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“IwillgiveyouanotherpictureofSweden,”saidthemoon。“Amongdarkpinewoods,nearthemelancholybanksoftheStoxen,liestheoldconventchurchofwreta。myraysglidedthroughthegratingintotheroomyvaults,wherekingssleeptranquillyingreatstonecoffins。onthewall,abovethegraveofeach,isplacedtheemblemofearthlygrandeur,akinglycrown;butitismadeonlyofwood,paintedandgilt,andishungonawoodenpegdrivenintothewall。
虫子咬噬着镀金的木头,蜘蛛从王冠上一直织到沙子里,织成了一张网,就像一面哀悼的旗帜,脆弱而短暂,如同凡人的悲伤。他们睡得多么安详!我还能清清楚楚地记得他们。我仍然能看到他们嘴唇上大胆的笑容,那笑容强烈而清晰地表达着喜悦或悲伤。当汽船像一只神奇的蜗牛在湖面上蜿蜒前行时,一个陌生人常常来到教堂,参观地下墓穴;他询问国王们的名字,那些名字听起来死气沉沉且被人遗忘。他微笑着瞥一眼被虫子蛀蚀的王冠,如果他恰好是一个虔诚、深思的人,那么一丝忧伤会与微笑交织在一起。睡吧,你们这些死者!月亮想着你们,夜晚的月亮把光芒洒向你们寂静的王国,在那里,一顶松木王冠高悬着。
“thewormshavegnawedthegildedwood,thespiderhasspunherwebfromthecrowndowntothesand,likeamourningbanner,frailandtransientasthegriefofmortals。howquietlytheysleep!Icanrememberthemquiteplainly。Istillseetheboldsmileontheirlips,thatsostronglyandplainlyexpressedjoyorgrief。whenthesteamboatwindsalonglikeamagicsnailoverthelakes,astrangeroftenestothechurch,andvisitstheburialvault;heasksthenamesofthekings,andtheyhaveadeadandforgottensound。heglanceswithasmileattheworm-eatencrowns,andifhehappenstobeapious,thoughtfulman,somethingofmelancholymingleswiththesmile。Slumberon,yedeadones!themoonthinksofyou,themoonatnightsendsdownhisraysintoyoursilentkingdom,overwhichhangsthecrownofpinewood。”
第二十九个晚上
twENtY-NINthEVENING
“靠近大路的地方,”月亮说,“有一家客栈,对面是一个很大的马车棚,它的草顶正在重新铺盖。我从光秃秃的椽子中间向下看,透过敞开的阁楼看到下面不舒服的空间。火鸡栖息在横梁上,马鞍放在空的马槽里。在棚子中央停着一辆旅行马车;车主在里面睡得很沉,而马正在喝水。马车夫伸了个懒腰,尽管我很确定在上一段路程的一半时间里他睡得非常舒服。”
“closebythehigh-road,”saidthemoon,“isaninn,andoppositetoitisagreatwaggon-shed,whosestrawroofwasjustbeingre-thatched。Ilookeddownbetweenthebareraftersandthroughtheopenloftintothefortlessspacebelow。theturkey-cocksleptonthebeam,andthesaddlerestedintheemptycrib。Inthemiddleoftheshedstoodatravellingcarriage;theproprietorwasinside,fastasleep,whilethehorseswerebeingwatered。thecoachmanstretchedhimself,thoughIamverysurethathehadbeenmostfortablyasleephalfthelaststage。
仆人的房间门敞开着,床看起来好像被翻来覆去折腾过;蜡烛立在地上,已经烧到烛台深处了。风冷冷地吹过车棚:现在离黎明比离午夜更近了。在地上的木框里,一家流浪的乐师正在睡觉。父亲和母亲似乎在梦见瓶子里剩下的烈酒。脸色苍白的小女儿也在做梦,因为她的眼睛里含着泪水。竖琴放在他们头边,狗伸展着身子躺在他们脚边。
