我父親的音樂雙語散文
父親對於我們的影響都是深遠的，接下來，小編給大家準備了我父親的音樂雙語散文,歡迎大家參考與借鑑。
Wayne Kalyn
韋恩·卡林
I remember the day Dad first lugged the heavy accordion up our front stoop,taxing his small frame. He gathered my mother and me in the living room and opened the case as if it were a treasure chest. "Here it is,"he said. "Once you learn to play, it'll stay with you for life."
我還記得那天，爸爸豁出瘦小的身軀，第一次把那沉甸甸的手風琴拖上我們家的門廊。他把媽姆和我召到客廳，打開箱子，好像那是個百寶箱似的.“給，”。他說，“你一學會拉它，它就跟你終身做伴。”
If my thin smile didn't match his full-fledged grin, it was because I had prayed for a guitar or a piano. It was 1960, and I was glued to my AM radio,listening to Del Shannon and Chubby Checker. Accordions were nowhere in my hit parade. As Ilooked at the shiny white keys and cream-colored bellows, I could already hear my friends' squeeze box jokes.
我淡淡一笑，滿不像他那麼喜笑顏開，可那是因爲裁一直巴望着有一把吉他，或一架鋼琴。當時是1960年，我迷上了在調幅廣播裏收聽戴爾·香農和查比·切克的音樂。手風琴在我的流行曲目里根本排不上號。看着那白晃晃的琴鍵和奶油色的風箱，我都可以聽到夥伴們嘲弄這玩意兒的聲音。
For the next two weeks, the accordion was stored in the hall closet. Then one evening Dad announced that I would start lessons the following week. In disbelief I shot my eyes toward Mom for support. The firm set of her jaw told me I was out of luck.
後來的兩個禮拜，手風琴一直擱在門廳的壁櫥裏。有天晚上，爸爸宣佈，’下週起我就開始上手風琴課。狐疑中我直向母親遞眼色，求她幫忙。可她緊閉着嘴，就是說我這次倒了黴了。
Spending $300 for an accordion and $5 per lesson was out of character for my father. He was practical always-something he learned growing up on a Pennsylvania farm. Clothes, heat and sometimes even food were scarce.
花300元買架手風琴，每上一課還得交五元，這可不合我父親的性格。他向來都很講究實際——這是他自小在賓夕法尼亞州的農場學來的。當時穿的，取暖的，有時候連吃的都很少。
Before I was born, he and my mother moved into her parents' two-story home in Jersey City, N.J. I grew up there on the second floor; my grandparents lived downstairs. Each weekday Dad made the three-hour commute to and from Long Island, where he was a supervisor in a comparty that serviced jet engines. Weekends, he tinkered in the cellar, turning scraps of plywood into a utility cabinet or fixing a broken toy with spare parts. Quiet andshy, he was never more comfortable than when at his workbench.
我出生前，父母搬進了新澤西州澤西城外公外婆家一樓一底的房子。我就是在那兒的樓上長大的，外公他們住樓下。爸爸每天去長島上班來回要坐三個小時的車。他在那兒的一家飛機發動機維修公司做監督，週末他就在地窖裏東修西補，不是把零星的膠合板拼湊成多用櫃，就是找些個零部件修理破玩具。他生性沉靜靦腆，只有坐在工作凳上時他才最爲自在。
Only music carried Dad away from his world of tools and projects. On a Sunday drive, he turned the radio on immediately. At red lights, I'd notice his foot tapping in time. He seemed to hang on every note.
只有音樂可以使爸爸陶醉，忘卻他那個近視工具和活計的天地。星期天只要一開車，他便打開收音機。遇見紅燈，就見他的腳及時地輕輕打起拍子。他好像不放過每一個音符。
Still, I wasn't prepared when, rummaging in a closet, I found a case that looked to me like a tiny guitar's. Opening it, I saw the polished glow of a beautiffil violin. "It's your father's," Mom said. "His parents bought it for him. I guess he got too busy on the farm to ever learn to play it." I tried to imagine Dad's rough hands on this delicate instrument-and couldn't. .
然而，我還是沒有料到，又一次翻一個壁櫥，竟發現一隻盒子，我看像個小吉他盒。打開一看，卻是把漂亮的小提琴，光滑鋥亮的。“那是你父親的，”媽媽說，“他父母給他買的。怕是農場上太忙了吧，他壓根兒就沒顧上學。”我儘量想象爸爸那雙粗手在擺弄這把精巧的小提琴——可就是想象不出來。
Shortly after, my lessons began with Mr. Zelli at the Allegro Accordion School tucked between an old movie theater and a pizza parlor. On my first day, with straps straining my shoulder, I felt clumsy in every way. "How did he do?" my father asked when it was over. "Fine for the first lesson,"said . Dad glowed with hope.
