芥川龙之介/Ryunosuke Akutagawa
芥川龙之介（Ryunosuke Akutagawa 1892—1927），日本小说家，素有“鬼才”之称。他阅读的书籍涉猎极广，中小学时代就喜读阅读江户时代的文学作品，还喜欢阅读《西游记》和《水浒传》等。芥川早期发表了短篇小说《罗生门》（1915）、《鼻子》（1916）、《芋粥》（1916）、《手帕》（1916）由此确立了他在写作领域的地位。自1917年至1923年，龙之介所写的短篇小说先后6次结集出版，分别以《罗生门》、《烟草与魔鬼》、《傀儡师》、《影灯笼》、《夜来花》和《春服》为书名，这些优秀作品让芥川龙之介成为日本文坛的“鬼才”大师。
It was a chilly evening. A servant of a samurai stood under the Rashomon, waiting for a break in the rain.
No one else was under the wide gate. On the thick column, its crimson lacquer rubbed off here and there, perched a cricket. Since the Rashomon stands on Sujaku Avenue, a few other people at least, in sedge hat or noblemans headgear, might have been expected to be waiting there for a break in the rain storm. But no one was near except this man.
For the past few years the city of Kyoto had been visited by a series of calamities, earthquakes, whirlwinds, and fires, and Kyoto had been greatly devastated. Old chronicles say that broken pieces of Buddhist images and other Buddhist objects, with their lacquer, gold, or silver leaf worn off, were heaped up on roadsides to be sold as frewood. Such being the state of affairs in Kyoto, the repair of the Rashomon was out of the question. Taking advantage of the devastation, foxes and other wild aninals made their dens in the ruins of the gate, and thieves and robbers found a home there too. Eventually it became customary to bring unclaimed corpses to this gate and abandon them. After dark it was so ghostly that no one dared approach.
Flocks of crows flew in from somewhere. During the daytime these cawing birds circled round the ridgepole of the gate. When the sky overhead turned red in the afterlight of the departed sun, they looked like so many grains of sesame fung across the gate. But on that not a crow was to be seen, perhaps because of the lateness of the hour. Here and there the stone steps, beginning to crumble, and with rank grass growing in their crevices, were dotted with the white droppings of crows. The servant, in a worn blue kimono, sat on the seventh and highest step, vacantly watching the rain. His attention was drawn to a large pimple irritating his right cheek.
As has been said, the servant was waiting for a break in the rain. But he had no particular idea of what to do after the rain stopped. Ordinarily, of course, he would have returned to his masters house, but he had been discharged just before. The prosperity of the city of Kyoto had been rapidly declining, and he had been dismissed by his master, whom he had served many years, because of the effects of this decline. Thus, confned by the rain, he was at a loss to know where togo. And the weather had not a little to do with his depressed mood. The rain seemed unlikely to stop. He was lost in thoughts of how to make his living tomorrow, helpless incoherent thoughts protesting an inexorable fate. Aimlessly he had been listening to the pattering of the rain on the Sujaku Avenue.
The rain, enveloping the Rashomon, gathered strength and came down with a pelting sound that could be heard far away. Looking up, he saw a fat black cloud impale itself on the tips of the tiles jutting out from the roof of the gate.
He had little choice of means, whether fair or foul, because of his helpless circumstances. If he chose honest means, he would undoubtedly starve to death beside the wall or in the Sujaku gutter. He would be brought to this gate and thrown away like a stray dog. If he decided to steal……His mind, after making the same detour time and again, came fnally to the conclusion that he would be a thief. But doubts returned many times. Though determined that he had no choice, he was still unable to muster enough courage to justify the conclusion that he must become a thief.
After a loud ft of sneezing he got up slowly. The evening chill of Kyoto made him long for the warmth of a brazier. The wind in the evening dusk howled through the columns of the gate. The cricket which had been perched on the crimson-lacquered column was already gone.
Ducking his neck, he looked around the gate, and drew up the shoulders of the blue kimono which he wore over his yellow thin underwear. He decided to spend the night there, if he could find a secluded corner sheltered from wind and rain. He found a broad lacquered stairway leading to the tower over the gate. No one would be there, except the dead, if there were any. So, taking care that thesword at his side did not slip out of the scabbard, he set foot on the lowest step of the stairs.
