时间:2020-04-14 来源:文都网校 浏览: 分享:


      经典名句-英文:A lot of people can not say the pain, many people have no action.



      It might have been aid that peace and happiness reigned for a long time in the tired mansion of the Buendías if it had not been for the sudden death of Amaranta, which caused a new uproar. It was an unexpected event. Although she was old and isolated from everyone, she still looked firm and upright and with the health of a rock that she had always had. No one knew her thoughts since the afternoon on which she had given Colonel Geri-neldo Márquez his final rejection and shut herself up to weep. She was not seen to cry during the ascension to heaven of Remedios the Beauty or over the extermination of the Aureli-anos or the death of Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía, who was the person she loved most in this world, although she showed it only when they found his body under the chestnut tree. She helped pick up the body. She dressed him in his soldier's uniform, shaved him, combed his hair, and waxed his mustache better than he had ever done in his days of glory. No one thought that there was any love in that act because they were accustomed to the familiarity of Amaranta with the rites of death. Fernanda was scandalized that she did not understand the relationship of Catholicism with life but only its relationship with death, as if it were not a religion but a compendium of funeral conventions. Amaranta was too wrapped up in the eggplant patch of her memories to understand those subtle apologetics. She had reached old age with all of her nostalgias intact. When she listened to the waltzes of Pietro Crespi she felt the same desire to weep that she had had in adolescence, as if time and harsh lessons had meant nothing. The rolls of music that she herself had thrown into the trash with the pretext that they had rotted from dampness kept spinning and playing in her memory. She had tried to sink them into the swampy passion that she allowed herself with her nephew Aureli-ano José and she tried to take refuge in the calm and virile protection of Colonel Geri-neldo Márquez, but she had not been able to overcome them, not even with the most desperate act of her old age when she would bathe the small José Arcadio three years before he was sent to the seminary and caress him not as a grandmother would have done with a grandchild, but as a woman would have done with a man, as it was said that the French matrons did and as she had wanted to do with Pietro Crespi at the age of twelve, fourteen, when she saw him in his dancing tights and with the magic wand with which he kept time to the metronome. At times It pained her to have let that outpouring of misery follow its course, and at times it made her so angry that she would prick her fingers with the needles, but what pained her most and enraged her most and made her most bitter was the fragrant and wormy guava grove of love that was dragging her toward death. Just as Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía thought about his war, unable to avoid it, so Amaranta thought about Rebeca. But while her brother had managed to sterilize his memories, she had only managed to make hers more scalding. The only thing that she asked of God for many years was that he would not visit on her the punishment of dying before Rebeca. Every time she passed by her house and noted the progress of destruction she took comfort in the idea that God was listening to her. One afternoon, when she was sewing on the porch, she was assailed by the certainty that she would be sitting in that place, in the same position, and under the same light when they brought her the news of Rebeca's death. She sat down to wait for it, as one waits