不久，我在手風琴速成學校跟澤裏先生上起課來了，那個學校夾在一家舊電影院和一家餡餅店之間。第一天，我肩上勒緊了兩條皮帶，怎麼都覺得彆扭。“他怎麼樣?”過後父親問老師。“第一課嘛，還可以。”澤裏先生說。爸爸看有希望，神采奕奕。
I was ordered to practice half an hour every day, and every day I tried to get out of it. My future seemed to be outside playing ball, not in the house mastering songs I would soon forget, but my parents hounded me to practice.
按規定我每天的練半小時的琴，而我每天都沒法躲過去。我看我的前途是在戶外打球，不是呆在屋裏練很快就會遺忘的曲子，可父母逼着我練。
Gradually, to my surprise, I was able to string notes together and coordinate my hands to play simple songs. Often, after supper, my father would requesta tune or two. As he sat in his easy chair, I would fumble through "Lady of Spain" and "Beer Barrel Polka."
想不到我漸漸可以把各個音符串起來，兩手配合着拉起簡單的歌曲了。晚飯後，父親常常要我拉上一兩段曲子。他坐在安樂椅裏，我就笨手笨腳地拉完《西班牙女郎》和《啤酒桶波爾卡》
"Very nice, better than last week," he'd say. Then I would segue into a med-ley of his favorites, "Red River Valley" and "Home on the Range," and he would drift off to sleep, the newspaper folded on his lap. I took it as a compliment that he could relax under the spell of my playing.
“很好，比上星期強。”他會說。於是我一口氣拉下去，把他最喜歡的歌曲《紅河谷》和《家在牧場》混在一起，於是他不知不覺地睡去，報紙還攤在膝上。他能在我的演奏感召之下，也輕鬆一下算是對我的讚賞吧。
One July evening I was giving an almost flawless rendition of "Come Back to Sorrento,"and my parents called me to an open window. An elderly neighbor, rarely seen outside her house, was leaning against our car humming dreamily to the tune. When I finished, she smiled broadly and called out, "I remember that song as a child in Italy. Beautiful, just beautiful."
有年七月的一天傍晚，我正在拉《重歸蘇連託》，幾乎是無懈可擊，父母把我叫到一扇窗口。一個上了年紀的鄰居，很少見她出門，這時正依在我家車旁，恍恍惚惚地跟着曲子哼着。我拉完了，她笑眯眯地喊道：“我小時候在意大利就記得這首歌。好聽，真好聽。”
Throughout the summer, Mr. Zelli's lessons grew more difficult. It took me a week and a half to master them now. All the while I could hear my buddies outside playing heated games of stickball. I'd also hear an occasional taunt: "Hey, where's your monkey and cup?
整個夏天，澤裏先生的課越上越難。現在要花一個半星期才能學會。我一邊學琴一邊可以聽到夥伴們在外面玩棍球玩得好熱鬧，不時還聽到句把損人的話：“喂!你那猴兒罐兒呢?”
Such humiliation paled, though, beside the impending fall recital, I would have to play a solo on a local movie theater's stage. I wanted to skip the whole thing. Emotions boiled over in the car one Sunday afternoon.
不過，眼看秋季演奏會就要到來，這麼糟踐人也就不算個事了。強得耷本地一家電影院上臺獨奏。我想賴掉這差事。個星期天下午在車上，我們都動了感情，都發火了。
"I don't want to play a solo," I said.
我不想獨奏。”我說。
"You have to," replied my father.
你就得獨奏。”父親答道。
"Why?" I shouted. "Because you didn't get to play your violin when you were a kid? Why should I have to play this stupid instrument when you never had to play yours7"Dad pulled the car over and pointed at me.
“爲啥?”我吼道，“就因爲你小時候沒能拉成小提琴?你不拉就行我幹嗎就非得拉這笨乎乎的玩意兒?爸爸剎住車，面對着我。
"Because you can bring people joy. You can touch their hearts. That's a gift I won't let you throw away." He added softly, "Someday you'll have chance I never had: you'll play beautiful music for your family. And you understand why you've worked so hard."
“就因爲你可以給別人帶來歡樂。你可以打動他們的心。，那是給人的一份禮物，我不許你白扔了。”他又輕聲說，“總有一天你會有我從來沒有的機會：你會給你的妻子兒女演奏美麗動聽的音樂。那時候你就會明白你幹嗎要這麼苦練了。”
I was speechless. I had rarely heard Dad speak with such feeling about anything, much less the accordion. From then on, I practiced without parents' making me.
我無言以對。我很少聽到父親說話這麼動情，更何況是說的手風琴。從此我練琴不用父母逼了。
The evening of the concert Mom wore glittery earrings and more makeup than I could remember. Dad got out of work early, put on a suit and tie, and slicked down his hair with Vitalis. They were an hour early, so we sat in the living room chatting nervously. I got the unspoken message that playing this one song was a dream come true for them.
