荞麦 第10期

Often, after a thunder-storm, when one passes a field in which Buckwheat is growing, it appears quite blackened and singed. It is just as if a flame of fire had passed across it; and then the countryman says,"It got that from lightning." But why has it received that? I will tell you what the Sparrow told me about it, and the Sparrow heard it from an old Willow tree which stood by a Buckwheat field, and still stands there. It is quite a great venerable Willow Tree, but wrinkled and old; it is burst in the middle, and grass and brambles grow out of the cleft; the tree bends forward, and the branches hang quite down to the ground, as if they were long, green hair.

On all the fields round about corn was growing, not only rye and barley, but also oats, yes, the most capital oats, which when ripe look like a number of little yellow canary birds sitting upon a spray. The corn stood smiling, and the richer an ear was, the deeper did it bend in pious humility.

But there was also a field of Buckwheat, and this field was exactly opposite to the old Willow Tree. The Buckwheat did not bend at all, like the rest of the grain, but stood up proudly and stiffly.

"I'm as rich as any corn ear," it said."Moreover, I' m very much handsomer. My flowers are beautiful as the blossoms of the apple tree; it's quite a delight to look upon me and mine. Do you know anything more splendid than we are, you old Willow Tree?"

And the Willow Tree nodded his head, just as if he would have said, "Yes, certainly I do!"

But the Buckwheat spread itself out from mere vain-glory, and said,

"The stupid tree! He's so old that the grass grows in his body."

Now a terrible storm came on: all the field flowers folded their leaves together or bowed their little heads while the storm passed over them, but the Buckwheat stood erect in its pride.

"Bend your head like us," said the Flowers.

"I' ve not the slightest cause to do so," replied the Buckwheat.

"Bend your head as we do," cried the corn. "Now the angel of the storm comes flying on. He has wings that reach from the clouds just down to the earth, and he'll cut you right in two before you can cry for mercy."

"Yes, but I won't bend," quoth the Buckwheat.

"Shut up your flowers and bend your leaves," said the old Willow Tree. "Don't look up at the lightning when the cloud bursts; even men do not do that, for in the lightning one may look into heaven, but that sight dazzles even men; and what would happen to us, if we dared do so--we, the plants of the field, that are much less worthy than they?"

"Much less worthy!" cried the Buckwheat. "Now I'll just look straight up into heaven."

And it did so, in its pride and vain-glory. It was as if the whole world were on fire, so vivid was the lightning.

When afterwards the bad weather had passed by, the flowers and the crops stood in the still, pure air, quite refreshed by the rain; but the Buckwheat was burned coalblack by the lightning, and it was now like a dead weed upon the field.

And the old Willow Tree waved its branches in the wind, and great drops of water fell down out of the green leaves just as if the tree wept.

And the Sparrows asked,"Why do you weep? Here everything is so cheerful: see how the sun shines, see how the clouds sail on. Do you not breathe the scent of flowers and bushes? Why do you weep, Willow Tree?"

And the Willow Tree told them of the pride of the Buckwheat, of its vain-glory, and of the punishment which always follows such sin.

I, who tell you this tale, have heard it from the Sparrows. They told it me one evening when I begged them to give me a story.

一阵暴风雨过后,当你经过荞麦地时,你会发现地里一片焦黑,好像一场大火烧过的一样。这时,农民就会说:“这是闪电造成的。”但为什么是闪电造成的呢?我来把麻雀对我说的话告诉你。麻雀是从荞麦地边的一棵老树那里听来的,那棵树现在还在呢。那可是棵值得尊敬的大柳树啊,不过它又老又皱。树中间裂开了缝,青草和荆棘从里面长了出来。树弯了下来,树条都快碰到地了,像是长长的绿色的头发。

周围的田地里长满了麦子,不仅有黑麦和大麦,还有燕麦呢。当然,那是最好的燕麦,当它成熟时,看起来就像是黄色的金丝雀落在小树枝上一样。燕麦站在那里笑着,麦穗长得越满,它的身子就躬得越低,显得十分谦卑。

但这里也种着一块荞麦,就在老柳树的正对面。荞麦一点也不垂头,和那些麦子都不一样。它总是高傲地挺立着。

“我和所有的麦子一样丰满,”它说,“而且,我还比它们更潇洒。我开的花像苹果树的花儿一样美丽,欣赏我和我的花儿真是一种享受。你还知道有什么东西比我更漂亮吗,你这棵老柳树?”老柳树只是点了点头,好像在说,“是的,我当然知道!”

但荞麦很虚荣地摆足架子,说,

“这棵愚蠢的老树!他那么老,连草都从它的身子里长出来了。”

这时,一阵可怕的暴风雨来了。当它经过的时候,地里所有的花儿都收拢起花瓣,低下它们的小脑袋。但荞麦还是高傲地直挺挺地站着。

“快像我们一样低下头!”所有的花儿都喊起来。

“我才不需要那样做呢!”荞麦答道。

“快像我们这样低下头,”麦子说,“雷神飞过来了。他的翅膀从云层一直延伸到地面,他会在你没来得及求饶之前,就把你斩成两截的。”

“对,但我不会低头的。”荞麦说。

“闭上你的花儿,垂下你的叶子,”老柳树说,“当云层被闪电击穿的时候,不要抬头看。连人类都不敢这么做。因为在闪电中,会看到天堂,这样直视会把人类的眼睛都弄花的。要是我们那样做,后果真是不堪设想――我们,地里的庄稼,难道不是比他们还要渺小得多吗?”

“渺小得多?”,荞麦叫道,“这回我就要直视天堂!”

它就这么做了,充满了骄傲和虚荣。天空电闪雷鸣,整个世界好像都着了火一样。

恶劣的天气过后,花儿和麦子仍然站在明净的空气里,被雨水浇灌得生机勃勃。但荞麦却被雷电烧得像炭一样焦黑,像田野里的死草。

老柳树在风中摆动着枝条,大滴大滴的雨水从绿色的树枝上落下来,好像它在哭泣。

麻雀问,“你为什么要哭呀?这里充满了欢乐。瞧,阳光多么明媚,云儿多么逍遥。你没有闻到花儿和草木的香味吗?你为什么要哭呢,柳树?”

柳树就对它讲了荞麦的骄傲和虚荣,以及因为这些罪过而招致惩罚的故事。

我,讲这个故事的人,是从麻雀那里听到的。一天晚上,我请求它们给讲个故事,它们就给我讲了这个故事。