In the village hall of Little Fenwick, there is a library that lends seeds. Gus is its librarian. He wears a green apron full of pockets. His glasses never stay on his nose. Every spring, the whole village comes to borrow beans, poppies and pumpkins. Every autumn they bring the new seeds back.
在小芬威克村的村公所里，有一座可以借种子的图书馆。图书管理员是格斯。他系着一条缝满口袋的绿围裙。他的眼镜总是在鼻梁上待不住。每年春天，全村人都来借豆子、罂粟和南瓜的种子。每年秋天，他们再把新收的种子还回来。
Most of the seeds sleep in the shallow drawers upstairs. They are ordinary and quiet. But the best seeds live in the cellar, in a cabinet of black wood. Gus calls them the night seeds. They are older than the village, and they have one strange habit. They wake up when anyone sings.
大多数种子睡在楼上的浅抽屉里。它们普普通通，安安静静。但最好的种子住在地下室，在一只黑木柜子里。格斯管它们叫夜之种子。它们比这座村子还要古老，而且有一个奇怪的习惯。只要有人唱歌，它们就会醒来。
A sign hangs on the cellar door to warn visitors. It says, in tall painted letters: NO SINGING. Or it did, once. Today, the first letter has flaked away, and the sign says only: O SINGING.
地下室的门上挂着一块牌子，提醒来访的人。上面用高高的彩漆大字写着：不准唱歌。至少曾经是这样。今天，第一个字已经剥落了，牌子上只剩下：准唱歌。
Gus sees it at seven in the morning and drops his key. "Lars!" he shouts up the stairs. "Come and look at this, please."
早上七点，格斯看见了，吓得钥匙掉在了地上。“拉尔斯！”他朝楼上喊，“请你过来看看这个。”
Lars is the village painter. He paints fences, boats and shop windows, and he painted the sign twenty years ago. He arrives with a brush behind his ear and a mug of cold coffee. He stares at the door for a long time.
拉尔斯是村里的油漆匠。他给篱笆、小船和商店橱窗刷漆，这块牌子也是二十年前他画的。他耳后夹着一支画笔，手里端着一杯凉了的咖啡赶来了。他盯着那扇门看了很久。
"That is not good," he says at last.
“这可不妙，”他终于说。
"It is a disaster." Gus waves his hands. "The Seed Fair begins tonight. The Fenwick Choir comes at five to sing the opening song. They will read that sign, and they will think we are inviting them to sing in the cellar."
“这简直是灾难。”格斯挥舞着双手。“种子集市今晚开幕。芬威克合唱团五点钟来唱开场曲。他们会看到那块牌子，还以为我们邀请他们去地下室唱歌呢。”
"O singing," Lars reads. "It does sound like a welcome. Like a little cheer."
“准唱歌，”拉尔斯念道，“听起来确实像是欢迎。像一句小小的招呼。”
"Exactly. And if they sing, the night seeds wake. I have seen it once. The whole cellar turned into a jungle in ten minutes." Gus takes off his glasses and cleans them on his apron. "We have until five o'clock. We need to put the missing letter back."
“没错。要是他们一唱，夜之种子就醒了。我见过一次。整个地下室十分钟就变成了丛林。”格斯摘下眼镜，在围裙上擦了擦。“我们到五点之前还有时间。得把缺的那个字补回去。”
Lars looks into his paint box. "I have blue, yellow, and a lot of white. I have no black. The old sign used black."
拉尔斯往颜料盒里看了看。“我有蓝色、黄色，还有很多白色。没有黑色。原来的牌子用的是黑色。”
"Then we make black." Gus opens a cupboard and starts to pull out jars. "Soot from the stove, a little oil, a spoon of ink. Mix it. I will cut a stencil from card so the N looks the same as the others."
“那我们就自己调黑色。”格斯打开一个柜子，开始往外拿罐子。“炉子里的烟灰，加一点油，再加一勺墨水。混在一起。我来用卡纸刻一个字模，这样那个‘不’字就和其他字一样了。”
They work through the whole morning. The mixing is messy, and the stencil is crooked at first. By two o'clock, they have a deep black paint and a neat paper letter. Gus holds the stencil against the door. Lars lifts the brush.
他们忙了整整一上午。调色弄得一团糟，字模起初也刻歪了。到两点，他们有了深黑色的颜料和一个整齐的纸字模。格斯把字模按在门上。拉尔斯举起了画笔。
That is the moment when the front door of the hall bangs open.
就在这时，公所的大门砰地被推开了。
"Hello, hello!" calls a cheerful voice. "We are early!" Thirty people in blue scarves are walking into the hall. They carry music books and a large brass bell. At the front is the choir leader, a round woman with a happy voice.
“你们好，你们好！”一个欢快的声音喊道，“我们来早啦！”三十个系着蓝围巾的人走进了大厅。他们带着乐谱和一只大铜铃。走在最前面的是合唱团的指挥，一位圆圆胖胖、嗓音快活的女士。
"Not now," Gus says. "Please, not yet. Wait outside for a moment."
“现在不行，”格斯说，“求你们了，先别进来。请在外面等一会儿。”
But the choir leader has already seen the sign. She reads the letters, and her eyes light up. "O singing!" she says. "How lovely. We were just going to warm up. Come along, everyone, one, two, three."
