小帆翻譯《藏在故事背後的心靈》的文章

By SYZ站長 | 2014/05/30 |

小帆

〈滿了嗎〉
A disciple went to see his master: “Master, I already learned enough. I can graduate now!”
“What is enough?” the master asked.
“That means it’s full; it can’t contain anymore.”
“Then go get a large bowl of stones!”
The disciple did as he was told.
“Is it full?” the master asked.
“Yes, it’s full!”
The master took a handful of sand and mixed it into the bowl, which did not overflow.
“Is it full?” the master asked again.
“Yes, it’s full!”
The master took a handful of lime powder and mixed it into the bowl, which did not overflow.
“Is it full?” the master asked yet again.
“Yes, it’s full!”
The master now poured a cup of water into the bowl, which still did not overflow.
“Is it full?”
“………………”

---

徒弟去見師父：
「師父，我已經學足了，可以出師了吧！」
「什麼是足了呢？」師父問。
「就是滿了，裝不下去了。」
「那麼裝一大碗石子來吧！」
徒弟照做了。
「滿了嗎？」師父問。
「滿了！」
師父抓來一把砂，摻入碗裡，沒有溢。
「滿了嗎？」師父又問。
「滿了！」
師父抓起一把石灰，摻入碗裡，還沒有溢。
「滿了嗎？」師父再問。
「滿了！」
師父又倒了一盅水下去，仍然沒有溢出來。
「滿了嗎？」
「…………」

---

〈隨時、隨性、隨遇、隨緣、隨喜〉
During the dog days of summer, the temple’s lawn had largely dried and turned yellow.
“We have to hurry up and sow some seeds! The grass looks terrible!” the little monk said.
“Wait till it’s cooler,” said the master, as he waved the comment off. “Go along with time!”
When it was mid-autumn, the master bought some grass seeds and told the little monk to sow them.
In the autumn wind, the seeds flew up as soon as they were scattered.
“Oh no! So many seeds have been blown away!” the little monk shouted.
“No worries. The ones that got blown away were empty. They would not have sprouted even if they were sown properly,” the master said. “Go along with nature!”
Soon after all the seeds were sown, a few birds came looking for food.
“Oh no! The seeds are all getting eaten by birds!” the little monk panicked, stomping his feet.
“No worries. The birds won’t be able to finish all the seeds,” the master said. “Go along with chance!”
A storm happened in the middle of the night. The little monk rushed into the temple in the morning, crying: “Master! We’re really done now. The storm washed away so many seeds!”
“They will sprout wherever they are washed to,” the master said. “Go along with fate!”
A week passed.
Where there was once bare land, now was an abundance of grass sprouts. Even some unsown areas were covered in light green.
The little monk danced and clapped with happiness.
The master nodded and said, “Go along with joy!”

---

三伏天，禪院的草地枯黃了一大片。
「快撒點草種子吧！好難看哪！」小和尚說。
「等天涼了。」師父揮揮手：「隨時！」
中秋，師父買了一包草籽，叫小和尚去播種。
秋風起，草籽邊撒、邊飄。
「不好了！好多種子都被吹飛了。」小和尚喊。
「沒關係，吹走的多半是空的，撒下去也發不了芽。」師父說：「隨性！」
撒完種子，跟著就飛來幾隻小鳥啄食。
「要命了！種子都被鳥吃了！」小和尚急得跳腳。
「沒關係！種子多，吃不完！」師父說：「隨遇！」
半夜一陣驟雨，小和尚早晨衝進禪房：
「師父！這下真完了，好多草籽被雨沖走了！」
「沖到哪兒，就在哪兒發！」師父說：「隨緣！」
一個多星期過去。
原本光禿的地面，居然長出許多青翠的草苗。一些原來沒播種的角落，也泛出了綠意。
小和尚高興得直拍手。
師父點點頭：「隨喜！」

