声音的温度
那年，一场变故悄悄地潜入我家。先是母亲生病住院，体质本就羸弱的父亲，因焦虑过度，也随即病倒，父母双双住进了医院。
太阳从西边落山，恐惧却从我的心头生起，那年我才13岁。山村的夜色中，黑黢黢的远山像一幅剪纸阴深地贴在窗户的玻璃上，偌大的屋子里，只剩下我和妹妹。山中的狼群。一声一声凄厉地哀号，常常将我与妹妹从梦中惊醒。
我们住在一所山村学校，叫喊声未必能让远处的人家听见。忽然，我想起了哨子——母亲上体育课用的哨子。鼓起胸膛，拼命地让全部的气流吹出尽可能最大的声响。渐渐地，我听见了家门前有远及近嘈杂的脚步声，大声说话的声音。窗外交织着手电筒的光亮。我听见乡亲们喊我的名字。开了门，一群人扛着锄头站在我家门前，他们都是周围我熟悉的乡亲。善良的黑脸，热切是目光，一群人由衷的关爱，驱散了我内心的恐惧。
“孩子，你睡吧!这一夜我们不走了。”一位大爷说。他们在墙根靠下锄头，坐着，蹲着，吸着旱烟，大声地呱白……我渐渐地睡着了。直到天亮，他们才扛起锄头离开。
临近黄昏，乡亲们又来了，他们用锄头在石板上冲击出铿锵的声响，好像在告诉我：孩子，别怕。有我们在!谁也伤不了你!
从此，每天夜里，围绕这屋子的前后，会约定似的响起叮当声。脚步声断断续续要响一整夜，他们边走路边大声说话，我知道，这么黑的夜，他们不是要赶路或者侍弄庄稼，而是要用说话声给我驱赶恐惧，要用声音告诉我：我们都在窗外!
自那以后，我开始相信，声音也是有温度的，它能把一种至深的温暖传递给那些处在孤独和恐惧中的人们。
The Temperature of Sound
Misfortune sneaked into my family when I was thirteen. First, my mother fell ill and was hospitalized; then my father, in poor health himself, was afflicted with anxiety and worry. Both had to stay in the hospital, leaving my younger sister and me alone at home.
As the sun set in the west, far rose in my heart. In the dim of night, the hills beyond the village loomed in a ghostly silhouette on the windows of our spacious room; the shrill howls of wolves often startled us out of our sleep.
Our cries for help were unlikely to reach the villagers, for our home was located in the school some distance away from the village. Suddenly I thought of the whistle my mother used for PE classes. I took out the whistle and, drawing a deep breath, I blew it as loudly as possible. Before long, a bustle of footsteps and voices came nearer and nearer, and flashlight beams crisscrossed outside our windows. Hearing my name called, I went to open the door, and there in front of me stood a group of familiar villagers, each with a hoe on the shoulder. The very sight of their kind, swarthy faces and deeply concerned eyes drove the fear away from my heart.
“Now go to sleep, kid. We are staying out here tonight!” said one old man. Resting their hoes against the wall, they sat or squatted nearby, smoking Chinese pipes or chatting in loud voices…. Gradually, I fell asleep. They didn’t leave until daybreak; and at dusk they came again, banging their hoes on the flagstones as if to tell me: Don’t be afraid, kid, we are here with you. No one dares to hurt you!
Afterwards, the bustle of footsteps and the clatter of hoes could be heard every night around our home as if on schedule. The intermittent footsteps together with loud chatting would last the whole night. I knew that, in such darkness, they were neither hurrying on a trip nor tending to their crops. What they actually meant by making the “noises” was to rid me of my fear and reassure me: they were right outside our windows!
Every since then, I have been convinced that sound has “temperature” and that it can warm the hearts of lonely, fear-stricken people.
口译： 翻译资格考试二级口译模拟题
笔译： 翻译资格考试二级笔译模拟题
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