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中文 (原文)	日本語 (翻訳)
= 阿长与山海经 =	= 阿長と山海経 (阿长与山海经) =
鲁迅全集翻訳プロジェクトの一部。	魯迅 (ルーシュン, 1881–1936)
== 中文原文 ==	中国語から日本語への翻訳。
長媽媽，已經說過，是一個一向帶領著我的女工，說得闊氣一點，就是我的保姆。我的母親和許多別的人都這樣稱呼她，似乎略帶些客氣的意思。只有祖母叫她阿長。我平時叫她“阿媽”，連“長”字也不帶；但到憎惡她的時候，——例如知道了謀死我那隱鼠的卻是她的時候，就叫她阿長。 　　我們那裡沒有姓長的；她生得黃胖而矮，“長”也不是形容詞。又不是她的名字，記得她自己說過，她的名字是叫作什麼姑娘的。什麼姑娘，我現在已經忘卻了，總之不是長姑娘；也終於不知道她姓什麼。記得她也曾告訴過我這個名稱的來歷：先前的先前，我家有一個女工，身材生得很高大，這就是真阿長。後來她回去了，我那什麼姑娘才來補她的缺，然而大家因為叫慣了，沒有再改口，於是她從此也就成為長媽媽了。 　　雖然背地裡說人長短不是好事情，但倘使要我說句真心話，我可只得說：我實在不大佩服她。最討厭的是常喜歡切切察察，向人們低聲絮說些什麼事，還豎起第二個手指，在空中上下搖動，或者點著對手或自己的鼻尖。我的家裡一有些小風波，不知怎的我總疑心和這“切切察察”有些關係。又不許我走動，拔一株草，翻一塊石頭，就說我頑皮，要告訴我的母親去了。一到夏天，睡覺時她又伸開兩腳兩手，在床中間擺成一個“大”字，擠得我沒有餘地翻身，久睡在一角的席子上，又已經烤得那麼熱。推她呢，不動；叫她呢，也不聞。 　　“長媽媽生得那麼胖，一定很怕熱罷？晚上的睡相，怕不見得很好罷？……” 　　母親聽到我多回訴苦之後，曾經這樣地問過她。我也知道這意思是要她多給我一些空席。她不開口。但到夜裡，我熱得醒來的時候，卻仍然看見滿床擺著一個“大”字，一條臂膊還擱在我的頸子上。我想，這實在是無法可想了。 　　但是她懂得許多規矩；這些規矩，也大概是我所不耐煩的。一年中最高興的時節，自然要數除夕了。辭歲之後，從長輩得到壓歲錢，紅紙包著，放在枕邊，只要過一宵，便可以隨意使用。睡在枕上，看著紅包，想到明天買來的小鼓、刀槍、泥人、糖菩薩……。然而她進來，又將一個福橘放在床頭了。 　　“哥兒，你牢牢記住！”她極其鄭重地說。“明天是正月初一，清早一睜開眼睛，第一句話就得對我說：‘阿媽，恭喜恭喜！’記得麼？你要記著，這是一年的運氣的事情。不許說別的話！說過之後，還得吃一點福橘。”她又拿起那橘子來在我的眼前搖了兩搖，“那麼，一年到頭，順順流流……。” 　　夢裡也記得元旦的，第二天醒得特別早，一醒，就要坐起來。她卻立刻伸出臂膊，一把將我按住。我驚異地看她時，只見她惶急地看著我。 　　她又有所要求似的，搖著我的肩。我忽而記得了—— 　　“阿媽，恭喜……。” 　　“恭喜恭喜！大家恭喜！真聰明！恭喜恭喜！”她於是十分歡喜似的，笑將起來，同時將一點冰冷的東西，塞在我的嘴裡。我大吃一驚之後，也就忽而記得，這就是所謂福橘，元旦辟頭的磨難，總算已經受完，可以下床玩耍去了。 　　她教給我的道理還很多，例如說人死了，不該說死掉，必須說“老掉了”；死了人，生了孩子的屋子裡，不應該走進去；飯粒落在地上，必須揀起來，最好是吃下去；曬褲子用的竹竿底下，是萬不可鑽過去的……。此外，現在大抵忘卻了，只有元旦的古怪儀式記得最清楚。總之：都是些煩瑣之至，至今想起來還覺得非常麻煩的事情。 　　然而我有一時也對她發生過空前的敬意。她常常對我講“長毛”。她之所謂“長毛”者，不但洪秀全軍，似乎連後來一切土匪強盜都在內，但除卻革命黨，因為那時還沒有。她說得長毛非常可怕，他們的話就聽不懂。她說先前長毛進城的時候，我家全都逃到海邊去了，只留一個門房和年老的煮飯老媽子看家。後來長毛果然進門來了，那老媽子便叫他們“大王”，——據說對長毛就應該這樣叫，——訴說自己的飢餓。長毛笑道：“那麼，這東西就給你吃了罷！”將一個圓圓的東西擲了過來，還帶著一條小辮子，正是那門房的頭。煮飯老媽子從此就駭破了膽，後來一提起，還是立刻面如土色，自己輕輕地拍著胸脯道：“阿呀，駭死我了，駭死我了……。” 　　我那時似乎倒並不怕，因為我覺得這些事和我毫不相干的，我不是一個門房。但她大概也即覺到了，說道：“像你似的小孩子，長毛也要擄的，擄去做小長毛。還有好看的姑娘，也要擄。” 　　“那麼，你是不要緊的。”我以為她一定最安全了，既不做門房，又不是小孩子，也生得不好看，況且頸子上還有許多炙瘡疤。 　　“那裡的話？！”她嚴肅地說。“我們就沒有用麼？我們也要被擄去。城外有兵來攻的時候，長毛就叫我們脫下褲子，一排一排地站在城牆上，外面的大炮就放不出來；再要放，就炸了！” 　　這實在是出於我意想之外的，不能不驚異。我一向只以為她滿肚子是麻煩的禮節罷了，卻不料她還有這樣偉大的神力。從此對於她就有了特別的敬意，似乎實在深不可測；夜間的伸開手腳，佔領全床，那當然是情有可原的了，倒應該我退讓。 　　這種敬意，雖然也逐漸淡薄起來，但完全消失，大概是在知道她謀害了我的隱鼠之後。那時就極嚴重地詰問，而且當面叫她阿長。我想我又不真做小長毛，不去攻城，也不放炮，更不怕炮炸，我懼憚她什麼呢！ 　　但當我哀悼隱鼠，給它復仇的時候，一面又在渴慕著繪圖的《山海經》了。這渴慕是從一個遠房的叔祖惹起來的。他是一個胖胖的，和藹的老人，愛種一點花木，如珠蘭、茉莉之類，還有極其少見的，據說從北邊帶回去的馬纓花。他的太太卻正相反，什麼也莫名其妙，曾將曬衣服的竹竿擱在珠蘭的枝條上，枝折了，還要憤憤地咒罵道：“死屍！”這老人是個寂寞者，因為無人可談，就很愛和孩子們往來，有時簡直稱我們為“小友”。在我們聚族而居的宅子裡，只有他書多，而且特別。制藝和試帖詩，自然也是有的；但我卻只在他的書齋裡，看見過陸璣的《毛詩草木鳥獸蟲魚疏》，還有許多名目很生的書籍。我那時最愛看的是《花鏡》，上面有許多圖。他說給我聽，曾經有過一部繪圖的《山海經》，畫著人面的獸，九頭的蛇，三腳的鳥，生著翅膀的人，沒有頭而以兩乳當作眼睛的怪物，……可惜現在不知道放在那裏了。 　　我很願意看看這樣的圖畫，但不好意思力逼他去尋找，他是很疏懶的。問別人呢，誰也不肯真實地回答我。壓歲錢還有幾百文，買罷，又沒有好機會。有書買的大街離我家遠得很，我一年中只能在正月間去玩一趟，那時候，兩家書店都緊緊地關著門。 　　玩的時候倒是沒有什麼的，但一坐下，我就記得繪圖的《山海經》。 　　大概是太過於念念不忘了，連阿長也來問《山海經》是怎麼一回事。這是我向來沒有和她說過的，我知道她並非學者，說了也無益；但既然來問，也就都對她說了。 　　過了十多天，或者一個月罷，我還記得，是她告假回家以後的四五天，她穿著新的藍布衫回來了，一見面，就將一包書遞給我，高興地說道： 　　“哥兒，有畫兒的‘三哼經’，我給你買來了！” 　　我似乎遇著了一個霹靂，全體都震悚起來；趕緊去接過來，打開紙包，是四本小小的書，略略一翻，人面的獸，九頭的蛇，……果然都在內。 　　這又使我發生新的敬意了，別人不肯做，或不能做的事，她卻能夠做成功。她確有偉大的神力。謀害隱鼠的怨恨，從此完全消滅了。 　　這四本書，乃是我最初得到，最為心愛的寶書。 　　書的模樣，到現在還在眼前。可是從還在眼前的模樣來說，卻是一部刻印都十分粗拙的本子。紙張很黃；圖像也很壞，甚至於幾乎全用直線湊合，連動物的眼睛也都是長方形的。但那是我最為心愛的寶書，看起來，確是人面的獸；九頭的蛇；一腳的牛；袋子似的帝江；沒有頭而“以乳為目，以臍為口”，還要“執干戚而舞”的刑天。 　　此後我就更其蒐集繪圖的書，於是有了石印的《爾雅音圖》和《毛詩品物圖考》，又有了《點石齋叢畫》和《詩畫舫》。《山海經》也另買了一部石印的，每卷都有圖贊，綠色的畫，字是紅的，比那木刻的精緻得多了。這一部直到前年還在，是縮印的郝懿行疏。木刻的卻已經記不清是什麼時候失掉了。 　　