---

〈點一盞心燈〉
A little nun went to speak to her master: “Master, I have become
disillusioned with the mortal world. I have already been a Buddhist
nun for numerous years. Everyday between these green hills and white
clouds, I eat vegetarian and dress in plain robes, drum at sunset and
ring the bells at sunrise. But the more I study scripture, the
distraction in my heart not only doesn’t decrease, but rather
increases. What should I do?”
“Light a lamp, so that it brightens you, yet does not give you a
shadow. Then, you will understand.”
Several decades passed…
There was a temple, well known near and far as the Temple of Ten
Thousand Lamps because its interior was filled with lamps, thousands
and ten thousands of lamps. When one walked inside this temple, it was
as if one had entered a sea of lamps, magnificent and glorious. This
Temple of Ten Thousand Lamps’ abbot was our little nun from years ago.
Although she was now of elderly age and had hundreds of disciples, she
was still unhappy. With every charitable deed that she performed, she
lit a lamp. But regardless of whether she placed the lamp at her feet,
above her head, or even when she completely surrounded herself with a
sea of lamps, her own shadow was always present. One could even say
that the brighter the lamp, the clearer her shadow; the more lamps,
the more shadows. She was perplexed and no longer had a master to
consult. Her master had long since passed away, and she was not far
from death herself.
Now she has passed away too, and it is said that she finally
understood right before she left.
She could not find in the midst of ten thousand lamps what she had
spent her life looking for, but rather she finally understood inside
her own dark room. She realized that no matter how multitudinous her
accomplishments and how bright her lights, they would only create
shadows behind her. There was only one way to cleanse her soul and rid
her heart of all worries.
She lit a lamp in her heart!

---

小比丘尼去見師父：「師父！我看破紅塵，遁入空門已經多年，每天在這青山白雲之間，茹素禮佛，暮鼓晨鐘，經讀得愈多，心中的雜念不但不減，反而增加，怎麼辦？」
「點一盞燈，使它非但能照亮你，而且不會留下你的身影，就可以通悟了！」
數十年過去……
有一所比丘尼庵遠近馳名，大家都稱之為「萬燈庵」，因為其中點滿了燈，成千上萬的燈，使人走入其間，彷彿步入一片燈海，燦爛輝煌。
這所萬燈庵的住持，就是當年的小比丘尼，雖然如今年事已高，並擁有上百的徒弟，但是她仍然不快樂，因為儘管她每做一樁功德，都點一盞燈，卻無論把燈放在腳邊，懸在頂上，乃至以一片燈海將自己團團圍住，還是總會見到自己的影子，甚至可以說，燈愈亮，影子愈顯；燈愈多，影子也愈多。他困惑了，卻已經沒有師父可以問，因為師父早已死去，自己也將不久人世。
她圓寂了，據說就在臨終前終於通悟。
她沒有在萬燈之間找到一生尋求的東西，卻在黑暗的禪房裡悟通，她發覺身外的成就再高，燈再亮，卻只能造成身後的影子。唯有一個方法，能使自己皎然澄澈、心無罣礙──
她點了一盞心燈！

---

〈「今是」裡有「昨非」〉
A disciple said to his master: “I finally understand! I feel like I’ve
been all wrong for decades, so I never want to think about my past
again, as if those days never existed.”
“Hmm!” the master said. “That’s great! Tomorrow, go to the flower shop
at the foot of the mountain, and bring back a bouquet of tuberose. You
must take the most direct path there; no detours allowed.”
“But no detours means I must pass through the immoral district!” the
disciple said hurriedly.
“Just go buy the flowers!” the master said with disregard.
The flowers having been brought back, at night they filled the entire
house with fragrance.
“Did you follow my orders and buy them from that flower shop?” the
master asked.
“Yes!”
“Did you pass through the immoral district?”
“Yes I did, twice.”
“Didn’t you go to buy flowers? How did you end up in the immoral
district?” the master asked, with coldness in his eyes.
“But without passing through the immoral district, I couldn’t get to
the flower shop,” the disciple quickly explained.
“Having gone through that kind of dirty place, are the flowers still
fragrant?”
“Yes! Yes! Didn’t you smell them? They’re even more fragrant than when
I first bought them!’
“That’s it! Without going through years of mistakes, how could be
where you are today? You could even say, without the pain of being
lost, how could you attain joy? Although the past has passed, that
period will always be there; you cannot deny its existence. Rather,
you emerged from the mud and became a lily flower.” the master said,
revealing his true kindness. “Believing that you’re right today and
was wrong yesterday is certainly a realization, but not a great one.
The great realization is not minding yesterday’s wrongs because
today’s rights involve yesterday’s wrongs!”

