The other day a poet friend of mine, who has lived in close communion with nature all his life, wrote a poem and took it to an editor.
前几天，我的一个诗人朋友，他一直与大自然亲密相处了一生，写了一首诗然后拿给了一位编辑。

It was a living pastoral, full of the genuine breath of the fields, the song of birds, and the pleasant chatter of trickling streams.
那是一首生动的田园诗，充满了田野的真实气息，鸟儿的歌声和溪流的欢快喧哗。

When the poet called again to see about it, with hopes of a beefsteak dinner in his heart, it was handed back to him with the comment:
当诗人再次过去看看时，心里还满怀着期待能享用牛排晚餐的希望，结果却被交给了他，并附有以下评语：“太不自然了。”

“Too artificial.”
我们几个人在一起吃着意大利面和杜奇斯县的科安提红酒，边用滑溜的叉子吞下愤怒。

Several of us met over spaghetti and Dutchess County chianti, and swallowed indignation with slippery forkfuls.
于是我们为编辑挖了一个坑。与我们一同的是柯南特，一位以写小说出名的作家，这个人一生都在城市的柏油路上行走，从来没有真正欣赏过田园景色，除了从快速列车的窗子里感到厌恶。

And there we dug a pit for the editor. With us was Conant, a well-arrived writer of fiction - a man who had trod on asphalt all his life, and who had never looked upon bucolic scenes except with sensations of disgust from the windows of express trains.
我们为编辑设下圈套。与我们一起的是康纳特，一位成功的小说家，他一生都在柏油路上行走，从未亲眼目睹过乡村景色，除了从快车窗户里感受到厌恶。

Conant wrote a poem and called it “The Doe and the Brook.” It was a fine specimen of the kind of work you would expect from a poet who had strayed with Amaryllis only as far as the florist’s windows, and whose sole ornithological discussion had been carried on with a waiter. —
康纳特写了一首诗，称之为《梅花鹿与小溪》。这是一件十分出色的作品，正如你所预期的那样，它来自于一个迷茫的诗人，只和爱玛莉斯走到了花店的橱窗边，而关于鸟类的讨论，也只在与一个务工人员间进行。 —

Conant signed this poem, and we sent it to the same editor.
康纳特署名了这首诗，我们将其寄给了同一位编辑。

But this has very little to do with the story.
然而，这与故事关系甚微。

Just as the editor was reading the first line of the poem, on the next morning, a being stumbled off the West Shore ferryboat, and loped slowly up Forty-second Street.
就在第二天早晨，这位编辑正在阅读诗歌的第一行时，一个人从西岸渡轮上踉跄下来，缓慢地沿着四十二街走去。

The invader was a young man with light blue eyes, a hanging lip and hair the exact color of the little orphan’s (afterward discovered to be the earl’s daughter) in one of Mr. Blaney’s plays. —
这个入侵者是一个有着浅蓝色眼睛、下垂嘴唇和与布兰尼先生剧作中那个被后来发现是伯爵女儿的孤女的头发颜色完全相同的年轻人。 —

His trousers were corduroy, his coat short-sleeved, with buttons in the middle of his back. —
他的裤子是灯芯绒的，上衣短袖，后背有纽扣。 —

One bootleg was outside the corduroys. —
一只靴腿穿在裤子外面。 —

You looked expectantly, though in vain, at his straw hat for ear holes, its shape inaugurating the suspicion that it had been ravaged from a former equine possessor. —
你满怀期待地望着他的草帽，但徒劳无功，帽子的形状让人怀疑它曾是一匹马的主人抢夺来的。 —

In his hand was a valise - description of it is an impossible task; —
在他手里拿着一个手提箱，对它进行描述是一项不可能的任务； —

a Boston man would not have carried his lunch and law books to his office in it. —
一个波士顿人不会用它来携带午餐和法律书到办公室。 —

