UNITTHEFOURTHOFJULY課文翻譯

UNIT 1 THE FOURTH OF JULY

Audre Lorde

1 The first time I went to Washington D.C. was on the edge of the summer when I

was suppod to stop being a child. At least that's what they said to us all at

graduation from the eighth grade. My sister Phyllis graduated at the same time from

high school. I don’t know what she was suppod to stop being. But as graduation

prents for us both, the whole family took a Fourth of July trip to Washington D.C.,

the fabled and famous capital of our country.

Detailed Reading

2 It was the first time I'd ever been on a railroad train during the day. When I was

little, and we ud to go to the Connecticut shore, we always went at night on the

milk train, becau it was cheaper.

3. Preparations were in the air around our hou before school was even over. We

packed for a week. There were two very large suitcas that my father carried, and a

box filled with food. In fact, my first trip to Washington was a mobile feast; I started

eating as soon as we were comfortably ensconced in our ats, and did not stop until

somewhere after Philadelphia. I remember it was Philadelphia becau I was

disappointed not to have pasd by the Liberty Bell.

4. My mother had roasted two chickens and cut them up into dainty bite-size

pieces. She packed slices of brown bread and butter, and green pepper and carrot

sticks. There were little violently yellow iced cakes with scalloped edges called

"marigolds," that came from Cushman's Bakery. There was a spice bun and

rock-cakes from Newton's, the West Indian bakery across Lenox Avenue from St.

Mark's school, and iced tea in a wrapped mayonnai jar. There were sweet pickles

for us and dill pickles for my father, and peaches with the fuzz still on them,

individually wrapped to keep them from bruising. And, for neatness, there were piles

of napkins and a little tin box with a washcloth dampened with rowater and

glycerine for wiping sticky mouths.

5. I wanted to eat in the dining car becau I had read all about them, but my

mother reminded me for the umpteenth time that dining car food always cost too

much money and besides, you never could tell who hands had been playing all

over that food, nor where tho same hands had been just before. My mother never

mentioned that Black people were not allowed into railroad dining cars headed

south in 1947. As usual, whatever my mother did not like and could not change, she

ignored. Perhaps it would go away, deprived of her attention.

6. I learned later that Phyllis's high school nior class trip had been to Washington,

but the nuns had given her back her deposit in private, explaining to her that the

class, all of whom were white, except Phyllis, would be staying in a hotel where

Phyllis "would not be happy," meaning, Daddy explained to her, also in private, that

they did not rent rooms to Negroes. "We still take among-you to Washington,

ourlves, "my father had avowed, "and not just for an overnight in some measly

fleabag hotel."

7. In Washington D.C., we had one large room with two double beds and an extra

cot for me. It was a back-street hotel that belonged to a friend of my father's who

was in real estate, and I spent the whole next day after Mass squinting

8. I was squinting becau I was in that silent agony that characterized all of my

childhood summers, from the time school let out in June to the end of July, brought

about by my dilated and vulnerable eyes expod to the summer brightness.

9. I viewed Julys through an agonizing corolla of dazzling whiteness and I always

hated the Fourth of July, even before I came to realize the travesty such a

celebration was for Black people in this country.

10. My parents did not approve of sunglass, nor of their expen.

11. I spent the afternoon squinting up at monuments to freedom and past

presidencies and democracy, and wondering why the light and heat were both so

much stronger in Washington D.C., than back home in New York City. Even the

pavement on the streets was a shade lighter in color than back home.

12. Late that Washington afternoon my family and I walked back down Pennsylvania

Avenue. We were a proper caravan, mother bright and father brown, the three of us

girls step-standards in-between. Moved by our historical surroundings and the heat

of early evening, my father decreed yet another treat. He had a great n of

history, a flair for the quietly dramatic and the n of specialness of an occasion

and a trip.

13. "Shall we stop and have a little something to cool off, Lin? "

14. Two blocks away from our hotel, the family stopped for a dish of vanilla ice

cream at a Breyer's ice cream and soda fountain. Indoors, the soda fountain was dim

and fan-cooled, deliciously relieving to my scorched eyes.

