First Snow
By Jonathan Nicholas
第一场雪
乔纳森·尼科拉斯
He wasn't sure what had awakened him. Perhaps the child had made some small noise in her sleep. But as he peeked from beneath the covers, his gaze was drawn not to the cradle but to the window.
他不知道是什么搅醒了自己，也许是女儿的梦呓吧。他从被窝里探出头来，目光却没有投向摇篮中的女儿，而是被吸引到了窗外。
It was then that he realized what had sneaked through the shield of his slumbers. It was the sense of falling snow.
窗外下着雪！原来如此，是雪潜入了自己的梦乡，搅醒了自己。
Quietly, so as not to disturb the child's mother, he rose from the bed and inched toward the cradle. Reaching down, he gently lifted the warm bundle to his shoulder. Then, as he tiptoed from the bedroom, she lifted her head, opened her eyes and - daily dose of magic - smiled up at her dad.
他不想惊醒酣睡的妻子，悄悄地起了床，一步一步慢慢挪到女儿的摇篮边，弯下腰轻轻地抱起襁褓中的女儿，蹑手蹑脚地走出卧房。怀中的女儿抬起头，睁开睡眼，咧开小嘴冲他微微一笑。女儿的笑充满着魔力，每天都这样深深打动着父亲的心。
He carried her downstairs, counting the creaks on the way. Together, they settled in at the kitchen table, and the adult in him slipped away. Two children now, they pressed their noses against the glass.
他默数着楼梯，抱着女儿小心翼翼地走下楼来，在厨房窗前的餐桌旁坐了下来。他的心中童心萌动，像个孩子一样。父女俩鼻子贴在窗户上，向外张望。
The light from the street lamp on the corner filtered down through the birch trees, casting a glow as green as a summer memory upon the winter-brown back yard. From the distance came the endless echo of the stoplight, flashing its ruby message, teasing like a dawn that would not come.
街角的路灯透过斑驳的白桦树，把冬日灰暗的后院照射得如同夏日般的翠绿。远处十字路口的红灯不停地闪烁，像是不愿降临的黎明，在逗弄着人。
The flakes were falling thick and hard now, pouring past the window, a waterfall of mystery. Occasionally, one would stick to the glass, as if reluctant to tumble to its fate. Then, slowly, slipping and sliding down the glass, it would melt, its beauty fleeting. Gone.
雪越下越厚，雪越下越大，在窗前倾泻，好似一挂奇妙的瀑布。时不时会有一片雪花黏附在窗玻璃上，似乎是不甘就此堕落。然后它慢慢的滑过玻璃，滑着滑着，终于融化，美丽飞逝，就此消失得无影无踪。
Within an hour, a white tablecloth was spread upon the lawn. And as gray streaks of dawn unraveled along the black seam of the distant hills, father and daughter watched the new day ripple across the neighborhood.
不到一个小时，大地就像铺上了一层洁白的台布。远处群山后渐渐露出了鱼肚白，父女俩就这样注视着新的一天慢慢降临这个街区。
A porch light came on. A car door slammed. A television flickered.
有户人家走廊的灯亮了；有辆汽车的门“砰”的一声关上了；有户人家把电视机打开了。
Across the street, a family scurried into gear. But this day was different. Glimpsed through undraped window as they darted from room to room, the slim figures of the children seemed to grow ever fatter until, finally, the kitchen door flew open and out burst three awesomely bundled objects that set instantly to rolling in the snow.
街对面的邻居家也忙碌起来了，但今天不同于往日。从没挂窗帘的窗口望进去，这家的三个孩子平日瘦小的身材好似胖了许多许多，他们在一个个房间之间冲来跑去。后来，厨房门“哐当”一声开了，从里面蹦出三团裹得严严实实的东西，冲到雪地上立刻打起滚来。
He wondered where they had learned this behavior. Even the littlest one, for whom this must have been the first real snowfall, seemed to know instinctively what to do.
真不知道这些孩子是打哪儿学会玩雪的。你看最小的那个，肯定这是他头一次看到下雪，可他似乎天生就知道如何玩雪。
They rolled in it, they tasted it, they packed it into balls and tossed it at one another. Then, just when he thought they might not know everything, they set about shaping a snowman on the crest of the hill.
三个孩子在雪地里滚来滚去，捧起雪来品尝一下，把雪捏成一个个雪球打起了雪仗。他推断，也许这些孩子并不是什么玩雪的花样都知道，可就在此时，他看到孩子们已在山顶上堆起了雪人。
By the time the snowman's nose was in place, the neighborhood was fully awake. A car whined in protest, but skidded staunchly out of its driveway. Buses ground forward like Marines, determined to take the hill. And all the while, the baby sat secure and warm in his arms.
等到雪人堆好，鼻子也装好，街坊邻居都已起来了。有辆小汽车哼哧哼哧，好似在抗议什么，坚定地滑出车道。一辆公共汽车碾过雪地缓缓向前，就像陆战队员，决计攻占这个山头。
He knew, of course, that she wouldn't remember any of this. For her there would be other snowfalls to recall. But for him, it was her first. Their first. And the memory would stay, cold and hard, fresh in his thoughts, long after the snowman melted.
女儿就这样一直抱在他的怀中，稳稳当当，暖暖和和。当然他心里明白，幼小的女儿将来是不会记得这场雪的，今后会有许多场雪让她去回忆。然而这场雪他却永远不会忘记。这是女儿看到的第一场雪，是父女俩一起看到的第一场雪。雪人很快就会消融，今天的记忆却会长存，凉飕飕、硬实实的，在他的心中历久而弥新。