《四季隨筆》節(jié)選 - 春 23

《四季隨筆》是吉辛的散文代表作。其中對(duì)隱士賴克羅夫特醉心于書籍、自然景色與回憶過去生活的描述，其實(shí)是吉辛的自述，作者以此來抒發(fā)自己的情感，因而本書是一部富有自傳色彩的小品文集。

吉辛窮困的一生，對(duì)文學(xué)名著的愛好與追求，以及對(duì)大自然恬靜生活的向往，在書中均有充分的反映。本書分為春、夏、秋、冬四個(gè)部分，文筆優(yōu)美，行文流暢，是英國文學(xué)中小品文的珍品之一。

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Every morning when I awake, I thank heaven for silence. This is my orison. I remember the London days when sleep was broken by clash and clang, by roar and shriek, and when my first sense on returning to consciousness was hatred of the life about me. Noises of wood and metal, clattering of wheels, banging of implements, jangling of bells—all such things are bad enough, but worse still is the clamorous human voice. Nothing on earth is more irritating to me than a bellow or scream of idiot mirth, nothing more hateful than a shout or yell of brutal anger. Were it possible, I would never again hear the utterance of a human tongue, save from those few who are dear to me.

每天早晨醒來，我都要為這寧靜感謝上蒼，這是我的祈禱。還記得在倫敦的日子，睡夢(mèng)被丁零當(dāng)啷的噪音和人們的咆哮尖叫打斷，我意識(shí)恢復(fù)后的第一感覺便是對(duì)周圍生活的憎惡。木頭和金屬發(fā)出的噪音，車輪的嘎嘎聲，工具的梆梆聲，還有鐘鈴的當(dāng)當(dāng)聲—這些就已經(jīng)夠煩了，更糟的是嘈雜的人聲。對(duì)我來說，世上沒有什么比愚人歡快的叫嚷和粗人憤怒的咆哮更讓人憎惡的了。如果可以，除了幾個(gè)我親近的人外，我愿永遠(yuǎn)聽不見人聲。

Here, wake at what hour I may, early or late, I lie amid gracious stillness. Perchance a horse's hoof rings rhythmically upon the road; perhaps a dog barks from a neighbour farm; it may be that there comes the far, soft murmur of a train from the other side of Exe; but these are almost the only sounds that could force themselves upon my ear. A voice, at any time of the day, is the rarest thing.

在這里，不管我何時(shí)醒來，四周都是一片舒適的寧靜。有時(shí)會(huì)有一串得得的馬蹄聲有節(jié)奏地響在路上，或許有狗吠聲從附近農(nóng)場傳來，也許會(huì)聽到埃克斯河谷對(duì)面火車遙遠(yuǎn)柔和的低語，但這些幾乎是進(jìn)入我耳朵的僅有的聲音。而在一天里，最罕有的便是人聲。

But there is the rustle of branches in the morning breeze; there is the music of a sunny shower against the window; there is the matin song

不過，在清晨的微風(fēng)中，樹枝會(huì)沙沙作響；晴天陣雨忽至，雨點(diǎn)敲窗的音樂便會(huì)響起；還有鳥兒晨起的歌聲。

of birds. Several times lately I have lain wakeful when there sounded the first note of the earliest lark; it makes me almost glad of my restless nights. The only trouble that touches me in these moments is the thought of my long life wasted amid the senseless noises of man's world. Year after year this spot has known the same tranquility; with ever so little of good fortune, with ever so little wisdom, beyond what was granted me, I might have blessed my manhood with calm, might have made for myself in later life a long retrospect of bowered peace. As it is, I enjoy with something of sadness, remembering that this melodious silence is but the prelude of that deeper stillness which waits to enfold us all.

最近有幾天，我醒來躺在床上，聽到起床最早的云雀發(fā)出的第一聲啼叫，我?guī)缀跻獙?duì)那些不眠之夜感到歡喜了。這些時(shí)候，唯一讓我不安的是想到我曾在人類世界的愚蠢噪音中浪費(fèi)了那么漫長的人生。年復(fù)一年，這個(gè)地方都有著同樣的寧靜；如果我的財(cái)富和智慧比上蒼的賜予多一點(diǎn)，我也許就能讓自己的成長過程多一些平靜，也能在晚年有幸擁有一段漫長平靜的回憶時(shí)光。而現(xiàn)在，我的享受是帶著一絲感傷的，想到這悅耳的寧靜不過是等待吞噬我們所有人更深沉的死寂的序曲。