for a letter, and the fact was that at one time she would pull off buttons to sew them on again so that inactivity would not make the wait longer and more anxious. No one in the house realized that at that time Amaranta was sewing a fine shroud for Rebeca. Later on, when Aureli-ano Triste told how he had seen her changed into an apparition with leathery skin and a few golden threads on her skull, Amaranta was not surprised because the specter described was exactly what she had been imagining for some time. She had decided to restore Rebeca's corpse, to disguise with paraffin the damage to her face and make a wig for her from the hair of the saints. She would manufacture a beautiful corpse, with the linen shroud and a plush--lined coffin with purple trim. and she would put it at the disposition of the worms with splendid funeral ceremonies. She worked out the plan with such hatred that it made her tremble to think about the scheme, which she would have carried out in exactly the same way if it had been done out of love, but she would not allow herself to become upset by the confusion and went on perfecting the details so minutely that she came to be more than a specialist and was a virtuoso in the rites of death. The only thing that she did not keep In mind in her fearsome plan was that in spite of her pleas to God she might die before Rebeca. That was, in fact, what happened. At the final moment, however, Amaran-ta did not feel frustrated, but on the contrary, free of all bitterness because death had awarded her the privi-lege of announcing itself several years ahead of time. She saw it on one burning afternoon sewing with her on the porch a short time after Meme had left for school. She saw it because it was a woman dressed in blue with long hair, with a sort of antiquated look, and with a certain resemblance to Pilar Ternera during the time when she had helped with the chores in the kitchen. Fernanda was present several times and did not see her, in spite of the fact that she was so real, so human, and on one occasion asked of Amaranta the favor of thread-ing a needle. Death did not tell her when she was going to die or whether her hour was assigned before that of Rebeca, but ordered her to begin sewing her own shroud on the next sixth of April. She was authorized to make it as complicated and as fine as she wanted, but just as honestly executed as Rebeca's, and she was told that she would die without pain, fear, or bitterness at dusk on the day that she finished it. Trying to waste the most time possible, Amaranta ordered some rough flax and spun the thread herself. She did it so carefully that the work alone took four years. Then she started the sewing. As she got closer to the unavoidable end she began to understand that only a miracle would allow her to prolong the work past Rebeca's death, but the very concentration gave her the calmness that she needed to accept the idea of frustration. It was then that she understood the vicious circle of Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía's little gold fishes. The world was reduced to the surface of her skin and her inner self was safe from all bitterness. It pained her not to have had that revelation many years before when it had still been possible to purify memories and reconstruct the universe under a new light and evoke without trembling Pietro Crespi's smell of lavender at dusk and rescue Rebeca from her slough of misery, not out of hatred or out of love but because of the measureless understanding of solitude. The hatred that she noticed one night in Memes words did not upset her because it was directed at her, but she felt the repetition of another adolescence that seemed as clean as hers must have seemed and