---

徒弟去見師父：

「我終於悟通了！覺得『今是而昨非』，以前的幾十年，我全錯了，可以再也不去想，只當那段日子根本不存在。」
「嗯！」師父說：「好極了！明天到山下的花店，買一把晚香玉來，要直直地去，不必繞路。」
「但不繞路就得經過風化區呢！」徒弟急著說。
「你去買花就是了！」師父揮揮手。
花買回來了，一入晚，馨香就四面泛濫，整個屋子都芬芳了。
「是照我囑咐的，去那家花店買的嗎？」師父問。
「是！」
「經過了風化區嗎？」
「經過了，過了兩次。」
「你不是去買花嗎？怎麼到了風化區呢？」師父眼裡閃出寒光。
「但是不經過那個風化區，就買不到花。」徒弟急忙解釋。
「過那種髒地方，花還能香嗎？」
「香！香！您沒聞到嗎？比剛買的時候還香呢！」
「這就是了！你不經過以前那段日子，哪裡能有今天。甚至可以說，你沒有迷失的痛苦，哪能有尋得的歡喜？過去的雖然過去了，但永遠有那段過去，你不能不承認他的存在。只是而今你雖然出於污泥，卻能成一朵蓮花罷了。」
師父露出慈顏：「覺今是而昨非，雖然是悟，卻不是大悟。大悟就無所謂昨非了，『今是』裡有『昨非』呀！」

---

〈快感與美感〉
What is a pleasant feeling? What is an aesthetic sense?
If you drink a beverage and say: “It is really too delicious! It’s so
thirst-quenching!” This is a pleasant feeling.
If you drink a beverage and say: “It’s a bit sour and a bit sweet,
kind of like falling in love for the first time.” This is an aesthetic
sense.
What is aesthetic sense from a distance?
If you see a portrait and recognize its subject, you would surely
judge how well it resembles the actual person.
If you see a portrait and do not recognize its subject, you would
surely judge how beautiful the painting is.
The difference between the two is aesthetic sense from a distance.

〈天地禪院〉
The little monk sat on the ground and cried, surrounded by scraps of
writing.
“What happened?” the old monk asked.
“I can’t write well.”
The old monk picked up a few scraps and said, “You wrote pretty well.
Why did you throw these away? And why are you crying?”
“I just think they’re not good,” said the little monk as he continued
crying. “I’m a perfectionist, so I can’t tolerate any mistakes.”
“The problem is, who in this world can be completely without
mistakes?” said the old monk as he patted the little monk. “You want
everything to be perfect. When anything isn’t up to your standards,
you get upset and cry. This behavior is rather not perfect.”
The little monk picked up the scraps of paper and went to wash his
hands. He also looked in the mirror, and went to wash his face. Then,
he took off his pants and washed them again and again.
“Is this being clean? You’ve been washing so much that you’ve already
wasted half the day,” the old monk said.
“I have an obsession with cleanliness!” said the little monk. “I can’t
stand any bit of dirtiness, haven’t you noticed? After every
benefactor leaves, I wipe the chair he sat on.”
“Is this an obsession with cleanliness?” the master said, smiling.
“You complain that the sky’s dirty, the earth’s dirty, people are
dirty… The outside of your body may be clean, but your soul is sick
and rather unclean.”
The little monk was leaving to beg alms, and he particularly chose an
old and ragged piece of clothing to wear.
“Why did you pick this one?” the master asked.
“Didn’t you say not to care about the surface?” the little monk said
indignantly. “So I chose an old piece of clothing. Besides, this way,
benefactors will pity me and give more money.”
“Are you going to beg alms, or are you going to beg?” the master said,
glaring. “You wish people to feel sorry for you and want to take care
of you? Or do you hope that people see promise in you, and want to
help millions of people through you?”
The old monk passed away, and the little monk became abbot.
He always dressed neatly and, carrying a medical kit, went to the
dirtiest and poorest neighborhoods to take care of the sick there. He
would return to the temple in a very soiled state.
He also often personally begged alms. But with anything he received in
his left hand, he would use to help the impoverished with his right.
He hardly ever stayed in the monastery, and the monastery was never
expanded; yet his followers kept on increasing. Everyone followed him
from mountains to seas, to the farthest villages and harbors.
“When my master was alive, he taught me what perfection meant. It
means to demand that this world be perfect. He also told me what was
to be obsessed with cleanliness; it is to help every unclean person
and help him become clean. Master even made me realize what begging
alms was; it is enabling people to hold hands and help each other, so
that everyone is tied together with kindness,” the little monk said.
“And regarding the monastery, it doesn’t have to be in a mountain
forest, but should rather be among the people. North south east west,
it is where I preach; between heaven and earth, that is my monastery.

