My first lesson in how to live as a Negro came when I was quite small .We were living in Arkansas. Our house stood behind the railroad tracks .Its skimpy yard was paved with black cinders. Nothing green ever grew in that yard .The only touch of green we could see was far away, beyond the tracks, over where the white folks lived. But cinders good enough for me and I never missed the green growing things. And however cinders were fine weapons. You could always have a nice hot war with huge black cinders. All you had to do was crouch behind the brick pillars of a house with your hands full of gritty ammunition. And the first woolly black head you saw pop out from behind another row of pillars was your target. you tried your very best to knock it off .It was great fun.
I never fully realized the appalling disadvantages of a cinder environment till one day the gang to which I belonged found itself engaged in a war with the white boys who lived beyond the tracks. As usual we laid down our cinder barrage,thinding that this would wipe the white boys out .But they replied with a steady bombardment of broken bottles. We doubled our cinder barrage, but they hid behind trees and the sloping embankments of their lawns .Having no such fortifications we retreated to the brick pillars of our homes .During the retreat a broken milk bottle caught me behind the ear, opening a deep gash which bled profusely. The sight of blood pouring over my face completely demoralized our ranks. My fellow-combatants left me standing paralyzed in the center of the yard, and scurried for their homes .A kind neighbor saw me and rushed me to a doctor, who took three stitches in my neck.
I sat brooding on my front steps ,nursing my wound and waiting form mother to come from work. I felt that a grave injustice had been done me. It was all right to throw cinders. The greatest harm a cinder could do was leave a bruise. But broken bottles were dangerous; they left you cut ,bleeding ,and helpless.
skimpy adj. 不足的吝啬的
cinder n. 煤矿渣打，灰尘
ammunition n. 军火，弹药
bombardment n. 炮击，轰击
译文
我的第一课:作为一个黑人应该怎样活着(1)
还是很小的时候,我就第一次体会到了作为一个黑人应该怎样活着.那时我们住在阿肯色州.我们家的房子就在铁路的后面.小得可怜的院子里铺了一层黑黑的煤渣.这个院子永远长不出绿色的植物.唯一能看到的绿色生命在铁路那里住的是白人.不过对我来说煤渣打已经是够好的了,因此我从来不曾留恋那些绿色的植物.而且煤渣打还是很好的武器.你可以利用大块的黑煤渣进行一场相当激烈的战斗.你要做的就是手里刺手的"弹药",躲在房子的廊柱后面.当你看到一个黑乎乎的长着卷发的脑袋从另一排的廊柱后面探出来,这就是人的目标.这时你就要竭尽全力把它干掉.这种游戏好玩极了.
在我所住的那帮孩子和住在铁路那边的白人孩子接上火的那天以前,我从来没有意识到随处可见的煤矿渣打所带来的严惩缺陷.那天,像往常一样,我们布置了密集的煤矿渣战火,满以为这样可以把白人孩子驱赶出去.可是他们不断地用破瓶子进行反击.我们加强了煤矿渣攻势,可是他们却躲到树丛、篱笆和草坪的斜坡后面去了。我们没有这样的防御工事，只有退回到自己家的廊柱后面。就在撤退途中，一个破奶瓶打中了我的后耳根，撕开了一道深深的口子，血马上喷涌而出。鲜血很快流了满脸，这景象使我们的队伍斗志顿失。我的战友们慌慌张张地跑回各自的家里，只留下我一个人呆呆地站在院子当中。一位好心的领居看到了我，马上送我去看医生，在那儿我的脖子上缝了3针。
我闷闷不乐地坐在家门口的台阶上，小心料理着伤口，等着妈妈下班回家。我感到自己受到了很不公正的对待。本来扔煤渣一点事也没有。一块煤渣所造成的伤害最多不过是留下一块青肿。可破瓶子就要铖险多了；它们会把你割破，让你流血，使你变得手足无措。
