遮無目睭
The Eyes Are Not Here /by Ruskin Bond
https://sites.google.com/site/tmuenglishworld/text-and-essays/the-eyes-are-not-here
Chia Bô Ba̍k-chiu | 遮無目睭
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1. Cheⁿ-mê-ê tian-tò khah choan-sim
Góa ka-tī chē chi̍t-ê chhia-siuⁿ, it-ti̍t kàu Rohana ê sî, ū chi̍t-ê ko͘-niû chiūⁿ-chhia. Sàng i chiūⁿ-chhia hit nn̄g lâng, khó-lêng sī i ê pē-bú; in chiâⁿ koan-sim i, lāu-bú siông-sè kau-tài kóng, mi̍h-kiāⁿ ài khǹg tó-ūi, thâu m̄-thang chhun tui thang-á gōa khì, mài kap chheⁿ-hūn-lâng kóng-ōe. Chòe-āu, in kap i sio-sî; hóe-chhia bān-bān lī-khui chhia-chām.
Hit-sî góa chheⁿ-mê, ba̍k-chiu kan-ta ē-tàng hun-pia̍t kng kap àm, góa m̄-chai hit-ê ko͘-niû seⁿ-chò án-ná; tān-sī ùi i kiâⁿ-lō͘ phiat chi̍t-ē, phiat chi̍t-ē ê siaⁿ, góa chai i chhēng chhián-thoa-á. Góa su-iàu chi̍t-kóa sî-kan chiah ē chai i seⁿ-chò siáⁿ-khoán, mā ū khó-lêng lóng m̄-chai. Góa kah-ì i kóng-ōe ê siaⁿ, koh ū i ê chhián-thoa-á siaⁿ.
“Lí kám boeh chē-kàu Dehra?” góa mn̄g i. Góa chē ê ūi it-tēng àm-àm, in-ūi góa ê siaⁿ kā kiaⁿ--tio̍h. I chhoah chi̍t-ē, kóng, “Góa m̄-chai chia ū lâng.”
Tio̍h, chhiâng-chāi sī án-ne, ba̍k-kim--ê khòaⁿ bē-tio̍h gán-chêng ê mi̍h-kiāⁿ. Góa siūⁿ, in sī bē-hù khòaⁿ lah. Tān-sī chheⁿ-mê--ê tian-tò khah ē choan-sim iōng kám-kak khì khòaⁿ.
“Góa mā bô khòaⁿ-tio̍h lí,” góa kóng. “M̄-koh góa ū thiaⁿ-tio̍h lí ji̍p-lâi.”
Góa m̄-chai kám ē-tàng mài hō͘ i chai góa chheⁿ-mê, góa siūⁿ. Chí-iàu góa kò͘-tēng chē tī chit-ê ūi, eng-kai tō bô siáⁿ khùn-lân.
Ko͘-niûⁿ kóng, "Góa chē-kàu Saharanpur. Goán A-î ē lâi chiap góa."
"Án-ne lán m̄-thang chē siuⁿ óa," góa kóng-chhiò. "Thong-siông chò a-î--ê lóng chin cha̍p-liām."
"Lí boeh khì tó?" i mn̄g.
"Seng khì Dehra, jiân-āu khì Mussoorie."
“Oh, lí chiâⁿ hó-ūn, góa mā ē-tàng khì Mussoorie tō hó ah. Góa kah-ì hia ê soaⁿ, iû-kî sī cha̍p-goe̍h ê sî."
“Sī ah, chit-má siōng ha̍h-sî.” góa ná kóng ná siūⁿ-khí-lâi. "Soaⁿ-téng móa-móa ê iá-seng dalia hoe, ji̍t-thâu un-jiû, àm-sî ē-sái chē tī chhâ-hóe thâu-chêng, lim tām-po̍h-á chiú. Koan-kong-kheh tōa-pō͘-hūn í-keng lī-khui ah, lō͘ nih chēng-chēng, kiông boeh bô lâng. Sī ah, cha̍p-goe̍h sī siōng hó ê sî-chūn.”
I tiām-tiām, m̄-chai sī-m̄-sī góa ê ōe kám-tōng tio̍h i, a̍h-sī i siūⁿ-kóng góa sī chi̍t-ê lōng-bān ê koài-lâng. M̄-koh góa lóng ioh m̄-tio̍h.
“He sī siáⁿ-khoán ê kéng-tì?”
I bô kám-kak che būn-tê kî-koài. Sī-m̄-sī i í-keng hoat-hiān góa khòaⁿ-bē-tio̍h? M̄-koh, i sòa--o̍h-lâi mn̄g ê būn-tê kā góa ê gî-būn siau-tî.
“Lí ná m̄ khòaⁿ thang-á gōa?” i mn̄g góa.
Góa sóa chi̍t-ē-á ūi, chhiú chin kán-tan tō bong tio̍h thang-á kheng. Thang-á khui-khui, góa bīn ǹg thang-á-gōa, ké-sian sī teh khòaⁿ hong-kéng. Góa thiaⁿ tio̍h hóe-chhia enjín ê siaⁿ, chhia-lián teh pháng ê siaⁿ, sim-lāi ká-ná khòaⁿ tio̍h tiān-hóe thiāu-á tò-thè-lu.
"Lí ū chù-ì tio̍h bô," góa mō͘-hiám mn̄g i, "ká-ná sī chhiū-á teh cháu, lán ná bô teh tín-tāng?"
"Lóng mā sī án-ne," i kóng. "Lí ū khòaⁿ tio̍h tōng-bu̍t-á bô?"
"Dehra hū-kīn ê chhiū-nâ-á í-keng bô siáⁿ-mi̍h tōng-bu̍t-á ah."
