介绍:
Leaving the family home behind, Miguel breathed the crisp air of another sunny morning in Santa Cecilia.
走出家门，米格呼吸着清晨新鲜的空气，圣塞西莉亚又迎来了一个大晴天。
As he headed into town with his shoeshine box, he passed a woman sweeping a stoop.
在去小镇的路上，米格拎着他的擦鞋箱，经过一位正在打扫门廊的女士身边。
She waved.
女士冲他挥了挥手。
"Hola, Miguel!"
"早上好，米格！"
"Hola." Miguel waved back.
"早上好。"米格也朝她挥手致意。
Closer to town, Miguel smiled at a lone guitar player plucking away at a song.
再往前，有一位吉他手正在自弹自唱，米格朝他笑了笑。
The farther in Miguel went, the more music f illed the air.
越往镇上走，能听到的音乐就越多。
Church bells chimed in harmony. A band played an upbeat tune. A radio blared a swift cumbia rhythm.
教堂敲响了和谐的钟声；乐队演奏着欢快的音乐；收音机里传来快节奏的坤比亚旋律。
Miguel soaked it all in.
米格陶醉在这些乐声中。
He couldn't help tapping out a beat on a table covered with brightly colored wooden animal f igurines.
情不自禁地在一张桌子上打起了节拍，那张桌子上摆满了色彩艳丽的木制动物雕像。
As Miguel rushed past another stand with pastries for sale, he grabbed a pan dulce and tossed the vendor a coin.
米格快步走过一家糕点铺，随手抓起一块墨西哥甜面包，扔给店主一枚硬币。
Smelling the sweet bread, Miguel's canine sidekick, Dante, sidled up to him.
闻到甜面包的香味，米格的小跟班——小狗丹丹，悄悄贴到了他身旁。
Miguel tore off a piece of the bread and Dante chomped it down.
米格掰下一块丢给它，丹丹立刻大快朵颐起来。
Everywhere Miguel looked, people were preparing for their loved ones to return from the Land of the Dead by hanging colorful papel picado and laying marigold petals at their doorways.
放眼望去，家家户户都忙着系挂彩色的墨西哥剪纸，在门口铺上万寿菊花瓣，迎接心爱的人从亡灵之地归来。
As usual, Mariachi Plaza was full of musicians strolling around, waiting for their chance to serenade a couple or a family with a love song or a classic corrido.
同往常一样，音乐家们在玛利亚奇广场上踱着步子，寻觅一对情侣或是一家人，为他们献上一首爱情小夜曲或经典的科里多。
Soon a tour group gathered around a large statue of a mariachi player in the center of the plaza.
不一会儿，一个旅游团聚到广场中央一座巨大的雕像周围，那是一位从玛利亚奇广场走出去的街头乐手的雕像。
"And right here, in this very plaza, the young Ernesto de la Cruz took his f irst steps toward becoming the most beloved singer in Mexican history," said the guide.
"就是这里，在这座广场上，年轻的歌神德拉库斯迈出了成名的第一步，成为墨西哥历史上最受欢迎的歌手。" 导游介绍道。Everyone in the group nodded, familiar with the legendary musician and singer.
旅游团里的每个人都点了点头，他们对这位传奇的音乐家兼歌手都非常熟悉。
Along with the tourists, Miguel gazed up at the statue.
米格也和游客们一起抬头凝视着雕像。
He'd seen it a hundred times, but it always inspired him.
这座雕像他已经看了不下百遍，可每看一次都能让他心受鼓舞。
After a moment, Miguel found a spot in the plaza and pulled out his shoeshine box.
过了一会儿，米格在广场上找了个地方，打开自己的擦鞋箱。
A mariachi plopped down for a shine.
一名街头乐手一屁股坐下来，找他擦鞋。
Miguel knew the mariachi would enjoy this story.
米格知道乐手会喜欢他即将要讲的这个故事。
After all, everyone loved Ernesto.
毕竟，所有人都喜欢歌神。
"He started out a total nobody from Santa Cecilia, like me," said Miguel.
