The Knotted Rope at Zahra's Gate

Zahra sold things from a wooden stall beside the farm gate on Orchard Road, and most of them were ordinary. She had jars of honey, bundles of firewood and eggs in cardboard cartons. The rope was different. It hung from a nail at the back of the stall. It was a thick brown length of hemp with so many knots that it looked like a necklace made by a nervous giant. Nobody had asked about it in three years.

扎赫拉在果园路农场大门旁的一个木头摊位上卖东西，大多是些寻常货色：一罐罐蜂蜜，一捆捆柴火，纸盒装的鸡蛋。只有那根绳子不一样。它挂在摊位后面的一颗钉子上，是一根粗粗的棕色麻绳，打了那么多结，看上去像是一个紧张的巨人做的项链。三年来，没有人问起过它。

Ferran noticed it on a Saturday in late autumn. He had come to the gate, as he did every week, to sell pumpkins from the back of his cart. He had set up his scales on the empty trestle table next to Zahra's stall. He was a good grower and a poor seller. Customers who bought his pumpkins somehow always paid less than he had meant to charge. He went home each evening with a lighter purse than his arithmetic promised.

一个深秋的星期六，费兰注意到了它。他像每个星期一样来到大门口，卖他车斗里的南瓜。他把秤架在扎赫拉摊位旁边空着的支架桌上。他是个好种植户，却是个糟糕的卖家。买他南瓜的顾客，不知怎么付的钱总是比他本来打算收的少。每天傍晚回家时，他的钱包总比他算出来的要轻。

"That is a lot of knots," he said, nodding at the rope.

“结可真多。”他朝绳子点点头，说。

"Eighty-one," Zahra said, without looking up from her honey. "I counted them once."

“八十一个，”扎赫拉说，眼睛没离开她的蜂蜜，“我数过一次。”

"What are they for?"

“它们是干什么用的？”

"They are not for anything. Each one is a request that somebody made and never finished. The rope arrived on my counter when I took over this stall, and the woman who left it did not say where it came from." She wiped her hands on her apron. "She did say one thing, though. If you untie a knot and ask for something out loud, the rope will answer. It gives you what you ask for, not what you mean."

“不是用来干什么的。每一个都是某个人提出却没有完成的请求。我接手这个摊位的时候，这根绳子就在柜台上了，留下它的那位女士没说它是哪儿来的。”她在围裙上擦了擦手。“不过她说过一件事。如果你解开一个结，大声说出你想要的东西，绳子就会回应你。它给你的，是你所要求的，不是你心里想的。”

Ferran laughed. It was a short, polite laugh, the kind people use when they suspect a seller of improving the story to raise the price. But the day was slow and the lane was empty. He was tired of doing sums in his head only to be proved wrong at closing time.

费兰笑了。那是一声短促而礼貌的笑，人们怀疑卖家为了抬价而美化故事时，就会这样笑。可是这一天生意清淡，小路上空荡荡的。他厌倦了在脑子里算账，然后到收摊时发现算错了。

"May I try?" he asked.

“我可以试试吗？”他问。

"It is free," Zahra said. "Choose a small one, though. The big knots are old, and nobody knows what is inside them."

“免费的，”扎赫拉说，“不过选个小的。大结都很老了，没人知道里面藏着什么。”

He walked to the back of the stall and lifted the rope from its nail. It was heavier than it looked, and slightly warm, as if somebody had been holding it. At the very end, where the fibres were thinnest, he found a knot no bigger than a walnut. His fingers worked at it for a minute. Then it loosened and fell open, and the ends of the rope lay still in his palm.

他走到摊位后面，把绳子从钉子上取下来。它比看上去重，还有点温热，好像刚才有人握过。在最末端，纤维最细的地方，他找到一个不比核桃大的结。他的手指摆弄了一分钟，结松开了，散成一堆，绳头静静地躺在他的手掌里。

"I wish," Ferran said, feeling foolish, "that I always knew exactly how much I had sold."

“我希望，”费兰说，觉得自己有点傻，“我总是准确地知道自己卖了多少。”

Nothing happened. A crow landed on the gatepost and left again. Ferran handed the rope back to Zahra, who hung it on its nail without comment. He packed up his scales a little earlier than usual.

什么也没发生。一只乌鸦落在门柱上，又飞走了。费兰把绳子交还给扎赫拉，她一句话也没说，把它挂回钉子上。他比平时早一点收起了秤。

On Sunday morning he went out to feed his hens and found the rope draped over his own gate. He stared at it for a long time. It had not been there the night before, and the nearest neighbour lived a mile away. He lifted it with two careful fingers. The knots had moved. At one end there was now a neat group of nine knots. After a gap came a group of four, then another gap and a single knot.

星期天早晨，他出去喂母鸡，发现绳子搭在他自家的门上。他盯着看了很久。昨晚它还不在那儿，而且最近的邻居住在一英里之外。他用两根手指小心地把它拎起来。那些结的位置变了。一头现在有九个整齐的结，隔了一段空，是四个一组，再隔一段，是一个孤零零的结。

He walked to Zahra's stall with the rope coiled over his shoulder.

他把绳子盘在肩上，走向扎赫拉的摊位。

"Nine big pumpkins, four small ones, one lumpy one," Zahra said, when she had examined it. "I think that is what you sold on Saturday."

“九个大南瓜，四个小南瓜，一个疙疙瘩瘩的，”扎赫拉检查完之后说，“我想这就是你星期六卖出去的。”

"I sold nothing on Saturday. I was talking to you."

“星期六我什么也没卖。我在跟你说话。”

"You sold nine pumpkins before you came to talk to me. I remember them going. You were very pleased with yourself."