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1. 青盲 ê 顛倒較專心
我家己坐一个車廂, 一直到 Rohana ê 時, 有一个姑娘上車. 送伊上車彼兩人, 可能是伊 ê 爸母; in chiâⁿ 關心伊, 老母詳細交代講, 物件愛囥 tó 位, 頭毋通伸出窗仔外, 莫 kap 生份人講話. 最後, in kap 伊相辭; 火車慢慢離開車站.
彼時我青盲, 目睭 kan-ta ē-tàng 分別光 kap 暗, 我毋知彼个姑娘生做按怎; 但是 ùi 伊行路 phiat 一下, phiat 一下 ê 聲, 我知伊穿淺拖仔. 我需要一寡時間才會知伊生做啥款, mā 有可能攏毋知. 我佮意伊講話 ê 聲, koh 有伊 ê 淺拖仔聲.
“你敢欲坐到 Dehra?” 我問伊. 我坐 ê 位一定暗暗, 因為我 ê 聲 kā 驚著. 伊 chhoah 一下, 講, “我毋知遮有人.”
對, 常在是 án-ne, 目金 ê 看袂著眼前 ê 物件. 我想, in 是袂赴看 lah. 但是青盲 ê 顛倒較會專心用感覺去看.
“我 mā 無看著你,” 我講. “毋過我有聽著你入來.”
我毋知敢 ē-tàng 莫予伊知我青盲, 我想. 只要我固定坐 tī 這个位, 應該 tō 無啥困難.
姑娘講, "我坐到 Saharanpur. 阮阿姨會來接我."
"Án ne 咱毋通坐 siuⁿ 倚," 我講笑. "通常做阿姨 ê 攏真雜唸."
"你欲去 tó?" 伊問.
"先去 Dehra, 然後去 Mussoorie."
“Oh, 你 chiâⁿ 好運, 我 mā ē-tàng 去 Mussoorie tō 好 ah. 我佮意遐 ê 山, 尤其是十月 ê 時."
“是 ah, 這馬上合時.” 我 ná 講 ná 想起來. "山頂滿滿 ê 野生 dalia 花, 日頭溫柔, 暗時 ē-sái 坐 tī 柴火頭前, 啉淡薄仔酒. 觀光客大部份已經離開 ah, 路 nih 靜靜, 強欲無人. 是 ah, 十月是上好 ê 時陣.”
伊恬恬, 毋知是毋是我 ê 話感動著伊, 抑是伊想講我是一个浪漫 ê 怪人. 毋過我攏臆毋著.
“彼是啥款 ê 景致?”
伊無感覺這問題奇怪. 是毋是伊已經發現我看袂著? 毋過, 伊紲落來問 ê 問題 kā 我 ê 疑問消除.
“你哪毋看窗仔外?” 伊問我.
我 sóa 一下仔位, 手真簡單 tō 摸著窗仔框. 窗仔開開, 我面 ǹg 窗仔外, 假仙是 teh 看風景. 我聽著火車 enjín ê 聲, 車輪 teh 紡 ê 聲, 心內 ká-ná 看著電火柱仔倒退 lu.
"你有注意著無," 我冒險問伊, "ká-ná 是樹仔 teh 走, 咱 ná 無 teh 振動?"
"攏 mā 是 án-ne," 伊講. "你有看著動物仔無?"
"Dehra 附近 ê 樹林仔已經無啥物動物仔 ah."
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1.
I had the compartment to myself up to Rohana, and then a girl got in . the couple who saw her off were probably her parents; they seemed very anxious about her comfort, and the women gave the girl detailed instructions as to where to keep her things, when not to lean out of the windows, and how to avoid speaking to strangers. They said their good-byes; the train pulled out of the station.
As I was totally blind at the time, my eyes sensitive only to light and darkness, I was unable to tell what the girl looked like; but I knew she wore slippers from the way they slapped against her heels. It would take me some time to discover something about her looks and perhaps I never would. But I liked the sound of her voice, and even the sound of her slippers.
"Are you going all the way to Dehra?" I asked. I must have been sitting in a dark corner because my voice started her. She gave a little exclamation and said," I didn’t know anyone else was here."
Well, it often happens that people with good eyesight fail to see what is right in front of them. They have too much to take in, I suppose. Whereas people who cannot see (or see very little) have to take in only the essentials, whatever registers most tellingly on their remaining senses
"I didn’t if I would be able to prevent her from discovering that I was blind, I thought. "Provided I keep to my seat, It shouldn’t be too difficult."
The girl said, "I’m getting down at Saharanpur. My aunt is meeting me threre."
"Then I had better not be too familiar," I said. "Aunts are usually formidable creatures."
"When are you going?" she asked.
"To dehra, and then to Mussoorie."
"Oh, how lucky you are, I wish I were going to Mussoorie. I love the hills. Especially in October."
"Yes this is the best time, "I said calling on my memories. The hills are covered with wild dahlias, the sun is delicious, and at night you can sit in front of a log-fire and drink a little brandy. Most of the tourists have gone, and the roads are quite and almost deserted. Yes October is the best time."
She was silent, and I wondered if my words had touched her, or whether she thought me a romantic fool. Then I made a mistake.
"What is it like?" I asked.
She seemed to find nothing strange in the question. Had she noticed already that I could not see? But her next question removed my doubts.
"Why don’t you look out the window?" she asked.
I moved easily along the berth and felt for the window-ledge. The window was open, and I faced it, making pretence, of studying the landscape. I heard the panting of the engine, the rumble of the wheels, and in my mind’s eye, I could see the telegraph-posts flashing by.
"Have you noticed," I ventured, that the trees seem to be moving while we seem to be standing still?
"That always happens," she said. "Do you see any animals?
"Hardly any animals left in the forests near Dehra."
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