15. Corded and crisp and pinafored, the five of us ated ourlves one by one at

the counter. There was I between my mother and father, and my two sisters on the

other side of my mother. We ttled ourlves along the white mottled marble

counter, and when the waitress spoke at first no one understood what she was

saying, and so the five of us just sat there.

16. The waitress moved along the line of us clor to my father and spoke again. "I

said I kin give you to take out, but you can't eat here, sorry." Then she dropped her

eyes looking very embarrasd, and suddenly we heard what it was she was saying

all at the same time, loud and clear.

17. Straight-backed and indignant, one by one, my family and I got down from the

counter stools and turned around and marched out of the store, quiet and outraged,

as if we had never been Black before. No one would answer my emphatic questions

with anything other than a guilty silence. "But we hadn't done anything!" This wasn't

right or fair! Hadn't I written poems about freedom and democracy for all?

anti-American had occurred. I was left to write my angry letter to the president of

the United States all by mylf, although my father did promi I could type it out on

the office typewriter next week, after I showed it to him in my copybook diary.

19. The waitress was white, and the counter was white, and the ice cream I never

ate in Washington D.C., that summer I left childhood was white, and the white heat

and the white pavement and the white stone monuments of my first Washington

summer made me sick to my stomach for the whole rest of that trip and it wasn't

much of a graduation prent after all.

1. 我第一次去華盛頓是在那年剛入夏，這個夏天也是我從此告別孩提時代的開

始。至少，這是他們在我們八年級畢業時對大家這么說的。我的姐姐菲利絲同時

從高中畢業。我不清楚她應該告別什么階段。不過，作為給我們倆畢業的禮物，

全家人于七月四日赴華盛頓旅游，前往我們國家寓言般的、聞名遐邇的首都。

2. 那是我第一次大白天乘火車。小時候，我們常去康涅狄格海邊，我們總是晚

上搭乘運送牛奶的火車，因為車票更便宜。

3. 早在放假前，家里就洋溢著準備出發的氣氛。我們打包就花了一個星期。有

兩個很大的箱子，是爸爸拿的，還有一個裝滿食品的盒子。事實上，我的那第一

次前往華盛頓的旅途是個流動的宴席；舒舒服服地在座位上剛坐下來，我就開吃

了，一直吃到火車抵達費城附近的地方。我記得那是費城，是因為沒有路過自由

大鐘而感到失望的緣故。

4. 我媽媽烤了兩只雞，還將它們很漂亮地切成一口一塊那么大小。她帶了黑面

包片、黃油、青椒和胡蘿卜條；還有那邊上點綴著叫做“萬壽菊”的有點兒黃黃

的冰鎮蛋糕，是從庫什曼面包房買來的。有在牛頓店里買來的辣面包卷和硬餅，

就是在倫諾克斯大街圣馬可學校對面的那家西部印第安面包房。有包裹得好好的

灌在色拉醬瓶里的冰茶。有給我們吃的甜泡菜，有給爸爸吃的小茴香泡菜，還有

長著絨毛的桃子，每一只都分開來包，以免碰傷。此外，為了整潔，還有一沓沓

的餐巾，一塊放在小鐵盒子里浸泡著玫瑰水和甘油的小毛巾，擦黏糊糊的嘴巴用

的。

5. 我想要到餐車去吃飯，因為我閱讀過這方面的內容。但是，媽媽已經無數次

地提醒過我，在餐車里吃飯要花很多錢，而且還不知道那些吃的東西出自于什么

人的手，也不知道那雙手剛碰過什么東西。媽媽從來不提及，1947年開往南方

的火車上，黑人是不準進餐車的。一如既往，凡是媽媽不喜歡的東西和不能改變

的事情，她一概不予理睬。也許因為得不到她的關注，這種事情就會消失。

6. 我后來獲悉，菲利絲高三班級的旅游也是去華盛頓，但是那幾個嬤嬤悄悄地

把她交的預付款退還給她，對她解釋說，除了她，全班都是白人學生。他們要待

在一家旅館里，菲利絲在那兒會“不開心的”，意思是說他們不租房間給黑人，

爸爸也是這么悄悄地對她解釋的。“我們還是要帶你們去華盛頓的，我們自己去，”

爸爸信誓旦旦，“而且遠不止住在便宜骯臟的旅館里待一個晚上。”

