Text B Someone Has Been Disarranging These Roses（第1页）

TextBSomeoneHasBeenDisarrangingTheseRoses

GabrielGarcíaMárquez

TranslatedbyJ。S。Bernstein

[1]Si’sSundayandit’sst，IthinkI’lltakeabouquetofrosestomygrave。Redahekindthatshegrowstodecoratealtarsahemthathassetmetthekownspeopleabando’sabare，treelessplace，sweptpassed。Nowthatit’sstandthenoondaysuhegravewheremychild’sbodyrests，minglednsnailsandroots。

[2]Sheisprostratebeforehersaints。She’sremairaovingintheroom，whehefirstattempttoreachthealtarandpickthebrightestaroses。MaybeIcouldhavedooday，butthelittlelampblinkedandshe，recoveredfromherecstasy，raisedherheadaowardtheerwherethechairis。Shemusthavethought:‘It’sthewindagai’struethatsomethingcreakedbesidethealtarandtheroomrockedforaninstant，asifthelevelofthestagnafhadshifted。ThehatIwouldhavetowaitforanotherotogettherosesbecauseshewasstillawake，lookingatthedshewouldhaveheardthesoundofmyhandsbesideherfaowI’vegottowaituheroomiaheoosleephermeasuredandinvariableSua。Maybethehtherosesandbebackbeforeshereturnstothisroomandremainslookingatthechair。

[3]LastSundaywasmoredifficult。Ihadtowaitalmosttwohoursforhertofalliasy。Sheseemedrestless，preoccupied，asifshehadbeehetythathersolitudeinthehousehadsuddeeookseveralturnsabouttheroomwiththebouquetofritoheintothehallway，turnediheroom。Ikshewaslookingforthelamp。Andlater，whenshepassedbythedainandIsawheriofthehallwithherdarklittlejadherpinkstogs，itseemedtomenowthatshewasstillthegirlwhofohadleanedovermybedinthatsameroomandsaid:“Nowthatthey’veputihpicksyoureyesareopenandhard。”Shewasjustthesame，asiftimehadhatremoteAugustafterhewhtherintotheroomahedtoldher:“Weep，hewaslikeabrothertoyou，”andsheleatheiillsoakedfromtherain。

[4]ForthreeorfourSundaysryiowheretherosesare，butshe’sbeenvigilantinfroar，keepingwatchovertheroseswithafrighteIhadn’tknthetwentyyearsshe’sbeenlivinginthehouse。LastSunday，wheogetthelamp，Imaabouquetofthebestrosestogether。AthadIbeeofulfilliwheioreturntothechair，Iheardherstepsinthecain。IrearraherosesoarquidthenIsaearinthedoorwaywiththelampheldhigh。

[5]Shewaswearingherdarklittlejadthepinkstogs，butoherewassomethihephosphoresceofarevelatioseemtheheentyyearshasbeengrowihegarden，butthesamechildwhoonthatAugustafternooiroomsothatshegeherdwhohasingbao，fatandgrownold，fortyyearslater。

[6]Myshoesstillhavethehardcrustofclaythathadformedoafternoohefactthatthey’vebeendryiioveforfortyyears。OnedayIwehatwasafterthey’dclosedupthedoors，takendowhesprigofaloefromtheentrandtakeure。Allthefurforthetheerwhichhasservedmeasaseatallthistime。Ikheshoeshadbeeodryaevehemwhentheyabahat’swhyIwehem。

[7]Shereturnedmaer。Somuchtimehadpassedthatthesmellofmuskintheroomhadblehthesmellofthedust，withthedryandtiheis。Iwasalohehouse，sittingintheer，waiting。AndIhadlearomakeouttheswood，theflutteroldintheclosedbedrooms。Thatwaswhenshecame。Shehadstoodihasuitherhand，weariatlejacketthatshehadn’ttakeheillagirl。Shehadogetfatandheraswelluogsastheydonow。Iwascoveredwithdustandcobwebswhehedoor，and，somewhereihecricketwho’dbeensingiyyearsfellsilent。Buti，ihedthedust，thesuddeaandthehenewarrival，Ireizedihegirlwhoonthatstustafternoohmetoestsiable。Justthewayshewas，standinginthedoorwaywiththesuitherhandaon，shelookedasifsheweresuddenlygoingtoshout，saythesamethingshe’dsaidwhentheyfouhehay-coveredstableflraspingtherailingofthebrokenstairs。Whehedoorwidethehingesdthedustfromthegfellinclumps，asifsomeoartedhammeringeoftheroof，thenshepausedohreshold，inghalfwayier，andwiththevoieonegasleepingpersonshesaid:“Boy!Boy!”Aillinthechair，rigid，withmyfeetstretchedout。

[8]Ithoughtshehadeoheroom，butsheuedlivinginthehouse。Sheairedouttheroomanditwasasifshehadopedheroldsmellofmuskhadit。Theothershadtakeureandgawayintruakenawayonlythesmellsoftheroom，ayyearslatershebroughtthemba，putthemintheirpladrebuiltthelittlealtar，justthewayitwasbefore。Herpresenewasenoughtorestoreladustryoftimehaddestroyed。Siheeheroomdoor，butshespehisone，gsilentlywiththesaiersintheroexttothedoorahing。Andwhensomeoneesforabouquetofroses，sheputsthemoheerofthekerchiefthatshetiestoherbeltandinvariablesays:“Piesht，thoseoareforthesaints。”

[9]That’sthewayshe’sbeeyyears，intherherthings，rog，lookingatthechairasifakiheboywithwhomshehadsharedherchildhoodafternoonsbuttheinvalidgrandsonwhohasbeensittiheereversiimehisgrandmotherwasfiveyearsold。

[10]It’spossiblethatnow，whenshelain，Iapproachtheroses。IfIagetodosoI’llgototheknoll，laythemonthegrave，aomychairtowaitforthedaywhereturntotheroomandthesoundswillalltherooms。

[11]Onthatdaythere’llbeaallthis，becauseI’llhavetoleavethehouseagaiellsomeoherosewoman，theonewholivesiumble-downhouse，isinneedoffourmeheknoll。ThenI’llbealoheroom。But，oherhand，she’llbesatisfied。Bethatdayshe’lllearnthatitwasn’ttheihatcametoheraltareverySundayanddisarrangedroses。

[1974]

Notes

1。GabrielGarcíaMárquez:He，borninMarch6th1927，isabia，short-storywriter。sideredosignifitauthorsofthe20thtury，hewasawardedthe1982NobelPrizeiure，aremainingliviartedasajournalist，andhaswrittenmanyaon-fiworksandshortstories，butisbestknownforhisnovels，sueHundredYearsofSolitude（1967）aimeofCholera（1985）。Hisworkshaveachievedsignifitcriticaladwidespreadercialsuccess，mostnotablyfaliterarystylelabeledasmagicrealism，whichusesmagitsaherwiseordinaryaicsituations。

&oryibookisseletheauthor’sshortstoryEyesofaBlueDogin1974。

&ionsfordis。

1）Whatistheidentityofthefirstpersonnarratoriory?

2）Whatistheidentityof“she”，thefemalecharathestory?

3）Wheleboydie?

4）Whoaredisarrangingtherosesoar?

5）Whatarethesymboligsoftimeiory?

6）Whatdoyouthihemeofthestory?

7）Whatdoyouthihtoveythroughthestory?