---

小和尚坐在地上哭，滿地都是寫了字的廢紙。
「怎麼啦？」老和尚問。
「寫不好。」
老和尚撿起幾張看：「寫得不錯嘛，為什麼要扔掉？又為什麼哭？」
「我就是覺得不好。」小和尚繼續哭：「我是完美主義者，一點都不能錯！」
「問題是，這世界上有誰能一點都不錯呢？」老和尚拍拍小和尚：「你什麼都要完美，一點不滿意，就生氣、就哭，這反而是不完美了。」
小和尚把地上的字紙撿起來，先去洗了手；又照照鏡子，去洗了臉；再把褲子脫下來，洗了一遍又一遍。
「你這是在幹嘛啊？你洗來洗去，已經浪費半天時間了。」老和尚問。
「我有潔癖！」小和尚說：「我容不得一點髒，您沒發現嗎？每個施主走後，我都把他坐過的椅子擦一遍。」
「這叫潔癖嗎？」師父笑笑：「你嫌天髒、嫌地髒、嫌人髒，外表雖然乾淨，內心反而有病，是不潔淨了。」
小和尚要去化緣，特別挑了一件破舊的衣服穿。
「為什麼挑這件？」師父問。
「您不是說不必在乎表面嗎？」小和尚有點不服氣：「所以我找件破舊的衣服。而且這樣施主們才會同情，才會多給錢。」
「你是去化緣，還是去乞討？」師父瞪大了眼睛：「你是希望人們看你可憐，供養你？還是希望人們看你有為，透過你渡化千萬人？」
老和尚圓寂了，小和尚成為住持。
他總是穿得整整齊齊，拿著醫療箱，到最髒亂貧困的地區，為那裡的病人洗膿、換藥，然後髒兮兮地回山門。
他也總是親自去化緣，但是左手化來的錢，右手就濟助了可憐人。他很少待在禪院，禪院也不曾擴建，但是他的信眾愈來愈多，大家跟著他上山、下海，到最偏遠的山村和漁港。
「師父在世的時候，教導我什麼叫完美，完美就是求這世界完美；師父也告訴我什麼是潔癖，潔癖就是幫助每個不潔的人，使他潔淨。師父還開示我，什麼是化緣，化緣就是使人們的手能牽手，彼此幫助，使眾生結善緣。」小和尚說：「至於什麼是禪院，禪院不見得要在山林，而應該在人間。南北西東，皆是我弘法的所在；天地之間，就是我的禪院。」

---

〈心中的惡魔〉
“Ah! There’s a devil in your house!” the minister exclaimed.
“What?” said the fearfully surprised layman, as he looked toward where the minister’s shivering hand was pointing. “That’s just a painting I collected. Is there a problem?”
“A painting?” The minister’s face was now pale. “What painting? That’s not a painting. That’s a devil! I really can’t believe that after being a Christian for decades, you don’t even know that dragons represent devils.”
“Dragons? Oh!” the layman said, smiling. “But they’re imaginary. Where on this earth are there dragons? Who has ever seen a dragon? That’s the work of a famous artist. I bought it at a charity auction, with quite a bit of money!”
“Stupid! You spent money to buy home a devil.” The minister’s face was not just pale but now green. “Hurry up and burn the painting, or else the devil will enter your home, and you will never have a day of peace, let alone get into heaven.”
The layman was afraid to resist, so he obediently took down the painting, ripped it, and threw it away before the minister.
“Good! Now you will be able to enter heaven,” the minister said.
A few days later, the minister and the layman got into a deadly car accident.
Their souls ascended together. At the gates of heaven, they saw a line of people waiting to pass through “customs.”
Some people successfully crossed the border into heaven. Others were denied and sent into the darkness.
“I can instantly see who will get in,” the minister said, as he pointed at the people in front of him. “This one, this one, I know them. They’re very religious and will definitely get in. That one, that one, ah. Why did they even come? All day long, they complain about this and that; they won’t get in.”
Just as he said, two entered heaven, and two were pushed away.
It was finally the minister and layman’s turn. While he provided the appropriate documentation, the minister kept trying to look inside heaven. Suddenly, his face turned pale, and he shouted with great shivering fear: “The most terrible! Everybody look! There’s a devil in heaven!”
“Devil? How can there be a devil there?” God asked, as he came to see what the commotion was about.
“Look! Isn’t that the devil?” the minister yelled, pointing into the distance. “There is a dragon.”
God looked and laughed. “Oh! I know. I’ll tell him to come over.” He motioned for the dragon to come closer.
The dragon came, and it was actually a shirtless man with tattoos all over his body, including nine tattooed dragons.
“He used to be a gangster, who fought and caused trouble all the time, and even got a bunch of dragon tattoos. But he later turned good and was kind and helpful to everyone, so he entered heaven.”
“But… but…” the minister stammered, “There are dragons on his body, and dragons are devils!”
God smiled and said: “Tattoos of dragons, paintings of dragons—they’re all fabrications. Only a dragon in your heart is a devil. Do you want me to skin him or something?”
“But… but… I get scared looking at it!” the minister exclaimed.
“With me here, how can you still be afraid?” God said, glaring. “Do you believe in me, or in the dragon? As I see it, you’re the one who has a devil in his heart.”
The minister’s passport was returned to him, and on it was stamped in large letters: “REJECTED.”

