莫言获奖演讲英文版.docx

莫言获奖演讲英文版.docx

《莫言获奖演讲英文版.docx》由会员分享，可在线阅读，更多相关《莫言获奖演讲英文版.docx（11页珍藏版）》请在冰豆网上搜索。

莫言获奖演讲英文版

莫言获奖演讲英文版

　　distinguishedmembersoftheswedishacademy,ladiesandgentlemen:

　　throughthemediumsoftelevisionandtheinternet,iimaginethateveryoneherehasatleastanoddingacquaintancewithfar-offnortheastgaomitownship.youmayhaveseenmyninety-year-oldfather,aswellasmybrothers,mysister,mywifeandmydaughter,evenmygranddaughter,nowayearandfourmonthsold.butthepersonwhoismostonmymindatthismoment,mymother,issomeoneyouwillneversee.manypeoplehavesharedinthehonorofwinningthisprize,everyonebuther.

　　mymotherwasbornin1922anddiedin1994.weburiedherinapeachorchardeastofthevillage.lastyearwewereforcedtomovehergravefartherawayfromthevillageinordertomakeroomforaproposedrailline.whenwedugupthegrave,wesawthatthecoffinhadrottedawayandthatherbodyhadmergedwiththedampeartharoundit.sowedugupsomeofthatsoil,asymbolicact,andtookittothenewgravesite.thatwaswhenigraspedtheknowledgethatmymotherhadbecomepartoftheearth,andthatwhenispoketomotherearth,iwasreallyspeakingtomymother.

　　iwasmymother'syoungestchild.myearliestmemorywasoftakingouronlyvacuumbottletothepubliccanteenfordrinkingwater.weakenedbyhunger,idroppedthebottleandbrokeit.scaredwitless,ihidallthatdayinahaystack.towardevening,iheardmymothercallingmychildhoodname,soicrawledoutofmyhidingplace,preparedtoreceiveabeatingorascolding.butmotherdidn'thitme,didn'tevenscoldme.shejustrubbedmyheadandheavedasigh.

　　mymostpainfulmemoryinvolvedgoingoutinthecollective'sfieldwithmothertogleanearsofwheat.thegleanersscatteredwhentheyspottedthewatchman.butmother,whohadboundfeet,couldnotrun;shewascaughtandslappedsohardbythewatchman,ahulkofaman,thatshefelltotheground.thewatchmanconfiscatedthewheatwe'dgleanedandwalkedoffwhistling.asshesatontheground,herlipbleeding,motherworealookofhopelessnessi'llneverforget.yearslater,wheniencounteredthewatchman,nowagray-hairedoldman,inthemarketplace,motherhadtostopmefromgoinguptoavengeher."son,"shesaidevenly,"themanwhohitmeandthismanarenotthesameperson."

　　myclearestmemoryisofamoonfestivalday,atnoontime,oneofthoserareoccasionswhenweatejiaoziathome,onebowlapiece.anagingbeggarcametoourdoorwhilewewereatthetable,andwhenitriedtosendhimawaywithhalfabowlfulofdriedsweetpotatoes,hereactedangrily:

"i'manoldman,"hesaid."youpeopleareeatingjiaozi,butwanttofeedmesweetpotatoes.howheartlesscanyoube?

"ireactedjustasangrily:

"we'reluckyifweeatjiaoziacoupleoftimesayear,onesmallbowlfulapiece,barelyenoughtogetataste!

youshouldbethankfulwe'regivingyousweetpotatoes,andifyoudon'twantthem,youcangetthehelloutofhere!

"after（dressingmedown）reprimandingme,motherdumpedherhalfbowlfulofjiaoziintotheoldman's　mostremorsefulmemoryinvolveshelpingmothersellcabbagesatmarket,andmeovercharginganoldvillageronejiao–intentionallyornot,ican'trecall–beforeheadingofftoschool.whenicamehomethatafternoon,isawthatmotherwascrying,somethingsherarelydid.insteadofscoldingme,shemerelysaidsoftly,"son,youembarrassedyourmothertoday."

　　mothercontractedaseriouslungdiseasewheniwasstillinmyteens.hunger,disease,andtoomuchworkmadethingsextremelyhardonourfamily.theroadaheadlookedespeciallybleak,andihadabadfeelingaboutthefuture,worriedthatmothermighttakeherownlife.everyday,thefirstthingididwheniwalkedinthedoorafteradayofhardlaborwascalloutformother.hearinghervoicewaslikegivingmyheartanewleaseonlife.butnothearingherthrewmeintoapanic.i'dgolookingforherinthesidebuildingandinthemill.oneday,aftersearchingeverywhereandnotfindingher,isatdownintheyardandcriedlikeababy.thatishowshefoundmewhenshewalkedintotheyardcarryingabundleoffirewoodonherback.shewasveryunhappywithme,buticouldnottellherwhatiwasafraidof.sheknewanyway."son,"shesaid,"don'tworry,theremaybenojoyinmylife,butiwon'tleaveyoutillthegodoftheunderworldcallsme."

　　iwasbornugly.villagersoftenlaughedinmyface,andschoolbulliessometimesbeatmeupbecauseofit.i'drunhomecrying,wheremymotherwouldsay,"you'renotugly,son.you'vegotanoseandtwoeyes,andthere'snothingwrongwithyourarmsandlegs,sohowcouldyoubeugly?

