“But– what are you doing here?” And in answer he repeated, very slowly, as if he were speaking of a matter of great consequence: “If you please– draw me a sheep. . . ” “唉,你在这儿干什么?” 可是他却不慌不忙地好像有一件很重要的事一般,对我重复地说道: “请…给我画一只羊…”
When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey. Absurd as it might seem to me, a thousand miles from any human habitation and in danger of death, I took out of my pocket a sheet of paper and my fountain-pen. But then I remembered how my studies had been concentrated on geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little chap (a little crossly, too) that I did not know how to draw. He answered me: 当一种神秘的东西把你镇住的时候,你是不敢不听从它的支配的,在这旷无人烟的沙漠上,面临死亡的情况下,尽管这样的举动使我感到十分荒诞,我还是掏出了一张纸和一支笔。这时我却又记起,我只学过地理、历史、算术和语法,就有点不大高兴地骊小家伙说我不会画画。他回答我说:
“That doesn’t matter. Draw me a sheep. . . ” But I had never drawn a sheep. So I drew for him one of the two pictures I had drawn so often. It was that of the boa constrictor from the outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow greet it with, “No, no, no! I do not want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is a very dangerous creature, and an elephant is very cumbersome. Where I live, everything is very small. What I need is a sheep. Draw me a sheep.” So then I made a drawing. He looked at it carefully, then he said: “No. This sheep is already very sickly. Make me another.” So I made another drawing. “没有关系,给我画一只羊吧!” 因为我从来没有画过羊,我就给他重画我所仅仅会画的两副画中那副闭着肚皮的巨蟒。 “不,不!我不要蟒蛇,它肚子里还有一头象。” 我听了他的话,简直目瞪口呆。他接着说:“巨蟒这东西太危险,大象又太占地方。我住的地方非常小,我需要一只羊。给我画一只羊吧。” 我就给他画了。 他专心地看着,随后又说: “我不要,这只羊已经病得很重了。给我重新画一只。” 我又画了起来。
My friend smiled gently and indulgently. “You see yourself,” he said, “that this is not a sheep. This is a ram. It has horns.” So then I did my drawing over once more. 我的这位朋友天真地笑了,并且客气地拒绝道:“你看,你画的不上小羊,是头公羊,还有犄角呢。” 于是我又重新画了一张。