现代大学英语精读(1)Unit3 课文

Lesson ThreeTEXT AMessage of the Land Pira SudhamPre-class Work IRead the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes dictionaries or the glossary yet.Yes, these are our rice fields. They belonged to my parents and forefathers. The land is morethan thre e centuries old. I'm the only daughter in our family and it was I who stayed with myparents till they di ed. My three brothers moved out to their wives' houses when they gotmarried. My husband moved int o our house as is the way with us in Esarn. I was then eighteenand he was nineteen. He gave me six c hildren. Two died in infancy from sickness. The rest, twoboys and two girls, went away as soon as we could afford to buy jeans for them. Our oldestson got a job as a gardener in a rich man's home in Ban gkok but later an employment agencysent him to a foreign land to work. My other son also went far a way.One of our daughters is working in a textile factory in Bangkok, and the other has a job in astore. Th ey come home to see us now and then, stay a few days, and then they are off again.Often they send s ome money to us and tell us that they are doing well. I know this is notalways true. Sometimes, they get bullied and insulted, and it is like a knife piercing my heart. It'seasier for my husband. He has ears which don't hear, a mouth which doesn't speak, and eyesthat don't see. He has always been patient a nd silent, minding his own life.All of them remain my children in spite of their long absence. Maybe it's fate that sent themaway fro m us. Our piece of land is small, and it is no longer fertile, bleeding year after yearand, like us, getti ng old and exhausted. Still my husband and I work on this land. The soil is notdifficult to till when ther e is a lot of rain, but in a bad year, it's not only the ploughs that breakbut our hearts, too.No, we two haven't changed much, but the village has. In what way? Only ten years ago, youcould ba rter for things, but now it's all cash. Years ago, you could ask your neighbors to helpbuild your house, reap the rice or dig a well. Now they'll do it only if you have money to paythem. Plastic things replac e village crafts. Men used to make things with fine bamboo pieces,but no longer. Plastic bags litter the village. Shops have sprung up, filled with colorful plastic things and goods we have no use for. The y oung go away to towns and cities leaving us oldpeople to work on the land. They think differently, I kn ow, saying that the old are old-fashioned. All my life, I have never had to go to a hairdresser, or to pa int my lips or nails. These rough fingers and toes are for working in the mud of our rice fields, not for l ooking pretty. Nowyoung girls put on jeans, and look like boys and they think it is fashionable. Why, they are willing to sell their pig or water buffalo just to be able to buy a pair of jeans. In my day, if Iw ere to put on a pair of trousers like they do now, lightning would strike me.I know, times have changed, but certain things should not change. We should offer food tothe monks every day, go to the temple regularly. Young people tend to leave these things toold people now, an d that's a shame.Why, only the other day I heard a boy shout and scream at his mother. If that kind of thinghad happ ened when I was young, the whole village would have condemned such an ungratefulson, and his fat her would surely have given him a good beating.As for me, I wouldn't change, couldn't change even if I wanted to. Am I happy or unhappy?This ques tion has never occurred to me. Life simply goes on. Yes, this bag of bones dressed inrags can still plan t and reap rice from morning till dusk. Disease, wounds, hardship and scarcity have always been part of my life. I don't complain.The farmer: My wife is wrong. My eyes do see—they see more than they should. My ears dohear—the y hear more than is good for me. I don't talk about what I know because I know toomuch. I know for example, greed, anger, and lust are the root of all evils.I am at peace with the land and the conditions of my life. But I feel a great pity for my wife. Ihave be en forcing silence upon her all these years, yet she has not once complained ofanything.I wanted to have a lot of children and grandchildren around me but now cities and