻不過是幻覺，是誇張。
最後一次吸入新割的草坪的氣息，我感覺好一點兒。飲入的氣息讓我想起我第一次上學前班，我揪著那件可愛的粉線衣上掉下來的一根線頭，聽到爸爸喊著：“迎接新戰鬥！”我笑著，覺得緊張地快要把剛喝的牛奶吐出來了。“啊。。。她都不知道什麽意思！”媽媽一邊踏進車裏，一邊說。：“走吧。不然我們學前班第一天就要遲到了!”在我鑽進媽媽的黑色尼桑車前那一刻，最後聞到的就是那股剛割過的草坪的味道。
我們開出停車道時，天空染著薰衣草的淡紫色。“這是我們的最後一次了。”我對自己傷感地說。我盯著周圍每一個細節，吸收每一樣東西，試圖將它們留在記憶裏。“水泥是冷灰色的。”我默默地叨念著。“這兩棵樹會綻放美麗的白花。”我看著夾在我兩腿中間的金魚。它興奮地遊來遊去，看著所有的新奇，它的藍色和紫色的麟片掀起小小的波浪。幸運的魚！它永遠都不用搬家，不用感受著痛苦的鄉愁。它隻會記得他的魚缸。歎息著，我再次把頭轉向車窗。現在，天空燃燒著華麗的紅色，雲彩鑲著亮邊，好像一張漲紅著的臉，很難說是因為驕傲還是窘迫。那些樹和草舞蹈著，一陣苦澀湧上我的喉嚨。我想跑回我的房子，永遠地留在那裏。但是，我隻是靜靜地盯著我的魚。兩滴眼淚掉到我的褲子上。擦掉眼淚，我告訴自己：“不要哭。一切都會好的。”自我安慰帶來的卻隻是新一輪的眼淚。很快，我的視線模糊，開始抽泣。“噢，你怎麽啦？”媽媽很擔心地問。“為什麽。。我們。。要。。。搬家？”我結巴著，我的話語不時被哽咽住。“其實，這都是為了你好。”她回答說。我點點頭。可還是止不住地哭。我所熟悉的一切，我的朋友，鄰居，我的學校。。。他們都沒了。永遠。
黃昏已過，我們到了新家。我想要回我的晚霞，我才能再笑起來。我知道即使離我的老屋很遠，可我們還在同一片晚霞下。但隻有黑暗，幾乎無法看見。我的視線慢慢再次清晰，但我還是止不住地抽噎著。上百的蛐蛐突然齊聲歌唱，它們和諧的聲音互相交錯。嗯。。。我皺著眉。我從來沒聽過蛐蛐兒的歌聲，它卻是想象不出的動聽，幾乎像催眠曲。我微笑著半閉著眼睛，隨著音樂搖擺著爬上通向我們新的，禁房的樓梯。我父親推開有我們兩倍高的木頭們，我的鼻子立刻因聞到空房子的味道而皺起來。我們家所有的家具都在前一天擺放好了。我們的腳步聲在大理石地麵上輕輕回響。粗粗的地毯無情的撓癢我的腳，我又爬上一層樓梯。樓上朦朧的光下我們都看得清楚一點，但還是覺得非常暗。我到了我的房間，房門在藥櫃的邊上，我坐在我的床上。至少我的床還沒變。我衝了個澡，刷了牙，換了衣服，一直流著眼淚。那晚，我哭著睡著了。
融入新生活是我做過得最難的一件事。我再也沒看到我曾熱愛的晚霞，現在我們住在一個大大的，空空的房子裏，沒有一點特色，沒有記憶。每一樣東西都那麽空洞，了無生氣。我睡覺前唯一能聽到的就是蛐蛐兒的叫聲。有時很難入睡，因為我聽不到疾駛過的車聲，那從小到大一直被我忽略的聲音。就好像聽著電冰箱的噪聲，你是那麽習慣，但它突然停了。怎麽這麽安靜？我覺得好奇怪，不適應，像是你第一雙芭蕾鞋，就需要一些磨合。“對了。就需要些磨合。我就會覺得是家的感覺了。”每次想哭的時候，我這樣告訴自己。
白米飯。因為它煮著簡單，我們吃了太多次，它不像做餃子或餛吞那麽難。大約搬家一周以後。我轉著筷子，我的頭低到桌上，一點一點的吃著白米飯，沒有理會任何菜。我第一百遍地歎著氣，一點都不覺得餓。“吃你的飯！”我的小弟弟笑著對我叫著。他為什麽在這種時候還笑得出來？我困惑。他可能根本不記得我們另外的房子是什麽樣的。轉過身，我臉朝著牆，小聲說，“我要上廁所。”一邊使勁兒眨著眼睛，忍著眼淚。我跑進廁所，哭起來。我恨這個房子。我恨我的學校。說到底，我恨我自己。為什麽我們要搬家？我吸著鼻子，從鏡子裏查看了自己，回到餐桌上把米飯一粒粒噎下。
“ Oh!嗨，看呐，晚霞！”一個月後的一天，我媽媽從客廳叫著。不可能。我想，但還是衝到客廳。真的有晚霞。我好像有幾百年沒見了。當太陽慢慢沉下山，那舞蹈著的顏色讓我驚歎。我笑了，就在那個時刻，我知道我終於磨合了。我們家站在那兒好一會兒，當天黑下來，我們各自回去做自己的事情了。我媽媽繼續照顧我的小弟弟，我爸爸繼續查他的電郵，我回到我的作業上。大家都沒再說什麽，但我知道我們都比前一段時間感覺好多了。
從那以後，我慢慢的開始更多地微笑，大笑。我不再會藏在衛生間裏哭，終於，蛐蛐兒的歌聲聽起來不再像葬禮進行曲，更像一個喜劇的終結曲。
一段時間以後，我們又回訪了那個我熱愛的藍色的小屋。什麽都沒有改變，一陣鄉愁洗刷過我。突然，我記起了搬家那天，我曾經覺得那樣的不幸。不知為什麽，我竟慶幸我們搬走了。我說：“好了，我們走吧。”就像我終將我的生活變遷了一樣。