And above one ear, in his hair, was a wisp of hay - the rustic’s letter of credit, his badge of innocence, the last clinging touch of the Garden of Eden lingering to shame the gold-brick men.
脑袋上有一缕干草，那是乡下人的信用证明，他天真无邪的徽章，上帝园地的最后残留，让那些金光闪闪的人感到羞耻。

Knowingly, smilingly, the city crowds passed him by. —
城市的人群经过他时，带着知情的微笑。 —

They saw the raw stranger stand in the gutter and stretch his neck at the tall buildings. —
他们看着这个陌生人站在街沟里，伸长脖子看着高楼大厦。 —

At this they ceased to smile, and even to look at him. —
他们对此不再微笑，甚至不再看他一眼。 —

It had been done so often. —
这种情况发生得太多次了。 —

A few glanced at the antique valise to see what Coney “attraction” or brand of chewing gum he might be thus dinning into his memory. —
有几个人瞥了一眼这个古董手提箱，看看他可能是带着哪个康尼岛的”景点”或者嚼口香糖品牌来印在记忆里的。 —

But for the most part he was ignored. —
但总的来说，他被忽视了。 —

Even the newsboys looked bored when he scampered like a circus clown out of the way of cabs and street cars.
即使是送报小孩在他像马戏团小丑一样避开出租车和有轨电车的时候，看起来也很无聊。

At Eighth Avenue stood “Bunco Harry,” with his dyed mustache and shiny, good-natured eyes. —
在第八大道上站着一个名叫”骗子哈里”的人，他染过胡子，眼睛明亮、性情好。 —

Harry was too good an artist not to be pained at the sight of an actor overdoing his part. —
哈里是个太优秀的艺术家，看到演员过度演戏，他感到痛苦。 —

He edged up to the countryman, who had stopped to open his mouth at a jewelry store window, and shook his head.
他悄悄走近站在珠宝店橱窗前张大嘴巴的乡巴佬，然后摇了摇头。

“Too thick, pal,” he said, critically - “too thick by a couple of inches. —
“太过于夸张了，伙计，” 他批评道 - “过于夸张了几英寸。 —

I don’t know what your lay is; —
我不知道你的职业是什么； —

but you’ve got the properties too thick. That hay, now - why, they don’t even allow that on Proctor’s circuit any more.”
但你的道具太过了。那块干草，哎呀 - 连普罗克特的巡回表演都不允许用了。”

“I don’t understand you, mister,” said the green one. “I’m not lookin’ for any circus. —
“我不明白你说的是什么，先生，” 那个天真的人说。”我可不是在找马戏团。” —

I’ve just run down from Ulster County to look at the town, bein’ that the hayin’s over with. —
我刚从阿尔斯特县赶过来看这个镇，因为晒干草割完了。天啊！ —

Gosh! but it’s a whopper. —
这个镇可真是大得惊人。 —

I thought Poughkeepsie was some punkins; —
我以为波基普西会很不错， —

but this here town is five times as big.”
但这个镇是它的五倍大。

“Oh, well,” said “Bunco Harry,” raising his eyebrows, “I didn’t mean to butt in. —
“噢，好吧，””Bunco Harry” 抬起眉毛说，“我没打算插手。 —

You don’t have to tell. —
你不用告诉我。 —

I thought you ought to tone down a little, so I tried to put you wise. —
我想你应该稍微收敛一点，所以我试着让你明白。 —

Wish you success at your graft, whatever it is. Come and have a drink, anyhow.”
不管你的操控是什么，祝你成功。总之来喝一杯吧。

“I wouldn’t mind having a glass of lager beer,” acknowledged the other.
“我倒不介意喝一杯拉格啤酒，” 另一个人承认道。

They went to a cafe frequented by men with smooth faces and shifty eyes, and sat at their drinks.
他们去了一家经常有着光滑面孔和忧心目光的男人光顾的咖啡馆，坐在他们的饮料旁。

“I’m glad I come across you, mister,” said Haylocks. —
“很高兴遇见您，先生，”海洛柯斯说道。 —

“How’d you like to play a game or two of seven-up? —
“您愿意和我玩一两盘七点吗？ —

I’ve got the keerds.”
我有牌。”