---

「不得了啦！你家裡有魔鬼！」傳教士喊了起來。
「什麼？」教友嚇一跳，順著傳教士顫抖的手看過去：「那是我收藏的一張畫，有什麼問題嗎？」
「畫？」傳教士的臉發白：「什麼畫？那不是畫，那是魔鬼！我真沒想到你信教信了幾十年，連『龍』代表魔鬼都不知道！」
「龍？噢！」教友笑了：「那只是虛構的東西，這世上哪兒有龍啊？誰見過龍啊？那是一張名畫家的作品，我在一個慈善義賣會上買回來的，花了不少錢呢！」
「你笨！花錢買了個魔鬼來。」傳教士臉色由白變青：「你快把畫燒了，否則魔鬼進入你家，你永無寧日，絕對上不了天堂！」
教友不敢違背，乖乖摘下畫，當著傳教士的面，扯了扔掉。
「好！你可以進天堂了。」傳教士說。
沒過幾天，傳教士跟那教友一起坐車，碰上車禍，當場死了。
兩個人的靈魂都上了天，看見天堂門口，有一堆人排隊等著「驗關」。
有的人順利通過，進了天堂；有些人則被打回票，入了陰間。
「我一看就知道誰能進得去。」傳教士指著前面的人：「這個、這個，我認識，都很虔誠，進得去。那個、那個，哎呀！何必來呢？他們一天到晚罵這個、罵那個，一定進不去。」
果然如他說的，兩個進了天堂，兩個被推出來。
終於輪到傳教士和那位教友了，傳教士一邊遞證件，一邊往天堂裡東張西望，突然臉色發白，渾身顫抖地大聲喊：「不得了啦！你們快看！天堂裡有魔鬼。」
「魔鬼？這裡怎麼會有魔鬼？」上帝聽見喧嘩，出來問。
「您看！那不是魔鬼嗎？」傳教士指著遠處喊：「那裡有一條龍。」
上帝看看，笑了：「噢！我知道了，我叫他過來。」說完招招手，喊那條龍過來。
龍過來了，原來是個打赤膊的男人，身上全是刺青，而且刺了九條龍。
「他以前是流氓，一天到晚滋事打架、好勇鬥狠，渾身還刺滿了龍。但是後來改邪歸正、行善救人，所以進了天堂。」
「可是……可是……」傳教士結結巴巴地說：「他身上刺了龍，龍是魔鬼啊！」
上帝笑笑：「身上刺的龍、畫的龍，都只是虛幻的畫，只有心裡的龍才是魔鬼，你難道要我把他的皮剝下來嗎？」
「可是……可是……我看了害怕啊！」傳教士說。
「有我在，你還怕？」上帝瞪了他一眼：「你到底信我，還是信龍？我看哪，你心裡反而有鬼！」
傳教士的護照被遞了出來，上面蓋了大印：「禁止入境。」

---

〈王臭頭的夢想〉
Wong Stinky Head had an appearance that could not be any plainer. Even if you were to pass him on the street hundreds of times, you would never give him a second look. When he watched street performers, he was the kind of person who hid behind other people’s shoulders with his tan face in the shadows. It was a face you wouldn’t notice whether it was there or not. It just filled a space; you couldn’t count it as a person. With one glance, the worldly performers could tell this man was just here to watch the show for free, a poor single guy who wouldn’t give a penny.