7. 在華盛頓，我們有一間大房間，兩張雙人床，外加一張給我的兒童床。那是

一家位于后街的旅館，店主是爸爸的朋友，此人從事房地產業。第二天做完彌撒

之后，我便一整天瞇起眼睛抬頭仰望林肯紀念堂。在這里瑪麗安·安德森放聲高

歌，之前美國革命女兒會因為她是黑人拒絕她在他們的禮堂歌唱。或許就因為她

是“有色的”，就像爸爸給我們講這個故事的時候那么說的。要么他很可能說的

8. 我瞇起雙眼，因為我默默承受著自己童年時代每年夏天都要承受的痛苦，從

六月底學校放假開始到七月底。這個痛苦是因為在夏日的強光下張大眼睛受到傷

害而造成的。

9. 我是通過一層令人痛苦的圓環狀的耀眼強光看見七月份的。我一直痛恨七月

四日，甚至在我意識到這種騙人的鬼話之前：這種慶祝是為這個國家的黑人的。

10. 我的父母不認可太陽眼鏡，也接受不了太陽鏡的價格。

11. 整個下午我瞇起雙眼抬頭張望那些自由、逝去的總統以及民主的紀念碑，心

想為什么華盛頓的光線和熱量要比在紐約家鄉強得多，甚至街上人行道的顏色也

比家里的要白一些。

12. 在華盛頓一天下午黃昏的時候，我和家人沿著賓夕法尼亞大道往回走。我們

儼然一個旅行團，媽媽白晳亮麗，爸爸棕色皮膚，我們三個女孩的膚色介于兩者

之間，由淺至深。受到周圍歷史氣氛和黃昏熱浪的影響，爸爸決定再次請客。他

有很強的歷史感，他天生有種并不張揚的戲劇性，而且對場景和旅行有種特殊的

感觸。

13. “我們停下來吃些東西涼快涼快好嗎，琳？”

14. 離我們住的旅館兩個街區之遙，我們一家人停下腳步，在一家布雷耶冰淇淋

和汽水店買了一盤冰淇淋。室內，柜臺光線昏暗，電扇下涼風習習，讓我被強光

照耀的雙眼感到輕松多了。

15. 我們的座位用繩子連在一起，個個神清氣爽，圍著餐巾，五個人并排在柜臺

前坐下。我在爸爸和媽媽中間，兩個姐姐在媽媽的另一邊。我們一字排開，靠著

帶有花紋的大理石柜臺坐下。女服務員張口說話，一開始誰也沒聽懂她在說什么，

于是我們五個人就坐在那兒。

16. 女服務員沿著我們向爸爸走去，再次說道，“我剛才說可以讓你們外帶，但

是你們不能在這兒吃，對不起?！比缓?，她垂下雙眼，一副尷尬的樣子。我們突

然聽見她說的話了，同時聽見的，響亮清晰。

17. 挺起胸膛，義憤填膺，我和家人一個接一個地從柜臺前的凳子上站起身來，

轉身大步跨出店堂，一言不發，但怒火中燒，似乎我們以前從來就不是黑人。我

加重語氣地說道，“我們什么也沒有做呀!”就是不對，不公平呀!難道我沒有寫

過所有人都該享有自由民主的詩歌嗎？除了因愧疚而默默無聲，誰也沒有對我的

問題做出應答。

18. 我的爸爸媽媽對不公正緘默無語，不是因為他們對此有什么責任，而是因為

他們覺得本應該早有預料，并應該加以避免的。這讓我更加憤怒。我的怒火并沒

人認可，也沒人像我一樣憤怒。連我那兩個姐姐也隨著爸爸媽媽，裝作沒有發生

過什么非同尋常、反美國的事情。那只好由我自己來給美國總統寫封信，表達自

己的憤怒。不過，我給爸爸看了我寫在練習簿的信之后，他保證我下周可以在他

的辦公室打字機上將信打出來。

19 那個女服務員是個白人，那張柜臺是白色的，那份我從來沒在華盛頓吃的冰

淇淋，以及我告別了童年的夏天都是白色的。還有那年夏天我第一次去華盛頓的

白色的熱浪、白色的人行道和白色的石柱紀念碑在接下來的旅程中讓我惡心。那

可算不上一件畢業禮物啊。