foreign landshave a ttracted my children away and it seems that none of them will ever come back to live hereagain. To w hom shall I give these rice fields when I die? For hundreds of years this strip of landhas belonged to o ur family. I know every inch of it. My children grew up on it, catching frogsand mud crabs and gatheri ng flowers. Still the land could not tie them down or call them back.When each of them has a pair of j eans, they are off like birds on the wing.Fortunately, my wife is still with me, and both of us are still strong. Wounds heal over time.Sickness c omes and goes, and we get back on our feet again. I never want to leave this land.It's nice to feel the wet earth as my fingers dig into the soil, planting rice, to hear my wifesighing,"Old man, if I die first, I shall become a cloud to protect you from the sun." It's goodto smell the sce nt of ripening rice in November. The soft cool breeze moves the sheaves, which ripple and shimmer li ke waves of gold. Yes, I love this land and I hope one of my childrencomes back one day to live, and g ives me grandchildren so that I can pass on the land's secretmessages to them.Read the text a second time. Learn the new words and expressions listed below.Glossaryagencyn. 机构；代理处；这里指职业介绍所bamboon. 竹Bangkokn. 曼谷（泰国首都）barterv. to exchange goods for other goods 以货易货breezen. a light gentle windbuffalon. 美洲野牛；water ～: 水牛bullyv. to threaten to hurt sb. who is smaller or weaker 欺负（弱小）condemnv. to express strong disapproval谴责crabn. 蟹n. handmade items 手工艺术（这里指手工产品）duskn. the time before it gets dark 黄昏Esarnn. a village in Thailandeviln. bad or harmful influence or effect 邪恶exhaustedadj. tired outfashionableadj. popular合时尚的；时髦的faten. 命运fertileadj. ～ land is land able to produce good crops 肥沃的；富饶的forefathersn. people (especially men) who were part of your family a long time ago 祖先frogn. 蛙gardenern. a person who takes care of a gardengreedn. a strong desire for more money, power etc. than you need 贪婪hairdressern. a person who cuts and shapes your hair in a particular style 理发师hardshipn. difficult condition of life, such as lack of money to become healthy again, to recover from awound, especially to grow new skin 愈合infancyn. early childhood; babyhoodinsultv. to say or do sth. that is rude or act offensively to someone 侮辱jeansn. （常用复数）牛仔裤litterv. to leave (plastic bags, bits of waste paper etc.) on the ground in a public place 扔得到处都是n. very strong desire for sex, money or power 淫欲；金钱欲；权力欲old-fashionedadj. not fashionable老式的，过时的monkn. 和尚，僧人nailn. 指甲piercev. to make a hole through something; to ～ one's heart: to make one feet very sadreapv. to cut and gather a crop such as rice or wheat收割replacev. to take the place of 替代ripenadj. mature成熟的ripplev. to move in very small waves 在微风中摆动scarcityn. a lack; not having enough, especially foodscentn. a pleasant smellsheavesn. (sheaf 的复数), measure of quantity in farming 捆，束shimmerv. to shine with a soft trembling light 发微光，闪烁sicknessn. illnesssighv. 叹息stripn. a narrow piece of 细长片templen. a place for the worship of a god or gods 寺庙，庙宇tendv. If sth. ～ s to happen, it means that it is likely to happen quite often, especially sth. bad or unpleas antn. any material made by weaving 纺织品ungratefuladj. not showing thankswoundn. injury 伤口；（感情上的）痛苦TEXT BThe Son from America lsaac Bashevis SingerLsaac Bashevis Singer (1904—1991) was born in a Jewish village in Poland. In 1935 heimmigrated to New York.Singer wrote many stories and novels, as well as books for juveniles and four autobiographies(includin g Lost in America,1981). In 1978 his work received world attention when he wasawarded the Noble Prize in Literature.The village of Lentshin was tiny. It was surrounded by little huts with thatchad roofs. Betweenthe huts there were fields, where the owners planted vegetables or pastured their goats.In the smallest of these huts lived old Berl, a man in his eighties, and his wife Berlcha. Old Berlwas on e of the Jews driven from Russia who had settled in Poland. He was short, broad-shouldered, and had a small white beard, and in summer and winter he wore a sheepskin hat, apadded cotton jacket, and stout boots. He had a half acre of field, a cow, a goat, and chickens.The couple had a son, Samuel, who had gone to America forty years ago. It was said inLentshin