succumb to the assault, but he emerged from the garlands of flowers and the stones, a smile on his face; he wiped away mud and grime, stood calmly off to the side, and said to the crowd: for a writer, the best way to speak is by writing. you will find everything i need to say in my works. speech is carried off by the wind; the written word can never be obliterated. i would like you to find the patience to read my books. i cannot force you to do that, and even if you do, i do not expect your opinion of me to change. no writer has yet appeared, anywhere in the world, who is liked by all his readers; that is especially true during times like these. 我获得诺贝尔文学奖后，引发了一些争议。起初，我还以为大家争议的对象是我，渐渐的，我感到这个被争议的对象，是一个与我毫不相关的人。我如同一个看戏人，看着众人的表演。我看到那个得奖人身上落满了花朵，也被掷上了石块、泼上了污水。我生怕他被打垮，但他微笑着从花朵和石块中钻出来，擦干净身上的脏水，坦然地站在一边，对着众人说：对一个作家来说，最好的说话方式是写作。我该说的话都写进了我的作品里。用嘴说出的话随风而散，用笔写出的话永不磨灭。我希望你们能耐心地读一下我的书，当然，我没有资格强迫你们读我的书。即便你们读了我的书，我也
不期望你们能改变对我的看法，世界上还没有一个作家，能让所有的读者都喜欢他。在当今这样的时代里，更是如此。 even though i would prefer to say nothing, since it is something i must do on this occasion, let me just say this: i am a storyteller, so i am going to tell you some stories. when i was a third-grade student in the 1960s, my school organized a field trip to an exhibit of suffering, where, under the direction of our teacher, we cried bitter tears. i let my tears stay on my cheeks for the benefit of our teacher, and watched as some of my classmates spat in their hands and rubbed it on their faces as pretend tears. i saw one student among all those wailing children – some real, some phony – whose face was dry and who remained silent without covering his face with his hands. he just looked at us, eyes wide open in an expression of surprise or confusion. after the visit i reported him to the teacher, and he was given a disciplinary warning. years later, when i expressed my remorse over informing on the boy, the teacher said that at least ten students had done what i did. the boy himself had died a decade or more earlier, and my conscience was deeply troubled when i thought
of him. but i learned something important from this incident, and that is: when everyone around you is crying, you deserve to be allowed not to cry, and when the tears are all for show, your right not to cry is greater still.
尽管我什么都不想说，但在今天这样的场合我必须说话，那我就简单地再说几句。我是一个讲故事的人，我还是要给你们讲故事。上世纪六十年代，我上小学三年级的时候，学校里组织我们去参观一个苦难展览，我们在老师的引领下放声大哭。为了能让老师看到我的表现，我舍不得擦去脸上的泪水。我看到有几位同学悄悄地将唾沫抹到脸上冒充泪水。我还看到在一片真哭假哭的同学之间，有一位同学，脸上没有一滴泪，嘴巴里没有一点声音，也没有用手掩面。他睁着大眼看着我们，眼睛里流露出惊讶或者是困惑的神情。事后，我向老师报告了这位同学的行为。为此，学校给了这位同学一个警告处分。多年之后，当我因自己的告密向老师忏悔时，老师说，那天来找他说这件事的，有十几个同学。这位同学十几年前就已去世，每当想起他，我就深感歉疚。这件事让我悟到一个道理，那就是：当众人都哭时，应该允许有的人不哭。当哭成为一种表演时，更应该允许有的人不哭。 here is another story: more than thirty years ago, when i was in the army, i was in my office reading one
evening when an elderly officer opened the door and came in. he glanced down at the seat in front of me and muttered, \in a loud voice, \fellow's ears turned red from embarrassment, and he walked out. for a long time after that i was proud about what i consider a gutsy performance. years later, that pride turned to intense qualms of conscience. bear with me, please, for one last story, one my grandfather told me many years ago: a group of eight out-of-town bricklayers took refuge from a storm in a rundown temple. thunder rumbled outside, sending fireballs their way. they even heard what sounded like dragon shrieks. the men were terrified, their faces ashen. \the eight of us,\offended the heavens with a terrible deed. the guilty person ought to volunteer to step outside to accept his punishment and spare the innocent from suffering. naturally, there were no volunteers. so one of the others came up with a proposal: since no one is willing to go outside, let's all fling our straw hats toward the door. whoever's hat flies out through the temple
door is the guilty party, and we'll ask him to go out and accept his punishment.\toward the door. seven hats were blown back inside; one went out the door. they pressured the eighth man to go out and accept his punishment, and when he balked, they picked him up and flung him out the door. i'll bet you all know how the story ends: they had no sooner flung him out the door than the temple collapsed around them. 我再讲一个故事：三十多年前，我还在部队工作。有一天晚上，我在办公室看书，有一位老长官推门进来，看了一眼我对面的位置，自言自语道：“噢，没有人?”我随即站起来，高声说：“难道我不是人吗?”那位老长官被我顶得面红耳赤，尴尬而退。为此事，我洋洋得意了许久，以为自己是个英勇的斗士，但事过多年后，我却为此深感内疚。请允许我讲最后一个故事，这是许多年前我爷爷讲给我听过的：有八个外出打工的泥瓦匠，为避一场暴风雨，躲进了一座破庙。外边的雷声一阵紧似一阵，一个个的火球，在庙门外滚来滚去，空中似乎还有吱吱的龙叫声。众人都胆战心惊，面如土色。有一个人说：“我们八个人中，必定一个人干过伤天害理的坏事，谁干过坏事，就自己走出庙接受惩罚吧，免得让好人受到牵连。”自然没有人愿意出去。又有人提议道：“既然大家都不想出去，那我们就将自己的草帽往外抛吧，谁的
草帽被刮出庙门，就说明谁干了坏事，那就请他出去接受惩罚。”于是大家就将自己的草帽往庙门外抛，七个人的草帽被刮回了庙内，只有一个人的草帽被卷了出去。大家就催这个人出去受罚，他自然不愿出去，众人便将他抬起来扔出了庙门。故事的结局我估计大家都猜到了——那个人刚被扔出庙门，那座破庙轰然坍塌。
i am a storyteller. telling stories earned me the nobel prize for literature. many interesting things have happened to me in the wake of winning the prize, and they have convinced me that truth and justice are alive and well. so i will continue telling my stories in the days to you all.
我是一个讲故事的人。因为讲故事我获得了诺贝尔文学奖。我获奖后发生了很多精彩的故事，这些故事，让我坚信真理和正义是存在的。今后的岁月里，我将继续讲我的故事。谢谢大家!
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