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3. 孀妇与独子（1981）（译作）

立委按：本篇摘自立委大学翻译课习作。翻译课主讲乃系主任吴东之教授，吴批我并非意译，是求“达旨”而不能也（岂非一无是处？），复又鼓励有加，并校正示范于我，一并附于后，以示感念之心。我在北京上研究生时，与同在社科院早我一届读硕、本科晚我一届的刘江同学（刘江如今是新华社高级主管，事业发达）还一同去看望过吴教授。吴教授其时受外交学院之请，进京数月从事外交史方面的一个项目，住在外交学院公寓里。他对我们亲切慈祥，听说社科院把我们安排在旅馆里面居住，跟我们说：你们真幸福啊，赶上了好时代，国家高楼大厦让你们住着，发愤吧。

《立委学文旧作：孀妇与独子（1981）（译作）》

译者：立委

徜徉乡野教堂，余之乐也。是教堂风水尤佳，为其所魅，忘情其间，亦实娱于心也。环绕教堂淙淙者，山之清溪也。溪转而下，蜿蜒柔草之间，曲折平原之上，幽清之胜景也。苍松古杉，殆与教堂同庚，锥式尖顶，正如雄鸡昂立。鸦鹊啼鸣林上，堂身掩映其中，不尽之奇趣也。

是日，风静日灿。余游玩之余，小憩墓旁。是所甚多无主荒冢，景象惨然，乃贫家落魄者之归宿也。二民工正掘新坟，言可怜孀妇丧其孤子矣。余由是叹人世等级差别竟及于黄尘之下。忽闻丧钟徐鸣，报告送殡行列已至。贫者之葬仪，寒怆凄然，棺木简陋，未有一缕之柩罩，三五村民掮之。前行司事，神情木然。踉跄柩后，悲不胜悲者，孤子之寡母也，亦唯一真正之吊丧者也。余尝见伊独坐于教堂祭坛之阶梯，今由寒友扶之，细语慰藉。老母年迈之人，不可过伤，死者已去，无可挽回也。贫邻一行尾随其后，复有村童数人携手雀跃，穿行前后，时而笑闹欢叫，时而大瞪双目，惑惑然大不解老妇何其如是悲伤也。

译自
华盛顿 欧文《见闻杂记》

吴批：此段译文并非意译，实乃严公“天演论”之“达旨”，而严公已告诫后人勿效此法：“…实非正法，…学我者病…来者方多，幸勿以是书为口实也。” 但坚冰已破，航道已开，勇往直前！
May 26, 1981

吴译：

余喜徘徊于乡村教堂之旁，盖其处所风景使人怡然，余心为所魅惑而时向往焉。教堂屹立于一山岗之上，岗下小溪环绕如带，蜿蜒流经一青芳草地。古杉环立，殆与教堂同庚，哥德式尖顶矗立树梢之上，时有鸟雀绕顶盘旋。

一日近午，云淡风清。余坐憩教堂墓地，睹二民工掘一墓穴，穴址选在偏僻累累荒冢之间，足见无亲无友之贫者咸草草埋葬于地下。二民工告余新穴行葬一贫寒孀妇之独子。余方默念人世间等级之差别如此及于黄泉，忽闻丧钟徐鸣，报告送殡行列已至。余视之果真贫寒人家之葬仪也，全五仪仗，棺柩简陋，未有棺罩，二三村民掮之。前导者为教堂司事，神情冷漠如冰霜，棺后并无佯为悲伤之客。但见死者之高龄老母蹒跚而行，伊乃唯一真正伤心之人。余尝见伊独坐于教堂祭坛之阶梯，今由寒友扶之，慰藉有加。贫邻数人尾随其后，复有一群村童携手前后雀跃，时而痴笑喧闹，时而天真好奇，双目注视唯一送殡人之悲伤。

［附原文］

The Widow and Her Son
by Washington Irving
(1783-1859)

I am fond of loitering about country churches, and this was so delightfully situated, that it frequently attracted me. It stood on a knoll, round which a small stream made a beautiful bend and then wound its way through a long reach of soft meadow scenery. The church was surrounded by yew trees, which seemed almost coeval with itself. Its tall Gothic spire shot up lightly from among them, with rooks and crows generally wheeling about it. I was seated there one still sunny morning watching two laborers who were digging a grave. They had chosen one of the most remote and neglected corners of the churchyard, where, from the number of nameless graves around, it would appear that the indigent and friendless were huddled into the earth. I was told that the new-made grave was for the only son of a poor widow. While I was meditating on the distinctions of worldly rank, which extend thus down into the very dust, the toll of the bell announced the approach of the funeral. They were the obsequies of poverty, with which pride had nothing to do. A coffin of the plainest materials, without pall or other covering, was borne by some of the villagers. The sexton walked before with an air of cold indifference. There were no mock mourners in the trappings of affected woe, but there was one real mourner who feebly tottered after the corpse. It was the aged mother of the deceased, the poor old woman whom I had seen seated on the steps of the altar. She was supported by a humble friend, who was endeavoring to comfort her. A few of the neighboring poor had joined the train, and some children of the village were running hand in hand, now shouting with unthinking mirth, and now pausing to gaze, with childish curiosity on the grief of the mourner.

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