网站首页 (Homepage)                       欢   迎   访   问  谢  国  芳 (Roy  Xie) 的  个  人  主  页                    返回 (Return)
                    
Welcome to Roy  Xie's Homepage                   





                       ——
  外语解密学习法 逆读法(Reverse Reading Method)   解读法(Decode-Reading Method)训练范文 ——                 

解密目标语言:英语                                解密辅助语言:汉语
              Language to be decoded:  English             Auxiliary Language :  Chinese  

  
         
解密文本:《乡村医生》  [奥] 卡夫卡 原著          
 
 Ein  Landarzt
 von  Franz Kafka

 

                 A Country Doctor            
                                                                         by  Franz Kafka     
                                                                

           德汉对照(German & Chinese)                    德英对照(German & English)                           只看英语(English Only)                    英汉对照(English & Chinese


  


     I was in great difficulty. An urgent journey was facing me. A seriously ill man was waiting for me in a village ten miles distant. A severe snowstorm filled the space between him and me. I had a carriage—a light one, with large wheels, entirely suitable for our country roads. Wrapped up in furs with the bag of instruments in my hand, I was already standing in the courtyard ready for the journey; but the horse was missing—the horse. My own horse had died the previous night, as a result of over exertion in this icy winter. My servant girl was at that very moment running around the village to see if she could borrow a horse, but it was hopeless—I knew that—and I stood there useless, increasingly covered with snow, becoming all the time more immobile. The girl appeared at the gate, alone. She was swinging the lantern. Of course, who is now going to lend her his horse for such a journey? I walked once again across the courtyard. I couldn’t see what to do. Distracted and tormented, I kicked my foot against the cracked door of the pig sty which had not been used for years. The door opened and banged to and fro on its hinges. A warmth and smell as if from horses came out. A dim stall lantern on a rope swayed inside. A man huddled down in the stall below showed his open blue-eyed face. “Shall I hitch up?” he asked, crawling out on all fours. I didn’t know what to say and bent down to see what was still in the stall. The servant girl stood beside me. “One doesn’t know the sorts of things one has stored in one’s own house,” she said, and we both laughed. “Hey, Brother, hey Sister,” the groom cried out, and two horses, powerful animals with strong flanks, shoved their way one behind the other, legs close to the bodies, lowering their well-formed heads like camels, and getting through the door space, which they completely filled, only through the powerful movements of their rumps. But right away they stood up straight, long legged, with thick steaming bodies. “Help him,” I said, and the girl obediently hurried to hand the wagon harness to the groom. But as soon as she was beside him, the groom puts his arms around her and pushes his face against hers. She screams out and runs over to me. On the girl’s cheek were red marks from two rows of teeth. “You brute,” I cry out in fury, “do you want the whip?”. But I immediately remember that he is a stranger, that I don’t know where he comes from, and that he’s helping me out of his own free will, when everyone else is refusing to. As if he knows what I was thinking, he takes no offence at my threat, but turns around to me once more, still busy with the horses. Then he says, “Climb in,” and, in fact, everything is ready. I notice that I have never before traveled with such a beautiful team of horses, and I climb in happily. “But I’ll take the reins. You don’t know the way,” I say. “Of course,” he says; “I’m not going with you. I’m staying with Rosa.” “No,” screams Rosa and runs into the house, with an accurate premonition of the inevitability of her fate. I hear the door chain rattling as she sets it in place. I hear the lock click. I see how in addition she runs down the corridor and through the rooms putting out all the lights in order to make herself impossible to find. “You’re coming with me,” I say to the groom, "or I’ll give up the journey, no matter how urgent it is. It’s not my intention to give you the girl as the price of the trip.” “Giddy up,” he says and claps his hands. The carriage is torn away, like a piece of wood in a current. I still hear how the door of my house is breaking down and splitting apart under the groom’s onslaught, and then my eyes and ears are filled with a roaring sound which overwhelms all my senses at once. But only for a moment. Then I am already there, as if the farm yard of my invalid opens up immediately in front of my courtyard gate. The horses stand quietly. The snowfall has stopped, moonlight all around. The sick man’s parents rush out of the house, his sister behind them. They almost lift me out of the carriage. I get nothing from their confused talking. In the sick room one can hardly breathe the air. The neglected cooking stove is smoking. I want to push open the window, but first I’ll look at the sick man. Thin, without fever, not cold, not warm, with empty eyes, without a shirt, the young man under the stuffed quilt heaves himself up, hangs around my throat, and whispers in my ear, “Doctor, let me die.” I look around. No one has heard. The parents stand silently, leaning forward, and