我的保姆，長媽媽即阿長，辭了這人世，大概也有了三十年了罷。我終於不知道她的姓名，她的經歷；僅知道有一個過繼的兒子，她大約是青年守寡的孤孀。 　　仁厚黑暗的地母呵，願在你懷裏永安她的魂靈！ 三月十日。	Mama Chang, as I have already mentioned, was a serving woman who had always looked after me — to put it more grandly, my nursemaid. My mother and many others addressed her this way, seemingly with a touch of politeness. Only my grandmother called her A Chang. I usually called her "Mama," omitting even the "Chang"; but when I grew to resent her — for instance, when I discovered that it was she who had killed my hidden mouse — I would call her A Chang. In our parts there was no one surnamed Chang, and since she was short and stout with a sallow complexion, "Chang" — meaning "tall" — was certainly not a description. Nor was it her real name. I remember her saying that her name was Something-or-other Girl. What Girl, I have now forgotten; in any case, it was not Chang Girl, and I never did learn her surname. I recall she once told me the origin of this appellation: long ago, there had been a serving woman in our household who was very tall and large — that was the real A Chang. Later she went away, and my Something-or-other Girl came to take her place. But since everyone was accustomed to the name, no one bothered to change it, and so she too became Mama Chang from then on. Although gossiping behind people's backs is not a good thing, if I am to speak from the heart, I can only say that I really did not much admire her. What I found most annoying was her constant whispering — murmuring to people in a low voice about this or that, wagging her second finger up and down in the air, or pointing at the other person's nose, or at her own. Whenever there was some little disturbance at home, I always somehow suspected it had something to do with this whispering. She also would not let me move about freely; if I pulled up a blade of grass or turned over a stone, she would call me naughty and threaten to tell my mother. And in summer, when we slept, she would spread out her arms and legs in the middle of the bed to form the character for "big," squeezing me so that I had no room to turn over. Having long slept pressed into one corner of the mat, it would already be baked hot. Push her? She would not budge. Call out to her? She did not hear. "Mama Chang is so plump — she must be very much afraid of the heat, mustn't she? Her sleeping posture at night can't be very good either, can it? ..." After hearing my many complaints, my mother once asked her this. I knew the intention was to make her give me more space on the mat. She said nothing. But at night, when I woke up from the heat, I still saw the character "big" spread across the entire bed, with one arm resting on my neck. I thought: this really was a hopeless situation. But she knew a great many rules and customs, most of which I found tiresome. The happiest time of the year was naturally New Year's Eve. After the New Year's farewell ceremony, one received lucky money from the elders, wrapped in red paper and placed by one's pillow; one only needed to wait through the night and then could spend it as one pleased. Lying on my pillow, looking at the red envelope, I thought of the little drum, the toy swords and spears, the clay figurines, the sugar Bodhisattvas I would buy tomorrow ... But then she came in and placed a "lucky