评论
打印
Marrakech
马拉喀什见闻
George Orwell
乔治奥威尔
As the corpse went past the flies left the restaurant table in a cloud and rushed after it, but they came back a few minutes later.
一具尸体抬过，成群的苍蝇从饭馆的餐桌上瓮嗡嗡而起追逐过去，但几分钟过后又非了回来。
The little crowd of mourners -- all men and boys, no women--threaded their way across the market place between the piles of pomegranates and the taxis and the camels, walling a short chant over and over again. What really appeals to the flies is that the corpses here are never put into coffins, they are merely wrapped in a piece of rag and carried on a rough wooden bier on the shoulders of four friends. When the friends get to the burying-ground they hack an oblong hole a foot or two deep, dump the body in it and fling over it a little of the dried-up, lumpy earth, which is like broken brick. No gravestone, no name, no identifying mark of any kind. The burying-ground is merely a huge waste of hummocky earth, like a derelict building-lot. After a month or two no one can even be certain where his own relatives are buried.
一支人数不多的送葬队伍--其中老少尽皆男性，没有一个女的--沿着集贸市场，从一堆堆石榴摊子以及出租汽车和骆驼中间挤道而行，一边走着一边悲痛地重复着一支短促的哀歌。苍蝇之所以群起追逐是因为在这个地方死人的尸首从不装进棺木，只是用一块破布裹着放在一个草草做成的木头架子上，有四个朋友抬着送葬。朋友们到了安葬场后，便在地上挖出一个一二英尺深的长方形坑，将尸首往坑里一倒。再扔一些像碎砖头一样的日、干土块。不立墓碑，不留姓名，什么识别标志都没有。坟场只不过是一片土丘林立的荒野，恰似一片已废弃不用的建筑场地。一两个月过后，就谁也说不准自己的亲人葬于何处了。
When you walk through a town like this -- two hundred thousand inhabitants of whom at least twenty thousand own literally nothing except the rags they stand up in-- when you see how the people live, and still more how easily they die, it is always difficult to believe that you are walking among human beings. All colonial empires are in reality founded upon this fact. The people have brown faces--besides, there are so many of them!
当你穿行也这样的城镇--其居民20万中至少有2万是除开一身聊以蔽体的破衣烂衫之外完全一无所有--当你看到那些人是如何生活，又如何动辄死亡时，你永远难以相信自己是行走在人类之中。实际上，这是所有的殖民帝国赖以建立的基础。这里的人都有一张褐色的脸，而且，人数书如此之多!
