彩虹鸽出走

By Dhan Gopal Mukerji

But the day after our return Gay-Neck flew away again， in the morning， and failed to put in an appearance later. We waited for him most anxiously during four successive days， and then， unable to bear the suspense any longer， Ghond and I set out in search of him， determined to find him， dead or alive. This time we hired two ponies to take us as far as Sikkim. We had made sure of our path by asking people about Gay-Neck in each village that we had to pass through. Most of them had seen the bird， and some of them gave an accurate description of him： one hunter had seen him in a lamasery nesting next to a swift（雨燕）under the eaves of the house； another， a Buddhist monk， said that he had seen him near their monastery in Sikkim on a riverbank where wild ducks had their nest， and in the latest village that we passed through on the second afternoon we were told that he was seen in the company of a flock of swifts.

Led by such good accounts we reached the highest table-land of Sikkim and were forced to bivouac（露宿）there the third night. Our ponies were sleepy， and so were we， but after what seemed like an hours sleep， I was roused by a tenseness that had fallen upon everything. I found the two beasts of burden standing stiff； in the light of the fire and that of the risen half-moon I saw that their ears were raised tensely in the act of listening carefully. Even their tails did not move. I too listened intently. There was no doubt that the silence of the night was more than mere stillness； stillness is empty， but the silence that beset us was full of meaning， as if a God， shed with moonlight， was walking so close that if I were to put out my hand I could touch his garment.

Just then the horses moved their ears as if to catch the echo of a sound that had moved imperceptibly（察覺不到地）through the silence. The great deity had gone already； now a queer sensation of easing the tense atmosphere set in. One could feel even the faintest shiver of the grass， but that too was momentary； the ponies now listened for a new sound from the north. They were straining every nerve in the effort. At last even I could hear it. Something like a child yawning in his sleep became audible. Stillness again followed. Then a sighing sound， long drawn out， ran through the air， and sank lower and lower， like a thick green leaf slowly sinking through calm water. Then rose a murmur on the horizon as if someone were praying against the skyline. About a minute later the horses relaxed their ears and switched their tails， and I， too， felt myself at ease. Lo！ thousands of geese were flying through the upper air. They were at least four thousand feet above us， but all the same the ponies had heard their coming long before I did.

The flight of the geese told us that dawn was at hand， and I sat up and watched. The stars set one by one. The ponies began to graze（吃草）. I gave them more rope； now that the night had passed， they did not need to be tied so close to the fire.

In another ten minutes the intense stillness of the dawn held all things in its grip and that had its effect on our two beasts. This time I could clearly see both of them lifting their heads and listening. What sounds were they trying to catch？ I did not have long to wait. In a tree not far off a bird shook itself； then another did the same thing， on another bough. One of them sang. It was a song-sparrow， and its cry roused all nature. Other song-sparrows trilled（发出颤音）； then other birds， and still others！ By now shapes and colours were coming to light with blinding rapidity. Thus passed the short tropical twilight and Ghond got up to say his prayers.

That day our wanderings brought us to the lamasery near Singalila of which I have spoken before. The lamas were glad to give us all the news of Gay-Neck. They informed me that the previous afternoon Gay-Neck and the flock of swifts who nested under the eaves of the monastery had flown southwards.

Again with the blessings of the lamas we said farewell to their hospitable serai（客棧）， and set out on Gay-Necks trail. The mountains burned like torches behind us as we bestowed on them our last look. Before us lay the autumn-tinted woods glimmering in gold， purple， green and cerise（樱桃色，鲜红色）.

然而，我们回家后的第二天清晨，彩虹鸽又飞走了，此后再没露面。在接下来的四天里，我们火急火燎地等着他。后来，因为再也无法忍受这种焦虑，刚德和我便出发去寻找他，决定无论是死是活都要找到他。于是，我们租了两匹小马，一路骑到了锡金。每经过一个村庄，我们都要向人们打听是否见到过彩虹鸽，以确保我们的行动路线。大多数人都见过他，其中还有些人准确描述了他的样子：一个猎人见过他在喇嘛庙的屋檐下休息，在一只雨燕旁边搭窝；一个和尚说他看见彩虹鸽在锡金他们寺院附近的河岸上，那里有一群野鸭筑巢。第二天下午，在我们经过前一个村庄的时候，有人告诉我们说彩虹鸽跟一群雨燕在一起。

根据这些可靠消息，我们在第三天夜里到达锡金最高的台地，并且只好露宿在那里。两匹小马昏昏欲睡，我们也十分困倦，但好像刚睡一个小时，我就被一种笼罩一切的紧张气氛惊醒了。我看到两匹小马僵立在那里；在火光和升起的半月的光亮中，我看见他们紧张地竖起耳朵，正在侧耳倾听，连尾巴都一动不动。我也聚精会神地倾听。毫无疑问，夜晚的寂静不仅仅是单纯的静止；静止是空的，但我们四周的寂静却充满了含义，就像披着月光的神灵向我们走近，仿佛我一伸出手，就能摸到他的衣服。

正在这时，两匹小马动了动耳朵，好像要捕捉一种声音的回响，那声音穿过寂静，让人很难察觉。神灵已经离去；现在有了一种缓和紧张气氛的奇异感觉。我们甚至能感受到小草最轻微的颤动，但那也是暂时的。此刻，小马又倾听起从北方传来的新的声音。他们正努力绷紧每一根神经。最后，就连我也听到了，那声音听上去像睡梦中的小孩子在打哈欠，非常清晰，随后又消失了。接着，一阵拖长的叹息声划过空中，然后声音越来越低，犹如一片厚厚的绿叶缓慢沉入平静的水中。这时候，地平线上传来一阵低语声，仿佛有人正对着天际线祈祷。大约一分钟后，两匹小马放松了绷紧的耳朵，摆动起尾巴，我自己也感到轻松自在了。瞧！几千只大雁正飞过高空。他们距我们至少有四千英尺高，但仍旧是还没等我听到，小马就听到了他们飞来的声音。

大雁飞过，表示黎明就要来了。我坐起来观望。星星一个接一个地沉落了。两匹小马开始吃草。我给他们放松了些缰绳；既然夜晚已经过去，就不必把他们拴得离火边那么近了。

在接下来的十分钟里，黎明的极度寂静掌控着所有的一切，我们的两匹马也受到了影响。这一次，我可以清晰地看到他们俩又抬起头在倾听。他们在极力捕捉什么声音呢？没等多久我就知道了。只见不远处的一棵树上有一只小鸟在晃动；接着，另一只鸟也在另一根粗枝上晃动。其中一只在歌唱。那是一只歌雀，他的叫声唤醒了万物。其他歌雀也鸣唱了起来；随后，其他鸟儿都争先恐后地鸣唱了起来！于是，形形色色的东西都飞快地显露了出来。自此，短暂的热带黎明过去了，刚德站起来，开始祷告。

那天，我们走着走着，就到了我先前说过的新格里拉附近的那座喇嘛庙。喇嘛们很乐意给我们提供关于彩虹鸽所有的消息。他们告诉我说，前一天下午，彩虹鸽和那群住在喇嘛庙屋檐下的雨燕一起向南飞走了。

我们带着喇嘛们的祝福，告别热情友好的“客栈”，又一次踏上了追寻彩虹鸽的旅程。我们最后回望那些山时，只见它们在我们身后像火炬般燃烧。我们面前是一片秋色尽染的树林，闪动着金色、紫色、绿色和鲜红色的光芒。