賈平凹雙語散文丑石
來這一篇散文，我們從課本里面學(xué)習(xí)過的，接下來，小編給大家準(zhǔn)備了賈平凹雙語散文丑石,歡迎大家參考與借鑒。
賈平凹雙語散文丑石
賈平凹
我常常遺憾我家門前的那塊丑有呢：它黑黝黝地臥在那里，牛似的模樣;誰也不知道是什么時候留在這里的，誰也不去理會它。只是麥?zhǔn)諘r節(jié)，門前攤了麥子，奶奶總是要說：這塊丑石，多礙地面喲，多時把它搬走吧。
于是，伯父家蓋房，想以它壘山墻，但苦于它極不規(guī)則，沒棱角兒，也沒平面兒;用鏨破開吧，又懶得花那么大氣力，因?yàn)楹訛┎⒉簧踹h(yuǎn)，隨便去掮一塊回來，哪一塊也比它強(qiáng)。房蓋起來，壓鋪臺階，伯父也沒有看上它。有一年，來了一個石匠，為我家洗一臺石磨，奶奶又說：用這塊丑石吧，省得從遠(yuǎn)處搬動。石匠看了看，搖著頭，嫌它石質(zhì)太細(xì)，也不采用。
它不像漢白玉那樣的細(xì)膩，可以鑿下刻字雕花，也不像大青石那樣的光滑，可以供來浣紗捶布;它靜靜地臥在那里，院邊的槐蔭沒有庇覆它，花兒也不再在它身邊生長。荒草便繁衍出來，枝蔓上下，慢慢地，竟銹上了綠苔、黑斑。我們這些做孩子的，也討厭起它來，曾合伙要搬走它，但力氣又不足;雖時時咒罵它，嫌棄它，也無可奈何，只好任它留在那里去了。
稍稍能安我們的，是在那石上有一個不大不小的坑凹兒，雨天就盛滿了水。常常雨過三天了，地上已經(jīng)干燥，那石凹里水兒還有，雞兒便去那里渴飲。每每到了十五的夜晚，我們盼著滿月出來，就爬到其上，翹望天邊;奶奶總是要罵的，害怕我們摔下來。果然那次就摔了下來，磕破了我的膝蓋呢。
人都罵它是丑石，它真是丑得不能再丑的丑石了。
終有一日，村子里來了一個天文學(xué)家。他在我家門前路過，突然發(fā)現(xiàn)了這塊石頭，眼光立即就拉直了。他再沒有走丟，就住了下來;以后又來了好些人，說這是一塊隕石，從天上落下來已經(jīng)有二三百年了，是一件了不起的東西。不久便來了車，小心翼翼地將它運(yùn)走了。
這使我們都很驚奇!這又怪又丑的石頭，原來是天上的呢!它補(bǔ)過天，在天上發(fā)過熱，閃過光，我們的先祖或許仰望過它，它給了他們光明、向往、憧憬;而它落下來了，在污土里，荒草里，一躺就是幾百年了?!
奶奶說：“真看不出!它那么不一般，卻怎么連墻也壘不成，臺階也壘不成呢?”
“它是太丑了?！狈蛭膶W(xué)家說。
“真的，是太丑了?！?/p>
“可這正是它的美!”天文學(xué)家說，“它是以丑為美的?！?/p>
“以丑為美?”
“是的，丑到極處，便是美到極處。正因?yàn)樗皇且话愕念B石，當(dāng)然不能去做墻，做臺階，不能去雕刻，捶布。它不是做這些小玩意兒的，所以常常就遭到一般世俗的譏諷。”
奶奶臉紅了，我也臉紅了。
我感到自己的可恥，也感到了丑石的偉大;我甚至怨恨它這么多年竟會默默地忍受著這一切，而我又立即深深地感到它那種不屈于誤解、寂寞的生存的偉大。
An Ugly Stone
Jia Pingwa
I used to feel sorry for that ugly black piece of stone lying like an ox in front of our door; none knew when it was left there and none paid any attention to it, except at the time when wheat was harvested and my grandma, seeing the grains of wheat spread all over the ground in the front yard of the house, would grumble: “This ugly stone takes so much space. Move it away someday.
Thus my uncle had wanted to use it for the gable when he was building a house, but he was troubled to find it of very irregular shape, with no edges nor corners, nor a flat plane on it. And he wouldn’t bother to break it in half with a chisel because the river bank was nearby, where he could have easily fetched a much better stone instead. Even when my uncle was busy with the flight of steps leading to the new house he didn’t take a fancy to the ugly stone. One year when a mason came by, we asked him to make us a stone mill with it. As my grandma put it: “Why not take this one, so you won’t have to fetch one from afar.” But the mason took a look and shook his head: he wouldn’t take it for it was of too fine a quality.
It was not like a fine piece of white marble on which words or flowers could be carved, nor like a smooth big bluish stone people used to wash their clothes on. The stone just lay there in silence, enjoying no shading from the pagoda trees by the yard, nor flowers growing around it. As a result weeds multiplied and stretched all over it, their stems and tendrils gradually covered with dark green spots of moss. We children began to dislike the stone too, and would have taken it away if we had been strong enough; all we could do for the present was to leave it alone, despite our disgust or even curses.
The only thing that had interested us in the ugly stone was a little pit on top of it, which was filled with water on rainy days. Three days after a rainfall, usually, when the ground had become dry, there was still water in the pit, where chickens went to drink. And every month when it came to the evening of the 15th of lunar calendar, we would climb onto the stone, looking up at the sky, hoping to see the full moon come out from far away. And Granny would give us a scolding, afraid lest we should fall down and sure enough, I fell down once to have my knee broken. So everybody condemned the stone: an ugly stone, as ugly as it could be.
Then one day an astronomer came to the village. He looked the stone square in the eye the moment he came across it. He didn’t take his leave but decided to stay in our village. Quite a number of people came afterwards, saying the stone was a piece of aerolite which had fallen down from the sky two or three hundred years ago what a wonder indeed! Pretty soon a truck came, and carried it away carefully.
It gave us a great surprise! We had never expected that such a strange and ugly stone should have come from the sky! So it had once mended the sky, given out its heat and light there, and our ancestors should have looked up at it. It had given them light, brought them hopes and expectations, and then it had fallen down to the earth, in the mud and among the weeds, lying there for hundreds of years!
My grandma said: “I never expected it should be so great! But why can’t people build a wall or pave steps with it?”
‘It’s too ugly,” the astronomer said.
“Sure, it’s really so ugly.”
“But that’s just where its beauty lies!” the astronomer said, “its beauty comes from its ugliness.”
“Beauty from ugliness?”
“Yes. When something becomes the ugliest, it turns out the most beautiful indeed. The stone is not an ordinary piece of insensate stone, it shouldn’t be used to build wall or pave the steps, to carve words or flowers or to wash clothes on. It’s not the material for those petty common things, and no wonder it’s ridiculed often by people with petty common views.”
My grandma became blushed, and so did I.
I feel shame while I feel the greatness of the ugly stone; I have even complained about it having pocketed silently all it had experienced for so many years, but again I am struck by the greatness that lies in its lonely unyielding existence of being misunderstood by people.
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