that h e became a millionaire there. Every month, the Lentshin letter carrier brought oldBerl a money order a nd a letter that no one could read because many of the words wereEnglish. How much money Samuel sent his parents remained a secret. They never seemed touse the money. What for? The garden, the c ow, and the goat provided most of their needs.No one cared to know where Berl kept the money that his son sent him. The hut consisted ofone room , which contained all their belongings: the table, the shelf for meat, the shelf for milkfoods, the two beds, and the clay oven. Sometimes the chickens roosted in the woodshed andsometimes, when it w as cold, in a coop near the oven. The goat, too, found shelter insidewhen the weather was bad. The more prosperous villagers had kerosene lamps, but Berl and hiswife did not believe in new gadgets. Only for the Sabbath would Berlcha buy candles at thestore. In summer, the couple got up at sunrise and retired with the chickens. In the long winterevenings, Berlcha spun flax and Berl sat beside her in the silence of those who enjoy theirrest.Once in a while when Berl came home from the synagogue, he brought news to his wife. InWarsaw th ere were strikers who demanded that the czar abdicate. Somebody by the name ofDr. Herzl* had co me up with the idea that Jews should settle again in Palestine. Berlcha listenedand shook her head. H er face was yellowish and wrinkled like a cabbage leaf. She was half deaf.Berl had to repeat each word he said to her.Here in Lentshin nothing happened except usual events: a cow gave birth to a calf, a youngcouple g ot married. Actually, Lentshin had become a village with few young people. The youngmen left for Zak roczym, for Warsaw, and sometimes for the United States. Like Samuel, theysent letters and photogra phs in which the men wore top hats and the women fancy dresses.Berl and Berlcha also received such photographs. But their eyes were failing and neither he norshe had glasses. They could barely make out the pictures. Samuel had sons and daughters—and grandchildr en. Their names were so strange that Berl and Berlcha could never rememberthem. But what differenc e do names make? America was on the other side of the ocean, at theedge of the world. A talmud* te acher who came to Lentshin had said that Americans walkedwith their heads down and their feet up. B erl and Berlcha could not grasp this. How was itpossible? But since the teacher said so it must be true.One Friday morning, when Berlcha was kneading the dough for the Sabbath loaves, the dooropened a nd a nobleman entered. He was so tall that he had to bend down to get through thedoor. He was follo wed by the coachman who carried two leather suitcases. In astonishment Berlcha raised her eyes. The nobleman looked around and said to the coachman in Yiddish,"Here it is." He took out asilver ruble and paid him. Then he said, "You can go now."When the coachman closed the door, the nobleman said, "Mother, it's me, your son Samuel-Sam." Berlcha heard the words and her legs grew numb. The nobleman hugged her, kissed herforehead, bot h her cheeks, and Berlcha began to cackle like a hen,"My son!" At that momentBerl came in from the woodshed, his arms piled with logs. The goat followed him. When he sawa nobleman kissing his wife, Berl dropped the wood and exclaimed, "What is this?" The nobleman let go of Berlcha and embraced Berl. "Father! "For a long time Berl was unable to utter a sound. Then he asked, "Are you Samuel?""Yes, Father, I am Samuel. ""Well, peace be with you." Berl grasped his son's hand. He was still not sure that he was notbeing fooled. Samuel wasn't as tall and heavy as this man, but then Berl reminded himself thatSamuel was only fifteen years old when he had left home. Berl asked, "Why didn't you let usknow that you were coming?""Didn't you receive my cable?" Samuel asked.Berl did not know what a cable was.Berlcha had scraped the dough from her hands and enfolded her son."I never thought I could live to see this. Now, I am happy to die," Berlcha said. Berl wasamazed. Thes e were just the words he could have said earlier. After a while Berl came to himselfand said, "Pescha, you will have to make a double Sabbath pudding in addition to the stew."It was years since Berl had called Berlcha