2017-11-16 10:47:17kamadevas
觀光客
觀光客
--Conchitina Cruz (1976- )，羅浩原 譯
當我們走進新房子，我無法看見我母親的臉。我追隨她橘色服裝的衣紋、追隨她踏著柔軟涼鞋的雙腳。
看哪，她對一面鏡中的影子們說。哈囉大家，我揮揮手。我可不想迷路。
藍色意味著廚房，白色意味著臥室。我記下地板的顏色。
玻璃門通往天臺，天臺通往後院。後院中，有很多樹。「將會有很多樹」，她修正她自己的說法。
有個女子在碎裂的藍盤子上跳著舞。地毯上有隻枯槁的蜘蛛。有座鋼琴生著一副無缺的發黃牙齒。
當然，會有規矩。不准藏在櫃中。不准半夜敲門。
一旦你走進新房子，你可不是在隨隨便便的地方。外界的噪音停留在外。我母親一定正對她自己微笑著。
我其實也說不準。我踮著腳尖跟在她身後，凝視著那行丈量她脊背的扭扣。
Conchitina Cruz, Dark Hours, Quezon City: The University of the Philippines Press, 2005, p.30.
Tourist
--Conchitina Cruz
When we enter the new house, I can't see my mother's face. I follow the folds of her orange dress, follow her feet in soft sandals.
Look, she says to the shadows in a mirror. Hello there, I wave. I don't want to be lost.
Blue means kitchen, white means bedroom. I memorize the colors of floors.
The glass doors lead to the terrace, the terrace leads to the backyard. In the backyard, there are trees. There will be trees, she corrects herself.
There is a lady dancing on a cracked blue plate. A withered spider on the carpet. A piano with a full set of yellowed teeth.
Of course, there are rules. No hiding in the closet. No pounding of doors in the middle of the night.
Once you enter the new house, you aren't anywhere else. The noise from outside stays there. My mother must be smiling to herself.
I can't really tell. I tiptoe behind her, stare at the buttons scaling her back.
--Conchitina Cruz (1976- )，羅浩原 譯
當我們走進新房子，我無法看見我母親的臉。我追隨她橘色服裝的衣紋、追隨她踏著柔軟涼鞋的雙腳。
看哪，她對一面鏡中的影子們說。哈囉大家，我揮揮手。我可不想迷路。
藍色意味著廚房，白色意味著臥室。我記下地板的顏色。
玻璃門通往天臺，天臺通往後院。後院中，有很多樹。「將會有很多樹」，她修正她自己的說法。
有個女子在碎裂的藍盤子上跳著舞。地毯上有隻枯槁的蜘蛛。有座鋼琴生著一副無缺的發黃牙齒。
當然，會有規矩。不准藏在櫃中。不准半夜敲門。
一旦你走進新房子，你可不是在隨隨便便的地方。外界的噪音停留在外。我母親一定正對她自己微笑著。
我其實也說不準。我踮著腳尖跟在她身後，凝視著那行丈量她脊背的扭扣。
Conchitina Cruz, Dark Hours, Quezon City: The University of the Philippines Press, 2005, p.30.
Tourist
--Conchitina Cruz
When we enter the new house, I can't see my mother's face. I follow the folds of her orange dress, follow her feet in soft sandals.
Look, she says to the shadows in a mirror. Hello there, I wave. I don't want to be lost.
Blue means kitchen, white means bedroom. I memorize the colors of floors.
The glass doors lead to the terrace, the terrace leads to the backyard. In the backyard, there are trees. There will be trees, she corrects herself.
There is a lady dancing on a cracked blue plate. A withered spider on the carpet. A piano with a full set of yellowed teeth.
Of course, there are rules. No hiding in the closet. No pounding of doors in the middle of the night.
Once you enter the new house, you aren't anywhere else. The noise from outside stays there. My mother must be smiling to herself.
I can't really tell. I tiptoe behind her, stare at the buttons scaling her back.
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