wait for my opinion. The sister has brought a stool for my handbag. I open the bag and look among my instruments. The young man constantly gropes at me from the bed to remind me of his request. I take some tweezers, test them in the candle light, and put them back. “Yes,” I think blasphemously, “in such cases the gods do help. They send the missing horse, even add a second one because it’s urgent, and even throw in a groom as a bonus.” Now for the first time I think once more of Rosa. What am I doing? How am I saving her? How do I pull her out from under this groom, ten miles away from her, with uncontrollable horses in the front of my carriage? These horses, who have somehow loosened their straps, are pushing open the window from outside, I don’t know how. Each one is sticking its head through a window and, unmoved by the crying of the family, is observing the invalid. “I’ll go back right away,” I think, as if the horses were ordering me to journey back, but I allow the sister, who thinks I am in a daze because of the heat, to take off my fur coat. A glass of rum is prepared for me. The old man claps me on the shoulder; the sacrifice of his treasure justifies this familiarity. I shake my head. In the narrow circle of the old man’s thinking I was not well; that’s the only reason I refuse to drink. The mother stands by the bed and entices me over. I follow and, as a horse neighs loudly at the ceiling, lay my head on the young man’s chest, which trembles under my wet beard. That confirms what I know: the young man is healthy. His circulation is a little off, saturated with coffee by his caring mother, but he’s healthy and best pushed out of bed with a shove. I’m no improver of the world and let him lie there. I am employed by the district and do my duty to the full, right to the point where it’s almost too much. Badly paid, but I’m generous and ready to help the poor. I still have to look after Rosa, and then the young man may have his way, and I want to die too. What am I doing here in this endless winter! My horse is dead, and there is no one in the village who’ll lend me his. I have to drag my team out of the pig sty. If they hadn’t happened to be horses, I’d have had to travel with pigs. That’s the way it is. And I nod to the family. They know nothing about it, and if they did know, they wouldn’t believe it. Incidentally, it’s easy to write prescriptions, but difficult to come to an understanding with people. Now, at this point my visit might have come to an end—they have once more called for my help unnecessarily. I’m used to that. With the help of my night bell the entire region torments me, but that this time I had to sacrifice Rosa as well, this beautiful girl, who lives in my house all year long and whom I scarcely notice—this sacrifice is too great, and I must somehow in my own head subtly rationalize it away for the moment, in order not to let loose at this family who cannot, even with their best will, give me Rosa back again. But as I am closing up by hand bag and calling for my fur coat, the family is standing together, the father sniffing the glass of rum in his hand, the mother, probably disappointed in me—what more do these people expect?—tearfully biting her lips, and the sister flapping a very bloody hand towel, I am somehow ready, in the circumstances, to concede that the young man is perhaps nonetheless sick. I go to him. He smiles up at me, as if I was bringing him the most nourishing kind of soup—ah, now both horses are whinnying, the noise is probably supposed to come from higher regions in order to illuminate my examination—and now I find out that, yes indeed, the young man is ill. On his right side, in the region of the hip, a wound the size of the palm of one’s hand has opened up. Rose coloured, in many different shadings, dark in the depths, brighter on the edges, delicately grained, with uneven patches of blood, open to the light like a mine. That’s what it looks like from a distance. Close up a complication is apparent. Who can look at that without whistling softly? Worms, as thick and long as my little finger, themselves rose coloured and also spattered with blood, are wriggling their white bodies with many limbs from their stronghold in the inner of the wound towards the light. Poor young man, there’s no helping you. I have found out your great wound. You are dying from this flower on your side. The family is happy; they see me doing something. The sister says that to the mother, the mother tells the father, the father tells a few guests who are coming in on tip toe through the moonlight of the open door, balancing themselves with outstretched arms. “Will you save me?” whispers the young man, sobbing, quite blinded by the life inside his wound. That’s how people are in my region. Always demanding the impossible from the doctor. They have lost the old faith. The priest sits at home and tears his religious robes to pieces, one after the other. But the doctor is supposed to achieve everything with his delicate surgeon’s hand. Well, it’s what they like to think. I have not offered myself. If they use me for sacred purposes, I let that happen to me as well. What more do I want, an old country doctor, robbed of my servant girl! And they come, the families and the village elders, and take my clothes off. A choir of school children with the teacher at the head stands in front of the house and sings an extremely simple melody with the words

