English composition about an old woman walking on a familiar road

A WORN PATH

A WORN PATH

[American] Eudora Welty (Eudora Welty) Translated by Huang Mei

II Cleaning the school inside

It was a clear but cold morning in December. In a remote countryside, there was an old black lady with a red cloth on her head, walking on a path through a pine forest. Her name is Phoenix Jackson. She was short and old, swinging from side to side like the pendulum of an old clock from her grandfather's time, walking slowly and leisurely through the shadows of the trees. She held a small cane made of an umbrella handle and kept tapping the frozen ground in front of her, making a continuous and deep sound in the quiet air, like the cry of a lonely bird, filled with deep thoughts.

She was wearing a long skirt with black stripes that reached her feet, and an apron of the same length. The apron was made of faded sugar sacks, bulging with stuff. Her clothes were neat and clean, but her shoelaces were not tied. Every step she took would cause her to step on loose shoelaces and fall. She stared straight ahead. Due to her age, her eyesight was dim, and her skin was covered with countless criss-crossing wrinkles, like a small tree full of branches on her forehead. However, her skin color was dark and golden, with a yellow halo shining through the black skin to highlight the cheekbones of her cheeks. Under the red turban, the slender black hair curls that have not yet grayed have grown to the neck, exuding the smell of copper.

From time to time there was a tremor in the dense forest. Old Phoenix said: "Foxes, owls, beetles, hares, raccoons, and other wild beasts, all of you, please get out of the way!... Don't let the little quail get under my feet... Don't let the big wild boar Come and block my way. Don't come in my way. I have to drive a long way." In her little black-spotted hand, she used it from time to time. It whipped at the bushes, as if to frighten away the beasts hiding there.

She walked forward. The pine forest is dense and quiet. The wind shook the treetops, and the pine needles sparkled in the sunlight. The pine cones fell as lightly as feathers. The wild pigeon is mourning in the deep valley - it is not too late for it.

The road extends to a hill. "Up to now, it feels like there are iron shackles on my legs," she said in the argumentative tone that old people used to talk to themselves. "Something always wants to tie me to this mountain, begging me to stop."

After she climbed to the top of the mountain, she turned around and took a stern look at the road she had walked. After a while, she said: "I went up the mountain through the pine forest, and now it's time to go down the mountain and pass through the oak forest."

She opened her eyes wide and began to walk down carefully. However, before reaching the bottom of the mountain, her skirt was caught on a thorn bush.

She wanted to get away with all her heart, and her fingers were busy. However, because the skirt was so wide and long, it got stuck on that side before it could come off. However, it is absolutely impossible to let your clothes tear. "I've come across a thorny bush," she said. "You're doing your job, thorn. You don't want to let anyone pass, no, no one. I'm so dim-sighted that I thought you were an idiot at first. There are nice little green bushes.”

Finally, she got rid of the thorns, trembling all over, and stood for a while before she dared to lean over to pick up the cane.

"The sun is already so high!" she shouted, leaning back and looking at the sky, a thick layer of tears welling up in her eyes, "the time has been wasted here."

There is a stream at the foot of the mountain, with a piece of wood lying across the stream.

"Now there's trouble," Phoenix said.

She stepped out with her right foot, stepped on the wood, and closed her eyes. She grabbed her skirt, jerked her cane forward, and started across the bridge, like a character in a festival parade. When she opened her eyes, she had reached the other side of the stream safely.

"It seems I'm not as old as I thought," she said.

However, she sat down and rested for a while. She opened her skirt and sat on the bank, holding her knees with her hands. A tree stretched above her head, clouds of mistletoe hanging over it like pearls. She didn't dare close her eyes. She spoke to a little boy as he brought her a slice of milk cake on a plate.

"I can accept this gift," she said. However, when she went to get the cake, she found that there was nothing but her own hands.

So she left the naked tree. She had to get through a barbed wire fence. She had to roll and crawl like a baby learning to crawl, using all four limbs together. She said loudly to herself: It was already so late and she couldn't let her clothes be torn anymore; besides, if she was hung here and couldn't move, and she had to amputate her arms and legs, she wouldn't gain much. benefit.