“在你来找我说话之前，你卖出了九个南瓜。我记得它们被买走的样子。你当时可得意了。”

Ferran counted in his head and found that she was right. He had forgotten the early customers entirely.

费兰在脑子里数了数，发现她说得对。他完全忘了早来的那些顾客。

"But I asked to know how much I had sold," he said. "I did not ask for a rope to follow me home."

“可我许的愿是想知道自己卖了多少，”他说，“我没有要求让一根绳子跟着我回家。”

"No," said Zahra. "You asked to always know. A rope that is only there on Saturdays would not be doing that, would it?"

“是啊，”扎赫拉说，“你要求的是总是知道。一根只在星期六才出现的绳子，做得到吗？”

So the rope stayed with him, and for a month it was the most useful thing he owned. He hung it from the front of his stall. By the end of each day it had tied itself into a clear record of everything that had changed hands. It showed how many pumpkins had gone, how many coins had come in, and which customers had paid before leaving. When the last buyer walked away, Ferran only needed to look at the knots to know whether his purse was full or short.

于是绳子就留在了他那里，一个月里，它成了他拥有的最有用的东西。他把它挂在摊位前面。每天结束的时候，它会自己打结，清清楚楚地记录下所有易手的东西：卖出去多少南瓜，进账多少钱，哪些顾客在离开前付了钱。最后一个顾客走后，费兰只要看一眼那些结，就知道钱包是满的还是少了。

It was not always comfortable. One afternoon a man in a long coat lifted two pumpkins from the pile. He held out a single coin, hoping, perhaps, that nobody was watching. Before Ferran could speak, the rope slid off its hook and curled around the man's wrist like a friendly snake. Then it pulled itself into a tight, deliberate knot. The man looked down at it. Then he looked at Ferran, and Ferran, who had never in his life been brave about money, looked at the sky.

这并不总是让人自在。一天下午，一个穿长外套的男人从堆里拿了两个南瓜。他递过来一枚硬币，也许是希望没人在看。费兰还没来得及开口，绳子就从钩子上滑下来，像一条友好的蛇一样缠上了那人的手腕。接着它自己收紧，打了一个紧紧的、故意为之的结。男人低头看了看，又抬头看着费兰，而费兰，这个一辈子在钱上从来不敢强硬的人，抬头看起了天。

"I think," the man said eventually, "that I owe you one more coin."

“我想，”男人最后说，“我还欠你一枚硬币。”

After that, word travelled along the lane. People who had once paid in a hurry now paid carefully, and a few of them started to bring exact change. Ferran noticed that his sales did not fall, as he had feared. They rose. Strangers told each other that his stall was the honest one, the one with the clever rope. They came from three villages away to see it work.

从那以后，消息在小路上传开了。从前付钱匆匆忙忙的人，现在付得小心翼翼，有几个人开始带着零钱来。费兰发现，他的生意并没有像他担心的那样下滑，反而上涨了。陌生人互相转告，他的摊位是个诚实的摊位，那个有聪明绳子的摊位。他们从三个村子以外赶来，看它怎么起作用。

On the last Saturday of the season, he carried the rope back to Zahra's stall and set it on her counter.

在这个季节的最后一个星期六，他把绳子带回扎赫拉的摊位，放在她的柜台上。

"It is a wonderful thing," he said. "But I do not think it belongs to me. I only ever wanted to know what I had earned."

“这是件奇妙的东西，”他说，“可我觉得它不属于我。我一直只想知道我挣了多少。”

"Then you have what you asked for," Zahra said. "Is something wrong with it?"

“那你得到了你所要求的，”扎赫拉说，“它有什么不对吗？”

Ferran thought about the question honestly. "It is very good at its job. It is simply that I would like to understand why a rope is better at selling pumpkins than I am. I think I need a lesson, not a miracle."

费兰老老实实地想了想这个问题。“它干这活儿干得非常好。只是，我想弄明白，为什么一根绳子卖南瓜比我强。我想我需要的是一课，而不是一个奇迹。”

"You have just had one," Zahra said. "People watched the rope tie itself to the truth for a month. Some of that truth stuck to you. Haven't you noticed that you stand differently?"

“你刚刚就上了一课，”扎赫拉说，“人们看着绳子把自己绑在真相上，看了一个月。那真相有一些粘到了你身上。你没发现自己站姿不一样了吗？”

He had not. But when he looked down at his hands, he saw that they were resting flat and steady on the table. They were not folded behind his back, as they usually were when a customer asked him a price.

他没发现。可是当他低头看自己的手时，看到它们平放在桌子上，稳稳当当。它们没有像平时顾客问价时那样背到身后。

"Then I will keep the rope for the winter," he said at last, "if you will lend it to me. I will bring it back in spring."

“那我今年冬天先留着这根绳子，”他终于说，“如果你肯借给我的话。开春我就还回来。”

"It will be waiting," Zahra said. "But there is one condition. You must never ask it for a loan."

“它会在这儿等着，”扎赫拉说，“不过有一个条件。你绝不能向它借钱。”

"Why not?"

“为什么不能？”

"Because it will want interest."

“因为它会要利息。”

Ferran grinned, then looked down at the rope in his arms. It had already tied itself into a tiny, smug bow.

费兰咧嘴笑了，然后低头看着怀里的绳子。它已经自己打成了一个得意洋洋的小蝴蝶结。

"Is it honest?" he asked her, half joking.

“它诚实吗？”他半开玩笑地问她。

"Not exactly," said Zahra, turning back to her honey. "It is only tied to the facts."

“不完全是，”扎赫拉说，转身回到她的蜂蜜前，“它只是和事实绑在一起。”