by her given name. Only now did Berlcha begin to cry.Yello w tears ran from her eyes, and everything became dim. Then she called out,"It's Friday—Ihave to prepare for the Sabbath." Yes, she had to knead the dough for the loaves. With such aguest, she had to make a larger Sabbath stew. The winter day is short and she must hurry. Her son understood what was worrying her, because he said, "Mother, I will help you."The nobleman took off his jacket and remained in his vest, on which hung a solidgold-watchchain. H r olled up his sleeves."Mother, I was a baker for many years in New York," he said, andhe began to knead the dough. Berlcha wept for joy. Her strength left her, and she slumped onto the bed.Berl said,"Women will always be women." And he went to the shed to get more wood. Thegoat sat down near t he oven; she gazed with surprise at this strange man.The neighbors had heard the good news that Berl's son had arrived from America and theycame to gr eet him. The women began to help Berlcha prepare for the Sabbath. Some laughed,some cried. The ro om was full of people, as at a wedding. After Berlcha lit the candles, fatherand son went to the little synagogue across the street. A new snow had fallen. The son tooklarge steps, but Berl warned him, "Slow down."In the synagogue the Jews sang their prayers. All the time, the snow outside kept falling. WhenBerl a nd Samuel left the Holy Place, the village was unrecognizable. Everything was covered insnow. One co uld see only the contours of the roofs and the candles in the windows. Samuelsaid,"Nothing has changed here."Berlcha had prepared fish, chicken soup with rice, meat, carrot stew. The family ate and drank,and w hen it grew quiet for a while one could hear the chirping of the house cricket.After the final prayer Samuel asked, "Father, what did you do with all the money I sent you?"Berl raised his white brows. "It's here.""Didn't you put it in a bank?""There is no bank in Lentshin.""Where do you keep it?"Berl hesitated. "One is not allowed to touch money on the Sabbath, but I will show you. "Hecrouched beside the bed and began to shove something heavy. A boot appeared. Its top wasstuff ed with straw. Berl removed the straw and the son saw that the boot was full of goldcoins. He lifted it."Father, this is a treasure!" he called out."Well.""Why didn't you spend it?""On what? Thank God, we have everything.""Why didn't you travel somewhere?""Where to? This is our home."The son asked one question after the other, but Berl's answer was always the same: They hadeverythi ng. The garden, the cow, the goat, the chickens provided them with all they needed.The son said, "If thieves knew about this, your lives wouldn't be safe.""There are no thieves here.""What will happen to the money?""You take it."Slowly, Berl and Berlcha grew accustomed to their son and his American Yiddish. Berlcha couldhear him better now. She even recognized his voice. He was saying,"Perhaps we should build alarger synagogue.""The synagogue is big enough," Berl replied."Perhaps a home for old people.""No one sleeps in the street."The next day after the Sabbath meal was eaten, Berl and Berlcha lay down for a nap. They soonbegan to snore. The goat, too, dozed off. The son put on his cloak and his hat and went for awalk. He strode with his long legs across the marketplace. He stretched out a hand and touched a roof. He had a desi re to talk to someone, but it seemed that the whole of Lentshinwas asleep.Samuel returned home. Dusk had fallen. Berl went to the synagogue for the evening prayersand the s on remained with his mother.In the twilight Samuel put his hand into his jacket pocket and touched his checkbook, hisletters of c redit. He had come here with big plans. He had a suitcase filled with presents for hisparents. He wan ted to help the village. He brought not only his own money but funds from theLentshin Society in New York. But this village needed nothing. From the synagogue one couldhear people chanting. The crick et, silent all day, started again its chirping. Berlcha began to sway and utter holy rhymes inherited fro m mothers and grandmothers.Notes:Dr. Herzl: Theordore Herzl (1860—1904), the founder of ZionismTalmud: the collection of rabbinic writings that constitute the basis of traditional Judaism。