Riley stared at the peach tree, his eyes wide with excitement. At this time, just where the pink flowers are just blooming their buds, a robin mother is teaching the little robin how to fly. First the mother bird flew for a short while, and then chirped for the bird to follow her. But the bird refused to move. Then the mother bird flew back, pecked at the bird, circled around it, and tried to push it off the branch, and the bird clung to the branch in fear.
Fly, why don't you try it, Riley thought. Come on, little bird, don't be afraid. But the little robin continued to flap its wings there, squeaking. Riley then saw the old robin fly into a nearby tree. Lo and behold, it's going crazy up there. Fly, I bet I can make you fly. He began to lie down on the porch next to Buster, when suddenly he saw the little robin flapping its jagged wings and jumping. His breath tightened. The bird struggled in the air, flapping its wings, falling, falling to the ground, its wings flapping wildly against the earth. Riley stood up suddenly. But it was still in place, struggling to get up and clumsily flying back to where the mother bird was chattering.
Riley sat back, he felt a little better. "You've lied to me," he whispered to little robin, "and you're not afraid. I just don't want to be bothered by my elders. "He felt great. Suddenly he tensed. I was going to find myself a bird and teach it how to fly, and he decided. Then, he turned to wake Buster and told him of his decision, and Buster moved and opened his eyes.
"Man, what are we going to do," Buster said in his hoarse voice, "why haven't you gone anywhere?" ”
Riley's nervousness relaxed. He had forgotten. "Ah, because someone was in hot pursuit after us, chasing the hapless church chicks, and my mother told Aunt Kate to lock me up in the yard."
"Oh no, these pigeons don't belong in the church," Buster said, "they just live there and don't let anyone else find out, and I wish I had so much good bird meat at once!" ”
Riley searched for the robin, watching it land on a tree in the distance, filled with a strange sense of loneliness. He thought, if we don't have to stay here, we can go find a bird.
Buster stood up: "Man, I think I know what to do. ”
"Oh, don't go," Riley pleaded, "and we're going to find something to do...... I say! "I bet you don't know this poem!" ”
"Which one?"
"This one:
If I were president
American
If I were president
American
I want to eat a delicious chocolate bar
Swing in front of the White House
Great - God - Great, human -
I'll swing in front of the White House! ”
"You, Riley!"
His mouth opened wide. Aunt Kate stood in the shadows of the doorway, her wrinkled face trembling with anger.
"Ah, you, ah, what a blasphemy you have made against the name of God!"
He got up, speechless.
"Ah, you said you were going to be president! You know your mom wants to train you well! You'd better not cause trouble for others, you think, what would happen to your mom if a white person heard behind her back that she had a black kid who wanted to be president and didn't have the judgment to do so? ”
"It's just a poem," Riley stammered, "and I have no ill will." ”
"Yes, but it's a sinful poem! God doesn't like it, and neither do white people. ”
He glanced at the little robin from the tree in the distance, looking docile, "I'm sorry, Aunt Kate. ”
Her face changed for the better. "You have to learn how to live from a young age, so that you can grow up to have a peaceful life. Otherwise, you'll be going to hit walls everywhere for the rest of your life. Ah, my God, like today, your sinful thoughts worry Mom. She pursed her lips proudly and firmly.
Riley looked at her from under his drooping eyelids, either God or white. She always made him feel guilty, as if he had done something wrong that he would never remember for long, and therefore would never be forgiven. It's like white people staring at you on the street. Suddenly, Aunt Kate's face changed from cloudy to extremely mild, sunny, which made him a little curious and puzzled.
The children need to learn to sing songs in praise of God, and she smiled and sang:
Sing it to you
You need the wings of the dove of peace
Fly to God's side
Beat everything
"It's the kind of song that kids sing. You need the wings of the Holy Spirit to help you overcome difficulties in this world, let's try it together. ”
Sing, sing, sing.
Riley's throat was dry. The little robin flew away without a trace. He looked helplessly at Buster, who turned his head to look away. Aunt Kate stopped, her face cloudy.