Wang Stinky Head certainly was a single guy. Of course, he’d liked women before and had been to brothels. He had even sneaked to the back of outdoor theaters to spy on girls changing clothes. Maybe he had thought of finding a wife, but it was always been nothing but a thought, a dream that he immediately woke from.

His stinky head was enough to stop anyone from wanting to marry him. When he took out the trash in the office, everybody would stand up, watch from afar, and return to their seats only when he was gone.

“There is a science to looking at Wang Stinky Head’s stinky head,” the manager once said to a new co-worker. “Rather than looking at it as a disease, think of it as the map of the world! There are seas and continents, mountains and deserts. That big area with hair is China, and those little spots are Japan!”

Wang Stinky Head took all of this in and felt pretty happy, believing himself to be the symbol of the world. He thought, since stinky feet are called “Hong Kong feet,” his stinky head should be called “American head.”

One day, actual American heads came to Wang’s small town. The visitors were goodwill ambassadors from some international charity organization. There was a pale-skinned American girl wearing a red and blue striped dress. There was also a large man with a big white beard, red hat, red clothes, and black belt. They stood in front of the new department store and spoke their foreign language, as they were greeted with trumpets and drums.

Wang Stinky Head also hid behind other people’s shoulders to watch for a while, but felt that the show was far inferior to Chinese street performances. However, he was fascinated when the mayor’s office chose a few adorable children to take pictures with and get presents from the fat American man.

“That’s Santa Claus. Tomorrow is Christmas, meaning tonight, Santa will sneak into people’s houses through their chimneys and give presents to the children,” explained Wang’s neighbor Mrs. Chang.

“How can there be something so good?” said Wang Stinky Head, as he scratched his head and wrung his hands. “From childhood to now, who among us has received presents? Have your kids gotten any? It’s just a game that society fools people with.”

“Hey! You just don’t understand. Santa is western, and of course western people give western kids presents. Who cares about us China? This thing today is just for show.”

Now Wang Stinky Head was even more indignant. Western children are children, and Chinese children are also children. How could there be something so unfair? Why doesn’t China have its own Santa Claus?

“Forget about it!” Mrs. Chang said. Even Mrs. Chen was laughing from the kitchen.

From that day on, Wang Stinky Head developed a great interest in Santa Claus. He asked everyone he saw about Santa, and even took a trip to consult the elementary school’s teachers.

It turned out that Santa wasn’t American but European. Wang thought, “Which spot on my head is Europe? Europe has a European Santa, America has an American Santa, and so China of course should have one too.”

But everybody’s answer was the same: “China doesn’t have one!”

“China must have one, or else our children would be too pitiable!” Wang Stinky Head said angrily.

A few days later, Wang’s little house emitted jingling sounds, and neighbors saw him running around looking for pieces of wood. He also went to factories to pick up thrown out nails and screws. He went into the forest and came back with a basket of pinecones.

“Wang Stinky Head, I heard you’re opening a factory?” a co-worker joked.

“Yes! Yes! Just making some little things.”

“What little things? Bring them out for everyone to see!”

“You’ll know when the time comes!”

Wang Stinky Head would not let anybody see what he was making. If people were to see, they wouldn’t be interesting anymore. The elementary school teachers said so! Santa Claus secretly makes toys for three seasons of the year, and waits till Christmas to send them door to door.

Wang had set his first serious goal in 60 years—to be China’s Santa Claus.

The pile of materials in front of his house became higher and higher. Not only was he heard hammering in the evenings, he clearly wasn’t resting at night either. There were often lights flickering in his windows and the funny smell of glue.

Due to neighbors’ complaints, the authorities came to check on Wang, but Wang blocked the door and would not let anyone in. Looking at Wang, the police didn’t think he could cause any trouble, so they just scolded him a bit about disturbing his neighbors at night and left.

The leaves were falling, and autumn was almost over. Wang Stinky Head was now busier than ever—collecting pinecones and even counting heads. He secretly went to the elementary school playground to count the number of children. As his count kept getting higher and higher, Wang started panicking more and more. Sometimes even before the sun came up, he was already working.