        Take his clothes off, then he’ll heal,
        and if he doesn’t cure, then kill him.
        It’s only a doctor; it’s only a doctor.

    Then I am stripped of my clothes and, with my fingers in my beard and my head tilted to one side, I look at the people quietly. I am completely calm and clear about everything and stay that way, too, although it is not helping me at all, for they are now taking me by the head and feet and dragging me into bed. They lay me against the wall on the side of wound. Then they all go out of the room. The door is shut. The singing stops. Clouds move in front of the moon. The bedclothes lie warmly around me. In the open space of the windows the horses’ heads sway like shadows. “Do you know,” I hear someone saying in my ear, “my confidence in you is very small. You were shaken out from somewhere. You don’t come on your own feet. Instead of helping, you give me less room on my deathbed. The best thing would be if I scratch your eyes out.” “Right,” I say, “it’s a disgrace. But now I’m a doctor. What am I supposed to do? Believe me, things are not easy for me either.” “Should I be satisfied with this excuse? Alas, I’ll probably have to be. I always have to make do. I came into the world with a beautiful wound; that was all I was furnished with.” “Young friend,” I say, “your mistake is that you have no perspective. I’ve already been in all the sick rooms, far and wide, and I tell you your wound is not so bad. Made in a tight corner with two blows from an axe. Many people offer their side and hardly hear the axe in the forest, to say nothing of the fact that it’s coming closer to them.” “Is that really so, or are you deceiving me in my fever?” “It is truly so. Take the word of honour of a medical doctor.” He took my word and grew still. But now it was time to think about my escape. The horses were still standing loyally in place. Clothes, fur coat, and bag were quickly snatched up. I didn’t want to delay by getting dressed; if the horses rushed as they had on the journey out, I should, in fact, be springing out of that bed into my own, as it were. One horse obediently pulled back from the window. I threw the bundle into the carriage. The fur coat flew too far and was caught on a hook by only one arm. Good enough. I swung myself up onto the horse. The reins dragging loosely, one horse barely harnessed to the other, the carriage swaying behind, last of all the fur coat in the snow. “Giddy up,” I said, but there was no giddying up about it. We dragged through the snowy desert like old men; for a long time the fresh but inaccurate singing of the children resounded behind us:

        Enjoy yourselves, you patients.
        The doctor’s laid in bed with you.

    I’ll never come home at this rate. My flourishing practice is lost. A successor is robbing me, but to no avail, for he cannot replace me. In my house the disgusting groom is wreaking havoc. Rosa is his victim. I will not think it through. Naked, abandoned to the frost of this unhappy age, with an earthly carriage and unearthly horses, I drive around by myself, an old man. My fur coat hangs behind the wagon, but I cannot reach it, and no one from the nimble rabble of patients lifts a finger. Betrayed! Betrayed! Once one responds to a false alarm on the night bell, there’s no making it good again—not ever.

