妈妈太老了，不过头发没有全白，脸上也没有出现几颗老人斑，只是腰背微驼。纤瘦的身体比30年前大约缩了一头。她的两只手，似乎只剩下几条青筋和一把骨头，手指也弯曲了，好像折弯而没有断的树枝。妈妈有时望着自己的手，自嘲地说：“这哪是手指头啊，简直是鸡爪子……”每次我听到妈妈这种含有辛酸的话，就心疼不已。
Mother is a bit stooped with age, but her hair is only partially gray and her face has few old age speckles. Her small and thin stature, however, is shorter than thirty years ago by a head. And nothing seems to remain of her two hands but a few blue veins and bones. The fingers looked quite out of shape like poken twigs still hanging on to trees. Sometimes, looking at her own hands, she will say in self-ridicule, “How can I still call them my fingers? They’re chicken claws …” At this, my heart invariably aches.
我还记得小的时候，妈妈怎样用一双细嫩的手为我洗头，洗身，洗脚。她的手轻轻摸抚着我的皮肤，好惬意，好温柔哟！
When I was a child, I remember, mother used to wash my hair, my body and my feet with her delicate soft hands. As her hands ran over me gently, what a feeling of comfort and warmth came over me!
我还记得上学时，有一次老师让我在一个儿童剧里扮演松鼠的角色。可服装要自己解决，我急得不知如何是好。妈妈安慰我：“你放心好了！我给你做……”妈妈买来一块灰绒布，剪裁、缝纫。第三天清早，我醒来时，发现妈妈依然坐在缝纫机前，她微微一笑，拿起一件带大尾巴的松鼠式戏装让我看。试了一下，好极了。那时，我根本没有想过：妈妈为了让自己的儿子高兴，连夜不睡，辛劳了几天。
Once, when I was a schoolboy, my teacher wanted me to play the part of a squirrel in a children's play. I worried very much about the stage costume that, according to the teacher, had to be provided by myself. Mother set my heart at ease by saying, “Don't worry! I'll make one for you all right …” Thereupon, she bought a piece of gray cotton flannel and started cutting it out and sewing. On the early morning of the third day, when I woke up, I was surprised to find her still sitting at the sewing machine. She smilingly showed me the stage costume for a squirrel with a bushy tail. I tried it on. It was perfect. At that time, nevertheless, little did I ponder about mother having spent quite a few sleepless nights toiling for her son's sake.
稍长，我喜欢伏在妈妈身边，看她在布头上缝绣彩色花条，她那么专注，那么细心，缝了拆，拆了缝，稍有欠妥的地方，一定返工。后来，我看到布头上绽开了鲜花，长出了绿叶，飞来了小鸟，似乎还能闻到花草的清香，听到鸟儿啼鸣。这是妈妈为我缝制的枕头套。我喜爱极了。我睡在这个枕头上，感受到妈妈的手爱抚着我的脸，温暖着我的心，连夜里的梦也不太苦涩了。
When I was older, I would nestle y mother's side and watch her empoidering pilliant flowers on a piece of cloth. She worked attentively and meticulously, unstitching what she had sewn or re-sewing what she had unstitched, always doing all over again whatever she considered inadequate. When fresh flowers, green leaves and flying birds eventually appeared on the cloth, I seemed to smell the faint scent of flowers and plants and hear the tweeting of birds. Mother had made an empoidered pillowcase for me. I was overjoyed. When I lay with my head pillowed on it, I felt as if her hand were fondly caressing my face and warming my heart, and I were no longer disturbed by bad dreams.
妈妈手中产生的每件东西，都精致，都漂亮。她总是精益求精。
Everything that mother makes by hand is delicate and nice-looking, and she keeps trying to do better.
“文革”期间，五七干校的军宣队禁止我们外国文学工作者阅读中外文学作品，我便利用这个机会学习缝纫。这时我才感念妈妈几十年来为我和哥哥们缝制衣服付出了我少精力与心血。
During the so-called “Cultural Revolution”, when I was sent to a farm school, I, like all other scholars in the field of foreign literature, was denied access to foreign literary books. So I took the opportunity to learn sewing instead. Only then did I fully realize how for scores of years mother had toiled away at making clothes for my elder pothers and me.
妈妈的手是什么时候变得粗糙了呢？妈妈老了，她的手已经拿不住针线，也不能做饭了，甚至走路时也要手扶墙壁。墙壁上留下被她的手磨损的痕迹。
When did her hands start to become so rough? She is old. Her hands are now too enfeebled to even needlework or cooking. When she walks, she has to over along with a groping hand on the wall for support. Consequently, the wall now bears traces of the wear and tear of the continual touching of her hand.
（责任编辑:admin）