A few seconds later, halfway up the stairs, he saw a movement above. Holding his breath and huddling cat-like in the middle of the broad stairs leading to the tower, he watched and waited. A light coming from the upstairs shone on his right cheek with the red, festering pimple visible under his stubby whiskers. He had expected only dead people inside the tower, but he had only gone up a few steps before he noticed a fre above, about which someone was moving. He saw a dull, yellow, fickering light which made the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling glow in a ghostly way. What sort of person would be making a light in the Rashomon……and in a storm?The unknown, the evil terrifed him.
As quietly as a lizard, the servant crept up to the top of the steep stairs. Crouching on all fours, and stretching his neck as far as possible, he timidly peeped into the tower.
As rumor had said, he found several corpses strewn carelessly about the foor. Since the glow of the light was feeble, he could not count the number. He could only see that some were naked and others clothed. Some of them were women, and all were lolling on the foor with their mouths open or their arms outstretched showing no more signs of life than so many clay dolls. One would doubt that they had ever been alive, so eternally silent they were. Their shoulders, breasts, and torsos stood out in the dim light；other parts vanished in shadow. The offensive smell of these decomposed corpses brought his hand to his nose.
The next moment his hand dropped and he stared. He caught sight of a ghoulish form bent over a corpse. It seemed to be an old woman, gaunt, gray-haired, and delirious in appearance. With a pinetorch in her right hand, she was peeping into the face of a corpse which had long black hair.
Seized more with horror than curiosity, he even forgot to breathe for a time. He felt the hair of his head and body stand on end. As he watched, terrifed, she wedged the torch between two foor boards and, laying hands on the heads of the corpse, began to pull out the long hairs one by one, as a monkey kills the lice of her young. The hair came out smoothly with the movement of her hands.
As the hair came out, fear faded from his heart, and his hatred toward the old woman mounted. It grew beyond hatred, becoming a consuming antipathy against all evil. At this instant if anyone had brought up the the question of whether he would starve to death or become a thief-the question which had occurred to him a little while ago-he would not have hesitated to choose death. His hatred toward evil fared up like the piece of pine wood which the old woman had stuck in the foor.
He did not know why she pulled out the hair of the dead. Accordingly, he did not know whether her case was to be put down as good or bad. But in his eyes, pulling out the hair of the dead in the Rashomon on this stormy night was an unpardonable crime. Of course it never entered his mind that a little while ago he had thought of becoming a thief.
Then, summoning strength into his legs, he rose from the stairs and strode, hand on sword, right in front of the old creature. The hag turned, terror in her eyes, and sprang up from the foor, trembling. For a small moment she paused, poised there, then lunged for the stairs with a shriek.
“Wretch！Where are you going?”he shouted, barring the way of the trembling hag who tried to scurry past him. Still she attempted toclaw her way by. He pushed her back to prevent her……they struggled, fell among the corpses, and grappled there. The issue was never in doubt. In a moment he had her by the arm, twisted it, and forced her down to the foor. Her arms were all skin and bones, and there was no more fesh on them than on the shanks of a chicken. No sooner was she on the floor than he drew his sword and thrust the silver-white blade before her very nose. She was silent. She trembled as if in a ft, and her eyes were open so wide that they were almost out of their sockets, and her breath come in hoarse gasps. The life of this wretch was his now. This thought cooled his boiling anger and brought a calm pride and satisfaction. He looked down at her, and said in a somewhat calmer voice：
“Look here, I‘m not an offcer of the High Police Commissioner. I’m a stranger who happened to pass by this gate. I won‘t bind you or do anything against you, but you must tell me what you’re doing up here.”
Then the old woman opened her eyes still wider, and gazed at his face intently with the sharp red eyes of a bird of prey. She moved her lips, which were wrinkled into her nose, as though she were chewing something. Then a panting sound like the cawing of a crow came from her throat：
“I pull the hair……I pull out the hair……to make a wig”
Her answer banished all unknown from their encounter and brought disappointment. Suddenly she was only a trembling old woman there at his feet. A ghoul no longer：only a hag who makes wigs from the hair of the dead-to sell, for scraps of food. A cold contempt seized him. Fear left his heart, and his former hatred entered. These feelings must have been sensed by the other. The old creature, still clutching the hair she had pulled off the corpse, mumbled outthese words in her harsh broken voice：
“Indeed, making wigs out of the hair of the dead may seem a great evil to you, but these that are here deserve no better. This woman, whose beautiful black hair I was pulling, used to sell cut and dried snake fesh at the guard barracks, saying that it was dried fsh. If she hadn‘t died of the plague, she’d be selling it now. The guards liked to buy from her, and used to say her fsh was tasty. What she did couldn‘t be wrong, because if she hadn’t, she would have starved to death. There was no other choice. If she knew I had to do this in order to live, she probably wouldnt care.”