"I, I think, I don't want to...... Sing as you did, Aunt Kate. He said timidly.
"So, you don't want to sing now!" She flew into a rage, "If I teach you those bad trash tunes, you'll sing them, you like that!" ”
"Ahh
"Shhh I'm going to let the devil get you, shhh There will be retribution! ”
He grinded slowly.
"Start, sing! You stinky boy dare to go against Satan! You just have to remember my words, before twelve o'clock in the night, you will be in trouble, and your mother will beat you up for your disrespect to God! ”
He slowly walked out of the porch, walking in the shadows between the two houses.
"I hate it when she talks to me like that," Buster whispered, "Dude, they say family like your mother will bring you terrible doom!" ”
Riley leaned against the wall. The lyrics of that song are nice and funny. He himself wanted to add the passage "Great God" to it, it would sound better. Bah! Aunt Kate is incomprehensible - maybe she's too old to understand men, she was born in the age of slavery. All she knew was going to church every night, reading the Bible, and picking fault with her mom while she was working for white people during the day. She's really sick. That old song: If I had the wings of a pigeon, sing it...... It's not fun to sing that old song.
A smile suddenly appeared on his face.
"Hey, Buster." He whispered.
"What's wrong?"
He sang hoarsely:
If I had pigeon wings, Aunt Kate,
I'm going to eat all the candy, oh my god,
Tear down the gates of the White House......
Buster pursed his lower lip and frowned, "Fool, you'd better stop joking about church songs." Aunt Kate said it was a sin. ”
Riley's laughter hesitated, maybe God would punish him. He bit his lip. But the lyrics kept echoing in his head. Lots of songs! "Amazing Grace", "What a Sweet Voice", "A Bullfrog Knocked His Grandma Down". He felt the suppressed laughter rolling in his body like a big blue marble. That "amazing grace" is also from a church song. Maybe he will really be punished now. But he was no longer depressed, leaned against the house and laughed.
Buster warns him, "You just have to laugh at the church song, and I'm going to find someone else to play with me." ”
"Oh, I'm not smiling." He lied.
"And what are you laughing at?"
"Probably...... Laugh yesterday I fell off the roof of the church......"
"When we catch that bird?"
"yes."
"Fool, that's not funny at all. You're yelling. Does your head still hurt? ”
He touched his head. "It hurts a little." He said.
"I dare say you must have been freaked out." Buster said.
"Holy. I feel good. ”
"Man, don't lie, you're crying like a child!"
"Nonsense, I'm talking about when you fall. I cried because I hit my head. ”
"You're trying to lie to me," Buster said, "you like to rack your brains. ”
"Think about it, man. Why do those white people like to jump out with parachutes on airplanes? ”
"Yes, but you don't have a parachute." Buster said with a smile.
Riley walked towards the sunlight shining in the shadows behind the room. "Man, you don't know anything," he said. "Let's go see the new chicks."
They came to the hen's coop, leaned lightly against the rickety fence, and looked inside. The ground was littered with grains and dung, and the hard ground was covered with strange patterns drawn by small chicken feet. The chicks looked at them expectantly.
Riley pointed to a flock of fluffy chicks running around an old white hen.
"That's an old hen," he cried. "They're cute, aren't they, man?"
"They're cute!" Buster's eyes sparkled with joy.
"I don't understand, these little guys are all making a fuss."
"Shhhhh The smallest cry is like my little brother, Bobble. ”
"Mom would cry in church," Riley said, "and she's not small." ”
"Ah, she screams sometimes, man."
"I don't like that," Riley said, "why are they shouting?" ”
"Because they can feel the soul. Here's why. ”
"So, what kind of soul is it?"
"Fools, gods! You've been to school. ”
Riley wriggled his toes through the barbed wire.
"Well, what I do know is that when the Holy Spirit is hurt, our bodies will weep and hurt the deceived." He concluded.