“thedooroftheservants’roomstoodopen,andthebedlookedasifithadbeenturnedoverandover;thecandlestoodonthefloor,andhadburntdeepdownintothesocket。thewindblewcoldthroughtheshed:itwasnearertothedawnthantomidnight。Inthewoodenframeonthegroundsleptawanderingfamilyofmusicians。thefatherandmotherseemedtobedreamingoftheburningliquorthatremainedinthebottle。thelittlepaledaughterwasdreamingtoo,forhereyeswerewetwithtears。theharpstoodattheirheads,andthedoglaystretchedattheirfeet。”
第三十个晚上
thIRtIEthEVENING
“那是在一个小省城,”月亮说,“肯定是去年发生的事,但那与此事无关。我看得清清楚楚。今天我在报纸上看到了这件事,但报纸上说得没这么清楚。在小客栈的酒吧间里,驯熊人坐着吃他的晚饭;熊被拴在外面,木柴堆后面——可怜的布鲁因,它谁也没伤害,尽管它看起来够凶的。在阁楼里,三个小孩子借着我的光在玩耍;最大的也许六岁,最小的肯定不到两岁。‘噔噔噔’——有人上楼来了:会是谁呢?门被猛地推开——是布鲁因,那只大而毛茸茸的布鲁因!它在院子里等得不耐烦了,就找到了上楼的路。‘我全看见了。’月亮说。”
“Itwasinalittleprovincialtown,”themoonsaid;“itcertainlyhappenedlastyear,butthathasnothingtodowiththematter。Isawitquiteplainly。to-dayIreadaboutitinthepapers,butthereitwasnothalfsoclearlyexpressed。Inthetaproomofthelittleinnsatthebearleader,eatinghissupper;thebearwastiedupoutside,behindthewoodpile—poorbruin,whodidnobodyanyharm,thoughhelookedgrimenough。Upinthegarretthreelittlechildrenwereplayingbythelightofmybeams;theeldestwasperhapssixyearsold,theyoungestcertainlynotmorethantwo。‘tramp,tramp’—somebodywasingupstairs:whomightitbe?thedoorwasthrustopen—itwasbruin,thegreat,shaggybruin!hehadgottiredofwaitingdowninthecourtyard,andhadfoundhiswaytothestairs。Isawitall,”saidthemoon。
孩子们一开始很害怕这只毛茸茸的大动物;他们每个人都爬进一个角落,但它把他们都找了出来,闻了闻他们,却没有伤害他们。“这一定是一只大狗。”他们说,然后开始抚摸它。它躺在地上,最小的男孩爬到它背上,垂下一头金色的卷发小脑袋,玩起了藏在这只野兽毛茸茸的皮毛里的游戏。不一会儿,最大的男孩拿起他的鼓,敲得鼓又响了起来;熊用后腿站了起来,开始跳舞。这是一幅迷人的景象。现在每个男孩都拿起了他的枪,熊也必须有一把,它把枪举得非常端正。他们找到了一个很棒的玩伴;他们开始行进——一、二;一、二。
“thechildrenwereverymuchfrightenedatfirstatthegreatshaggyanimal;eachofthemcreptintoacorner,buthefoundthemallout,andsmeltatthem,butdidthemnoharm。‘thismustbeagreatdog,’theysaid,andbegantostrokehim。helaydownupontheground,theyoungestboyclamberedonhisback,andbendingdownalittleheadofgoldencurls,playedathidinginthebeast’sshaggyskin。presentlytheeldestboytookhisdrum,andbeatuponittillitrattledagain;thebearroseuponhishindlegs,andbegantodance。Itwasacharmingsighttobehold。Eachboynowtookhisgun,andthebearwasobligedtohaveonetoo,andhehelditupquiteproperly。herewasacapitalplaymatetheyhadfound;andtheybeganmarching—one,two;one,two。
