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《雨前》的作者是中國現代著名詩人、散文家何其芳
譯文來源
< 1 >譯文1為張夢井、杜耀文譯，選自張夢井、杜耀文編譯，1999年,《中國名家散文精譯》。青島：青島出版社。
< 2 > 譯文2為Robert Neather譯，選自《中國翻譯》2002年第4期。
< 3 >譯文3為張培基譯，選自張培基譯注，2003年,《英譯中國現代散文選》。上海：上海外語教育出版社。
【原文】
雨前
最后的鴿群帶著低弱的笛聲在微風里劃一個圈子后，也消失了。也許是誤認這灰暗的凄冷的天空為夜色的來襲，或是也預感到風雨的將至，遂過早地飛回它們溫暖的木舍。
幾天的陽光在柳條上撤下的一抹嫩綠，被塵土埋掩得有憔悴色了，是需要一次洗滌。還有干裂的大地和樹根也早已期待著雨。雨卻遲疑著。
我懷想著故鄉的雷聲和雨聲。那隆隆的有力的搏擊，從山谷反響到山谷，仿佛春之芽就從凍土里震動，驚醒，而怒茁出來。細草樣柔的雨絲又以溫存之手撫摸它，使它簇生油綠的枝葉而開出紅色的花。這些懷想如鄉愁一樣縈繞得使我憂郁了。我心里的氣候也和這北方大陸一樣缺少雨量，一滴溫柔的淚在我枯澀的眼里，如遲疑在這陰沉的天空里的雨點，久不落下。
白色的鴨也似有一點煩躁了，有不潔的顏色的都市的河溝里傳出它們焦急的叫聲。有的還未厭倦那船一樣的徐徐的劃行。有的卻倒插它們的長頸在水里，紅色的蹼趾伸在尾后，不停地撲擊著水以支持身體的平衡。不知是在尋找溝底的細微食物，還是貪那深深的水里的寒冷。
有幾個已上岸了。在柳樹下來回地作紳士的散步，舒息劃行的疲勞。然后參差地站著，用嘴細細地撫理它們遍體白色的羽毛，間或又搖動身子或撲展著闊翅，使那綴在羽毛間的水珠墜落。一個已修飾完畢的，彎曲它的頸到背上，長長的紅嘴藏沒在翅膀里，靜靜合上它白色的茸毛間的小黑眼，仿佛準備睡眠。可憐的小動物，你就是這樣做你的夢嗎?
我想起故鄉放雛鴨的人了。一大群鵝黃色的雛鴨游牧在溪流間。清淺的水，兩岸青青的草，一根長長的竹竿在牧人的手里。他的小隊伍是多么歡欣地發出啾啁聲，又多么馴服地隨著他的竿頭越過一個田野又一個山坡!夜來了，帳幕似的竹篷撐在地上，就是他的家。但這是怎樣遼遠的想象啊!在這多塵土的國度里，我僅只希望聽見一點樹葉上的雨聲。一點雨聲的幽涼滴到我憔悴的夢，也許會長成一樹圓圓的綠陰來覆蔭我自己。
我仰起頭。天空低垂如灰色霧幕，落下一些寒冷的碎屑到我臉上。一只遠來的鷹隼仿佛帶著憤怒，對這沉重的天色的憤怒，平張的雙翅不動地從天空斜插下，幾乎觸到河溝對岸的土阜，而又鼓撲著雙翅，作出猛烈的聲響騰上了。那樣巨大的翅使我驚異。我看見了它兩脅間斑白的羽毛。
接著聽見了它有力的鳴聲，如同一個巨大的心的呼號，或是在黑暗里尋找伴侶的叫喚。然而雨還是沒有來。
【譯文】
譯文1 Before the Rain
Having made the last circle in the breeze, the last of the pigeons disappeared with a faint whistle. Perhaps they mistakingly thought the dark and cold sky to be the coming dim light of night , or perhaps they predicted the coming wind and rain; thus they flew to their warm wooden nest rather early.
A plaster of soft green cast on the willow branches after several days of sunlight now had become somewhat withered under the dust. It was in great need of a wash. And the cracked, parched earth and tree roots had long been waiting for rain. But still the rain was slow in coming.
I thought of the sound of thunder and rain in my home village. The violent rumbling thunderclapse echoed from valley to valley. It seemed as if spring shoots were shaken, awakened and broke out slender green from the frozen earth. The sound of the rain as soft and thin as grass fondled them with gentle hands, making them shoot up in clusters of glossy dark green branches that waved their blossoming red flowers. This feeling of nostalgia hovered about me, making me feel melancholy in my heart. The weather in my heart felt just like the immense land in the north that was also lacking rain. A soft tear drop hesitated before falling from my dull and heavy eyes just like the rain paused in the gloomy sky.
The white ducks looked a bit agitated, for their anxious cries came from ditches in the city which had become contaminated and changed colour. Some were not weary, paddling slowly along like boats ; others were putting their long necks into water, stretching their red webbed toes behind and constantly stroking the water to keep their bodies balanced. I don’t know whether they were searching for small bits of food at the bottom or just lingering in the coolness of the water below.
Some had climbed on to the banks and were walking back and forth under a willow tree just like some gentlemen relieving their fatigue of paddling. Then they stood there irregularly, pluming their feathers carefully with their beaks. Sometimes , they swung their bodies or stretched their broad wings out to shake off the water drops in their feathers. One of them had finished the pluming, curling its neck upon the back with its long red beak buried within its wing and little eyes(which were among the fine white soft hair) closed, as if it were going to sleep. Poor small animal , are you dreaming in this way?
Thus I recalled the duckling tenders in my home village. A great swarm of yellowish crane ducklings floated in the streams , the shallow blue water beneath, the green grass on both banks, and the long bamboo pole in the hands of the tender. How merrily when his small army was chirping and how timidly when it was passing by one field to another hill slope! When the night fell, a tent-like bamboo cover was erected on the ground as his home. But how far away these images appeared! In this dusty land I could only hope for a bit rain pattering on the tree leaves. Here the coolness of a drop of rain dripping into my anxious dreams would grow into a round and shady trees to cover myself.
Lifting my head, I saw the sky hung like a grey curtain of mist, and some chips of coldness fell upon my face. An eagle from afar kept on flying down with its wings inclined, as if it were expressing its angry feeling against the heavy weather. When it nearly touched the earth on the other bank of the ditch, and then shaking its wings violently, it soared high. Its two huge wings made me surprised, for under which I saw its greyish feathers.
Then I heard its virgorous cry,just like the cry of a big heart or a call in search of its companion in the dark.
But still the rain was late in coming.
