张爱玲·《夜营的喇叭》英译

晚上十点钟，我在灯下看书，离家不远的军营里的喇叭吹起了熟悉的调子。几个简单的音阶，缓缓地上去又下来，在这鼎沸的大城市里难得有这样的简单的心。

我说：“又吹喇叭了。姑姑可听见？”我姑姑说：“没留心。”我怕听每天晚上的喇叭，因为只有我一个人听见。

我说：“啊，又吹起来了。”可是这一次不知为什么，声音极低，绝细的一丝，几次断了又连上。这一次我也不问我姑姑听得见听不见了。我疑心根本没有什么喇叭，只是我自己听觉上的回忆罢了。于凄凉之外还感到恐惧。 

可是这时候，外面有人响亮地吹起口哨，信手拾起了喇叭的调子。我突然站起身，充满喜悦与同情，奔到窗口去，但也并不想知道那是谁，是公寓楼上或是楼下的住客，还是街上过路的。

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Bugle Music from the Night Barracks

Eileen Chang

Ten o’clock at night, and I am reading a book by lamplight when the bugle in the army barracks near my home starts to play a familiar melody. A few simple musical phrases, slowly rising and then descending, with a purity of heart altogether rare in this vast crucible of a city.

I say, “They’re playing the bugle again, Auntie. Didn’t you hear it?” My aunt says, “I wasn’t paying attention.” I am afraid of hearing that bugle every night, because I am the only one who ever listens to it.

I say, “Oh, they are playing again.” But for some unknown reason, this time the sound is very soft, as slight as a strand of silk, breaking off several times before once again picking up the thread. This time, I don’t even ask my aunt whether she has heard it. I begin to doubt whether there really is a bugle at all or if this is merely a memory of something I’ve heard. Above and beyond my sense of desolation, I feel frightened.

But then I hear someone outside whistling loud and clear, picking up and following the bugle’s melody as he goes along. I jump suddenly to my feet, full of joy and empathy, and rush over to the window. Yet I have no desire to know who it is, whether it’s coming from an apartment upstairs or down below or from a passerby on the street.