سامری (خلاصه ) داستان the Story OF THE SIX ROWS OF POMPONS به همراه ترجمه فارسیSummary
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هیچ جا ترجمه فارسی سامری را براتون نمی گذارند تا بتوانید بفهمین
سایر سامری ها نیز پذیرفته می شوند می توانید با کمترین هزینه سامری و خلاصه داستان دریافت کنید
When little nephew Tatsuo came to live
with us he liked to do everything the adults were doing on the nursery, and
although his little mind did not know it, everything he did was the opposite of
adult conduct, unknowingly destructive and disturbing. So Uncle Hiroshi after
witnessing several weeks of rampage said, “This has got to stop, this sawing the
side of a barn and nailing the doors to see if it would open. But we must not
whip him. We must not crush his curiosity by any means.”
And when Nephew Tatsuo, who was seven
and in high second grade, got used to the place and began coming out into the
fields and pestering us with difficult questions as “What are the plants here
for? What is water? Why are the bugs made for? What are the birds and why do
the birds sing?” and so on, I said to Uncle Hiroshi, “We must do something
about this. We cannot answer questions all the time and we cannot be correct
all the time and so we will do harm. But something must be done about this
beyond a doubt.”
“Let us take him in our hands,” Uncle
Hiroshi said. So Uncle Hiroshi took little Nephew Tatsuo aside, and brought him
out in the fields and showed him the many rows of pompons growing. “Do you know
what these are?” Uncle Hiroshi said. “These things here?”
“Yes. Very valuable,” Nephew Tatsuo
said. “Plants.”
“Do you know when these plants grow up
and flower, we eat?” Uncle Hiroshi said.
Nephew Tatsuo nodded. “Yes,” he said,
“I knew that.”
“All right. Uncle Hiroshi will give
you six rows of pompons,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “You own these six rows. You take
care of them. Make them grow and flower like your uncles.”
“Gee!” Nephew Tatsuo said.
“Do you want to do it?” Uncle Hiroshi
said.
“Sure!” he said.
“Then jump right in and start
working,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “But first, let me tell you something.
You cannot quit once you start. You
must not let it die, you must make it grow and flower like your uncles.”
“All right,” little Nephew Tatsuo
said, “I will.”
“Every day you must tend to your
plants. Even after the school opens, rain or shine,” Uncle Hiroshi said.
“All right,” Nephew Tatsuo said.
“You’ll see!”
So the old folks once more began to
work peacefully, undisturbed, and Nephew Tatsuo began to work on his plot.
However, every now and then Nephew Tatsuo would run to Uncle Hiroshi with much
excitement.
“Uncle Hiroshi, come!” he said.
“There’s bugs on my plants! Big bugs, green bugs with black dots and some brown
bugs. What shall I do?”
“They’re bad bugs,” Uncle Hiroshi
said. “Spray them.”
“I have no spray,” Nephew Tatsuo said
excitedly.
“All right. I will spray them for you
today,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “Tomorrow I will get you a small hand spray. Then
you must spray your own plants.”
Several tall grasses shot above the
pompons and Uncle Hiroshi noticed this. Also, he saw the beds beginning to fill
with young weeds.
“Those grasses attract the bugs,” he
said. “Take them away. Keep the place clean.”
It took Nephew Tatsuo days to pick the
weeds out of the six beds. And since the weeds were not picked cleanly, several
weeks later it looked as if it was not touched at all. Uncle Hiroshi came
around sometimes to feel the moisture in the soil. “Tatsuo,” he said, “your
plants need water. Give it plenty, it is summer. Soon it will be too late.”
Nephew Tatsuo began watering his
plants with the three-quarter hose.
“Don’t hold the hose long in one place
and short in another,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “Keep it even and wash the leaves
often.”
In October Uncle Hiroshi’s plants
stood tall and straight and the buds began to appear. Nephew Tatsuo kept at it
through summer and autumn, although at times he looked wearied and indifferent.
And each time Nephew Tatsuo’s enthusiasm lagged, Uncle Hiroshi took him over to
the six rows of pompons and appeared greatly surprised.
“Gosh,” he said, “your plants are
coming up! It is growing rapidly; pretty soon the flowers will come.”
“Do you think so?” Nephew Tatsuo said.
“Sure, can’t you see it coming?” Uncle
Hiroshi said. “You will have lots of flowers. When you have enough to make a
bunch, I will sell it for you at the flower market.”
“Really?” Nephew Tatsuo said. “In the
flower market?”
Uncle Hiroshi laughed. “Sure,” he said.
“That’s where the plant business goes on, isn’t it?”
One day Nephew Tatsuo wanted an awful
lot to have us play catch with him with a tennis ball. It was at the time when
the nursery was the busiest and even Sundays were all work.
“Nephew Tatsuo, don’t you realize we
are all men with responsibilities?” Uncle Hiroshi said. “Uncle Hiroshi has lots
of work to do today. Now is the busiest time. You also have lots of work to do
in your beds. And this should be your busiest time. Do you know whether your pompons
are dry or wet?”
“No, Uncle Hiroshi,” he said. “I don’t
quite remember.”