He fished them out of Noah’s valise - a rare, inimitable deck, greasy with bacon suppers and grimy with the soil of cornfields.
他从诺亚的旅行袋里拿出一副稀有无比的牌，油腻的是培根晚餐，泥泞的是玉米地的土。

“Bunco Harry” laughed loud and briefly.
“骗子哈里”笑了一下，声音洪亮而短促。

“Not for me, sport,” he said, firmly. —
“对我来说可不行，老兄， —

“I don’t go against that make-up of yours for a cent. —
”他坚定地说道。“我可不会因为你那套装扮对赌。 —

But I still say you’ve overdone it. —
但是我仍然说你做得太过分了。 —

The Reubs haven’t dressed like that since ‘79. —
鲁伯克人自从’79年以来就没这样穿过。 —

I doubt if you could work Brooklyn for a key-winding watch with that layout.”
我怀疑你能拿着这样的布局在布鲁克林换到一只可以上发条的手表。”

“Oh, you needn’t think I ain’t got the money,” boasted Haylocks. —
“哦，你可别以为我没钱，”海洛柯斯自夸道。 —

He drew forth a tightly rolled mass of bills as large as a teacup, and laid it on the table.
他从口袋里拿出一团拧紧的纸币堆，像茶杯那么大，然后放在桌子上。

“Got that for my share of grandmother’s farm,” he announced. “There’s $950 in that roll. —
“这是我从奶奶的农场份额里拿到的，”他宣布道。“卷里有950美元。 —

Thought I’d come to the city and look around for a likely business to go into.”
我想来城里看看有没有合适的生意可以做。”

“Bunco Harry” took up the roll of money and looked at it with almost respect in his smiling eyes.
“骗子哈里”拾起那卷钱，带着几乎尊重的笑意注视着它。

“I’ve seen worse,” he said, critically. —
“我见过更糟的，”他批评地说道。”但你无论如何， —

“But you’ll never do it in them clothes. —
穿着那种衣服是绝对不行的。” —

You want to get light tan shoes and a black suit and a straw hat with a colored band, and talk a good deal about Pittsburg and freight differentials, and drink sherry for breakfast in order to work off phony stuff like that.”
“你需要买一双浅色的皮鞋，一套黑色西装，还要配一个有彩色带的草帽，然后就大谈匹兹堡和货运差价，早餐时用雪利酒来消化这些虚假的东西.”

“What’s his line?” asked two or three shifty-eyed men of “Bunco Harry” after Haylocks had gathered up his impugned money and departed.
“他是做什么的?” “骗子哈里”问了两三个眯起眼睛的人，此时海洛克斯已经拿起他受到质疑的钱离开了。

“The queer, I guess,” said Harry. “Or else he’s one of Jerome’s men. —
“我猜他可能是个怪人。或者他是杰罗姆的人之一， —

Or some guy with a new graft. —
或者是某个新套路的家伙。 —

He’s too much hayseed. Maybe that his - I wonder now - oh, no, it couldn’t have been real money.”
他太过于土包子了。也许那是他的…我猜想下…哦，不，这不可能是真钱。”

Haylocks wandered on. Thirst probably assailed him again, for he dived into a dark groggery on a side street and bought beer. —
海洛克斯漫无目的地继续走着。可能是因为口渴，他走进一家黑暗的小酒馆并买了啤酒。 —

At first sight of him their eyes brightened; —
他们一看到他时眼睛一亮， —

but when his insistent and exaggerated rusticity became apparent their expressions changed to wary suspicion.
但当他过分夸张的乡土气息显露出来时，他们的表情变得戒备起来。

Haylocks swung his valise across the bar.
海洛克斯把手提箱挂在吧台上。

“Keep that a while for me, mister,” he said, chewing at the end of a virulent claybank cigar. —
“先生，帮我保管一下，”他说着，咬着一支颜色浓烈的红褐色雪茄。 —

