散文佳作108篇 第1期:丑石An Ugly Stone

賈平凹

我常常遺憾我家門前的那塊丑有呢：它黑黝黝地臥在那里，牛似的模樣;誰(shuí)也不知道是什么時(shí)候留在這里的，誰(shuí)也不去理會(huì)它。只是麥?zhǔn)諘r(shí)節(jié)，門前攤了麥子，奶奶總是要說(shuō)：這塊丑石，多礙地面喲，多時(shí)把它搬走吧。

于是，伯父家蓋房，想以它壘山墻，但苦于它極不規(guī)則，沒(méi)棱角兒，也沒(méi)平面兒;用鏨破開(kāi)吧，又懶得花那么大氣力，因?yàn)楹訛┎⒉簧踹h(yuǎn)，隨便去掮一塊回來(lái)，哪一塊也比它強(qiáng)。房蓋起來(lái)，壓鋪臺(tái)階，伯父也沒(méi)有看上它。有一年，來(lái)了一個(gè)石匠，為我家洗一臺(tái)石磨，奶奶又說(shuō)：用這塊丑石吧，省得從遠(yuǎn)處搬動(dòng)。石匠看了看，搖著頭，嫌它石質(zhì)太細(xì)，也不采用。

它不像漢白玉那樣的細(xì)膩，可以鑿下刻字雕花，也不像大青石那樣的光滑，可以供來(lái)浣紗捶布;它靜靜地臥在那里，院邊的槐蔭沒(méi)有庇覆它，花兒也不再在它身邊生長(zhǎng)?；牟荼惴毖艹鰜?lái)，枝蔓上下，慢慢地，竟銹上了綠苔、黑斑。我們這些做孩子的，也討厭起它來(lái)，曾合伙要搬走它，但力氣又不足;雖時(shí)時(shí)咒罵它，嫌棄它，也無(wú)可奈何，只好任它留在那里去了。

稍稍能安我們的，是在那石上有一個(gè)不大不小的坑凹兒，雨天就盛滿了水。常常雨過(guò)三天了，地上已經(jīng)干燥，那石凹里水兒還有，雞兒便去那里渴飲。每每到了十五的夜晚，我們盼著滿月出來(lái)，就爬到其上，翹望天邊;奶奶總是要罵的，害怕我們摔下來(lái)。果然那次就摔了下來(lái)，磕破了我的膝蓋呢。

人都罵它是丑石，它真是丑得不能再丑的丑石了。

終有一日，村子里來(lái)了一個(gè)天文學(xué)家。他在我家門前路過(guò)，突然發(fā)現(xiàn)了這塊石頭，眼光立即就拉直了。他再?zèng)]有走丟，就住了下來(lái);以后又來(lái)了好些人，說(shuō)這是一塊隕石，從天上落下來(lái)已經(jīng)有二三百年了，是一件了不起的東西。不久便來(lái)了車，小心翼翼地將它運(yùn)走了。

這使我們都很驚奇!這又怪又丑的石頭，原來(lái)是天上的呢!它補(bǔ)過(guò)天，在天上發(fā)過(guò)熱，閃過(guò)光，我們的先祖或許仰望過(guò)它，它給了他們光明、向往、憧憬;而它落下來(lái)了，在污土里，荒草里，一躺就是幾百年了?!

奶奶說(shuō)：“真看不出!它那么不一般，卻怎么連墻也壘不成，臺(tái)階也壘不成呢?”

“它是太丑了。”夫文學(xué)家說(shuō)。

“真的，是太丑了。”

“可這正是它的美!”天文學(xué)家說(shuō)，“它是以丑為美的。”

“以丑為美?”

“是的，丑到極處，便是美到極處。正因?yàn)樗皇且话愕念B石，當(dāng)然不能去做墻，做臺(tái)階，不能去雕刻，捶布。它不是做這些小玩意兒的，所以常常就遭到一般世俗的譏諷。”

奶奶臉紅了，我也臉紅了。

我感到自己的可恥，也感到了丑石的偉大;我甚至怨恨它這么多年竟會(huì)默默地忍受著這一切，而我又立即深深地感到它那種不屈于誤解、寂寞的生存的偉大。

An Ugly Stone

Jia Pingwa

I used to feel sorry for that ugly black piece of stone lying like an ox in front of our door; noneknew when it was left there and none paid any attention to it, except at the time when wheatwas harvested and my grandma, seeing the grains of wheat spread all over the ground in thefront yard of the house, would grumble: “This ugly stone takes so much space. Move it awaysomeday.

Thus my uncle had wanted to use it for the gable when he was building a house, but he wastroubled to find it of very irregular shape, with no edges nor corners, nor a flat plane on it.And he wouldn’t bother to break it in half with a chisel because the river bank was nearby,where he could have easily fetched a much better stone instead. Even when my uncle was busywith the flight of steps leading to the new house he didn’t take a fancy to the ugly stone. Oneyear when a mason came by, we asked him to make us a stone mill with it. As my grandma putit: “Why not take this one, so you won’t have to fetch one from afar.” But the mason took alook and shook his head: he wouldn’t take it for it was of too fine a quality.

It was not like a fine piece of white marble on which words or flowers could be carved, nor like asmooth big bluish stone people used to wash their clothes on. The stone just lay there insilence, enjoying no shading from the pagoda trees by the yard, nor flowers growing aroundit. As a result weeds multiplied and stretched all over it, their stems and tendrils graduallycovered with dark green spots of moss. We children began to dislike the stone too, and wouldhave taken it away if we had been strong enough; all we could do for the present was to leave italone, despite our disgust or even curses.

The only thing that had interested us in the ugly stone was a little pit on top of it, which wasfilled with water on rainy days. Three days after a rainfall, usually, when the ground had becomedry, there was still water in the pit, where chickens went to drink. And every month when itcame to the evening of the 15th of lunar calendar, we would climb onto the stone, looking upat the sky, hoping to see the full moon come out from far away. And Granny would give us ascolding, afraid lest we should fall down and sure enough, I fell down once to have my kneebroken. So everybody condemned the stone: an ugly stone, as ugly as it could be.

Then one day an astronomer came to the village. He looked the stone square in the eye themoment he came across it. He didn’t take his leave but decided to stay in our village. Quite anumber of people came afterwards, saying the stone was a piece of aerolite which had fallendown from the sky two or three hundred years ago what a wonder indeed! Pretty soon a truckcame, and carried it away carefully.

It gave us a great surprise! We had never expected that such a strange and ugly stone shouldhave come from the sky! So it had once mended the sky, given out its heat and light there, andour ancestors should have looked up at it. It had given them light, brought them hopes andexpectations, and then it had fallen down to the earth, in the mud and among the weeds, lyingthere for hundreds of years!

My grandma said: “I never expected it should be so great! But why can’t people build a wall orpave steps with it?”

‘It’s too ugly,” the astronomer said.

“Sure, it’s really so ugly.”

“But that’s just where its beauty lies!” the astronomer said, “its beauty comes from itsugliness.”

“Beauty from ugliness?”

“Yes. When something becomes the ugliest, it turns out the most beautiful indeed. The stone isnot an ordinary piece of insensate stone, it shouldn’t be used to build wall or pave the steps, tocarve words or flowers or to wash clothes on. It’s not the material for those petty commonthings, and no wonder it’s ridiculed often by people with petty common views.”

My grandma became blushed, and so did I.

I feel shame while I feel the greatness of the ugly stone; I have even complained about it havingpocketed silently all it had experienced for so many years, but again I am struck by thegreatness that lies in its lonely unyielding existence of being misunderstood by people.