But two days passed, and Wang was nowhere to be heard or seen. His co-workers thought he probably went crazy again and decided to stay home, so they didn’t worry about his absence. His neighbors worried that Wang got sick, yet they couldn’t help thinking, “What a relief! Silence for a few days.”

Four days later, the authorities finally broke down Wang’s door.

Everyone was stunned.

The house was filled with little wooden figures wearing hats made of melon peel, miniature horses made of screws and wire, little cars glued from pinecones and buttons, and mini houses built from clapboards. Hundreds upon thousands of colorful toys covered the floors, the walls, the bed. And right in the middle of the pile of toys lay Wang Stinky Head, clutching an half-finished wooden doll in his hand.

The coffin was quietly carried away. Instead of noisy funeral rites, a few unfinished toys were buried with Wang, so that he could continue to produce in the next life.

If he had died a month later, the children would have received their toys. Even if he had lived half a month longer, he at least could have finished making all the toys. But now, the dolls had white faces, red blush, but no mouths or eyes. The miniature trains had wheels and carts, but no chimneys.

People frequently peered around Wang Stinky Head’s house. Everybody talked about how they never imagined Wang could be so smart and have such talent for crafts.

Suddenly, Wang Stinky Head’s house became busy again. Hammering sounds were once again heard in the night. Adults wouldn’t let kids look in; they just furtively passed along the news.

On Christmas, American goodwill ambassadors didn’t visit, and there wasn’t any gift-giving for show. But in the morning, the entire town was filled with children’s screams of delight, followed by their running out to show off their new toys.

The adults just smiled, leaning against their doors, or sticking their heads out from windows.

From that time onward, this little town in China’s northern rural area had a Santa giving presents to children every year. But Santa never showed his face. Children could only guess that he must be a plump man with a long white heard, rosy cheeks, red clothes, and red hat—an adorable old man.