“Then attend to it. Attend to it,”
Uncle Hiroshi said.
Nephew Tatsuo ran to the six rows of
pompons to see if it was dry or wet. He came running back. “Uncle Hiroshi, it
is still wet,” he said.
“All right,” Uncle Hiroshi said, “but
did you see those holes in the ground with the piled-up mounds of earth?”
“Yes. They’re gopher holes,” Nephew
Tatsuo said.
“Right,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “Did you
catch the gopher?”'
“No,” said Nephew Tatsuo.
“Then attend to it, attend to it right
away,” Uncle Hiroshi said.
One day in late October Uncle
Hiroshi’s pompons began to bloom. He began to cut and bunch and take them early
in the morning to the flower market in Oakland. And by this time Nephew Tatsuo
was anxious to see his pompous bloom. He was anxious to see how it feels to cut
the flowers of his plants. And by this time Nephew Tatsuo’s six beds of pompons
looked like a patch of tall weeds left uncut through the summer. Very few
pompon buds stood out above the tangle.
Few plants survived out of the six
rows. In some parts of the beds where the pompons had plenty of water and
freedom, the stems grew strong and tall and the buds were big and round. Then
there were parts where the plants looked shriveled and the leaves were wilted
and brown. The majority of the plants were dead before the cool weather
arrived. Some died by dryness, some by gophers or moles, and some were dwarfed
by the great big grasses which covered the pompons altogether.
When Uncle Hiroshi’s pompous began to
flower, everywhere the older folks became worried.
“We must do something with Tatsuo’s
six beds. It is worthless and his bugs are coming over to our beds,” Tatsuo’s
father said. “Let’s cut it down and burn them today.”
“No,” said Uncle Hiroshi. “That will
be a very bad thing to do. It will kill Nephew Tatsuo. Let the plants stay.”
So the six beds of Nephew Tatsuo
remained intact, the grasses, the gophers, the bugs, the buds and the plants
and all. Soon after, the buds began to flower and Nephew Tatsuo began to run
around calling Uncle Hiroshi. He said the flowers are coming. Big ones, good
ones. He wanted to know when can he cut them.
“Today,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “Cut it
today and I will sell it for you at the market tomorrow.”
Next day at the flower market Uncle
Hiroshi sold the bunch of Nephew Tatsuo’s pompons for twenty-five cents. When
he came home Nephew Tatsuo ran to the car.
“Did you sell it, Uncle Hiroshi?”
Nephew Tatsuo said.
“Sure. Why would it not sell?” Uncle
Hiroshi said.
“They are healthy, carefully cultured
pompons.”
Nephew Tatsuo ran around excitedly.
First, he went to his father. “Papa!” he said, “someone bought my pompons!”
Then he ran over to my side and said, “The bunch was sold! Uncle Hiroshi sold
my pompons!”
At noontime, after the lunch was over,
Uncle Hiroshi handed over the quarter to Nephew Tatsuo.
“What shall I do with this money?”
asked Nephew Tatsuo, addressing all of us, with shining eyes.
“Put it in your toy bank,” said
Tatsuo’s father.
“No,” said Uncle Hiroshi. “Let him do
what he wants. Let him spend and have a taste of his money.”
“Do you want to spend your quarter,
Nephew Tatsuo?” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“Then do anything you wish with it,”
Uncle Hiroshi said. “Buy anything you want. Go and have a good time. It is your
money.”
On the following Sunday we did not see
Nephew Tatsuo all day. When he came back late in the afternoon Uncle Hiroshi
said, “Nephew Tatsuo, what did you do today?”
“I went to a show, then I bought an
ice cream cone and then on my way home I watched the baseball game at the
school, and then I bought a popcorn from the candy man. I have five cents
left,” Nephew Tatsuo said.
“Good,” Uncle Hiroshi said. “That
shows a good spirit.”
Uncle Hiroshi, Tatsuo’s father and I
sat in the shade. It was still hot in the late afternoon that day. We sat and
watched Nephew Tatsuo riding around and around the yard on his red tricycle,
making a furious dust.
“Next year he will forget what he is
doing this year and will become a wild animal and go on a rampage again,” the
father of Tatsuo said.
“Next year is not yet here,” said
Uncle Hiroshi.
“Do you think he will be interested to
raise pompons again?” the father said.
“He enjoys praise,” replied Uncle
Hiroshi, “and he takes pride in good work well done. We will see.”
“He is beyond a doubt the worst
gardener in the country,” I said. “Probably he is the worst in the world.”
“Probably,” said Uncle Hiroshi.
“Tomorrow he will forget how he
enjoyed spending his year’s income,” the father of Tatsuo said.
“Let him forget,” Uncle Hiroshi said.
“One year is nothing. We will keep this six rows of pompon business up till he
comes to his senses.”
We sat that night the whole family of
us, Uncle Hiroshi, Nephew Tatsuo’s father, I, Nephew Tatsuo and the rest, at
the table and ate, and talked about the year and the prospect of the flower
business, about Uncle Hiroshi’s pompon crop, and about Nephew Tatsuo’s work
and, also, his unfinished work in this world.