A set of fingerprints trailed down the car window, still fresh, but quickly blending with the rest of the fingerprints. I leaned against the door to inspect them, closely counting each one, my breath fogging up the window pane. Standing outside, my parents were debating about whether or not to put the mattress in the front of the car. Their yelling hurt my ears, and it took too much effort to catch the next line of their heated discussion. I didn’t really care, so I tilted my head to get the last good view of the house in which I had been living in for seven years. Outside, the sky was glowing a faint fuchsia and honey, hinting the beginning of another sunset. I smiled. I saw the sunset everyday of my life. It was a routine, a reaction, like when you tap the spot just below your kneecap and your leg kicks out. At 6:00 p.m., I would involuntarily stare at the sky with a smile on my face. However, today was the last day I would ever see the sunset here because the dreaded date had finally come: March 8, 2006, the day I said goodbye to everything.
Apparently, we were moving to some rural town inhabited by two things: hills, and gophers, while the human population consisted of a little more than zero. Just thinking of it made me imagine what would happen if we all turned into Neanderthals. A jolt of realization shuddered through me. I wasn’t just leaving my life. I was saying goodbye to civilization. I sighed nervously, and told myself that I was just hallucinating and that I was exaggerating.
After inhaling the scent of fresh mowed lawns for the last time, I felt a little better. Drinking in the scent reminded me of when I was going to kindergarten. I was tugging on a loose thread from my vivaciously pink sweater while my dad was exclaiming: “Get your game face on!” I smiled nervously feeling that I would barf up the milk that I just drank. “Aww…she doesn’t even know what that means!” My mom said as she stepped into the car. “Come on. We’re going to be late for the first day of kindergarten!” The scent of freshly mowed lawns had also been the last thing I smelled before I climbed into my mom’s black Nissan on that long ago morning.