---

王臭頭有個再普通不過的長相。所謂普通，就是那種你在街上擦肩而過幾百次，也不會去看一眼的「某人」。或是看雜耍的時候，躲在人們肩膀後面、黑忽忽，似有似無的那種面孔。只能充個數，不能算個人。跑江湖的用眼角掃一下，也知道這是個專門白看戲，絕不會掏出半個子兒的「窮光棍」。
王臭頭確是個光棍。當然，他也喜歡過女人，也逛過窯子，還溜到野台戲後面，偷看過姑娘換衣服。或許也想過討房媳婦，只是「想那麼一下」，當作夢，立刻就醒過來了。
衝他這臭頭，就沒人敢嫁他。連他在辦公室收垃圾，大家都會站起身，避遠著點，看他把垃圾桶清乾淨，走開了，才回到座位上。
「看王臭頭的頭，有學問。」有一回主任對新來的幾個年輕同事說：「不要把他當癩痢頭看，要當世界地圖！有海洋、有陸地、有高山、有沙漠，那大塊長毛的就是我們國家，小癩子的地方是日本！」
王臭頭聽在耳裡，倒挺高興，突然覺得自己成了國際牌。心想，既然臭腳叫「香港腳」，我這臭頭，就該叫「美國頭」。
這一日，小城裡還真來了美國頭，據說是什麼國際組織派來的親善大使。裡頭有又白又嫩，穿著紅藍條紋花裙子的洋妞；還有個戴紅帽子、穿紅衣服、黑腰帶，滿臉白鬍子的大胖子。幾個人站在新開的百貨公司前面，又吹喇叭、又敲鑼，怪腔怪調地說些怪話。
王臭頭也躲在人們的肩膀後面看了一陣，覺得遠不如本地常見的雜耍好看。倒是，市長辦公室選了幾個漂亮的小孩，過去跟胖子照了相，還一人拿到一盒綁著絲帶的禮物，讓王臭頭看傻了眼。
「那是耶誕老人，明天是耶誕節了，耶誕老人到耶誕節夜裡，會偷偷從煙囪溜進各家，給小孩送禮物。」還是鄰居張太太知識水準高，對王臭頭做了一番教育。
「哪有這種好事？」王臭頭一手搔著頭，一手直搖：「咱們從小到大，誰接過禮？ 你家的孩子拿過嗎？都是老美騙人的玩意兒！」
「咳！這你就不懂了，人家耶誕老人是洋人，洋人當然送禮給他們洋孩子。誰管得了咱們？今天這個，是作樣子罷了！」
聽這麼說，王臭頭就更不服氣了，洋孩子是孩子，咱自己的孩子也是孩子，哪有這麼不公平的事？咱們為什麼沒有自己的耶誕老人？
「你算了吧！」張太太呸了他一口，連院裡正燒飯的陳大媽，也在廚房裡笑了出來。
從那天起，王臭頭就對耶誕老人感了興趣，逢人便問耶誕老人的事，還特別跑去小學問那兒的老師。
耶誕老人原來不是老美，是歐洲人。王臭頭搔著頭，想：「我頭上哪一塊是歐洲？ 人家歐洲有歐洲的耶誕老人，美國有美國的耶誕老人，咱們當然也得有一個。」
可是大家的答案全一樣：「咱們沒有！」
「咱非有不可，咱們的孩子太可憐啦！」王臭頭氣憤地說。
沒隔幾天，王臭頭的小屋裡就傳來叮叮噹噹的聲音，又見他到處找人家蓋房子鋸剩下的小木塊，去工廠撿沒用的小釘子、小螺絲帽，還鑽到樹林裡，抱回一大簍松果。
「王臭頭，聽說你開工廠了？」有同事笑著問。
「是！是！做點小東西。」
「什麼小東西呀？帶來讓大夥開開眼唄！」
「到時候就知道了！」
王臭頭的東西是不准看的，看了就沒意思了。小學老師不是說了嘛！耶誕老人一年三季偷偷做玩具，再等耶誕節，一家家送。
王臭頭立下他六十年來的第一個宏願─做個當地的耶誕老人。
他門口堆的材料是愈來愈高了，不但晚上敲敲打打，連夜裡也沒閒著，還常閃出些火光，透出些怪怪的香蕉水味。
院裡報告上去。警察來盤查了一回，王臭頭都擋在門口不准進。看看王臭頭那長相，也造不了反，訓他兩句，不准他夜裡擾人，警察就走了。
葉子嘩喇嘩喇掉，秋天要過了，王臭頭更忙了，忙著撿松果，還忙著點人頭。他跑到小學操場偷偷點數，看看有幾個孩子。愈點愈多、愈多愈著急，有時天沒亮，屋裡就開工了。
只是，連著兩天，沒聲音，單位裡沒見王臭頭上班，先想他又在家犯神經了，沒理睬。鄰居們雖然心裡嘀咕，卻心底想，只怕病了，病了也好！安靜幾天。
四天之後，警察才帶人把門撞開。
大家全傻了。
一屋子，只見戴著瓜皮帽的小木人、螺絲帽和鐵絲串成的小鐵馬、用松果和鈕扣黏成的小汽車和三夾板蓋成的小房子。成千上百、五顏六色的小玩具，擺得滿地、滿牆、滿床。就在那玩具堆裡，王臭頭直挺挺地躺著，手裡還緊緊攥著一個未完成的木娃娃。
棺材安安靜靜地送走了。沒吹嗩吶、沒燒冥紙，倒把幾個沒完成的玩具做了陪葬， 讓王臭頭帶到「下頭」去繼續製作。
要是他晚死一個月，孩子就能得到玩具了。就算多活半個月也好，最起碼能把玩具都做完。不會像現在，娃娃有了白臉蛋、紅胭脂，卻沒嘴沒眼；小火車有了車身、輪子，卻少了煙囪。
常有人到王臭頭的房裡張望，也有些孩子惆悵著離開。大家都說沒想到王臭頭不笨，非但不笨，還有這麼好的手藝。
突然間，王臭頭的房裡又忙碌了起來，夜裡又有敲敲打打的聲音傳出。大人都不准孩子張望，只是偷偷傳遞著消息。
耶誕節，今年沒有洋人來表演，也沒有象徵性的送禮。但是一大早，全城都傳來孩子們的驚叫聲，接著紛紛跑出來，拿著自己的新玩具獻寶。
大人則倚著門，或從窗口探出頭笑。
從那時起，這個北方鄉下的小城，就年年會有耶誕老人，送孩子禮物。只是耶誕老人從來不曾露面，孩子們只有猜，猜那必是個長著白白鬍子、紅紅臉蛋、胖胖大大， 穿紅衣、戴紅帽的可愛的老人。