He sheathed his sword, and, with his left hand on its hilt, he listened to her meditatively. His right hand touched the big pimple on his cheek. As he listened, a certain courage was born in his heart-the courage which he had not when he sat under the gate a little while ago. A strange power was driving him in the opposite direction of the courage which he had had when he seized the old woman. No longer did he wonder whether he should starve to death or become a thief. Starvation was so far from his mind that it was the last thing that would have entered it.
“Are you sure?”he asked in a mocking tone, when she fnished talking. He took his right hand from his pimple, and, bending forward, seized her by the neck and said sharply：
“Then it‘s right if I rob you. I’d starve if I didnt.”
He tore her clothes from her body and kicked her roughly down on the corpses as she struggled and tried to clutch his leg. Five steps, and he was at the top of the stairs. The yellow clothes he had wrested off were under his arm, and in a twinkling he had rushed down the steep stairs into the abyss of night. The thunder of his descending steps pounded in the hollow tower, and then it was quiet.
Shortly after that the hag raised up her body from the corpses. Grumbling and groaning, she crawled to the top stair by the still fickering torchlight, and through the gray hair which hung over her face, she peered down to the last stair in the torch light.
Beyond this was only darkness……unknowing and unknown.
那是一个寒冷的夜晚，一位武士的仆人站在罗生门下避雨。
这个宽敞的大门下只站着一个人，除他以外，没有别人。在朱漆斑驳的大圆柱上，蹲着一只蟋蟀。罗生门正位于朱雀大街上，本该有不少戴女笠和乌软帽的男女行人到这里来避雨，可现在只有他一个。
这些年来，京都接连遭受地震、台风、大火等几次灾难的袭击，已经变得格外荒凉了。古时候留下来的记载里说到，佛像、供品的碎片，凡是油漆、金箔、银箔有破损的，都被堆在路边当柴火卖。京都已经是这样的情景了，所以像修理罗生门那样的事一定不会有人来管。在如此萧条的环境中，狐狸和其他动物便利用这样千载难逢的机会开始趁机作乱，小偷和强盗也将这里作为他们的藏身之处。最后，把无人认领的尸体扔到罗生门逐渐成了一种习惯。每逢太阳落山，这里总是让人感觉阴森恐怖，所以谁也不上这里来了。
不知道从哪里飞来了许多乌鸦。白天的时候，这些乌鸦在门柱上成群地盘旋尖叫。当夕阳西下的时候，这些黑黝黝的乌鸦漫天都是，好像天空撒满了黑芝麻。它们是到罗生门的门楼上吃死人肉的——因为今天已经很晚了，所以一只也没有看到，但是在倒塌了的台阶上，砖石缝里长着杂草，还可以看到一些斑斑点点的白色鸟粪。这位仆人穿着洗旧了的蓝色和服，一屁股坐在第七级——最高一级的台阶上，神情茫然地看着雨。他的注意力全部集中在他右脸上的那个脓包上。