However, she managed to get through the barbed wire fence safely. She stood up and came to a clearing. Large dead trees, like one-armed black men, stood among the withered purple cotton stalks in the field. A hawk stood in the ground.

"Who are you looking at?"

Phoenix walked forward along the ridge.

"Thankfully it's not the season for bulls," she said, looking to both sides. "Besides, the merciful God makes snakes coil up and sleep in winter. I see that there are no two ends in front of the tree. "Snake, that's so nice. It used to be there. It was so hard to get past it in the summer."

After passing through the cotton fields, she entered another cornfield. . Tall dry corn stalks swayed and rustled, covering the top of her head. "We have to cross the maze," she said, because there was no road in the field.

Then, something tall, skinny, and black appeared in front of Phoenix, shaking.

At first she thought it was a person. Maybe it was someone dancing in the fields. She stopped and listened carefully, but there was no sound. It was as quiet as a ghost.

"Ghost," she said warily, "whose ghost are you? I haven't heard of anyone dying around here."

No answer - just tatters Rags were fluttering in the wind.

She closed her eyes, stretched out her hand, and touched a sleeve. This is a coat, and it is empty and cold inside.

"It's a straw man who scares birds," she said, her face brightening. "I should never speak again," she laughed. "I'm so old. I'm too old. I'm the oldest person I know. Dance, old man, while I'm with you. When you dance together, dance." She said.

She kicked her feet on the ridge of the field, curled her mouth downwards, and shook her head grandly. A few pieces of corn husks fell down and swirled around her skirt like a ribbon.

She walked forward again, using her cane to clear a path through the rustling cornfield. Finally she reached the end of the field and stepped onto a carriage road. Between two red earth ruts, silvery grass swayed in the wind. The quail walked around like a girl, with an elegant posture, as if no one was watching.

"Let's walk beautifully." She said, "This is a comfortable place, this is a comfortable journey."

She swayed along the ruts We walked into the silent, exposed fields, passed through small rows of trees with silver-gray dead leaves, and passed one after another huts that were whitened by the sun and rain. The doors and windows of the hut were covered with wooden boards, sitting there motionless like an enchanted old woman. "I walked through them in their sleep," she said, nodding enthusiastically.

She walked into a valley, where a clear spring gushes quietly from the hollow wood. Old Phoenix bent down and drank the water. "The gum tree sweetens the water," she said, drinking more water. "No one knows who dug this well. It was already here when I was born."

The ruts passed through a muddy land.

There were lace-like white moss hanging from the branches. "Alligators, keep sleeping and blow your bubbles." After a while, the carriageway connected to a main road.

The road is flanked by towering green cliffs. The lively oak trees on both sides met overhead, and the road was as dark as a hole in the ground.

A black dog emerged from the weeds beside the road ditch with its tongue hanging out. Old Phoenix was in a trance and was defenseless. When the dog charged, she only hit it lightly with her cane. Then she fell into the ditch as gently as a little dandelion.

She lost consciousness at the bottom of the ditch and saw some kind of phantom. She reached up, but no one came to pull her. So she lay there and babbled away.

"Old woman," she said to herself, "the black dog came out of the weeds to block your way, and now it is sitting on its beautiful tail and laughing at you."

Finally a white man came, a young hunter, and discovered her. He was holding a dog on a chain.

"Hey, old lady," he laughed, "what are you doing there?"

"I'm lying here, sir, like a June bug, waiting. Turn over," she said, reaching up.

The man pulled her up, hung her in the air for a while, and then put her on the ground. "Did it break, old lady?"

"No, sir, the withered grass there is very soft," Phoenix said after breathing for a while, "Thank you, sorry for bothering you." "Old lady, you Where do you live?" he asked. The two dogs were growling at each other.

"It's so far behind the ridge, sir, you can't even see it from here."

"Are you going home?"

"No, sir, I want to go into the city."