 


       我陷于极大的窘境:我必须立刻启程到十里之外的一个村子看望一位重病人,但狂风大雪阻塞了我与他之间的茫茫原野。我有一辆马车,轻便,大轮子,很适合在我们乡间道路上行驶。我穿上皮大衣,提上出诊包,站在院子里准备启程,但是,没有马,马没有啦,我自己的马在昨天严寒的冬夜里劳累过度而死了。我的女佣现在满村子里跑东跑西,想借到一匹马,然而我知道这纯属徒劳。雪越积越厚,行走越来越困难,我茫然地站在那里。这时那姑娘出现在门口,独自一人,摇晃着马灯。当然,有谁在这种时候会借他的马给别人跑这差事?我又在院子里踱来踱去,不知所措。我心烦意乱,苦恼不堪,用脚踢了一下那已经多年不用的猪圈的破门。门开了,摆来摆去拍得门枢啪啪直响。一股热气和类似马的气味扑面而来,里面一根绳子上一盏厩灯晃来晃去;低矮的棚圈里有个人蜷曲蹲在那里,脸上睁着一双蓝眼睛。他葡匐着爬过来,问道:“要我套马吗?”我不知道该说什么,只是弯下腰,想看看这圈里还有没有其他什么东西。女佣站在我身旁,说道:“人们都不知道自己家里有什么东西。”我们两个都笑了。
  “喂,兄弟!喂,姑娘!”马夫喊着,于是两匹健壮的膘马相拥而现,它们的腿紧贴着身体,漂亮的马头像骆驼一样低垂着,仅靠着躯体运动的力量从与它们差不多大小的门洞里一匹跟着一匹挤了出来,但马上它们都站直了,长长的四肢,浑身散发着热气。“去帮帮他,”我说,听话的女佣便急忙过去给马夫递挽具。可是,不等她走近,马夫就抱住了她,把脸贴向她的脸。她惊叫起来,跑到我身边,脸颊上深深地留下两道红红的牙印。“畜生!”我愤怒地喊道:“你想挨鞭子吗?”但转念又想,他是个陌生人,我不知道他从哪里来,而且在大家拒绝我的时候自愿来帮助我。他好像知道我在想什么,所以并不计较我的威胁,只是向我转了一下身体,手里不停地套着马车。“上车吧,”他说。一点不假,一切已准备就绪。我发现这套马车非常漂亮,我还从来没坐过这么漂亮的马车呢。我高兴地上了车,说道:“不过,车我来驾,因为你不认识路。”“那当然,”他说,“我压根就不跟你去,我留在罗莎这里。”“不!”罗莎直喊,然后,预感到无法逃避的厄运的降临,跑进屋里。随后,我听到她拴上门链发出的叮铛响声,又听见锁子被锁上;我看见她还关掉了走廊的灯,又迅速穿过好几个房间,关灭了所有的灯,以使自己不被人找见。“你跟我一起走,”我对马夫说,“否则我不去了,不论怎样急迫。我不能想象为此行而把那姑娘送给你作为代价。”
  “驾!”他吆喝一声,又拍拍手,顿时,马车就像激流之中的木块一样奔出。我听到马夫冲进我家里时屋门震裂的声音,然后,我的眼睛、耳朵以及所有感官只觉得一阵呼啸风驰电掣般掠过,但这瞬间即逝,因为,那病人家的院子就好像紧挨着我家的院门,我已经到达了。马儿静静地站在那儿,雪也不下了,只有月光撒满大地。病人的父母急匆匆迎出来,后面跟着他姐姐。我几乎是被从车里抬出来的。他们七嘴八舌,而我却不知所云。病人房间里空气污浊,令人无法呼吸,废旧的炉子冒着烟。我想推开窗户,但首先我要看看病人。他消瘦、不发烧、不冷、也不热,两眼无神。小伙子没穿衬衣,盖着羽绒被。他坐起身来,抱住我的脖子,对着我的耳朵悄声说道:“医生,让我死吧。”我看了一下四周,发现没人听见这话。病人的父母躬着身子呆站在一旁,等候着我的诊断。他姐姐搬来一把椅子让我放下诊包。我打开包,寻找工具。小伙子不断地从被窝里向我爬过来,提醒我别忘了他的请求。我抓出一把镊子,在烛光下试了试,然后又放回去。“是啊,”我渎神地想:“在这种情况下众神相助,送来了需要的马匹,又因为事情紧迫而送来第二匹,更甚者,还送来了马夫——”这时,我才又想起了罗莎。距她十里之遥,而拉车之马又无法驾驭,在这种情况下,怎样才能救她,怎样才能把她从马夫身下拉出来呢?