that, however, was already tainted with rancor. But by then her acceptance of her fate was so deep that she was not even upset by the certainty that all possibilities of rectification were closed to her. Her only objective was to finish the shroud. Instead of slowing it down with useless detail as she had done in the beginning, she speeded up the work. One week before she calculated that she would take the last stitch on the night of February 4, and without revealing the motives, she suggested to Meme that she move up a clavichord concert that she had arranged for the day after, but the girl paid no attention to her. Amaranta then looked for a way to delay for forty-eight hours, and she even thought that death was giving her her way because on the night of February fourth a storm caused a breakdown at the power plant. But on the following day, at eight in the morning, she took the last stitch in the most beautiful piece of work that any woman had ever finished, and she announced without the least bit of dramatics that she was going to die at dusk. She not only told the family but the whole town, because Amaranta had conceived of the idea that she could make up for a life of meanness with one last favor to the world, and she thought that no one was in a better position to take letters to the dead.

      已经可以说,在饱经沧桑的布恩蒂亚家中,长时间是一片和平安乐的气氛,然而阿玛兰塔的碎然死亡引起了新的混乱。这是一件没有料到的事情。阿玛兰塔已经老了,孤身独处,但还显得结实、笔挺,象以往那样特别健康。自从那一天她最终拒绝了格林列尔多。 马克斯上校的求婚,她就呆在房间里痛哭,惟也不知道她想些什么。当她走出卧室的时候,她的泪水已经永远于了。俏姑娘雷麦黛丝升天之后,十六个奥雷连诺惨遭杀害之后,奥雷连诺上校去世之后,她都没有哭过;这个上校是她在世上最喜爱的人,尽管大家在栗树下面发现他的尸体时,她才表露了对他的爱。她帮着从地上抬起他的尸体。她给他穿上军服,梳理头发,修饰面容,把他的胡了捻卷得比他自己在荣耀时捻卷得还好。谁也不觉得她的行动中有什么爱,因为大家一贯认为她熟悉丧葬礼仪。菲兰达生气地说,阿玛兰塔不明白天主教和生的关系,只看见它和死的关系,仿佛天主教不是宗教,而是一整套丧葬礼仪。可是阿玛兰塔沉湎在往事的回忆里,没有听到菲兰达为天主教奥妙的辩护。阿玛兰塔已到老年,可是过去的悲痛记忆犹新。她听到皮埃特罗·克列斯比的华尔兹舞曲时,就象从前青年时代那样想哭,仿佛时光和痛苦的经历没有给她什么教训。尽管她借口说录音带在潮湿中腐烂了,亲手把它们扔在垃圾堆里了,可是它们仍在她的记忆里转动播放。她曾想把它们淹没在她川侄儿的肮脏的恋情里(她曾让自己迷于这种恋情),而且曾想人格林列尔多上校男性的庇护下躲开它们,可是即使借助老年时最恶劣的行为,她也摆脱不了那些录音带的魔力:在把年轻的霍·阿卡蒂奥送往神学院的前三年,有一次她给他洗澡,曾抚摸过他,不象祖母抚摸孙子,而象女人抚摸男人,也象传说的法国艺妓那种做法,还象她十二——十四岁时打算抚摸皮埃特岁。 克列斯比那样;当时他穿首紧绷绷的跳舞裤儿站在她面前,挥舞魔杖跟节拍器合着拍子。阿玛兰塔有时难过的是,她身后留下了一大堆病苦,有时她又觉得那么恼怒,甚至拿针扎自己的手指,然而最使她苦恼、悲哀和发狂的却是芬芳的、满是虫子的爱情花圃,是这个花圃使她走向死亡的。就象奥雷连诺上校不能不想到战争一样,阿玛兰塔不能下想到雷贝卡。不过,如果说奥雷连诺上校能够冲淡自己的回忆,阿玛兰塔却更加强了自己的回忆。在许多年中,她唯一祈求上帝的,是不要让她在雷贝卡之前受到死亡的惩罚。每一次,她经过雷贝卡的住所时,看见它越来越破败,就高兴地以为上帝听从了她的要求。有一次在长廊上缝衣服的时候,她忽然深信自己将坐在这个地方,坐在同样的位置上,在同样的阳光下,等候雷贝卡的死讯。从那时起,阿玛兰塔就坐着等待,有时——这是完全真的——甚至扯掉衣服上的钮扣,然后又把它们缝上,以免无所事事的等待显得长久和难熬。家中谁也没有料到,阿玛兰塔那时是在为雷贝卡缝制讲究的殓衣。后来奥雷连诺·特里斯特说,雷贝卡已经变成一个幽灵,皮肤皱巴巴的,脑壳上有几根黄头发,阿玛兰塔对此并不觉得惊异,因为他所描绘的幽灵正是她早就想象到的,阿玛兰塔决定拾掇雷贝卡的尸体,在她脸上损毁的地方涂上石蜡,拿圣像的头发给她做假发。阿玛兰塔打算塑造一个漂亮的尸体,裹上亚麻布殓衣,放进棺材,悄材外面蒙上长毛绒,里面讨上紫色布,由壮观的丧葬队伍送给虫子去受用。阿玛兰塔痛恨地拟定自己的计划时突然想到,如果她爱雷贝卡,也会这么干的。这种想法使阿玛兰塔不寒而栗,但她没有气馁,继续把计划的一切细节考虑得更加完善,很快就不仅成了一名尸体整容专家,而已成了丧葬礼仪的行家。在这可怕的计划中,她没想到的只有一点:尽管她向上帝祈求,但她可能死在雷贝卡之前。事情果然如此。但在最后一分钟,阿玛兰塔感到自己并没有绝望,相反地,她没有任何悲哀,因为死神优待她,几年前就顶先告诉了她结局的临近。在把梅梅送往修道院学校之后不久,她在一个炎热的响午就看见了死神;列神跟她一块儿坐在长廊上缝衣服她立刻认出了死神;这死神没什么可怕,不过是个穿着蓝衣服的女人,头发挺长,模样古板,有点儿象帮助乌苏娜干些厨房杂活时的皮拉·苔列娜。菲兰达也有几次跟阿玛兰塔一起坐在长廊上,但她没有看见死神,虽然死神是那么真切,象人一样,有一次甚至请阿玛兰塔替她穿针引线。死神井没有说阿玛兰塔哪年哪月哪天会死,她的时刻会不会早于雷贝卡,死神只是要她从下一个月——四月六日起开始给自己缝硷衣,容许她把殓衣缝得象自己希望的那么奇妙和漂亮,但要象给雷贝卡缝殓衣时那么认真,随后死神又说,阿玛兰塔将在硷衣缝完的那天夜里死去,没有痛苦,没有忧伤和恐惧。阿玛兰塔打算尽量多花一些时间,选购了上等麻纱,开始自己织布。单是织布就花了四年的工夫,然后就动手缝制了,越接近难免的结局,她就越明白,只有奇迹能够让她把殓衣的缝制拖到雷贝卡死亡之后,但是经常聚精会神地干活使她得到了平静,帮助她容忍了希望破灭的想法。正是这个时候,她懂得了奥雷连诺上校制作小金鱼的恶性循环的意义。现在对她来说,外部世界就是她的身体表面,她的内心是没有任何痛苦的。她遗憾的是许多年前没有发现这一点,当时还能清除回忆中的肮脏东西,改变整个世界:毫不战栗地回忆黄昏时分皮埃特罗。 克列斯比身上发出的黛衣草香味,把雷贝卡从悲惨的境地中搭救出来,——不是出于爱,也不是由于恨,而是因为深切理解她的孤独,有一天晚上,她在梅梅话里感到的憎恨曾使她吃了一惊,倒不是因为这种憎恨是针对她的,而是因为她觉得这姑娘的青年时代和她以前一样虽是纯洁的,但已沾染了憎恨别人的坏习气。可她感到现在已经没有痛改前非的可能,也就满不在乎了,听从命董的摆布了。她唯一操心的是缝完殓衣。她不象开头那样千方百计延缓工作,而是加快进度。距离工作结束还剩一个星期的时候,她估计二月四号晚上将缝最后一针,于是并没说明原因,就劝梅梅推迟原定五号举行的钢琴音乐会,可是梅梅不听她的劝告。接着,阿玛兰塔开始寻找继续拖延四十八小时的办法,甚至认为死神迎合了她的愿望,因为二月四号晚上暴风雨把发电站破坏了。但是,第二天早上八点,阿玛兰塔仍在世间最漂亮的硷衣上缝了最后一针,泰然自若他说她晚上就要死了。这一点,她不仅告诉全家,而且告诉全镇,因她以为,最终为人们做一件好事就能弥补自己一生的悭吝,而最适合这个目的的就是帮助人家捎信给死人。