“I’ll be back after I knock around a spell. —
“我逛一逛后就会回来的。” —

And keep your eye on it, for there’s $950 inside of it, though maybe you wouldn’t think so to look at me.”
“保持好眼神，里面有950美元，虽然看我你也许不会这么想。”

Somewhere outside a phonograph struck up a band piece, and Haylocks was off for it, his coat-tail buttons flopping in the middle of his back.
在外面，一个留声机开始播放乐队的曲子，海洛克斯也随之跑了过去，他的后摆纽扣在背中间摇晃着。

“Divvy, Mike,” said the men hanging upon the bar, winking openly at one another.
“分一点，迈克，”站在吧台旁的人们说道，相互间眨眼示意。

“Honest, now,” said the bartender, kicking the valise to one side. —
“真的，现在说实话，”酒保说着，把手提箱踢到一边。 —

“You don’t think I’d fall to that, do you? —
“你不会以为我会信吧？任何人都能看出， —

Anybody can see he ain’t no jay. —
他不是个傻瓜。” —

One of McAdoo’s come-on squad, I guess. —
“我觉得他应该是麦卡杜的骗子队伍中的一个。 —

He’s a shine if he made himself up. —
如果他把自己打扮成亮光的话。” —

There ain’t no parts of the country now where they dress like that since they run rural free delivery to Providence, Rhode Island. —
“现在再也没有哪个地方还有人穿着像他这样的了，自从普罗维登斯，罗得岛开始实行乡村免费邮政送递。” —

If he’s got nine-fifty in that valise it’s a ninety-eight cent Waterbury that’s stopped at ten minutes to ten.”
“如果他手提箱里真有九百五十美元的话，那只不过是一个价值九十八美分，指针停在十点前十分钟的Waterbury手表。”

When Haylocks had exhausted the resources of Mr. Edison to amuse he returned for his valise. —
当哈洛克斯用尽爱迪生先生的娱乐资源后，他回去拿他的小提箱。 —

And then down Broadway he gallivanted, culling the sights with his eager blue eyes. —
然后他漫步在百老汇上，用他渴望的蓝眼睛挑选景点。 —

But still and evermore Broadway rejected him with curt glances and sardonic smiles. —
但是百老汇一直以来对他只是报以傲慢的眼神和讥笑。 —

He was the oldest of the “gags” that the city must endure. —
他是这座城市不得不忍受的最旧的“笑话”。 —

He was so flagrantly impossible, so ultra rustic, so exaggerated beyond the most freakish products of the barnyard, the hayfield and the vaudeville stage, that he excited only weariness and suspicion. —
他太过无法置信，太过乡村，太过夸张，连最怪诞的农场、草地和杂耍舞台的产物都不如，只会引起疲倦和怀疑。 —

And the wisp of hay in his hair was so genuine, so fresh and redolent of the meadows, so clamorously rural that even a shellgame man would have put up his peas and folded his table at the sight of it.
他头发中那根稻草是如此真实，如此新鲜，带有草地的芳香，如此充满乡土气息，以至于即使是一个三个杯子游戏的人也会看到后束起他的桌子。

Haylocks seated himself upon a flight of stone steps and once more exhumed his roll of yellow-backs from the valise. —
哈洛克斯在一段石阶上坐下，再次从小提箱中拿出他的黄金卷。 —

The outer one, a twenty, he shucked off and beckoned to a newsboy.
外面那张二十元，他剥下来朝一个小报童招手。

“Son,” said he, “run somewhere and get this changed for me. —
“孩子，”他说，“去某个地方给我把这个钱换了。 —

I’m mighty nigh out of chicken feed. —
我的鸡饲料快用完了。如果你快点的话， —

I guess you’ll get a nickel if you’ll hurry up.”
我猜你能拿到一个五分镍币。”

A hurt look appeared through the dirt on the newsy’s face.
一种受伤的神色透过新闻工人脸上的泥尘显露出来。