The sky was tinted with lavender when we pulled out of the driveway. “This is the last time we are ever going to do this.” I thought to myself sorrowfully. I tried to make it memorable by staring at each detail, absorbing everything I could. “The cement is a cool gray.” I murmured quietly. “The two trees have magnificent white blooms.” I looked down. My goldfish sat in my lap; its blue and purple scales rippled as it swam around excitedly, staring at all the new wonders. What a lucky fish. It would never have to move, never have to experience the painful feeling of nostalgia. All it would remember was its tank. Sighing, I turned my head to face the window once again. Now, the sky was shimmering in a magnificent red, the clouds highlighted at the edges, as if it was flushing in pride or in embarrassment. It was hard to tell. The trees and the grass were dancing by as bitterness welled up in my throat. “How can you be dancing when I am so sad? Are you happy that I am leaving? Are you taunting me?” I wanted to scream. I wanted to run back to my house and stay there forever. But I stayed silent, staring at my fish. A couple drops of tears fell onto my pants. Wiping them away, I told myself, “Don’t cry. Everything is going to be okay.” My comforting, however, only brought around a round of fresh tears. Soon, my view became blurry and I started sobbing. “Oh… are you okay?” My mom asked with great concern. “Wh-y-y d-id w-w-we have to m-ove?” I stammered, my words distorted by an occasional hiccup. “Well…it’s for your benefit.” she replied. I nodded, but still continued crying. Everything I knew. My friends, neighbors, my school….They were really gone. Forever.
The sunset was over now and we arrived at our new house. I wanted the sunset back, so I could smile again and realize that even though I was so far away, we were under the same sunset as my old house. But, it was dark and almost impossible to see. My sight was clear again, but I was still hiccupping madly. Hundreds of crickets erupted into song, their harmonious voices overlapping one another. Hmmm… I frowned. I had never heard the crickets’ song before, and it was beautiful beyond imagination, almost like a lullaby. I smiled with my eyes half closed swaying to the music as I climbed up the stairs that led to our new, forbidding house. My father pushed open the wooden door twice our height, and my nose immediately wrinkled at the smell of inoccupation. All our furniture already was placed there the day before, and our steps echoed softly on the marbled tiles. Rough carpet tickled my feet mercilessly as I climbed up another flight of stairs. There was a dim light so we could all see better, but it was still extremely dark. I reached my room, the door next to the medicine cabinet, and sat on my bed. At least my bed was still the same. I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and then changed, weeping all the time. That night, I cried myself to sleep.
Adjusting to my new life was the hardest thing I had ever done. I could never see the sunset I used to love so much, and now we lived in a big, empty house with no character, and with no memories. Everything was so hollow and deprived of life. The only thing I could listen to falling asleep was the crickets’ chirping. Sometimes, it was impossible to fall asleep because I couldn’t hear the constant whoosh of cars which I grew up to ignore. It’s like listening to the grumble of your refrigerator, which you are so used to hearing, and then it suddenly stops. Doesn’t everything seem so silent? I felt so awkward, and out of place, like your first pair of point shoes that just need some breaking in. “That’s it. I just need some breaking in. I’ll feel right at home then.” I would tell myself whenever I was about to cry.
White rice. We ate white rice so many times before because it was easy to cook, and it wasn’t as messy as making dumplings or wontons. It was around a week after moving day. I twirled around my chopsticks with my head on the table, eating them bit by bit, and not bothering to pick up any vegetables. I sighed for the millionth time, not feel hungry a bit. “EAT YOUR FOOD!” My baby brother laughed while screaming at me. How could he laugh at a time like this? I wondered to myself. He probably can’t even remember what our other house looked like. Turning, I faced a wall, and muttered, “I need to use the bathroom.” while blinking back tears. I ran into the bathroom and started crying. I hated this house. I hated my school. Most of all, I hated my life. Why did we have to move? I sniffled, checked myself in the mirror, and went back to choking down dinner grain by grain.
“Oh! Hey, look, it’s a sunset!” My mom called from the living room a month later. No way. I thought to myself, but I rushed to the living room anyway. There really was a sunset. I hadn’t seen one in centuries. I sighed as the dazzling colors danced when the sun slowly sank behind the hills. I smiled, and at that moment, I knew that I was finally starting to break in. Our family just stood there for a while, and when the sky darkened, we went back to doing. My mom resumed taking care of my little brother, my dad continued to check his email, and I went back to doing homework. No one said much, but I know we all felt better than we had in a while.
After that, I slowly started to smile and laugh more. I wouldn’t hide in the bathroom and cry, and finally, the cricket’s song didn’t sound like a funeral march anymore. It sounded more like the ending song to a happy story.
Some time later, we visited the blue cottage I loved so much. Nothing changed, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Suddenly, I remembered moving day, how I felt so wretched, and for some reason, I was glad we moved. “Come on. Let’s go.” I said. Just like how I moved my life.
是七年級時寫的。12歲。