口译：Charles Dickens-Nights Walks (Excerpt) 汉译

Some years ago, a temporaryinability to sleep, referable to a distressing impression, caused me to walkabout the streets all night, for a series of several nights. The disorder mighthave taken a long time to conquer, if it had been faintly experimented on inbed; but, it was soon defeated by the brisk treatment of getting up directlyafter lying down, and going out, and coming home tired at sunrise.

In the course of those nights, Ifinished my education in a fair amateur experience of houselessness. Myprincipal object being to get through the night, the pursuit of it brought meinto sympathetic relations with people who have no other object every night inthe year.

3 The month was March, and theweather damp, cloudy, and cold. The sun not rising before half-past five, thenight perspective looked sufficiently long at half-past twelve: which was aboutmy time for confronting it.

The restlessness of a great city,and the way in which it tumbles and tosses before it can get to sleep, formedone of the first entertainments offered to the contemplation of us houselesspeople. It lasted about two hours. We lost a great deal of companionship whenthe late public-houses turned their lamps out, and when the potmen thrust thelast brawling drunkards into the street; but stray vehicles and stray peoplewere left us, after that. If we were very lucky, a policeman`s rattle sprangand a fray turned up; but, in general, surprisingly little of this diversionwas provided. Except in the Haymarket, which is the worst kept part of London,and about Kent-street in the Borough, and along a portion of the line of theOld Kent-road, the peace was seldom violently broken. But, it was always thecase that London, as if in imitation of individual citizens belonging to it,had expiring fits and starts of restlessness. After all seemed quiet, if onecab rattled by, half-a-dozen would surely follow; and Houselessness evenobserved that intoxicated people appeared to be magnetically attracted towardseach other; so that we knew when we saw one drunken object staggering againstthe shutters of a shop, that another drunken object would stagger up beforefive minutes were out, to fraternise or fight with it. When we made adivergence from the regular species of drunkard, the thin-armed, puff-faced,leaden-lipped gin-drinker, and encountered a rarer specimen of a more decentappearance, fifty to one but that specimen was dressed in soiled mourning. Asthe street experience in the night, so the street experience in the day; thecommon folk who come unexpectedly into a little property, come unexpectedlyinto a deal of liquor.

At length these flickering sparkswould die away, worn out--the last veritable sparks of waking life trailed fromsome late pieman or hot-potato man--and London would sink to rest. And then theyearning of the houseless mind would be for any sign of company, any lightedplace, any movement, anything suggestive of any one being up--nay, even so muchas awake, for the houseless eye looked out for lights in windows.

Men Who Defy the Night

Walking the streets under thepattering rain, Houselessness would walk and walk and walk, seeing nothing butthe interminable tangle of streets, save at a corner, here and there, twopolicemen in conversation, or the sergeant or inspector looking after his men.Now and then in the night--but rarely--Houselessness would become aware of afurtive head peering out of a doorway a few yards before him, and, coming upwith the head, would find a man standing bolt upright to keep within thedoorway`s shadow, and evidently intent upon no particular service to society.Under a kind of fascination, and in a ghostly silence suitable to the time,Houselessness and this gentleman would eye one another from head to foot, andso, without exchange of speech, part, mutually suspicious. Drip, drip, drip,from ledge and coping, splash from pipes and water-spouts, and by-and-by thehouseless shadow would fall upon the stones that pave the way toWaterloo-bridge; it being in the houseless mind to have a halfpenny worth ofexcuse for saying "Good-night" to the toll-keeper, and catching aglimpse of his fire. A good fire and a good great-coat and a good woollenneck-shawl, were comfortable things to see in conjunction with the toll-keeper;also his brisk wakefulness was excellent company when he rattled the change ofhalfpence down upon that metal table of his, like a man who defied the night,with all its sorrowful thoughts, and didn't care for the coming of dawn. Therewas need of encouragement on the threshold of the bridge, for the bridge wasdreary. The chopped-up murdered man, had not been lowered with a rope over theparapet when those nights were; he was alive, and slept then quietly enoughmost likely, and undisturbed by any dream of where he was to come. But theriver had an awful look, the buildings on the banks were muffled in blackshrouds, and the reflected lights seemed to originate deep in the water, as ifthe spectres of suicides were holding them to show where they went down. Thewild moon and clouds were as restless as an evil conscience in a tumbled bed,and the very shadow of the immensity of London seemed to lie oppressively uponthe river.

