I stepped off the pavement, walked backwards a few paces looking up, and, from the middle of the street, brought my hands to my mouth to make a
megaphone, and shouted toward the top stories of the block: "Teresa!"
My shadow
took fright at the moon and
huddled at my feet.
Someone walked by. Again I shouted: "Teresa!" The man
came up to me and said: "If you do not shout louder she will not hear you. Let's both try. So: count to three, on three we shout together." And he said: "One, two, three." And we both
yelled, "Tereeeesaaa!"
A small group of friends passing by on their way back from the theater or the cafe' saw us calling out. They said: "Come on, we will give you a shout too." And they joined us in the middle of the street and the first man said one to three and then everybody together shouted, "Te-reee-saaa!"
Somebody else came by and joined us; a quarter of an hour later there were
a whole bunch of us, twenty almost. And
every now and then somebody new
came along.
Organizing ourselves to give a good shout, all at the same time, was not easy. There was always someone who began before three or who went on too long, but in the end we were managing something fairly efficient. We agreed that the "Te" should be shouted low and long, the "re" high and long, the "sa" low and short. It sounded fine. Just a
squabble every now and then when someone was off.
We were beginning to get it right when somebody, who, if his voice was anything to go by, must have had a very
freckled face, asked: "But are you sure she is home?"
"No," I said.
"That is bad," another said. "Forgotten your key, have you?"
"Actually," I said, "I have my key."
"So," they asked, "why dont you go on up?"
"I don't live here," I answered. "I live on the other side of town."
"Well, then, excuse my
curiosity," the one with the
freckled voice asked, "but who lives here?"
"I really wouldn't know," I said.
People were
a bit upset about this.
"So, could you please explain," somebody with a very
toothy voice asked, "why you are down here calling out Teresa."
"
As far as I am concerned," I said, "we can call out another name, or try somewhere else if you like."
The others were a bit annoyed.
"I hope you were not
playing a trick on us," the freckled one asked
suspiciously.
"What," I said,
resentfully, and I
turned to the others for confirmation of my
good faith. The others said nothing.
There was a moment of
embarrassment.
"Look," someone said
good-naturedly, "why don't we call Teresa one more time, then we go home."
So we did it one more time. "One two three Teresa!" but it did not come out very well. Then people
headed off for home, some one way, some another.
I had already turned into the square when I thought I heard a voice still calling: "Tee-reee-sa!"
Someone must have
stayed on to shout. Someone
stubborn.
-The End-
相關連結:
The Man Who Shouted Theresa (Short film)
The Man Who Shouted Theresa (中文翻譯)
Short Story: Solidarity by Italo Calvino
Short Story: The Man Who Shouted Teresa by Italo Calvino
Short Story: Conscience by Italo Calvin
Short Story: Black Sheep by Italo Calvin
I stepped off the pavement, walked backwards a few paces looking up, and, from the middle of the street, brought my hands to my mouth to make a megaphone, and shouted toward the top stories of the block: "Teresa!"
My shadow took fright at the moon and huddled at my feet.
Someone walked by. Again I shouted: "Teresa!" The man came up to me and said: "If you do not shout louder she will not hear you. Let's both try. So: count to three, on three we shout together." And he said: "One, two, three." And we both yelled, "Tereeeesaaa!"
A small group of friends passing by on their way back from the theater or the cafe' saw us calling out. They said: "Come on, we will give you a shout too." And they joined us in the middle of the street and the first man said one to three and then everybody together shouted, "Te-reee-saaa!"
Read more