“突然有人来到门口,门开了,孩子们的母亲出现了。你应该看看她那无声的恐惧,她的脸像粉笔一样苍白,嘴半张着,眼睛惊恐地盯着。但最小的男孩兴高采烈地向她点点头,用他幼稚的咿呀声喊道:‘我们在玩当兵的游戏。’然后驯熊人跑了过来。”
“Suddenlysomeonecametothedoor,whichopened,andthemotherofthechildrenappeared。Youshouldhaveseenherinherdumbterror,withherfaceaswhiteaschalk,hermouthhalfopen,andhereyesfixedinahorrifiedstare。buttheyoungestboynoddedtoheringreatglee,andcalledoutinhisinfantileprattle,‘we’replayingatsoldiers。’Andthenthebearleadercamerunningup。”
第三十一个晚上
thIRtY-FIRStEVENING
风猛烈而寒冷地吹着,云朵匆匆飘过;只有偶尔月亮才会露一下脸。他说:“我从寂静的天空俯瞰着疾驰的云朵,看到巨大的阴影在大地上相互追逐。”
“thewindblewstormyandcold,thecloudsflewhurriedlypast;onlyforamomentnowandthendidthemoonbeevisible。hesaid,‘Ilookeddownfromthesilentskyuponthedrivingclouds,andsawthegreatshadowschasingeachotheracrosstheearth。’
我望着一座监狱。一辆封闭的马车停在它前面;一个囚犯要被带走。我的光芒透过带栅栏的窗户照向墙壁;囚犯在墙上划了几行字,作为离别的记号;但他写的不是字,而是一段旋律,是他内心的倾诉。门打开了,他被带了出来,眼睛盯着我的圆盘。云朵在我们之间飘过,仿佛他看不到自己的脸,我也看不到他的脸。他上了马车,门关上了,鞭子一响,马疾驰进茂密的森林,我的光芒无法追随他;但当我透过带栅栏的窗户看过去时,我的光芒照在那些音符上,那是他留在监狱墙上的最后告别——言语无法表达之处,声音常常能诉说。我的光芒只能照亮孤立的音符,所以写在那里的大部分内容对我来说将永远是黑暗的。他在那里写的是死亡赞美诗吗?这些是欢快的音符吗?他是去赴死,还是奔向他心爱的人的怀抱?月亮的光芒读不懂人类所写的一切。
“Ilookeduponaprison。Aclosedcarriagestoodbeforeit;aprisonerwastobecarriedaway。myrayspiercedthroughthegratedwindowtowardsthewall;theprisonerwasscratchingafewlinesuponit,asapartingtoken;buthedidnotwritewords,butamelody,theoutpouringofhisheart。thedoorwasopened,andhewasledforth,andfixedhiseyesuponmyrounddisc。cloudspassedbetweenus,asifhewerenottoseehisface,norIhis。hesteppedintothecarriage,thedoorwasclosed,thewhipcracked,andthehorsesgalloppedoffintothethickforest,whithermyrayswerenotabletofollowhim;butasIglancedthroughthegratedwindow,myraysglidedoverthenotes,hislastfarewellengravedontheprisonwall—wherewordsfail,soundscanoftenspeak。myrayscouldonlylightupisolatednotes,sothegreaterpartofwhatwaswrittentherewilleverremaindarktome。wasitthedeath-hymnhewrotethere?werethesethegladnotesofjoy?didhedriveawaytomeetdeath,orhastentotheembracesofhisbeloved?theraysofthemoondonotreadallthatiswrittenbymortals。”
第三十二个晚上
thIRtY-SEcoNdEVENING
“我爱孩子们,”月亮说,“尤其是非常小的孩子们——他们是那么滑稽。有时,当他们没想到我的时候,我会从窗帘和窗框之间向房间里窥视。看到他们穿衣服和脱衣服让我很开心。”
“Ilovethechildren,”saidthemoon,“especiallythequitelittleones—theyaresodroll。SometimesIpeepintotheroom,betweenthecurtainandthewindowframe,whentheyarenotthinkingofme。Itgivesmepleasuretoseethemdressingandundressing。