“Aw, watchert’ink! G’wan and get yer funny bill changed yerself. —
“啊，你以为呢！你自己去换你那可笑的钞票吧。 —

Dey ain’t no farm clothes yer got on. —
你穿的不是农民的衣服。 —

G’wan wit yer stage money.”
拿着你的舞台钱走吧。”

On a corner lounged a keen-eyed steerer for a gambling-house. He was Haylocks, and his expression suddenly grew cold and virtuous.
在一个街角，一个敏锐眼光的人坐在赌场之前。他叫Haylocks，他的表情突然变得冷酷而庄重。

“Mister,” said the rural one. —
“先生，”乡村人说道。 —

“I’ve heard of places in this here town where a fellow could have a good game of old sledge or peg a card at keno. —
“我听说这个城市有一些地方可以打一局老斯莱吉或玩一下基诺游戏。” —

I got $950 in this valise, and I come down from old Ulster to see the sights. —
我的手提箱里有950美元，我从老乌尔斯特（Ulster）来这里观光。 —

Know where a fellow could get action on about $9 or $10? —
知道哪里可以押上9到10美元吗？ —

I’m goin’ to have some sport, and then maybe I’ll buy out a business of some kind.”
我来这里只是为了找点乐子，说不定我还会收购某种生意。”

The steerer looked pained, and investigated a white speck on his left forefinger nail.
那个人看起来很痛苦，他检查了一下左手食指甲上的一个白点。

“Cheese it, old man,” he murmured, reproachfully. —
“住手吧，老兄，”他嘀咕着，有些责备。 —

“The Central Office must be bughouse to send you out looking like such a gillie. —
“中央办公室一定是疯了，才派你这样一个英国农夫出来。” —

You couldn’t get within two blocks of a sidewalk crap game in them Tony Pastor props. —
“你穿得这么土，连街上玩丁尼生草戏法的地方都不敢靠近两个街区。” —

The recent Mr. Scotty from Death Valley has got you beat a crosstown block in the way of Elizabethan scenery and mechanical accessories. —
“最近从死亡谷来的史考蒂在伊丽莎白时代的景观和机械装置方面可比你要强大一整条横街呢。” —

Let it be skiddoo for yours. Nay, I know of no gilded halls where one may bet a patrol wagon on the ace.”
让它滚开吧，对你来说不值一文。唉，我并不知道哪里有一个镀金的大厅可以押上一辆巡逻车来赌上王牌。

Rebuffed once again by the great city that is so swift to detect artificialities, Haylocks sat upon the curb and presented his thoughts to hold a conference.
再次被这座伟大的城市拒绝，这座城市总是那么敏锐地发现人工的东西，海洛克斯坐在路边，把他的想法呈现给他的思想，以便进行一个谈话。

“It’s my clothes,” said he; “durned if it ain’t. —
“都是我的衣服的错，”他说，“真可恶。 —

They think I’m a hayseed and won’t have nothin’ to do with me. —
他们认为我是一个乡巴佬，不愿意和我有任何关系。 —

Nobody never made fun of this hat in Ulster County. —
在阿尔斯特郡，从来没有人嘲笑过这顶帽子。 —

I guess if you want folks to notice you in New York you must dress up like they do.”
我猜想，如果你想让纽约的人注意到你，你必须像他们一样打扮。”

So Haylocks went shopping in the bazaars where men spake through their noses and rubbed their hands and ran the tape line ecstatically over the buldge in his inside pocket where reposed a red nubbin of corn with an even number of rows. —
于是，海洛克斯去了集市，那里的人们用鼻子说话，摩擦着手，激动地用卷尺测量着他内袋里凸起的一个红色的玉米棒，上面有偶数行。 —

And messengers bearing parcels and boxes streamed to his hotel on Broadway within the lights of Long Acre.
信使们带着包裹和盒子纷纷涌向他在百老汇的酒店。

