02. Monarch Butterfly(帝王蝶)

Autumn. Somewhere over Michigan, a colony of monarch butterflies, numbering more than fifteen thousand, are beginning their yearly migration south. In the span of two months, from September to November, they will move, one wing beat at a time, from southern Canada and the United States to portions of central Mexico, where they will spend the winter.

秋天。在密歇根州的某个地方，超过一万五千只的帝王蝶，开始每年的向南迁徙。在两个月的时间里，从九月到十一月，它们将一次一次扑腾着翅膀，从加拿大南部和美国，移动到墨西哥中部的部分地区，然后在那里过冬。

They perch among us, on windowsills and chain-link fences, clotheslines still blurred from the just-hung weight of clothes, the hood of a faded-blue Chevy, their wings folding slowly, as if being put away, before snapping once, into flight.

它们栖息在我们中间，在窗台和铁丝网围栏上，晾衣绳仍旧模糊在被刚刚挂起的衣物的重量里，在一辆褪了色的蓝色雪佛兰的引擎盖上，它们的翅膀缓慢折起，好似要被叠好收起来一般，然后猛地断开缓慢的节奏，变作飞翔。

It only takes a single night of frost to kill off a generation. To live, then, is a matter of time, of timing.

只需要一个晚上的霜冻就可以杀死整整一代的帝王蝶。那么，活着就是时间问题，活着就是时机问题。

That time when I was five or six and, playing a prank, leapt out at you from behind the hallway door, shouting, “Boom!” You screamed, face raked and twisted, then burst into sobs, clutched your chest as you leaned against the door, gasping. I stood bewildered, my toy army helmet tilted on my head. I was an American boy parroting what I saw on TV. I didn’t know that the war was still inside you, that there was a war to begin with, that once it enters you it never leaves— but merely echoes, a sound forming the face of your own son. Boom.

那一次我才五、六岁，做了一个恶作剧，从走廊门后跳出来冲你喊：“砰！”你尖叫着，脸倾斜扭曲，然后突然你便抽泣起来，你靠在门上捂着胸口，喘着粗气。我困惑地站着，我的玩具军盔倾斜在我的头上。我只是一个普通的美国男孩，模仿着在电视上看到的东西。我不知道战争还在你心里，我不知道战争可以因为你自己儿子发出来的一声‘砰！’响而重新开始，那种战争一旦进入你的身体就永远不会离开——只是反复传来回音。

That time, in third grade, with the help of Mrs.Callahan, my ESL teacher, I read the first book that I loved, a children’s book called Thunder Cake, by Patricia Polacco. In the story, when a girl and her grandmother spot a storm brewing on the green horizon, instead of shuttering the windows or nailing boards on the doors, they set out to bake a cake. I was unmoored by this act, its precarious yet bold refusal of common sense. As Mrs.Callahan stood behind me, her mouth at my ear, I was pulled deeper into the current of language. The story unfurled, its storm rolled in as she spoke, then rolled in once more as I repeated the words. To bake a cake in the eye of a storm; to feed yourself sugar on the cusp of danger.

那一次，三年级的时候，在我的 ESL 老师 Callahan夫人的帮助下，我读了第一本我喜欢的书，一本名为ThunderCake的儿童读物，作者是Patricia Polacco。在故事中，当一个女孩和她的祖母发现绿色地平线上正在酝酿一场风暴时，他们并没有关上窗户或在门上钉木板，而是开始烤蛋糕。我对这种行为感到震惊，对它那种拒绝常识的冒险和大胆。当Callahan夫人站在我身后，她的嘴凑近我耳边，我被更深地拉进语言的波澜里。故事像连轴一般展开，风暴在她开口低语时卷入，然后在我重复她话语的时候再次卷入。在暴风眼中烤蛋糕；在危险的边缘喂自己吃糖。

>>>Vocabulary:

Monarch butterfly n. 帝王蝶

Raked adj. 倾斜的

Clutch v. （通常指因恐惧、焦虑或痛苦而）紧抓，紧握

 Silent and pale, she clutched (onto) her mother's hand.

    她一声不吭，面色苍白，死死抓着母亲的手。

Bewilder v. 使迷惑，使糊涂；难住

 The instructions completely bewildered me.

    说明书把我完全弄糊涂了。

Unmoored adj. 不自信的；不确定的；没有方向的

 Paul is unmoored byhis parents' divorce.

   保罗因为父母的离婚而迷失了自己。

Precarious adj. 危险的；不牢靠的，不稳的

 Many borrowers now find themselves caught in a precarious financial position.

    许多借款人现在发现自己陷入了不稳定的财务状况。

Cusp n. 分界线

 on the cusp of adulthood

   即将成年