现在,那两匹马不知怎么已经松开了缰绳,又不知怎么把窗户从外边顶开了,每匹都把头伸进一扇窗户,不受那家人的干扰,观察着病人。“我要立刻返回去。”我想,好像马儿也在催我动身。但我却任凭他姐姐脱掉我的皮大衣,她以为我热得脑胀。老人给我端来一杯郎姆酒,并拍了拍我的肩膀。献出心爱的东西表明他对我的信任。我摇了摇头,在老人狭隘的思想里我感到不适,仅鉴于此我拒绝喝那酒。他母亲站在床边叫我过去,我走过去,把头贴在小伙子胸口上,他在我潮湿的胡须下颤抖起来。那边,一匹马对着屋顶大声嘶叫。我知道的事已被证实:小伙子是健康的,只不过是有点供血不足,他那忧心忡忡的母亲给他喝了过多的咖啡。然而他却是健康的,最好干脆把他从床上赶下来。我并不是救世主,让他躺着吧。我供职于区上,忠于职守,甚至于过分;我薪俸微薄,但却慷慨大方,乐于帮助穷人,另外,我还要负担罗莎的生活。如此看来,小伙子也许是对的,我也想去死。在这漫长的冬日里,我在这里干什么呀!我的马死了,而且村子里又没人借给我一匹。我得从猪圈里拉出马来,如果不是意外得马,我就要用猪拉车了。事情就是这样。我向这家人点点头。他们对此一无所知,即使知道,他们也不会相信的。开个药方是轻而易举的,但是与这些人互相交流沟通,却是件难事。现在,我的探诊也该结束了。人们又一次让我白跑一趟,对此,我已习惯了。这个区的人总是在夜里来按门铃,使我备受折磨。然而这次却还要搭上罗莎。这个漂亮的姑娘,多年来生活在我家里而没有得到我多少关心——这个代价太大了。我必须马上认真考虑一下,以克制自己,不致对这家人发火,虽然他们不管怎样也不会把罗莎还给我。但当我收拾起诊包,把手伸向我的皮大衣时,这家人站在一起,父亲嗅了嗅手里那杯朗姆酒,母亲可能对我深感失望——是啊,大家到底想要什么呢?——她满眼泪水,紧咬嘴唇;他姐姐摆弄着一块血迹斑斑的手帕,于是我准备在必要的时候承认这小伙子也许真的病了。我向他走过去,他对我微笑着,好像我给他端来了最美味的汤——啊,这时两匹马都叫了起来,这叫声一定是上面所安排,用以帮助我检查病人——而这时我发现:的确,这小伙子是病了。在他身体右侧靠近臀部的地方发现了一个手掌大小的伤口,玫瑰红色,有许多暗点,深处呈黑色,周边泛浅,如同嫩软的颗粒,不均匀地出现淤血,像露天煤矿一样张开着。这是远看的情况,近看则更为严重。谁会见此而不惊叫呢?在伤口的深处,有许多和我小手指一样大小的虫蛹,身体紫红,同时又沾满血污,它们正用白色的小头和无数小腿蠕动着爬向亮处。可怜的小伙子,你已经无可救药。我找到了你硕大的伤口,你身上这朵花送你走向死亡。这家人都很高兴,他们看着我忙这忙那,姐姐把这情况告诉母亲,母亲告诉父亲,父亲又告诉一些客人。这些人正踮着脚尖,张开双臂以保持平衡,从月光下走进敞开的门。“你会救我吗?”小伙子如泣如诉地悄声问我,伤口中蠕动的生命弄得他头晕目眩。我们这里的人就是这样,总是向医生要求不可能的事情。他们已经丧失了旧有的信仰,牧师闲居家中,一件接着一件撕烂他们的法衣,而却要求医生妙手回春,拯救万物。那么,随他们的便吧:我并非不请自到,如果你们要我担任圣职,我也就只得顺从。我一个年迈的乡村医生,女佣被人抢去了,我还能企望什么更好的事情呢!此时,这家人以及村子里的老者一齐走过来脱掉了我的衣服;一个学生合唱队在老师的带领下站在屋前,用极简单的声调唱着这样的歌词:
    “脱掉他的衣,他就能医,
    若他不医,就致他于死地!
    他只是个医生,他只是个医生。”