At 9 o’clock in the evening one descended to the sidewalk whom Ulster County would have foresworn. —
晚上9点钟，一个下到人行道上的人让阿尔斯特郡人发誓是不可能的。 —

Bright tan were his shoes; —
他的鞋子是明亮的棕色； —

his hat the latest block. —
他帽子上满是最新的泥块。 —

His light gray trousers were deeply creased; —
他的浅灰色裤子有深深的折痕； —

a gay blue silk handkerchief flapped from the breast pocket of his elegant English walking coat. —
一块鲜艳的蓝色丝绸手帕从他优雅的英伦风大衣的胸前口袋中翻飞着。 —

His collar might have graced a laundry window; —
他的衣领可以拿去装点一个洗衣店的橱窗； —

his blond hair was trimmed close; —
他金色的头发修剪整齐， —

the wisp of hay was gone.
稻草的一缕已经不见了。

For an instant he stood, resplendent, with the leisurely air of a boulevardier concocting in his mind the route for his evening pleasures. —
他曾一瞬间停下，光彩夺目，像大道上一位悠闲的散步者，在心中构思着他的夜晚乐趣的路线。 —

And then he turned down the gay, bright street with the easy and graceful tread of a millionaire.
然后，他以百万富翁般轻松优雅的步态，走进了那条快乐明亮的街道。

But in the instant that he had paused the wisest and keenest eyes in the city had enveloped him in their field of vision. —
但就在他停留的那一瞬间，这个城市里最聪明敏锐的眼睛已经将他包围在视野之中。 —

A stout man with gray eyes picked two of his friends with a lift of his eyebrows from the row of loungers in front of the hotel.
一个有灰色双眼的胖子用眉毛动了一下，从酒店前面的休息椅上挑中了他的两个朋友。

“The juiciest jay I’ve seen in six months,” said the man with gray eyes. “Come along.”
“这是我六个月以来见过最好骗的新手。快去吧。”

It was half-past eleven when a man galloped into the West Forty-seventh Street Police Station with the story of his wrongs.
一个男人骑马赶到西四十七街的警察局，向他们讲述了自己的不幸经历。

“Nine hundred and fifty dollars,” he gasped, “all my share of grandmother’s farm.”
“九百五十美元，”他倒抽一口气说道，” 全部是我在奶奶农场的份额。”

The desk seargeant wrung from him the name Jabez Bulltongue, of Locust Valley farm, Ulster County, and then bagan to take descriptions of the strong-arm gentlemen.
接待处警官从他那里得知了洛卡斯特谷农场，位于阿尔斯特县，以及贾贝兹·布尔顿的名字，然后开始描述这些强壮的绅士们。

When Conant went to see the editor about the fate of his poem, he was received over the head of the office boy into the inner office that is decorated with the statuettes by Rodin and J. G. Brown.
康纳特去见编辑商谈他的诗的命运时，他被直接接见了，进入了装饰有罗丹和J.G.布朗塑像的内室。

“When I read the first line of ‘The Doe and the Brook,’ ” said the editor, “I knew it to be the work of one whose life has been heart to heart with Nature. —
“当我读到《母鹿和小溪》的第一行时，” 编辑说，”我就知道它是一个与大自然共同呼吸的人的作品。 —

The finished art of the line did not blind me to that fact. —
这一行的完美艺术并没有让我盲目， —

To use a somewhat homely comparison, it was as if a wild, free child of the woods and fields were to don the garb of fashion and walk down Broadway. —
它就像一位野性自由的林间孩子穿上时尚的衣裳，漫步在百老汇上一样。 —

Beneath the apparel the man would show.”
裙装背后，它会展现出那个人。”

“Thanks,” said Conant. “I suppose the check will be round on Thursday, as usual.”
“谢谢，”康纳特说道。”我想支票将会像往常一样，在星期四到账。”

The morals of this story have somehow gotten mixed. —
这个故事的道德观念有点混淆了。 —

You can take your choice of “Stay on the Farm” or “Don’t Write Poetry.”
你可以选择“留在农场”或者“不写诗”。