"他从圣塞西莉亚的一个无名小卒起家，就像我一样，"米格说道。
"But when he played music, he made people fall in love with him. He starred in movies. He had the coolest guitar. He could f ly!"
"但只要他一演奏乐曲，人们就会不由自主地爱上他。他主演了好几部电影。他拥有最酷的吉他。他还能飞呢！"
Miguel had seen that special effect in some old f ilm clips.
米格在一些老电影的片段里见过这种特效。
"And he wrote the best songs! But my all-time favorite? It's—"
"他写的歌是最棒的！不过要说我最喜欢的是哪首吗？是那首——"
Miguel gestured to some musicians nearby, who were playing "Remember Me," Ernesto's biggest hit.
米格指了指附近的音乐家，他们正在演奏《请记住我》，那是歌神最火的歌。
"He lived the kind of life you dream about. Until 1942, when he was crushed by a giant bell."
"人人都羡慕他的生活。可惜1942年，他被一口大钟压死了。"
The mariachi looked pointedly at his shoes, which Miguel was only halfheartedly shining.
米格心不在焉地擦着鞋，街头乐手则直勾勾地盯着自己的鞋。
Ignoring the musician, Miguel shrugged off Ernesto's unfortunate death.
米格假装视而不见，他换了个话题，不再谈论歌神的不幸逝世。
"I wanna be just like him. Sometimes I look at Ernesto and I get this feeling, like we're connected somehow. Like if he could play music, maybe someday I can, too."
"我就想成为他那样的人。有时候我看着他，就有一种感觉，好像我们俩是连在一起的。就好像如果他会演奏音乐，那么或许有一天我也可以。"
Miguel sighed. "If it wasn't for my family."
米格叹了口气，"如果不是因为我的家人。"
"Ay-yi-yi, muchacho," said the mariachi, snapping Miguel out of his story.
"喂喂喂，小伙子。"街头乐手没好气地打断了米格的故事。
"Huh?" said Miguel.
"怎么了？"米格问。
"I asked for a shoeshine, not your life story," replied the mariachi.
"我是要你擦鞋，不是要听你的人生故事。"乐手说。"Oh, yeah, sorry." Miguel lowered his head and polished the man's shoe.
"哦，是啊，对不起。"米格低下头，又开始擦鞋。
As he worked, the mariachi casually plucked at his guitar strings.
他擦着鞋，乐手则时不时拨弄吉他的琴弦。
"I just can't really talk about any of this at home, so—"
"我在家根本没法说这些，所以就……"
"Look, if I were you? I'd march right up to my family and say, 'Hey! I'm a musician. Deal with it'. "
"听着，我要是你，我就立马跑回家，对他们说，‘嘿！我是名音乐家。你们看着办吧。’"
"I could never say that."
"我不能这么说。"
"You ARE a musician, no?"
"你到底是不是个音乐家？"
"I don't know. I mean, I only really play for myself—"
"我不知道。我是说，我只弹给自己听……"
"Ahh!" the mariachi howled.
"啊！"乐手咆哮起来。
"Did Ernesto de la Cruz become the world's best musician by hiding his sweet, sweet skills? No! He walked out onto that plaza and he played out loud!"
"要是歌神德拉库斯藏着他的高超技艺，他还能成为世界上最棒的音乐家吗？不能！他站出来了，就在这座广场上，响亮地演奏！"
The mariachi pointed to the gazebo, where a giant canvas that read talent show was being unfurled.
乐手指向露台，一张宣传才艺表演赛的巨型帆布在那里临风招展。
"Ah! Mira, mira! They're setting up for tonight. The music competition for Día de los Muertos. You wanna be like your hero? You should sign up!"
"啊！看啊！那些都是为了今晚准备的。为亡灵节举办的音乐比赛就要开始了。想跟你的偶像一样厉害？你就应该报名参赛！"
"Uh-uh—my family would freak," Miguel said.
"可——可是，我的家人会发疯的。"米格说。
"Look, if you're too scared, then, well, have fun making shoes."