首先,圆润的小裸肩从衣服里慢慢露出来,接着是胳膊;或者我看到袜子是怎么被脱下来的,一条胖乎乎的小白腿露了出来,还有一只适合被亲吻的小白脚,我也亲吻了它。
“但是关于我正要告诉你的事情。今晚我透过一扇窗户往里看,窗前没有拉窗帘,因为对面没有人住。我看到一整群小孩子,都是一家人,其中有一个小妹妹。她只有四岁,但祷告起来和其他孩子一样好。母亲每天晚上坐在她的床边,听她祷告;然后她得到一个吻,母亲坐在床边,直到小宝贝睡着,通常她一闭上眼睛就睡着了。
“今晚两个大一点的孩子有点闹。一个穿着长长的白色睡衣单脚跳着,另一个站在椅子上,周围都是孩子们的衣服,宣称他在扮演希腊雕像。第三个和第四个孩子小心地把干净的亚麻布放进盒子里,因为这是必须要做的事情;母亲坐在最小的孩子的床边,告诉其他所有孩子要安静,因为小妹妹要祷告了。
“我越过灯往里看,看到小姑娘的床上,她躺在整洁的白色被单下,双手端庄地叠放在一起,小脸十分严肃庄重。”
“First,thelittleroundnakedshoulderescreepingoutofthefrock,thenthearm;orIseehowthestockingisdrawnoff,andaplumplittlewhitelegmakesitsappearance,andawhitelittlefootthatisfittobekissed,andIkissittoo。
“butaboutwhatIwasgoingtotellyou。thiseveningIlookedthroughawindow,beforewhichnocurtainwasdrawn,fornobodylivesopposite。Isawawholetroopoflittleones,allofonefamily,andamongthemwasalittlesister。Sheisonlyfouryearsold,butcansayherprayersaswellasanyoftherest。themothersitsbyherbedeveryevening,andhearshersayherprayers;andthenshehasakiss,andthemothersitsbythebedtillthelittleonehasgonetosleep,whichgenerallyhappensassoonasevershecanclosehereyes。
“thiseveningthetwoelderchildrenwerealittleboisterous。oneofthemhoppedaboutononeleginhislongwhitenightgown,andtheotherstoodonachairsurroundedbytheclothesofallthechildren,anddeclaredhewasactingGrecianstatues。thethirdandfourthlaidthecleanlinencarefullyinthebox,forthatisathingthathastobedone;andthemothersatbythebedoftheyoungest,andannouncedtoalltherestthattheyweretobequiet,forlittlesisterwasgoingtosayherprayers。
“Ilookedin,overthelamp,intothelittlemaiden’sbed,whereshelayundertheneatwhitecoverlet,herhandsfoldeddemurelyandherlittlefacequitegraveandserious。
她正在大声地背诵主祷文。但她的母亲在她祷告到一半的时候打断了她。“这是怎么回事,”她问道,“当你为每日的面包祈祷完后,你总是加上一些我不明白的话?你必须告诉我那是什么。”小女孩静静地躺着,尴尬地看着她的母亲。“你在为我们的每日面包祈祷完后说了什么?”“亲爱的妈妈,别生气:我只是说,还要有很多黄油在上面。”
“ShewasprayingtheLord’sprayeraloud。buthermotherinterruptedherinthemiddleofherprayer。‘howisit,’sheasked,‘thatwhenyouhaveprayedfordailybread,youalwaysaddsomethingIcannotunderstand?Youmusttellmewhatthatis。’thelittleonelaysilent,andlookedathermotherinembarrassment。‘whatisityousayafterourdailybread?’‘dearmother,don’tbeangry:Ionlysaid,andplentyofbutteronit。’”
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