高行健 诺贝尔文学 诺贝尔文学经典:《宠儿》第4章Part 7

诺贝尔文学经典:《宠儿》第4章Part 7  

Sethe was looking at one mile of dark water
which would have to be split with one oar in a uselessboat against a current dedicated to the Mississippi hundreds of miles away. It looked like home toher
and the baby (not dead in the least) must have thought so too. As soon as Sethe got close to theriver her own water broke loose to join it. The break
followed by the redundant announcement oflabor
arched her back.
"What you doing that for?" asked Amy. "Ain't you got a brain in your head? Stop that right now. Isaid stop it
Lu. You the dumbest thing on this here earth. Lu! Lu!"
Sethe couldn't think of anywhere to go but in. She waited for the sweet beat that followed the blastof pain. On her knees again
she crawled into the boat. It waddled under her and she had justenough time to brace her leaf-bag feet on the bench when another rip took her breath ing under four summer stars
she threw her legs over the sides
because here e the head
asAmy informed her as though she did not know it — as though the rip was a breakup of walnut logsin the brace
or of lightning's jagged tear through a leather sky.
It was stuck. Face up and drowning in its mother's blood. Amy stopped begging Jesus and began tocurse His daddy.
"Push!" screamed Amy.
"Pull
" whispered Sethe.
And the strong hands went to work a fourth time
none too soon
for river water
seeping throughany hole it chose
was spreading over Sethe's hips. She reached one arm back and grabbed the ropewhile Amy fairly clawed at the head. When a foot rose from the river bed and kicked the bottom ofthe boat and Sethe's behind
she knew it was done and permitted herself a short faint. Coming to
she heard no cries
just Amy's encouraging coos. Nothing happened for so long they both believedthey had lost it. Sethe arched suddenly and the afterbirth shot out. Then the baby whimpered andSethe looked. Twenty inches of cord hung from its belly and it trembled in the cooling evening air. Amy wrapped her skirt around it and the wet sticky women clambered ashore to see what
indeed
God had in mind.
Spores of bluefern growing in the hollows along the riverbank float toward the water in silver-bluelines hard to see unless you are in or near them
lying right at the river's edge when the sunshotsare low and drained. Often they are mistook for insects — but they are seeds in which the wholegeneration sleeps confident of a future. And for a moment it is easy to believe each one has one —will bee all of what is contained in the spore: will live out its days as planned. This moment ofcertainty lasts no longer than that; longer
perhaps
than the spore itself.