就像开始说的那样，这位仆人在这里等着雨停了下来。可是雨停之后，他却不知道该干什么了。照理说应当回主人家去，主人却已经在四五天前把他辞退了。因为当时的京都一片萧条，现在，这位仆人被他侍奉多年的主人辞退，也是大萧条的环境下难以避免的。与其说是这位仆人在避雨，还不如说是无处可去。这样的天气对他的绝望情绪没有任何帮助，这个雨看上去一时半会儿停不了。他深深陷入生活的苦恼之中，甚至不知道明天该怎么办。无助而杂乱的想法预示着他的悲惨命运。他毫无目的地听着朱雀大街上的雨点声。
大雨包围着罗生门，雨点重重地落在地上的声音从很远的地方就能听到。仆人抬头看了看，一片乌云正压在罗生门里唯一能看到的那片天空。
无论如何，在现在这样的悲惨环境下，他没有任何选择的权利。如果他选择一种诚实的办法，那么他会毫无疑问地饿死在墙边或者朱雀大街的臭水沟里。最终他的尸体会像狗一样被扔到罗生门里。如果他决定去偷——他反复思考，最后便跑到这里。可是想来想去还是觉得“偷”不是办法。即使他走投无路，还是没有办法鼓足勇气去当一个小偷。
他打了一个大喷嚏后慢慢地站了起来。夜晚的京都异常寒冷，他很想去找个地方烤烤火。冷风毫不留情地从门柱间穿过。连在朱漆圆柱上停留的蟋蟀都不见踪影了。
他穿着蓝色和服，里面还穿了件黄色的薄内衬，缩着脖子，耸着肩膀，向门内四处张望，如果有那么一个地方——既可以避风雨，又能安安静静地睡觉，那该多好。这时候，他发现了一条通往塔顶的宽大的、漆了朱漆的楼梯。除了死人外，楼上不会有任何人。他留意着腰间的刀，不让它脱出鞘来，然后抬起穿草鞋的脚，跨上楼梯最下面的一个台阶。
过了一会儿，他走到了楼梯中间，看到一个影子在晃动。他像猫儿似的哈着腰，正屏住呼吸窥探着上面的情况。从楼上透出来的火光，照在他的右脸上，隐约可见他的短胡子中长着的那个红肿化脓的面疮。他原来以为上面只有死人，可是上了几级台阶后，看见还有人点着火。这个火光到处移动，模糊的黄色火光在屋顶挂满蜘蛛网的天花板下像鬼影一样地摇晃。什么人会在罗生门里点着灯呢？特别是在这样一个风雨交加的夜里？恐惧笼罩着他。
他像蜥蜴那样蹑手蹑脚地爬着，好不容易才爬到这险陡的楼梯的最高一级。他尽量伏倒身体，伸长脖子，小心翼翼地朝塔顶望去。
正如传闻所说的那样，楼里胡乱扔着几具尸体。塔里的光线非常微弱，所以看不出到底有多少具。能见到的，有赤身**的，有穿着衣服的。当然，有男也有女。这些尸体全都耷拉着脑袋、张着嘴躺在地上，还有一些伸着胳膊，看上去像泥人一样，似乎从来没有过生命的迹象。他们的肩膀、胸膛和躯体在昏暗的灯光里僵硬着，其他的部位则消失在影子里。尸体由于腐烂发出的恶臭向仆人扑面而来，他不得不捂住了鼻子。
不一会儿，他放下捂住鼻子的手，开始仔细观察这些尸体。突然，他在尸体的后面发现了一个鬼影。好像是一个老妇人，她一头白发面色憔悴，神情恍惚，右手拿着一个松木火把，正盯着一具有着长长的黑色的尸体。
仆人带着六分恐惧四分好奇的心理，一阵激动，在那一刻，他甚至连呼吸都忘记了。他觉得身上的汗毛和头发全都竖了起来。老妇人把松木火把插在楼板上，两手在那个尸体的脑袋上跟母猴替小猴捉虱子一样，一根一根地拔着头发。
看着头发被一根根拔下来，仆人心中的恐惧也渐渐消失了，同时对这个老妇人的仇恨却一点点加剧。仇恨让他觉得这位老妇人是邪恶的化身。如果此时有人问他刚才在罗生门下选择是饿死还是当小偷，他大概会毫不犹豫地选择饿死。他的厌恶之心，正如老妇人插在楼板上的松木火把一样，熊熊燃烧起来。
他不知道这位老妇人为什么要拔死人的头发，当然他不能判断她的行为的善与恶。不过在他眼里，在这样大雨滂沱的夜里，在罗生门拔死人的头发，仅凭这一点，就是不可饶恕的罪恶。当然，他已经忘记刚才自己还打算做小偷。
仆人感到有一种力量召唤他的双腿。他一个箭步跳上了楼板，一手抓住刀柄，大步走到老妇人的面前。老妇人转过身，眼里充满了恐惧，战栗着从楼板上弹了起来。过了一会儿，她平静下来了，接着尖叫着跑向楼梯。
“嘿！你要去哪里？”仆人挡住了在尸体间跌跌撞撞慌忙逃走的老妇人，并大声吆喝着。老妇人还想把他推开，赶快逃跑，可是仆人阻挡她的道路，一把将她拉了回来，两人便在尸堆里扭结起来。胜负当然毋庸置疑，仆人不一会儿就扭住老妇人的胳膊，并把她按倒在地。老妇人的胳膊瘦得只剩下皮包骨头，就像鸡脚一样。仆人拔出他的刀，直直地顶在老妇人的鼻子前，而她一句话也不说。她两手发抖，气喘吁吁地耸动着双肩，睁大眼睛，眼珠子几乎从眼眶里蹦出来，像哑巴似的沉默着。仆人意识到老妇人的死活已经操纵在自己的手上，刚才火一般的怒气渐渐平息了，他只想弄明白究竟是怎么一回事。他低头看着老妇人，放缓口气说：