      The news that Amaranta Buendía was sailing at dusk carrying the mail of death spread throughout Macon-do before noon, and at three in the afternoon there was a whole carton full of letters in the parlor. Those who did not want to write gave Amaranta verbal messages, which she wrote down in a notebook with the name and date of death of the recipient. "Don't worry," she told the senders. "The first thing I'll do when I get there is to ask for him and give him your message." It was farcical. Amaranta did not show any upset or the slightest sign of grief, and she even looked a bit rejuvenated by a duty accomplished. She was as straight and as thin as ever. If it had not been for her hardened cheekbones and a few missing teeth, she would have looked much younger than she really was. She herself arranged for them to put the letters in a box sealed with pitch and told them to place it in her grave in a way best to protect it from the dampness. In the morning she had a carpenter called who took her measurements for the coffin as she stood in the parlor, as if it were for a new dress. She showed such vigor in her last hours that Fernanda thought she was making fun of everyone. úrsula, with the experience that Buendías died without any illness, did not doubt at all that Amaranta had received an omen of death, but in any case she was tormented by the fear that with the business of the letters and the anxiety of the senders for them to arrive quickly they would bury her alive in their confusion. So she set about clearing out the house, arguing with the intruders as she shouted at them, and by four in the afternoon she was successful. At that time Amaranta had finished dividing her things among the poor and had left on the severe coffin of unfinished boards only the change of clothing and the simple cloth slippers that she would wear in death. She did not neglect that precaution because she remembered that when Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía died they had to buy a pair of new shoes for him because all he had left were the bedroom slippers that he wore in the workshop. A little before five Aureli-ano Segun-do came to fetch Meme for the concert and was surprised that the house was prepared for the funeral. if anyone seemed alive at the moment it was the serene Amaranta, who had even had enough time to cut her corns. Aureli-ano Segun-do and Meme took leave of her with mocking farewells and promised her that on the following Saturday they would have a big resurrection party. Drawn by the public talk that Amaranta Buendía was receiving letters for the dead, Father Antonio Isabel arrived at five o'clock for the last rites and he had to wait for more than fifteen minutes for the recipient to come out of her bath. When he saw her appear in a madapollam nightshirt and with her hair loose over her shoulders, the decrepit parish priest thought that it was a trick and sent the altar boy away. He thought however, that he would take advantage of the occasion to have Amaranta confess after twenty years of reticence. Amaranta answered simply that she did not need spiritual help of any kind because her conscience was clean. Fernanda was scandalized. Without caring that people could hear her she asked herself aloud what horrible sin Amaranta had committed to make her prefer an impious death to the shame of confession. Thereupon Amaranta lay down and made úrsula give public testimony as to her virginity.


      "Let no one have any illusions," she shouted so that Fernanda would hear her. "Amaranta Buendía is leaving this world just as she came into it.


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