"Mom said they felt better when they cried," Buster said. ”
"Well, whether it feels good or not, I feel sad when I see my mom crying like that, and I want to hide my face," he said firmly, "I don't like to have to cry to make your family feel better." ”
He saw two little roosters with their necks stretched out into the yard, flapping their short wings and cooing.
"Chickens are crazy!" Buster shouted, "Look at those two stupid cocks! ”
Rai used a gentle gesture to spread them apart. "They're not roosters, man. There's a real rooster in the nest over there. He pointed.
"Oh my God, what a big one! That's the rooster boss! ”
"Yes, its name is Old Bill."
"Old Bill!"
"Man, it dares to whip anything with feathers." Riley boasted.
Buster whistled in admiration. The rooster's red, dark green sheening feathers glistened like silk in the sun. Old Bill clucked at the hen and strode over with his red comb swaying proudly.
"Look at that fool," shouted Buster, "it looks like a fat preacher when its feet are lifted up and down. ”
"Look at its pointy feet," Riley cried, "look at its pointy feet!" ”
"Damn it! The hen had better look at that fool! ”
"It can handle them, man. When it pierces another chicken with its pointed foot, it rides straight onto its body. ”
Old Bill clucked softly, and the hen hurried to where its paws were reaching.
"Dude, man! It is the most combative and majestic in the world! ”
Suddenly, the rooster flapped its wings and crowed, its chest puffed up, and its neck arched forward with the crow.
"Listen, go clean up that bastard!"
"Ah, sing, Bill!"
"Dude, it's Gabriel!"
"Nonsense, it's Louis Armstrong among chickens!"
"Blow the golden trumpet, oh my God......"
"Tell all the roosters to be good behaved."
"Because it won't endure stupidity."
"Old Bill said: Tell all the dogs, tell all the cats, they had better behave, or they will join the ranks of bats." Riley rhymed, "Because the awesome old Bill is in town." ”
"Forget it, forget it, man. It's Louis Armstrong in the flock, playing a game of fox and tiger. ”
"yes, tell that tiger not to play stupid......"
"That's right. Semitones high. ”
"Man, not every trumpet has a chromatic piston key. Only Doremi. Riley sang.
"Yes, that's right. When Louis plays, that's it. Doremi's shivering, and the chromatic piston keys! ”
They couldn't stand up with a straight laugh. Old Bill's erect neck slowly bent down, its pointed mouth parting like the curved blades of scissors.
Riley became a little more sane. "My dad would be proud of that," he said, "and if you're going to be mad at him, tell him Bill got hit by a car." I don't blame him for dying, because if I did die, as Aunt Kate said, and come back alive as a bird, I'd be like old Bill. ”
"I'm not," Buster said, "I'm not going to come back like old Bill." ”
"Why not? Old Bill is good-looking, he can fight like Joe Louis! ”
"Phew, but it won't fly!"
"Hell, it can't fly!"
"Isn't there a rooster that flies?"
"I can prove it!"
"Ridiculous, Riley. How do you prove that a rooster can fly? ”
"It's simple. I'm going to climb to the roof of the chicken coop, and you're going to get old Bill for me. ”
"Oh, no," Buster said, "Forget it, I don't want to be with those spiky paws. ”
Riley spat in disgust. "You're disgusting to me."
"Is that really going to be the case? I still don't want to go in. ”
"Alright then, you go up and I'll give you the chicken. All right? ”
"Okay. I don't think it will scratch me if it leaves the ground. ”
Riley sneaked a glance at where Aunt Kate sat by the kitchen window every day, and then walked into the yard and fastened the door behind her.
"Hurry up, man," Buster shouted from the rooftop, "it's so hot in here." ”
"Don't worry," Riley said, "it will take time to catch Old Bill." ”
He crept along the fence towards Old Bill. The hen clucked in protest. Old Bill walked around angrily, his head twitching rapidly.
"Beware of that idiot." Buster shouted.
"Who do you say? Old Bill, come to me! ”
When he stretched out his hand, the big rooster rushed over, the feathers on its neck standing up like a fur collar, and its claws churning in the air with a screeching sound. Rai shielded his face with his arm.