“你听着，我不是巡捕厅的差人，而是经过罗生门的行路人，不会拿绳子捆你的。你只要告诉我，你为什么这个时候在塔上，到底在干什么？”
这时，老妇人的眼睛睁得更大，眼眶红烂，眼光像肉食鸟那样矍铄，盯着仆人的脸，然后蠕动着发皱的同鼻子挤在一起的嘴，像吃东西似的，还牵动了细脖子的喉尖，从喉头发出了乌鸦似的嗓音，她喘着气，声音传到仆人的耳朵里：
“我拔他们的头发……是为了做假发用。”
听到这样的回答，仆人觉得非常意外，也有些失望，刚才的怒气与冷酷的轻蔑一起涌上了心头。老妇人看出他的失望。她的手里还捏着一把刚拔下的死人头发，又动着蛤蟆似的嘴巴，用沙哑的声音断断续续地说道：
“的确，对您而言，拔死人头发是不对的，不过这里的死人，活着的时候也都这么干。我所拔的这个女人，活着时把蛇肉切成一段一段的，晒干了当干鱼拿到军营去卖。要不是害瘟病死了，她这会儿还在卖。她卖的干鱼味道很鲜，军营的人买去做菜还必不可少。她那么干也不坏，否则，就得饿死，反正是没有办法。我跟她一样，迫不得已，她大概会原谅我的。”
仆人若有所思地听着，把刀插进鞘里，左手按着刀柄，右手摸摸脸上的肿疮。逐渐地，他鼓起了勇气。这是他刚才在门下所缺乏的勇气，也不同于刚才上楼逮老妇人的勇气。他不再为饿死还是当小偷的问题烦恼，现在他已经把饿死的念头完全抛之脑后了。
“你确定？”老妇人的话刚说完，他讥笑地说了一声。于是，他下定决心，立刻跨前一步，右手也不再摸脸上的脓包了，抓住老妇人的衣领，狠狠地说：
“那么，我抢劫你，你也不要怪我，否则，我也要饿死。”
他一下子剥下了老妇人身上的衣服，一脚把她踢到尸体上，只跨了五大步便到了楼梯口，腋下还夹着剥下的黄色衣服，一溜烟地走下楼梯，消失在夜色之中。
没过一会儿，老妇人光着身子从尸堆里爬了起来，嘴里嘟嘟囔囔的，借着还在燃烧的火把的光，爬到楼梯口，然后披散着短短的白发，向楼梯下面张望，外边是一片沉沉的黑夜。
除了无尽的黑夜……无人知晓。
W词汇笔记
abandon[?b?nd?n]v.放弃，抛弃；离弃，丢弃；使屈从；停止进行，终止
例 He claimed that his parents had abandoned him.
他声称父母遗弃了他。
incoherent[，?nk??h??r?nt]adj.思想不连贯的，语无伦次的；支离破碎的；夹七夹八
例 The man was almost incoherent with fear.
那个人吓得几乎语无伦次了。
halfway[‘h?f’we?]adv.半途；不彻底地；几乎；快要
例 He was halfway up the ladder.
他正爬到梯子一半。
trembling[tr?mbl??]adj.发抖的
例 Gil was white and trembling with anger.
吉尔脸色发白，气得直发抖。
S小试身手
每逢太阳落山，这里总是让人感觉阴森恐怖，所以谁也不上这里来了。
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无论如何，在现在这样的悲惨环境下，他没有任何选择的权利。
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他觉得身上的汗毛和头发全都竖了起来。
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P短语家族
On the thick column, its crimson lacquer rubbed off here and there, perched a cricket.
rub off：（使）摩擦掉；（使）减色
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Old chronicles say that broken pieces of Buddhist images and other Buddhist objects, with their lacquer, gold, or silver leaf worn off, were heaped up on roadsides to be sold as firewood.
heap up：堆积[大量积累]（某物）；促使（不好的事情）发生；堆叠
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