名著精读:《悉达多》 船夫(8)

KamAla looked into his eyes. She spoke with a heavy tongue, paralysed by the poison. "You've become old, my dear," she said, "you've become gray. But you are like the young Samana, who at one time came without clothes, with dusty feet, to me into the garden. You are much more like him, than you were like him at that time when you had left me and Kamaswami. In the eyes, you're like him, Siddhartha. Alas, I have also grown old, old--could you still recognise me?"
Siddhartha smiled: "Instantly, I recognised you, Kamala, my dear."
Kamala pointed to her boy and said: "Did you recognise him as well? He is your son."
Her eyes became confused and fell shut. The boy wept, Siddhartha took him on his knees, let him weep, petted his hair, and at the sight of the child's face, a Brahman prayer came to his mind, which he had learned a long time ago, when he had been a little boy himself. Slowly, with a singing voice, he started to speak; from his past and childhood, the words came flowing to him. And with that singsong, the boy became calm, was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. Siddhartha placed him on Vasudeva's bed. Vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. Siddhartha gave him a look, which he returned with a smile.
"She'll die," Siddhartha said quietly.
Vasudeva nodded; over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's fire.
Once again, Kamala returned to consciousness. Pain distorted her face, Siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth, on her pale cheeks. Quietly, he read it, attentively, waiting, his mind becoming one with her suffering. Kamala felt it, her gaze sought his eyes.
Looking at him, she said: "Now I see that your eyes have changed as well. They've become completely different. By what do I still recognise that you're Siddhartha? It's you, and it's not you."

卡玛拉紧盯着他的眼睛。蛇毒使得她全身麻木，说话已口齿不清。“你老了，亲爱的，”她说，“头发也花白了。可是，你仍然像当年那个没穿衣服、两脚满是尘垢地跑到花园来找我的小沙门。你比当年你离开我和卡马斯瓦密出走时更像个沙门了。你的眼睛仍像那时候，席特哈尔塔。啊，我也老了，衰老了——你还能认我么？”
席特哈尔塔笑笑说：“我一眼就认出了你，卡玛拉，亲爱的。”
卡玛拉指指她的孩子说：“你也认出他了吗？他是你的儿子。”
她的眼睛显得迷乱了，闭上了。男孩哭起来，席特哈尔塔把他抱到膝上，任他哭，抚摩着他的头发，看着孩子的脸他想起了一段自己儿时学到的婆罗门祈祷文。他用唱歌一般的语调缓缓地吟诵抚慰下，孩子平静了，只还偶尔抽泣一两声，后来便睡着了。席特哈尔塔把他放到瓦苏代瓦的床上。瓦苏代瓦正在炉灶边烧饭。席特哈尔塔瞥了他一眼，他也答以微笑。
“她快要死了。”席特哈尔塔小声说。
瓦苏代瓦点点头，炉灶里的火光在他那慈祥的脸上闪烁不定。
卡玛拉又一次恢复了知觉。痛楚扭歪了她的面容，席特哈尔塔的眼睛在她的嘴上和苍白的两颊上看出了这痛楚。他静静地端详、专注、耐心地沉浸在她的痛楚之中。目测玛拉觉察了，以目光搜寻他的眼睛。
她看见了他，说道：“现在我发现你的眼睛也变了，变得完全不同了。我到底凭什么认出了你是席特哈尔塔呢？你既是他又不是他喽！”