ifyouhaveagoodheartandalwaysdotherightthing,whatisconsidereduglybecomesbeautiful."lateron,whenimovedtothecity,therewereeducatedpeoplewholaughedatmebehindmyback,someeventomyface;butwhenirecalledwhatmotherhadsaid,ijustcalmlyofferedmyapologies.

　　myilliteratemotherheldpeoplewhocouldreadinhighregard.weweresopoorweoftendidnotknowwhereournextmealwascomingfrom,yetsheneverdeniedmyrequesttobuyabookorsomethingtowritewith.bynaturehardworking,shehadnouseforlazychildren,yeticouldskipmychoresaslongasihadmynoseinabook.

　　astorytelleroncecametothemarketplace,andisneakedofftolistentohim.shewasunhappywithmeforforgettingmychores.butthatnight,whileshewasstitchingpaddedclothesforusundertheweaklightofakerosenelamp,icouldn'tkeepfromretellingstoriesi'dheardthatday.shelistenedimpatientlyatfirst,sinceinhereyesprofessionalstorytellersweresmooth-talkingmeninadubiousprofession.nothinggoodevercameoutoftheirmouths.butslowlyshewasdraggedintomyretoldstories,andfromthatdayon,shenevergavemechoresonmarketday,unspokenpermissiontogotothemarketplaceandlistentonewstories.asrepaymentformother'skindnessandawaytodemonstratemymemory,i'dretellthestoriesforherinvividdetail.itdidnottakelongtofindretellingsomeoneelse'sstoriesunsatisfying,soibeganembellishingmynarration.i'dsaythingsiknewwouldpleasemother,evenchangedtheendingonceinawhile.andshewasn'ttheonlymemberofmyaudience,whichlaterincludedmyoldersisters,myaunts,evenmymaternalgrandmother.sometimes,aftermymotherhadlistenedtooneofmystories,she'daskinacare-ladenvoice,almostasiftoherself:

"whatwillyoubelikewhenyougrowup,son?

mightyouwindupprattlingforalivingoneday?

"

　　iknewwhyshewasworried.talkativekidsarenotwellthoughtofinourvillage,fortheycanbringtroubletothemselvesandtotheirfamilies.thereisabitofayoungmeinthetalkativeboywhofallsafoulofvillagersinmystory"bulls."motherhabituallycautionedmenottotalksomuch,wantingmetobeataciturn,smoothandsteadyyoungster.insteadiwaspossessedofadangerouscombination–remarkablespeakingskillsandthepowerfuldesirethatwentwiththem.myabilitytotellstoriesbroughtherjoy,butthatcreatedadilemmaforher.

　　apopularsayinggoes"itiseasiertochangethecourseofariverthanaperson'snature."despitemyparents'tirelessguidance,mynaturaldesiretotalkneverwentaway,andthatiswhatmakesmyname–moyan,or"don'tspeak"–anironicexpressionofself-mockery.afterdroppingoutofelementaryschool,iwastoosmallforheavylabor,soibecameacattle-andsheep-herderonanearbygrassyriverbank.thesightofmyformerschoolmatesplayingintheschoolyardwhenidrovemyanimalspastthegatealwayssaddenedmeandmademeawareofhowtoughitisforanyone–evenachild–toleavethegroup.

　　iturnedtheanimalslooseontheriverbanktograzebeneathaskyasblueastheoceanandgrass-carpetedlandasfarastheeyecouldsee–notanotherpersoninsight,nohumansounds,nothingbutbirdcallsaboveme.iwasallbymyselfandterriblylonely;myheartfeltempty.sometimesilayinthegrassandwatchedcloudsfloatlazilyby,whichgaverisetoallsortsoffancifulimages.thatpartofthecountryisknownforitstalesoffoxesintheformofbeautifulyoungwomen,andiwouldfantasizeafox-turned-beautifulgirlcomingtotendanimalswithme.sheneverdidcome.once,however,afieryredfoxboundedoutofthebrushinfrontofme,scaringmylegsrightoutfromunderme.iwasstillsittingtheretremblinglongafterthefoxhadvanished.sometimesi'dcrouchdownbesidethecowsandgazeintotheirdeepblueeyes,eyesthatcapturedmyreflection.attimesi'dhaveadialoguewithbirdsinthesky,mimickingtheircries,whileatothertimesi'ddivulgemyhopesanddesirestoatree.butthebirdsignoredme,andsodidthetrees.yearslater,afteri'dbecomeanovelist,iwrotesomeofthosefantasiesintomynovelsandstories.peoplefrequentlybombardmewithcomplimentsonmyvividimagination,andloversofliteratureoftenaskmetodivulgemysecrettodevelopingarichimagination.myonlyresponseisawansmile.

　　ourtaoistmasterlaozisaiditbest:

"fortunedependsonmisfortune.misfortuneishiddeninfortune."ileftschoolasachild,oftenwenthungry,wasconstantlylonely,andhadnobookstoread.butforthosereasons,likethewriterofapreviousgeneration,shencongwen,ihadanearlystartonreadingthegreatbookoflife.myexperienceofgoingtothemarketplacetolistentoastorytellerwasbutonepageofthatbook.afterleavingschool,iwasthrownuncomfortablyintotheworldofadults,whereiembarkedonthelongjourneyoflearningthroughlistening.twohundredyearsago,oneofthegreatstorytellersofalltime–pusongling–livednearwhereigrewup,andwheremanypeople,meincl