"Ah, that's too far! Just as far as the distance I walked when I left home. But I didn't go to the city in vain. Go for a run." He patted his full pocket, with a curled little paw hanging on it. This is a quail. Its beak twisted in pain, indicating that it was dead. "Old woman, go home."

"I'm going to the city, sir," Phoenix said, "It's time to go."

He laughed again, laughter resounded everywhere. "I know you old black men! Don't want to miss the chance to see Santa Claus in the city!"

But something else made old Phoenix stay still and silent. The deep wrinkles on her face shone with strange ferocity. She saw with her own eyes a small coin falling from the man's pocket to the ground, but she made no sound.

"How old are you, old lady?" he said.

"I can't tell, sir," she said, "I can't tell."

Then she barked softly, clapped her hands, and said, "You dog, Go away! Look at that dog!" she laughed approvingly. "He's not afraid of anyone. He's a big black dog." She whispered again, "Bite him!"

"Let me take care of the wild dog," the man said, "Bite him." , Peter, go bite it!"

Phoenix heard the two dogs fighting, heard the man running and throwing sticks, and she even heard gunshots. During this time, she slowly bent down little by little, her eyelids drooping, as if she was sleeping. Her chin almost touched her knees. Yellow palms stretched out from the folds of her apron. Her fingers quietly traced the ground to the bottom of the coin, as if she were taking eggs from under a hen, so cautiously and calmly. Then she slowly straightened up and stood up straight, with the coins already in her apron pocket. A bird flew by. Her lips moved. "God has been watching me. I've fallen into stealing."

The man came back. His dog panted beside them. "Well, I scared it away," he said, then smiled and pointed the gun at Phoenix.

She stood up straight and looked at him.

"Aren't you afraid of guns?" he said. The gun was still pointed at her.

"Don't be afraid, sir. When I was young, I saw a lot of shootings and killings, often for trivial reasons that were more trivial than my fault," she said without moving.

The man smiled slightly and shouldered his gun. "Old lady, you must be a hundred years old and have nothing to fear anymore." He said, "If I had brought money, I would have given you a dime. However, you'd better listen to my advice and stay at home. , then nothing will happen."

"I have to go to town, sir," Phoenix said. She lowered her head, which was wrapped in red cloth. They broke up for good. However, Phoenix could still hear bursts of gunfire from the mountains.

She walked forward. The shadows of the oak trees dropped like curtains to the road. She smelled the wood smoke and the river water, saw the church steeple and the small wooden house standing on the steep steps. A group of black children circled around her. Ahead, Natchez shimmered and the bells tolled and echoed. She walked forward.

In the city where the ground is flat, it is Christmas. Strings of red and green lights crisscross the area, brightly lit in broad daylight. Old Phoenix no longer believed her eyes and allowed her feet to take her where she wanted to go. If not, she would have lost her way.

She stood quietly on the sidewalk where people were coming and going. A woman came from the crowd, holding many gifts wrapped in colorful paper. She is like a red rose in midsummer, exuding fragrance. Phoenix stopped her.

"Excuse me, miss, could you tie my shoelaces for me?" She raised her feet.

"What do you want, grandma?"

"Look at my shoes," said Phoenix. "It's so cool."

"Then stand still, grandma," the woman said. She placed the package on the sidewalk beside her and tied the laces of Phoenix's shoes tightly.

"You can't tie your shoes with a cane," Phoenix said. "Thank you, miss. When I come to the street, I will be happy to ask a lady to help me tie my shoes."

She shuffled slowly from side to side and walked in A building, climbing up the high stairs in circles until her feet brought her to where they thought they should stop.

She walked into a door and saw a proclamation with a gold seal and a gold frame nailed to the wall, which was completely consistent with the dream that lingered in her heart.

"I'm here," she said, as if performing some fixed ritual, her body stiffened and cheered.

"It's free, I guess," said a waiter sitting at the table across from her.

However, Phoenix just stared above the waiter's head. There was sweat on her face, and the wrinkles seemed to be connected into a bright net, shining brightly.