"Grab it, man!"
He grabbed at it, dusting it up. Old Bill was thrown to the ground and broke free. Riley jumped to his feet and watched as Old Bill fled like a feather duster that had swelled.
"How did I tell you this idiot?" He gasped.
"You're wrong. Look at me! ”
Riley was caught off guard. He quickly followed, slamming himself to the ground. He couldn't breathe. The rooster pounced on him, and he protected his eyes. The rooster grabs his legs with his paws and pecks his face with his beak. He felt sharp claws pierce his shirt and dig into his chest, like Aunt Kate's wicked yellow eyes, pulsing wickedly across his face. As his hands rested on his thick, stiff legs, he heard the sound of his shirt being torn, clawed tightly, and a pungent smell coming from his nose. He got up panting. Old Bill slammed his scaly legs against his hands, and his sharp mouth pecked at him.
"Grab it and wait for me to go down!" Buster shouted.
"Damn, I almost caught it just now." He said breathlessly. He lifted the above his head, trying to avoid the flapping wings touching his face. Suddenly, he grabbed Old Bill's wings on either side and jerked his head up, and he bent backwards and threw the out of the yard. Old Bill flew by, and dust kicked up in the air. Riley jerked around, sneezed, ran to the door, and stopped. The rooster is shaking the dust off its feathers. Rai looked at it out of the corner of his eye, walking slowly, deliberately calmly, lest Buster think he was scared. In front of him, an old hen and a flock of chicks blocked his path. A sudden impulse caused him to suddenly bend down and grab the two chicks and quickly walk out of the door.
"Fool, you'd better go up from that side." Buster reminded.
"I'm not as scared as you are." He scoffed. But it was a real relief to be able to get outside.
"Next!" He screamed as he climbed onto the roof.
"What's wrong?"
"Quick, catch them, friend, these little things can't hurt you."
Buster stretched out his arms and held two yellow chicks in his short brown hands.
Riley leaped upwards and grabbed the sloping roof. A row of brown ants nervously crawled down the sun-dusted plank. He stood up cautiously and put his hands and knees so as not to crush the ants. On it, he carefully placed the chicks that were chirping into his torn shirt. They are soft, like a ball of cotton.
"Dude, it's easy to suffocate them to death." Buster said.
"No, I'm not going to suffocate them. Lo and behold, they all don't call anymore. ”
"They don't bark, but their mother is calling, you listen to it."
"Ignore it, it always makes sounds, like Aunt Kate." He said.
"Let me hold one, do you hear me, Riley?"
Riley hesitated, then handed Buster a chick.
"If you're not that scared, I can get you some," he said. ”
"Riley, look at them, they're going to be scared when they leave their mother!"
"Yes, yes. Don't be afraid, my friend. Riley grunted, "We're friends." ”
"Maybe it's too hot here. Maybe it's better to put them down. Buster said.
"I say! We can teach these cowards to fly! ”
Buster said skeptically, "I've never seen a chick fly." ”
"Well, they're about the size of a tiny bird." Riley said.
"But they don't have wings like little birds."
"That's what you said." He said disappointedly. He thought to himself if only their wings had grown like the little robin.
"Hey! Look what my kids are doing! Buster shouted.
He saw Buster put the chick on his belly, and the chick fluttered and jumped on the roof.
"It wants to fly," he cried, "these little ones want to fly, but their wings are not strong enough!" ”
"That's right," Buster agreed, "it wants to fly!" ”
"I'm going to make them fly." Riley said.
"How do you fly, man?"
"With a parachute!"
"Nonsense, how can there be such a small parachute."
"No, no. We can make one out of old cloth and rope. "Then the two little ones can go to their mother in a parachute." His hand made a motion of falling leaves.
"What if they hurt and Aunt Kate tells your mother?"
Riley looked into the room, and Aunt Kate wasn't there. He looked at the chicks.
"Ah, you're scared?" He laughed at Buster.
