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《雨前》的作者是中国现代著名诗人、散文家何其芳
译文来源
< 1 >译文1为张梦井、杜耀文译，选自张梦井、杜耀文编译，1999年,《中国名家散文精译》。青岛：青岛出版社。
< 2 > 译文2为Robert Neather译，选自《中国翻译》2002年第4期。
< 3 >译文3为张培基译，选自张培基译注，2003年,《英译中国现代散文选》。上海：上海外语教育出版社。
【原文】
雨前
最后的鸽群带着低弱的笛声在微风里划一个圈子后，也消失了。也许是误认这灰暗的凄冷的天空为夜色的来袭，或是也预感到风雨的将至，遂过早地飞回它们温暖的木舍。
几天的阳光在柳条上撤下的一抹嫩绿，被尘土埋掩得有憔悴色了，是需要一次洗涤。还有干裂的大地和树根也早已期待着雨。雨却迟疑着。
我怀想着故乡的雷声和雨声。那隆隆的有力的搏击，从山谷反响到山谷，仿佛春之芽就从冻土里震动，惊醒，而怒茁出来。细草样柔的雨丝又以温存之手抚摸它，使它簇生油绿的枝叶而开出红色的花。这些怀想如乡愁一样萦绕得使我忧郁了。我心里的气候也和这北方大陆一样缺少雨量，一滴温柔的泪在我枯涩的眼里，如迟疑在这阴沉的天空里的雨点，久不落下。
白色的鸭也似有一点烦躁了，有不洁的颜色的都市的河沟里传出它们焦急的叫声。有的还未厌倦那船一样的徐徐的划行。有的却倒插它们的长颈在水里，红色的蹼趾伸在尾后，不停地扑击着水以支持身体的平衡。不知是在寻找沟底的细微食物，还是贪那深深的水里的寒冷。
有几个已上岸了。在柳树下来回地作绅士的散步，舒息划行的疲劳。然后参差地站着，用嘴细细地抚理它们遍体白色的羽毛，间或又摇动身子或扑展着阔翅，使那缀在羽毛间的水珠坠落。一个已修饰完毕的，弯曲它的颈到背上，长长的红嘴藏没在翅膀里，静静合上它白色的茸毛间的小黑眼，仿佛准备睡眠。可怜的小动物，你就是这样做你的梦吗?
我想起故乡放雏鸭的人了。一大群鹅黄色的雏鸭游牧在溪流间。清浅的水，两岸青青的草，一根长长的竹竿在牧人的手里。他的小队伍是多么欢欣地发出啾啁声，又多么驯服地随着他的竿头越过一个田野又一个山坡!夜来了，帐幕似的竹篷撑在地上，就是他的家。但这是怎样辽远的想象啊!在这多尘土的国度里，我仅只希望听见一点树叶上的雨声。一点雨声的幽凉滴到我憔悴的梦，也许会长成一树圆圆的绿阴来覆荫我自己。
我仰起头。天空低垂如灰色雾幕，落下一些寒冷的碎屑到我脸上。一只远来的鹰隼仿佛带着愤怒，对这沉重的天色的愤怒，平张的双翅不动地从天空斜插下，几乎触到河沟对岸的土阜，而又鼓扑着双翅，作出猛烈的声响腾上了。那样巨大的翅使我惊异。我看见了它两胁间斑白的羽毛。
接着听见了它有力的鸣声，如同一个巨大的心的呼号，或是在黑暗里寻找伴侣的叫唤。然而雨还是没有来。
【译文】
译文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.