  然后,我被脱光了衣服,用手指捋着胡子,侧头静观着众人。我镇定自若,胜过所有的人,尽管我孤立无援,被他们抱住头、抓住脚、按倒在床上,但我仍然这样。他们把我朝墙放下,挨着病人的伤口,然后,都退出小屋,并关上了门;歌声也嘎然而止,云块遮住了月亮,暖暖的被子裹着我,马头在窗洞里忽隐忽现地晃动着。“你知道,”我听见有人在耳边说,“我对你缺乏信任,你也不过是在某个地方被人抛弃了而不能自救。你没有帮我,反倒使我的病榻更小。我恨不得把你的眼睛挖出来。”“不错,”我说,“这是一种耻辱。但我现在是个医生,你要我怎样呢?相信我,事情对我也不容易。”“难道这样的道歉就会使我满足吗?哎,也许我只能这样,我一向都很知足。带着一个美丽的伤口我来到人世,这是我的全部嫁妆。”“年轻的朋友,”我说道,“你的缺点是不能总揽全局。我这个人去过附近所有的病房,我告诉你,你的伤并不那么可怕。伤口比较深,是被斧子砍了两下所致。许多人将半个身子置于树林中,却几乎听不到林中斧子的声音,更不用说斧子向他们逼近。”“事情真是这样吗?还是你趁我发烧在欺骗我?”“确实如此。请带着一个工职医生用名誉担保的话去吧。”他相信了,安静下来不再做声。然而,现在是我考虑自我解救的时候了。马匹依然忠实地站在原位,我很快收集起衣服、皮大衣和出诊包,也顾不上去穿衣服。马儿如果还像来时那样神速,那么在某种程度上我就是从这张床上一下就跳上我的床。一匹马驯服地把头从窗户中退回去。我把我那包东西扔进车里,皮大衣丢得好远,只一个袖子紧紧挂在一个钩子上。这样就可以啦。我飞身上马。缰绳松弛下来,马匹也没有互相套在一起,而马车则晃晃悠悠地跟在后面,再后面皮大衣也拖在雪地里。“驾!”我喊道,但马并没有奔驰起来,我们像老人似的慢慢地驶过雪原,耳后久久地回响着孩子门那新而谬误的歌:“欢乐吧,病人门,医生已被放倒在你们的床上!”
  我从未这样走进家门。我丢掉了兴旺发达的行医工作,一个后继者抢走了它。但无济于事,因为他无法取代我。在我家里那可憎的马夫正在施行暴虐,罗莎是他的牺牲品。我不忍再往下想。在这最不幸时代的严冬里,我一个老人赤身裸体,坐在人间的车子上,而驾着非人间的马,四处奔波,饱受严寒的折磨。我的皮大衣挂在马车后面,而我却够不着它,那伙手脚灵活的病人呢,也不肯动一动指头帮我一把。受骗了!受骗了!只要被夜间的铃声捉弄一次——这永远不可挽回。
 

          只看德语(German Only)                                                 只看英语(English Only)                                               只看汉语(Chinese Only)


 

网站首页 (Homepage)                                   前页(Previous Page)                                             下页(Next Page                                     返回 (Return)

 

 

 

          分类:              国芳多语对照文库 >> 德语-英语-汉语 >> 卡夫卡 >> 短篇小说      
    Categories:  Xie's Multilingual Corpus >> German-English-Chinese >> Kafka  >>  Short Novel               
                                        
    

 

 



                              Copyright 2001-2012 by Guofang Xie.    All Rights Reserved. 

                   谢国芳(Roy Xie)版权所有  2001-2012.   一切权利保留。
浙ICP备11050697号