"No, I'm not afraid. I just don't want to see them hurt! ”
"Man, I'm not going to let them get hurt. They'll love it. All birds love to fly, and chickens are no exception. Look over there! He pointed categorically to that side.
A flock of pigeons hovered over the red brick chimneys in the distance, their wings fluttering and reflecting the harsh sunlight.
"Isn't that nice, man?"
"But those are pigeons, Riley ......"
"That's nothing," Riley said, patting the chicks lightly with his palm, "We can keep them flying, flying, flying, flying!" ”
"But we don't have a cloth." Buster retorted.
Riley bent down and pulled a piece of Bill Sr.'s torn shirt from where he tore it off. He proudly held the blue cloth and shook it in front of Buster in a triumphant manner.
"Cloth here, here!"
Buster wriggled and said, "But we don't have a rope." ”
"Oh, I've got rope," Riley said, "I've got rope, and it's very thin." ”
He pulled a ball of thread out of his pocket and held it lovingly. Yesterday, he saw a kite flying high on the roof, and the string suddenly broke, and the kite swayed and flung out, and he didn't know where it landed. It made his heart tighten, and he felt the same parting feeling as he saw the birds flying south in the fall.
"Man, look there." Buster said, his voice full of distress.
The chick's eyes were closed, and it looked like it was dead. He paused to tie a knot. Then, the chick's bright little black eyes opened again. He sighed and picked up the piece of cloth, the string drifting lazily in the breeze.
"Come on, brother. We're ready to let these cute little ones fly like little birds. ”
He stopped and looked at the pigeons circling in the air.
"Buster, don't you want someone to teach you and me how to fly?"
"Maybe," Buster said cautiously, "I think I will." But we need two parachutes. How can you get the two of them to fly together? ”
"You just have to keep it and watch what the veterans do." Riley grinned.
Buster holds the chicks, and Rai ties them together with a string and ties them to a parachute.
"Now I can only count on you." He said. He pinched the center point of the cloth and gently lifted it up, throwing the chick out of the roof. They poked their heads out excitedly. Buster grinned.
"Come on, man."
They climbed to the edge of the eaves and looked down. A hen is lazily singing. The rooster in the distance was demonstrating to the morning, and Old Bill cooed in response.
"Riley!" Buster shouted.
"What's wrong?"
"What if Aunt Kate sees us?"
"you, why are you starting to think of her again? She was talking to her Jesus in the house. ”
"Hmm-" Buster said.
They sat on the edge of the eaves, their legs dangling in the air. Riley trembled with excitement.
"Do you want to go down and bring them back?"
"That rooster is still down there, man." Buster said.
Riley shook his head in feigned despair and climbed down the stairs into the courtyard.
Old Bill gave a cooing warning from a distant corner.
"Let them look like they did in the helicopter in the movies," Buster shouted, "and begin!" ”
"Alright, let's get started!" Buster shouted.
"Connect!"
"Connect! It's a direct flight, man. ”
"Okay, let them fly down!" Riley shouted impatiently.
Then he saw Buster throw the chick and the parachute into the air, the cloth like an umbrella, and the chick peeked excitedly below, watching it slowly fall, slowly, like the fluff on a cotton tree.
"Get down from there, shh
He snorted, his whole body tense. Aunt Kate was walking across the yard. He was stunned, like a needle caught between two magnets.
"Riley! Grab them! ”
He turned around and saw the parachute like an inflated pocket, and the chick pulling the cloth down like a yellow stone. He tries to run to catch the chicks, but finds himself standing motionless and only hears Buster and Aunt Kate yelling. Then he stumbled towards the chick that was covered under the cloth. God, bless it, bless it. But when he picked up the chicks, they didn't make any sound, and their heads drooped lifelessly. He slowly knelt down.
A shadow was reflected on the ground, growing larger and larger. He looked around and saw two fat black shoes. It was Aunt Kate, who was gasping for air.
"Ah, tell you, I knew you were in trouble by twelve o'clock tonight! What the hell are you doing? ”
He swallowed and his mouth was dry.
