巴金 《鸟的天堂》
我们在陈的小学校里吃了晚饭。热气已经退了。太阳落下了山坡，只留下一段灿烂的红霞在天边，在山头，在树梢。
“我们划船去!”陈提议说。我们正站在学校门前池子旁边看山景。
“好，”别的朋友高兴地接口说。
我们走过一段石子路，很快地就到了河边。那里有—个茅草搭的水阁。穿过水阁，在河边两棵大树下我们找到了几只小船。
我们陆续跳在一只船上。一个朋友解开绳子，拿起竹竿一拨，船缓缓地动了，向河中间流去。
三个朋友划着船，我和叶坐在船中望四周的景致。
远远地一座塔耸立在山坡上，许多绿树拥抱着它。在这附近很少有那样的塔，那里就是朋友叶的家乡。
河面很宽，白茫茫的水上没有波浪。船平静地在水面流动。三只桨有规律地在水里拨动。
在一个地方河面变窄了。一簇簇的绿叶伸到水面来。树叶绿得可爱。这是许多棵茂盛的榕树，但是我看不出树干在什么地方。
我说许多棵榕树的时候，我的错误马上就给朋友们纠正了，一个朋友说那里只有一棵榕树，另一个朋友说那里的榕树是两棵。我见过不少的大榕树，但是像这样大的榕树我却是第一次看见。
我们的船渐渐地逼近榕树了。我有了机会看见它的真面目：是一棵大树，有着数不清的桠枝，枝上又生根，有许多根一直垂到地上，进了泥土里。一部分的树枝垂到水面，从远处看，就像一棵大树躺在水上一样。
现在正是枝叶繁茂的时节(树上已经结了小小的果子，而且有许多落下来了。)这棵榕树好像在把它的全部生命力展览给我们看。那么多的绿叶，一簇堆在另一簇上面，不留一点缝隙。翠绿的颜色明亮地在我们的眼前闪耀，似乎每一片树叶上都有一个新的生命在颤动，这美丽的南国的树!
船在树下泊了片刻，岸上很湿，我们没有上去。朋友说这里是“鸟的天堂”，有许多只鸟在这棵树上做窝，农民不许人捉它们。我仿佛听见几只鸟扑翅的声音，但是等到我的眼睛注意地看那里时，我却看不见一只鸟的影子。只有无数的树根立在地上，像许多根木桩。地是湿的，大概涨潮时河水常常冲上岸去。“鸟的天堂”里没有一只鸟，我这样想道。船开了。一个朋友拨着船，缓缓地流到河中间去。
在河边田畔的小径里有几棵荔枝树。绿叶丛中垂着累累的红色果子。我们的船就往那里流去。一个朋友拿起桨把船拨进一条小沟。在小径旁边，船停住了，我们都跳上了岸。
两个朋友很快地爬到树上去，从树上抛下几枝带叶的荔枝，我同陈和叶三个人站在树下接。等到他们下地以后，我们大家一面吃荔枝，一面走回船上去。
第二天我们划着船到叶的家乡去，就是那个有山有塔的地方。从陈的小学校出发，我们又经过那个“鸟的天堂”。
这一次是在早晨，阳光照在水面上，也照在树梢。一切都显得非常明亮。我们的船也在树下泊了片刻。
起初四周非常清静。后来忽然起了一声鸟叫。朋友陈把手一拍，我们便看见一只大鸟飞起来，接着又看见第二只，第三只。我们继续拍掌。很快地这个树林变得很热闹了。到处都是鸟声，到处都是鸟影。大的，小的，花的，黑的，有的站在枝上叫，有的飞起来，有的在扑翅膀。
我注意地看。我的眼睛真是应接不暇，看清楚这只，又看漏了那只，看见了那只，第三只又飞走了。一只画眉飞了出来，给我们的拍掌声一惊，又飞进树林，站在一根小枝上兴奋地唱着，它的歌声真好听。
“走吧，”叶催我道。
小船向着高塔下面的乡村流去的时候，我还回过头去看留在后面的茂盛的榕树。我有一点的留恋的心情。昨天我的眼睛骗了我。“鸟的天堂”的确是鸟的天堂啊!
Birds' Paradise
Ba Jin
We had supper at Chen’s school. The heat had subsided. The sun had gone down behind the hills, leaving its glorious glow on the horizon, on top of the hills and on tips of the trees.
“Let’s go boating!” Chen suggested. We were standing by the pond in front of the school gate, watching the scene over the hills and on tips of the trees.
“Let’s go boating!” Chen suggested. We were standing by the pond in front of the school gate, watching the scene over the hills.
“Good idea,” the other friends fell in with him cheerfully.
We went along a gravel path for some distance and soon got to the river. There was a straw pavilion by the water. We went past the pavilion and found a couple of small boats under two tall trees along the river.
We jumped into one of them one after another. A friend unfastened the rope and pushed off the boat with a bamboo pole, and the boat moved slowly toward the middle of the river.
Three of us took turns to row the boat, and Chen and I sat enjoying the scene around.
On the hillside in the distance there stood a tower surrounded by many green trees. Such towers were hard to find elsewhere in the neighborhood. That was where Chen’s home was located.
The river was wide, the whitish water was undisturbed and the boat was floating on its smoothly. The three oars were paddling in the water with regular rhythm.
The river narrowed at one point. Clusters of tree leaves, leaves with lovely greenness, reached out over the water. They were many exuberant banyan trees, but their trunks were invisible.
As soon as I said they were “many” banyan trees, I was corrected by my friends. One of them said it was only one, and another said there were two. I had seen many big banyans before, but it was the first time I had seen a banyan as big as this one.
Our boat was nearing the tree, and I was able to see at close hand what it looked like: it was a huge tree, with numerous branches out of which roots grew and many of them drooped to the ground and dug into the earth. Some branches hung down to the water, looking from a distance like a big tree lying buoyant on top of it.
This was the season when trees were thick with dense branches and leaves (the tree began to bear small fruits and some had fallen). It looked as though the banyan was trying to show to us all of its exuberance. It’s so heavy with leaves in clusters, one piling on top of another, leaving hardly any space in between. The emerald green shimmered in front of our eyes, as if in every leaf there was a new life pulsating there. What beautiful trees of southern China.
Our boat slowed to a halt under the tree and stopped there for a moment. We did not get off to the bank as it was wet there. My friends said the tree was a “paradise” for the birds’; many birds had nested in it and peasants would not allow anyone to catch them. I seemed to have heard the sound of some birds flapping their wings, but when I turned to look I could not see any one there. Instead there were numerous roots standing on the ground like wood stakes. The ground was wet, probably washed by the tides. “Birds’ Paradise”, but there were no birds in it, I wondered. Our boat, poled by a friend, moved on and glided toward the middle of the river.
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