"Say it, grandma," said the woman. "What's your name? You know, we need to know your situation. Have you been here? What's wrong with you?"

Old Phoenix just twitched her face slightly, as if a fly was disturbing her. Similar.

"Are you deaf?" the waiter shouted.

Just then, the nurse walked in.

"Oh, it's old Aunt Phoenix," she said. "She doesn't come to see the doctor herself - she has a little grandson. She comes every once in a while, as regular as clockwork. She lives far, far away on the Natchez Trail." She leaned down. "Aunt Phoenix, why don't you sit down? You've walked such a long way, and we don't want you to stand all the time." She pointed.

The old lady sat down on the chair, her body straight.

"Tell me, how is the child?" the nurse asked.

Old Phoenix did not answer.

"I'm asking, how is the child?"

But Phoenix was just waiting, looking straight ahead, his face dignified and stern.

"Is his throat feeling better?" the nurse asked. "Aunt Phoenix, can't you hear me? Has your grandson's voice gotten better since you last came to get the medicine?"

The old lady put her hands on her knees and waited. Upright, silent and motionless, as if wearing armor.

"You can't waste our time like this, Aunt Phoenix," the nurse said. "Tell us about your grandson quickly and get it done. He's not dead, right?"

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Finally, a glimmer of understanding flickered, and then it lit up the old lady's face like fire. She spoke.

"Yes, my grandson. Just now, my memory ran away. I sat there and forgot why I came all the way here."

" Forgot?" The nurse frowned. "Have you forgotten after walking such a long way?"

So Phoenix, like an old woman who wakes up in the middle of the night, begged for forgiveness without being humble or haughty. "I have never studied, and I was already too old when I was defeated." She said softly, "I am an uneducated old woman. There is something wrong with my memory. My little grandson, he is still the same. I forgot it on the way."

"My throat isn't feeling well, is it?" the nurse said loudly to Old Phoenix in a positive tone. At this time, she held a card in her hand with something written on it, a small form. "Well, drank lye. When? - January - two or three years ago -"

At this moment, Phoenix began to take the initiative to speak. "No, miss, he's not dead, he's just the same. Every once in a while, his throat gets clogged again and he can't swallow. He can't breathe. He can't eat or drink. When the time comes again, I start again. Come here to get some medicine to make him feel better."

"Okay. The doctor said he'll give it to you if you come to get it," the nurse said.

"However, this disease is a stubborn one."

"My little grandson is wrapped up tightly and is sitting alone at home waiting for me." Phoenix continued. : "It's just the two of us left to depend on each other. He's suffering, but it doesn't seem to bother him at all. He looks really lovable. He'll live. He's wrapped in a patchwork quilt. , always looking out with his mouth open. Now I remember him clearly. I will never forget him as long as I live. "

"Okay." Now the nurse wanted to stop her from talking. She handed the old lady a bottle of medicine. "Free relief," she said, writing it down in her book.

Old Phoenix raised the medicine bottle to his eyes and looked at it, then carefully put it into his pocket.

"Thank you," she said.

"Grandma, today is Christmas," the waiter said, "Can I give you a few pennies?"

"Five pennies is a nickel," Phoenix said dully.

"Here, a nickel," the waiter said.

Phoenix stood up cautiously and stretched out his hand. She took the coin, took another one out of her pocket, and placed it next to the new one. She tilted her head and looked at her palms carefully.

Then she tapped the floor with her cane.

"What I'm going to do now," she said, "I'm going to go to the store and buy my grandson one of those little paper pinwheels they sell. He won't believe that there is such a thing in the world. Something. I'm going to hold the windmill upright with this hand and walk all the way home. He's waiting for me there."

She raised her free hand and tapped it gently. Nodding, he turned around and walked out of the doctor's office.

Then, the sound of her footsteps slowly descending was heard on the stairs.

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① Refers to the surrender of the Southern Army in 1865 and the end of the Civil War. After the war, the northern-led government began to establish black education in the south.