"Hey, I'm asking you, boy!"
"We're just playing games."
"Playing games? What game to play? ”
"We ...... We are playing a flying game. ”
"Flying Devil!" She shouted suspiciously, "Let me see under the rags!" ”
"It's just a rag."
"Let me see!"
He lifted the cloth. The chicks are motionless like lead lumps. He closed his eyes.
"Ah, got it! You guys killed your mom's chicks! She shouted, "I'm going to tell her, in the name of Aunt Kate." ”
He stared at her silently.
If she hadn't looked at her when she screamed, he might have picked up the chick.
Suddenly, he exploded like a machine gun. "I hate you," he screamed, "I wish you had died long ago in the days of slavery." ”
Her face twitched for a moment, then turned blackish-gray, and she seemed quite proud of her old age. He felt a wave of fear come over him.
She said intermittently, "God will punish you with hellfire." One day, you will remember these words, moan, and cry. ”
She literally cursed him. Watching her turn away, he felt pebbles cut through his knees. She walked away in pain, still shaking her head angrily, her white apron wrapped tightly around her fat, axle-like ass.
"These nineteen hundred young men are simply devils, what the hell are they," she murmured, "they are simply devils." ”
For a long time, he stared blankly at the chicks on the ground, which were strewn with chalk-dotted gray-green droppings. The old hen carefully circled around him, crying out for her children. Overcoming his disgust, he picked up the chicks, untied the threads, and put them down again......
They flew for a short while, after all......
Buster looked out of the fence with a sad face, and said, "I'm sorry, Riley. ”
Riley didn't answer. Suddenly, he realized the stench of chicken manure and stood up, absentmindedly wiping his fingers, feeling a waxy stain on his bare skin.
If I don't look at her, he thought. His eyes were looking. He was so immersed in pain that he didn't even hear the rapid shaking of his feathers or the light of his outstretched wings when Old Bill rushed over. The blow staggered him, and he lowered his head, tears streaming down his eyes as a stream of bright red blood flowed down his brown leg torn by his claws.
"We almost got them flying," Riley said, "and we almost ......"
Translated by Zhang Jun
# Writer Bio
Ralph Allison (1914-1994) was a prominent contemporary black American writer and one of the most influential American novelists of the twentieth century. Born on March 1, 1914, in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. He takes his name from the famous 19th-century American writer and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose father wanted him to become a poet as well. Due to the loss of his father at the age of three, his family was poor, and he began to earn money to earn a living at a very young age. He loved music, especially jazz, since he was a child, and aspired to be a musician. After graduating from high school, he received a scholarship to study music at Tuskegee College, a black university. It was here that he began to get into literature, reading Eliot's The Waste Land. Due to a problem with his scholarship, he had to go to New York after finishing his third year of college, originally intending to earn some money to continue his studies, but ended up staying in New York and began to engage in literature with the help and influence of famous black poet Langston Hughes and novelist Richard Wright. In his early years, he mainly wrote critical essays, and published two collections of essays, "Shadow and Action" and "Going Territory", in which he expounded his views on literature, music, and the political and social life of black Americans. In 1952, he published the novel "The Invisible Man", which was written after seven years of meticulous work, which depicts the psychological maturity of a black young man in a society full of racial segregation and racial discrimination. Combining realism, naturalism, expressionism, and surrealism, the novel expresses complex and esoteric themes through a deceptively simple storyline, especially the use of a large number of symbols, which makes the novel understandable from different levels and perspectives. Although he did not publish the second part of the novel for various reasons, his creative activities never stopped. After his death, John Callaghan, the executor of his literary legacy, compiled and published Ellison's second novel, June Celebrations, based on the manuscripts. Ellison has been criticized for advocating racial integration, cultural diversity, not being directly involved in the civil rights movement of the '60s, and not writing protest novels like Wright did. Aesthetically, his main point is that "novelists should be morally responsible for democracy." His novels are dedicated to changing the traditional stereotyped image of black people and reinventing black humanity.