"听着，要是你害怕参赛，那就老老实实做鞋子去吧。"
The mariachi shrugged.
乐手耸了耸肩，说道。
"C'mon, what did Ernesto de la Cruz always say?"
"拜托，歌神德拉库斯经常说什么来着？"
"'Seize your moment'?" Miguel said.
“‘莫失良机’？”米格回答。
The mariachi looked Miguel over and then offered him his guitar.
乐手打量了米格一番，把自己的吉他递给他。
"Show me what you got, muchacho. I'll be your f irst audience."
"让我见识见识，小伙子。我来当你的第一个听众。"
Miguel's eyebrows rose.
米格惊讶地抬起了眉毛。
The mariachi really wanted to hear him play?
乐手真的想听他弹琴？
He glanced down the street to make sure the coast was clear of any family members.
米格四下张望，确保街上没有家人的身影。
He reached for the guitar.
他伸手接过吉他。
Once it was cradled in his arms, Miguel spread his f ingers across the strings, anticipating his chord, and— "Miguel!" a familiar voice yelled.
吉他一入怀，米格就迫不及待地把手指按在弦上，摆好和弦的位置，准备开始演奏。"米格！"一个熟悉的声音吼Miguel gasped and threw the guitar back into the mariachi's lap.
米格倒吸一口凉气，一把将吉他扔回乐手的腿上。
Abuelita marched toward him.
只见奶奶正大步走来。
Tío Berto and Prima Rosa followed close behind with supplies from the market.
贝托伯伯和罗莎堂姐提着市场上买的东西紧随其后。
"Abuelita!" Miguel exclaimed.
"奶奶！"米格惊呼。
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"你在这儿干吗？"她问。
"Um. . . uh. . . ," Miguel stammered as he quickly packed away his shine rag and polishes.
"嗯……啊……"米格一边结结巴巴地应付着，一边飞快地收起了擦鞋布和鞋油。
Abuelita didn't wait for Miguel's answer.
还没等米格回答。
She barreled up to the mariachi and struck him with her shoe.
奶奶一个箭步冲到乐手身边，抄起鞋子狠命砸他。
"You leave my grandson alone!"
"离我孙子远一点！"
"Doña, please—I was just getting a shine!"
"拜托了，婆婆。我只想擦个鞋！"
"I know your tricks, mariachi!" She glared at Miguel. "What did he say to you?"
"我知道你的把戏，弹琴的！"她瞪着米格，"他对你说什么了？"
"He was just showing me his guitar," Miguel said sheepishly.
"他只是给我看看他的吉他。"米格窘迫不安地说。
His family gasped.
他的家人都倒吸了一口气。
"Shame on you!" Tío Berto barked at the mariachi.
"真可耻！"贝托伯伯朝乐手吼道。
Abuelita's shoe was aimed directly at the area between the musician's eyes.
此时，奶奶手里的鞋子已经瞄准了乐手双眼之间的位置。
"My grandson is a sweet little angelito querido cielito—he wants no part of your music, mariachi! You keep away from him!" she threatened.
"我的孙子是我亲爱的小宝贝，是小天使。他根本不需要你的音乐，弹琴的！你离他远一点！"她威胁道。
Miguel wasn't so sure he was the sweet little angel from heaven she'd described, but he wasn't going to argue when she was gripping her shoe like that.
米格不敢肯定自己就是奶奶口中的那个小天使，但他也不敢反驳，毕竟她手里还攥着那只鞋。
The mariachi scampered away, pulling on his hat before leaving.
乐手戴上帽子，仓皇逃走了。
Miguel watched apologetically over his abuelita's shoulder.
格的目光越过奶奶的肩头，满怀歉意地望向乐手逃跑的方向。
"Ay, pobrecito!"
"哎，我的小可怜！"
Abuelita pulled her grandson protectively to her bosom.
奶奶一把将孙子护进怀里。
"Estás bien, m'ijo?" Miguel gasped for air.
"你还好吗？我的宝贝。"米格差点喘不上气来。
"You know better than to be here in this place! You will come home. Now!" she ordered, and turned away from the plaza.
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