orange" at the head of my bed. "Young master, you must remember this well!" she said with the utmost solemnity. "Tomorrow is the first day of the New Year. The very first thing you must say when you open your eyes in the morning is: 'Mama, congratulations, congratulations!' Remember? You must remember — this is a matter of the whole year's fortune. You must not say anything else! After you've said it, you must also eat a bit of this lucky orange." She held up the orange and waved it twice before my eyes. "Then, all year long, everything will go smoothly and swimmingly ..." Even in my dreams I remembered New Year's Day, and the next morning I woke especially early. The moment I woke, I wanted to sit up. But she immediately stretched out her arm and pressed me down. I looked at her in surprise and saw her gazing at me with an anxious, urgent expression. She seemed to want something more, shaking me by the shoulder. Then I suddenly remembered — "Mama, congratulations ..." "Congratulations, congratulations! Congratulations to everyone! What a clever child! Congratulations, congratulations!" She beamed with delight, laughing, and at the same time stuffed something icy cold into my mouth. After my initial shock, I too suddenly remembered — this was the so-called lucky orange. The ordeal that inaugurated the New Year was finally over, and I could get out of bed to play. The principles she taught me were many besides. For instance, she said that when someone died, one must not say "died" but must say "passed away"; one must not enter a room where someone had died or where a child had been born; grains of rice that fell on the ground must be picked up, and it was best to eat them; and one must never, ever walk under a bamboo pole used for drying trousers ... Beyond these, I have mostly forgotten now; only the strange New Year's Day ritual I remember most clearly. In short: they were all exceedingly tedious affairs that even now, when I think of them, seem extremely bothersome. Yet there was a time when I conceived an unprecedented respect for her. She often told me about the "Long Hairs." By "Long Hairs" she meant not only the armies of Hong Xiuquan but seemingly all bandits and brigands that came after, except for revolutionaries, since those did not yet exist at the time. She said the Long Hairs were extremely terrifying and their speech was incomprehensible. She said that when the Long Hairs had previously entered the city, my entire family fled to the seaside, leaving behind only a gatekeeper and an old cook to watch the house. When the Long Hairs did come through the gate, the old cook addressed them as "Your Majesty" — for that was supposedly how one should address the Long Hairs — and told them of her hunger. A Long Hair laughed and said: "Well then, have this to eat!" and threw something round to her. It still had a little pigtail attached — it was the gatekeeper's head. The old cook was scared out of her wits from then on, and whenever it was mentioned afterward, her face would immediately turn ashen, and she would gently pat her chest, saying: "Oh my, it scared me to death, scared me to death ..." At the time, I did not seem to be frightened, because I felt these matters had nothing to do with me — I was not a gatekeeper. But she must have sensed this too, for she added: "A little child like you — the Long Hairs would capture you too, to make you a little Long Hair. And pretty girls — they'd capture them too." "Well, then you'd be safe," I said, for I believed she must be the safest of all — she was neither a gatekeeper nor a little child, and she was not good-looking either, and besides, her neck was covered in scars from moxibustion. "What are you saying?!" she said gravely. "Do you think we're useless? They'd capture us too. When soldiers came to attack from outside the city walls, the Long Hairs would make us take off our trousers and stand in rows on top of the wall. Then the cannons outside could not fire; and if they did try to fire, the cannons would explode!" This was truly beyond anything I had imagined, and I could not help being astonished. I had always thought her belly was full of nothing but tedious rituals, but I had not expected her to possess such tremendous supernatural power. From then on I held a special respect for her; she seemed truly unfathomable. As for her spreading out her arms and legs at night to occupy the entire bed — that was naturally quite understandable, and it was I who ought to yield. This respect, though it gradually faded, probably did not completely vanish until I learned that she had killed my hidden mouse. Then I interrogated her most severely and called her A Chang to her face. I thought: I'm not really a little Long Hair; I'm not going to attack the city, nor fire cannons, and I'm certainly not afraid of cannons exploding — so what do I have to fear from her! But while I mourned the hidden mouse and sought vengeance for it, I was at the same time longing for an illustrated edition of the *Classic of Mountains and Seas*. This longing had been aroused by a great-uncle on my father's side, a distant relation. He was a plump, kindly old gentleman who loved to cultivate flowers and plants — orchids, jasmine, and such — as well as an extremely rare horse-tassel flower he had reportedly brought back from the north. His wife, however, was exactly the opposite: she understood nothing about anything and once rested a bamboo pole for drying clothes on the branches of his orchid plant, snapping them, and still cursed furiously: "Damn thing!" This old gentleman was a lonely man; having no one to talk to, he was very fond of the company of children, and sometimes even called us "little friends." In the great compound where our clan lived together, only he had many books, and unusual ones at that. Examination essays and regulated verse were there, of course; but it was only in his study that I had seen Lu Ji's *Commentary on the Flora, Fauna, Birds, Beasts, Insects and Fish of the Book of Songs*, and many other volumes with unfamiliar titles. My favorite at the time was the *Mirror of Flowers*, which had many illustrations. He told me that there had once been an illustrated *Classic of Mountains and Seas*, with pictures of beasts with human faces, nine-headed serpents, three-legged birds, winged humans, headless monsters that used their breasts as eyes and their navels as mouths ... Unfortunately, he no longer knew where it was. I very much wanted to see such pictures, but I was too embarrassed to press him to search for it — he was very lazy. Ask others? No one would give me a straight answer. I still had