可是指挥已经看见了那块牌子。她读着上面的字，眼睛亮了起来。“准唱歌！”她说，“太好了。我们正想热热身呢。来吧，大家，一、二、三。”
Thirty voices rise together in a bright, loud chord. The sound rolls through the hall like a wave. It goes through the floorboards and down the stairs. Gus and Lars look at each other. Under their feet, something starts to rustle.
三十个声音一起升起，汇成一个明亮而响亮的和弦。歌声像波浪一样滚过大厅。它穿过地板，沿着楼梯往下传去。格斯和拉尔斯面面相觑。在他们脚下，有什么东西开始沙沙作响。
The cellar door bursts open with a crack. Green shoots pour out of the dark and climb the walls. They curl around the shelves, the lamps and the tables. Leaves unfold like hands. Pumpkin vines race along the floor, and bean stalks reach the ceiling beams in a few seconds. In a minute, the hall looks like a forest.
地下室的门啪的一声被撞开了。绿色的嫩芽从黑暗中涌出来，爬上墙壁。它们缠绕着架子、灯和桌子。叶子像手掌一样舒展开来。南瓜藤沿着地板飞快蔓延，豆茎几秒钟就够到了天花板的横梁。一分钟内，大厅就变成了一片森林。
The choir stops singing, and there is a stunned silence. Then the vines stop growing. They hang in the air and tremble, as if they are waiting for the next note.
合唱团停止了歌唱，随之而来的是一片目瞪口呆的寂静。接着，藤蔓也停止了生长。它们悬在半空中微微颤动，仿佛在等待下一个音符。
"Do not sing again," Lars whispers.
“别再唱了，”拉尔斯小声说。
"We have to," says Gus. He has an idea, and it frightens him. "Listen. When the choir sang up, the plants grew up. When the song stopped, they paused. So the seeds follow the music. What happens if the music goes down?"
“我们必须再唱，”格斯说。他想到了一个主意，这让他害怕。“听着。合唱团往上唱的时候，植物就往上长。歌声一停，它们就停住了。所以种子是跟着音乐走的。要是音乐往下走，会怎么样？”
"They go back to sleep?" Lars asks.
“它们会回去睡觉？”拉尔斯问。
"I hope so." Gus turns to the choir leader and speaks quickly. "Please, can you sing something slow? A lullaby. Soft, and every line lower than the one before."
“但愿如此。”格斯转向指挥，飞快地说：“请问，你们能唱点慢一些的吗？一首摇篮曲。轻轻的，每一句都比上一句低。”
The choir leader nods. She raises her hands. Thirty voices begin a gentle song about the end of the day. Each phrase drops a little lower than the last. The vines start to sway.
指挥点了点头。她举起双手。三十个声音开始唱一首关于一天结束的温柔歌曲。每个乐句都比前一句低一点。藤蔓开始摇摆。
Slowly, the leaves fold back. The long stems shorten and curl. The great beans fall silent. On every branch a small round pod swells and closes, like a green lantern going dark. Gus walks through the hall with his big basket and catches them as they fall.
慢慢地，叶子合拢了。长长的茎缩短、卷起。巨大的豆荚安静了下来。每根枝条上，一个小小的圆荚鼓起来，合上了，像一盏绿色的灯笼渐渐熄灭。格斯提着他的大篮子穿过大厅，接住一个个落下的豆荚。
By the time the song ends, the forest is gone. The tables are bare, and the floor is clean. Only the pods remain, hundreds of them, resting in baskets and on shelves. Each one is warm and smooth, and each one holds a hundred new seeds.
歌曲结束的时候，森林消失了。桌子空空的，地板干干净净。只剩下豆荚，数百个，躺在篮子里和架子上。每一个都温暖光滑，每一个里面都藏着一百颗新种子。
The village arrives for the fair at five. They find a tidy hall, a happy choir and a long table covered in fresh pods. Gus gives one to every visitor. "They are the best seeds we have ever had," he says, and it is perfectly true. "Plant them, and sing to them softly."
五点钟，村民们来参加集市。他们看到一座整洁的大厅，一支开心的合唱团，还有一张摆满新鲜豆荚的长桌。格斯给每位来客一个。“这是我们有过的最好的种子，”他说，这话千真万确。“种下它们，然后轻轻地给它们唱歌。”
At the end of the evening, Lars finally paints the sign. He uses the black paint and the crooked stencil. The first letter is back in its place, and the door says NO SINGING again. Then he takes a smaller brush and adds a line underneath, in careful letters: Except lullabies.
晚会结束时，拉尔斯终于重新画好了牌子。他用的是那种黑色颜料和那个歪歪的字模。第一个字回到了原位，门上又写着：不准唱歌。然后他拿起一支更小的画笔，在下面又添了一行，字写得很仔细：摇篮曲除外。
Gus laughs and puts the key in his pocket. He stands in the empty hall for a moment, in the quiet. Then, from a basket on the table, a single pod opens by itself.
格斯笑了，把钥匙放进口袋。他在空荡荡的大厅里站了一会儿，静静地站着。就在这时，桌上篮子里的一个豆荚自己裂开了。
Pop.
啵。
