【赫临译笔】皮匠和银行家 - 心云驛站

一个皮匠从早到晚欢唱度日，见到他的人，听到他的歌都是件乐事。他对鞋子的满足程度超过七圣中的任何一位。相反，他腰缠万贯的邻居却唱不出歌，也睡不好好觉。他是个银行家，当他在黎明时碰巧打个盹时，总会被皮匠的歌声所吵醒。银行家报怨上帝怎么就没把睡眠像食物和饮品一样创造成可交易的商品呢。最后他派人把皮匠找来，问：“格列格里先生，你每年挣多少钱？”“阁下，您问我每年挣多少钱，？”快乐的皮匠笑起来：“我没有计算过，只是一天一天地过日子，设法顺利到年底，挣来了一日三餐。”“噢，我的朋友，那你每天挣多少钱？”“有时多点，有时少点。最糟糕的是，一年总有些日子不让干活，此外，牧师老是往他的名单上添加新圣徒的名字。要不是这样，我的收入还是蛮不错的。”

嘲笑他的简单纯朴，银行家说：“以后我会让你吃穿不愁。这有一百钱币，全部拿走，精心保管，需要时就用。”皮匠觉得他见到了上一个世纪地球为人类创造的所有财富。回到家，他把钱埋了起来，同时也埋葬了他的快乐，他不再唱歌。从他获取人类烦恼之源的那一刻起，他就哑了嗓子。睡眠不再光顾他的住所，而代之以担心，怀疑和虚惊。他的眼睛终日朝着埋钱的方向张望。夜里，一只野猫的叫声都会抢走他的睡眠。最后，可怜的皮匠跑到他有钱的邻居家里，说：“收回你的百枚钱币，还我睡眠，还我歌唱。”

　　A cobbler passed his time in singing from morning till night; it was wonderful to see, wonderful to hear him; he was more contented in shoes, than was any of the seven sages. His neighbor, on the contrary, who was rolling in wealth, sung but little and slept less. He was a banker; when by chance he fell into a doze at day-break, the cobbler awoke him with his song. The banker complained sadly that providence had not made sleep a saleable commodity, like edibles or drinkables. Having at length sent for the songster, he said to him, “How much a year do you earn, master Gregory?” “How much a year, sir?” said the merry cobbler laughing,” I have not reckoned in that way, living as I do from one day to another; somehow I manage to reach the end of the year; each day brings its meal.” “Well then! How much a day do you earn, my friend?” “Sometimes more, sometimes less; but the worst of it is, and, without that our earnings would be very tolerable, a number of days occur in the year on which we are forbidden to work; and the curate, moreover, is constantly adding some new saint to the list.”

　　The banker, laughing at his simplicity, said,“In the future I shall place you above want. Take this hundred crowns, preserve them carefully, and make use of them in time of need.” The cobbler fancied he beheld all the wealth which the earth had produced in the past century for the use of mankind. Returning home, he buried his money and his happiness at the same time, no more singing; he lost his voice, the moment he acquired that which is the source of so much grief. Sleep quitted his dwelling; and cares, suspicions, and false alarms took its place, all day, his eye wandered in the direction of his treasure; and at night, if some stray cat made a noise, the cat was robbing him. At length the poor man ran to the house of his rich neighbor; “Give me back.” said he, “sleep and my voice, and take your hundred crowns.”