a few hundred cash of my New Year's money, but there was no good opportunity to buy it. The main street where books were sold was very far from my home, and I could only go there once a year, during the first month, at which time both bookshops had their doors tightly shut. When playing, there was nothing on my mind; but the moment I sat down, I thought of the illustrated *Classic of Mountains and Seas*. I must have been thinking about it too obsessively, because even A Chang came to ask me what the *Classic of Mountains and Seas* was all about. This was something I had never mentioned to her before. I knew she was no scholar, so telling her would serve no purpose; but since she had come to ask, I told her everything. After ten-odd days — or perhaps a month — I still remember, it was four or five days after she had gone home on leave — she returned wearing a new blue cotton jacket. The moment she saw me, she handed me a package of books and said happily: "Young master, the 'Three Humming Classics' with pictures — I've bought them for you!" I felt as if I had been struck by a thunderbolt; my entire body trembled with excitement. I hurried to take the package, opened the paper wrapping — four small volumes — flipped through them briefly — beasts with human faces, nine-headed serpents ... Indeed, they were all there. This gave rise to a new respect in me. What others would not or could not do, she had accomplished. She truly did possess tremendous supernatural power. The resentment over the killing of my hidden mouse was completely extinguished from that moment. These four books were the first I ever obtained, and the most treasured books of my heart. The appearance of those books is still before my eyes. But judging from the appearance still before my eyes, they were a very crudely printed and carved edition. The paper was very yellow; the illustrations were also very poor — almost all composed of straight lines, with even the animals' eyes being rectangular. But they were my most treasured books, and looking at them, there were indeed beasts with human faces; nine-headed serpents; one-legged oxen; the bag-like Dijiang; and the headless Xingtian, who "used his breasts as eyes and his navel as a mouth" and still "wielded a shield and axe in dance." After that, I collected illustrated books with even greater zeal. And so I acquired lithographic editions of the *Erya Illustrated* and the *Illustrated Study of Flora and Fauna in the Book of Songs*, as well as the *Dianshizhai Collection of Paintings* and the *Poetry Painting Boat*. I also bought another edition of the *Classic of Mountains and Seas*, a lithographic one, with illustrations and commentary in each volume — the pictures in green, the text in red — far more refined than the woodblock edition. This one was still in my possession until the year before last; it was the reduced-format edition of Hao Yixing's commentary. The woodblock edition, however — I can no longer remember when it was lost. My nursemaid, Mama Chang — that is, A Chang — departed this world perhaps some thirty years ago now. I never did learn her name, nor her life story; I know only that she had an adopted son, and that she was probably a young widow left alone. Kind, dark Mother Earth — may her soul rest forever in peace in your embrace! March 10.