其中年代最久的是一本既厚且大 的古老影集。
The moth-eaten album contained several photos of myself taken in early childhood. stared blankly at my little face in the faded photos, feeling as if1 were reliving my childhood.
在那本布满虫蛀的影集里，贴着我出世后最早的几张照片。
But I also felt that my childhood had long been irretrievably gone and no longer belonged to me.
我漠 然看着褪了色的童年面容，似乎找到了童年的梦，都又觉得它早已 远远地离开我，再也不風于我自己，仅仅是一种无可奈何的存在而已。
My childhood, as recorded in the old photos, was at once real and unreal. In one of the photos, I was very little, probably just one year old.
照片上的童年是真实的，又是虚幻的。
As was the custom of my native place, Ihad a big ornament hung on my chest as a lucky charm.
一张照片上，有一个稚气可掬的孩子，大概是刚满周岁，按照家 乡的习俗，在胸前悬垂着一块很大的"锁片"Q。
The photo had been taken over half a century ago.
半个多世纪前的一 幅留影。
Was it myself in the embryonic stage of life, with my ignorant eyes on the strange world?
这就是我自己吗？
Another photo, in which I stood full-length, had been taken, I remember, when I was three or four.
萌芽状态的人生，一无所知地面对着陌生 的世界。
It was winter, and was dressed cumbersomely in a cotton-padded thick gown, staggering ridiculously.
另一张站着的全身照，记得是摄于三岁那年，也可能是四岁。
In stilll another photo, probably taken at the same time, I was holding grandma by the hand.
冬 天，穿着又厚又臃肿的棉袍，显得蹒跚可笑。
As she had been looking after me ever since I was T in the cradle, we had become inseparable from each other.
又一张，看上去是同一 时刻拍摄的。
In the photo, she looked in her early fifries.
那是我和祖母的合影。
She was turning her head slightly, as if trying to make me look ahead or telling me the tragic and moving story of Meng Jiang Nu\* making a long, difficult journey in search of her husband.
我紧紧拉着祖母的手。
She had an unlimited stock of folk tales to tell.
我从幼小 时就在祖母抚育下，祖孙俩形影不离。
I always thought her in possession ofa wordless book full of fascinating stories.
那一年祖母不过五十三四岁。
They became, as it were, the first literary works that I ever came into contact with in my life.
在照片上，她微微侧着脸，仿佛叮嘱我向前注视，又像在给我讲孟姜 女万里寻夫的悲壮故事。
The background of the photos was yellowed with age and dotted with fuzzy specks.
我的祖母有讲不完的民间故事。
There was distinctly a big round hole in the mottled wall.
我总觉得她 有一本无字的书，书上写满了令人神往的故事，那也是我最早接触到 的文学作品。
Wasn't the round hole a fan-shaped gate?
照片上的背景部分，经过漫长岁月，留下泛黄的时间痕迹，还有 一些幻影似的模糊斑点。
I asked myself.
衬托着人像背后的斑驳墙垣上，一个很大的 圆圈，轮廓分明。
Yes, it Was.
墙上大圆圈是一扇圆形的大门吗？
It was the moon gate SO familiar to me in my childhood a fairy-tale gate! used to play on the flagstones of the courtyard in front of the hall of the old house where I had been born.
我问自己。
Standing side by side before the tiled wall were several water vats for receiving rain water dripping from the eaves.
是一扇门。
In playing hide-and-seek with my little playmates, I would conceal myself behind one of the vats, which were taller than was.
正是我童年时代熟,悉的月洞门，童话般的门。
On either side of the courtyard there was a moon gate.