夜间漫步

数年前，我因为心事烦扰而出现了暂时性的失眠，导致我接连几个晚上都整夜漫步街头。如果只是在床上辗转反侧作无谓的抵抗，失眠症状可能要花很长时间才能消除；但是，由于我躺下后随即起床，出门漫步，到日出时分才拖着疲惫的身体回家，这种散心疗法很快便治愈了我的失眠。

在那几个夜晚，我完成了业余流浪汉体验的教育。我的主要目的是打发夜晚的时光，这一努力使得我与当年每个晚上仅以此为目的之人建立了同病相怜的关系。

那时是三月，气候潮湿、阴云密布、春寒料峭。太阳要到凌晨五点半以后才出来，午夜十二点半正是我对抗失眠的时间，感觉漫漫长夜无以消解。

大城市的忙碌躁动以及它沉寂前的翻腾动荡，是我们这些流浪汉能够享受的刚入夜的一大消遣。这种状况要持续两个小时。夜深后，酒馆打烊熄灯，侍者将最后一批吵闹喧哗的醉汉撵到大街上，于是我们失去了许多同伴；随后，剩下的就只有偶尔经过的车辆和零零散散的行人。如果我们运气够好，还能听到警察喋喋不休地说着什么，或者看到突然发现的一起打架事件；但是，总体而言，这种余兴节目出乎意料地少有。除了在海马克（伦敦秩序最乱的街区）、博罗区的肯特街周围，还有老肯特街的一个路段以外，夜晚的宁静几乎没有被除暴地打破。但是，伦敦总是这样，好像总在模仿个别市民，有时合乎时宜，有时躁动不安。一切似乎归于平静之后，如果有一辆出租马车咯噔咯噔地驶过，必定还会有五六辆马车跟在后面；流浪汉甚至会看到，喝醉酒的人就像磁石般相互吸引；于是我们知道，只要看到一名醉汉踉踉跄跄地走出一家商店的卷帘门，五分钟后就会有另一名醉汉摇摇晃晃地走来，他们要么称兄道弟，要么打上一架。除了常见的几种醉汉以外，如胳膊细瘦的、脸部肿胀的、嘴唇呈铅色的杜松子酒鬼，若是遇到更为罕见的着装更体面的醉汉，十有八九他是穿着沾满泥土的丧服。夜里在街上的经历其实与白天在街上的经历一样；普通老百姓若是意外地获得了一点儿财产，难免会突然想喝上一杯。

最终，这点微弱的朝气也会消失殆尽——卖馅饼或热马铃薯到深夜的小贩是最后一批真正醒着的人，他们拖着疲惫的脚步回家后——伦敦就会陷入沉睡的状态。这时候，流浪汉心里最渴望的是同伴，一个亮着灯的地方，一丝儿动静，任何有人仍在熬夜的迹象——不，甚至只要醒着就行，因为流浪汉会用眼睛四处寻找窗户里的灯光。

在淅淅沥沥的雨中，流浪汉仍会在街上一直走，一直走，眼中所见唯有纵横交错的街道。偶尔会在街角看到两名警察在交谈，或者警长或巡视官在训斥下属。在夜里，时不时地——但很罕见——流浪汉会意识到，在离他几码远的前方门口有个脑袋鬼鬼祟祟地探出来，一旦走过去，就会发现有个人直挺挺地站在门边的阴影里，显然他无意为社会提供什么特别的服务。在某种好奇心的驱使下，在符合当下情形的鬼魅般的静默中，流浪汉与这位绅士会从头到脚相互打量一番，然后一言不发地分开，双方都心怀疑虑。嘀嗒、嘀嗒、嘀嗒，雨水从窗台和屋檐往下滴落，或者从管道和排水口飞溅出来。不久，流浪汉的身影就会投落在通往滑铁卢大桥的石板路上；在流浪汉看来，他宁愿花上办个便士，找个借口跟桥梁收费员说声“晚安”，并且瞥一眼他的火炉。一座火光熊熊的火炉、一件温暖厚实的大衣和一条围在脖子上的羊毛围巾，只要看一眼桥梁收费员，就会看到这些令人感觉舒适的物品；另外，当收费员将半个便士的零钱叮叮当当地抛在他那张金属桌子上时，他精神饱满的清醒模样也是极好的陪伴，仿佛在公然蔑视这充满哀思愁情的夜晚，亦不在乎黎明的到来。桥上空无一人，踏上这座桥头其实是需要鼓励的。在那几个夜晚，那个被谋杀分尸的受害人尚未被人用绳子从栏杆上吊下来；当时他还活着，很可能也睡得很安静，没有受到任何噩梦的侵扰。但是，河面看起来很恐怖，两岸的建筑都被笼罩在黑色的夜幕下，倒映在水里的灯光似乎源自于河水的深处，仿佛是自杀者的鬼魂在举着那些灯，标示着他们落水的地点。苍白的月光和杂乱的云朵躁动不安，就像良心不安的人在床上翻来覆去一样，伦敦城庞大的阴影压抑地映在河面上。