音樂會那天晚上，媽媽戴上亮晶晶的耳環，臉上沒見她這麼打扮過。爸爸早早就下了班，紮上領帶，一身套裝，頭髮用髮油梳得溜光。他們提前一小時就打扮完了，我們便坐在客廳裏緊張地聊天。這時我得到一個無言的啓示：演奏這麼一首歌是實現他倆的一個夢想。
At the theater nervousness overtook me as I realized how much I wanted to make my parents proud. Finally, it was my turn. I walked to the lone chairon stage and performed "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" without a mistake. The applause spilled out, with a few hands still clapping after others hadstopped. I was lightheaded, glad my ordeal was over.
在電影院，我意識到我是真想使父母感到自豪時，簡直緊張死了。終於輪到我上場了。我走向臺上孤零零的椅子，演奏了《今晚你可寂寞?》沒出一點兒錯。一時掌聲四起，落下後還有幾個人在拍手。我高興得輕飄飄的，總算熬到頭了。
After the concert Mom and Dad came backstage. The way they walked—heads high, faces flushed—I knew they were pleased. My mother gave me a big hug. Dad slipped an arm around me and held me close. "You were just great," he said. Then he shook my hand and was slow to let it go.
音樂會散後媽媽和爸爸來到後臺。瞧他們走路那神氣——昂首挺胸，紅光滿面，我就知道他們很高興。母親緊緊擁抱了我。爸爸伸過一隻胳臂摟住我不放。“你真是好樣兒的!”他說，然後又握住我的手，久久不鬆開。
As the years went by, the accordion drifted to the background of my life. Dad asked me to play at family occasions, but the lessons stopped. When I went to college, the accordion stayed behind in the hall closet next to my father's violin.
隨着歲月的流逝，那架手風琴在我的生活中也漸漸隱退了。爸爸只要我在家有節慶的時候拉一拉，課是不上了。我上大學，那琴就放在門廳的壁櫥裏，挨着父親的小提琴。
A year after my graduation, my parents moved to a house in a nearby town. Dad, at 51, finally owned his own home. On moving day, I didn't have the heart to tell him he could dispose of the accordion, so I brought it to my own home and put it in the attic.
我畢業一年後，父母搬到了附近一個鎮上。父親在51歲終於有了自己的房子。搬家那天，我不忍心告訴他可以把手風琴賣了，於是我把它拿回我自己的家，放在閣樓上。
There it remained, a dusty memory until one afternoon several years later when my two children discovered it by accident. Scott thought it was secret treasure; Holly thought a ghost lived inside. They were both right.
它就呆在那兒，一件灰塵撲撲的紀念物，直到好幾年後的一天下午，我的兩個孩子偶然發現了它。司各特以爲是個祕藏的珍寶，荷裏以爲裏頭住了個精靈。他倆都講對了。
When I opened the case, they laughed and said, "play it, play it." Reluctantly,I strapped on the accordion and played some simple songs. I was surprised! my skills hadn't rusted away. Soon the kids were dancing in circles and giggluig. Even my wife, Terri, was laughing and clapping to the beat. I wa samazed at their unbridled glee.
我一打開箱子，他們就笑了，說道：“拉拉，拉拉嘛。”我勉強套上琴的揹帶，拉了一些簡單的歌曲。沒想到我的琴法竟然沒有荒疏。很。陝孩子們就轉着圈子跳呀笑個不停。連我妻子特麗也樂呵呵地和着節奏拍起手來。他們那興高采烈的痛快勁兒真讓我吃驚。
My father's words came back to me: "Someday you'll have the chance I never had. Then you'II understand."I finally knew what it meant to work hard and sacrifice for others. Dad had been right all along: the most precious gift is to touch the hearts of those you love.
這時，父親的話又回到我的腦海：“總有一天你會有我從來沒有的機會。那時你就會明白的。” 我終於明白了爲他人努力工作和做出犧牲的意義。爸爸始終是對的：打動你所愛的人的心纔是最寶貴的禮物。
Later I phoned Dad to let him know that, at long last, I understood. Fumbling for the right words, I thanked him for the legacy it took almost 30 years to discover. "You're welcome," he said, his voice choked with emotion.
事後我打電話給爸爸，告訴他我終於明白過來了。我拙嘴笨舌地不知說什麼好，只說我花了差不多30年的工夫才發現了他留給我的這筆財富，爲此我感謝他。“不客氣。”他說，嗓音因激動而哽咽了。
Dad never learned to coax sweet sounds from his violin. Yet he was wrong to think he would never for his family. On that wonderful evening, as my wife and children laughed and danced, they heard my accordion. But it was my father's music.
爸爸從未學會從他那小提琴上撥出甜美的聲音。但他以爲他永遠都不會爲他的家人演奏樂曲，那是他錯了。就在那個美妙的夜晚，我的妻兒又笑又跳，聽着我拉手風琴。可那是我父親的音樂。
