Those foolish days
有一篇是写爱情的，令人惊叹的不仅是作者与读者心灵的高同步率，但更让人傻眼的是末尾两段...整段读下来后你会......会心一笑，惊喜，不可思议，沉静，反思，唉......嗯!!!
Ah, lad, cherish love's young dream while it lasts! You will know too soon how truly little Tom Moore sang when he said that there was nothing half so sweet in life. Even when it brings misery it is a wild, romantic misery, all unlike the dull, worldly pain of after-sorrows. When you have lost her—when the light is gone out from your life and the world stretches before you a long, dark horror, even then a half-enchantment mingles with your despair.
And who would not risk its terrors to gain its raptures? Ah, what raptures they were! The mere recollection thrills you. How delicious it was to tell her that you loved her, that you lived for her, that you would die for her! How you did rave, to be sure, what floods of extravagant nonsense you poured forth, and oh, how cruel it was of her to pretend not to believe you! In what awe you stood for her! How miserable you were when you had offended her! And yet, how pleasant to be bullied by her and to sue for pardon without having the slightest notion of what your fault was! How dark the world was when she snubbed you, as she often did, the little rogue, just to see you look wretched; how sunny when she smiled! How jealous you were of every one about her! How you hated every man she shook hands with, every woman she kissed—the maid that did her hair, the boy that cleaned her shoes, the dog she nursed—though you had to be respectful to the last-named! How you looked forward to seeing her, how stupid you were when you did see her, staring at her without saying a word! How impossible it was for you to go out at any time of the day or night without finding yourself eventually opposite her windows! You hadn't pluck enough to go in, but you hung about the corner and gazed at the outside. Oh, if the house had only caught fire—it was insured, so it wouldn't mattered—and you could have rushed in and saved her at the risk of your life, and have been terribly burned and injured! Anything to serve her. Even in little things that was so sweet. How you would watch her, spaniel-like, to anticipate her slightest wish! How proud you were to do her bidding! How delightful it was to be ordered about by her! To devote your whole life to her and to never think of yourself seemed such a simple thing. You would go without a holiday to lay a humble offering at her shrine, and felt more than repaid if she only deigned to accept it. How precious to you was everything that she had hallowed by her touch—her little glove, the ribbon she had worn, the rose that had nestled in her hair and whose withered leaves still mark the poems you never care to look at now.
And oh, how beautiful she was, how wondrous beautiful! It was as some angel entering the room, and all else became plain and earthly. She was too sacred to be touched. It seemed almost presumption to gaze at her. You would as soon have thought of kissing her as of singing comic songs in a cathedral. It was desecration enough to kneel and timidly raise the gracious little hand to your lips.
Ah, those foolish days, those foolish days when we were unselfish and pure-minded; those foolish days when our simple hearts were full of truth, and faith, and reverence! Ah, those foolish days of noble longings and of noble strivings! And oh, these wise, clever days when we know that money is the only prize worth striving for, when we believe in nothing else but meanness and lies, when we care for no living creature but ourselves!
小伙子们，在爱情初梦未醒之前，好好珍惜吧！你马上就能体会到托马斯·穆尔唱得多么贴切：世间万物都不如爱情一半儿甜美。即使是痛苦，爱情的痛苦也是疯狂而浪漫的，全然不似经历不幸后那种乏味、世俗的痛苦。当你失去了她——在生命之光黯然熄灭，眼前只剩空荡黑暗的恐怖世界之时，你的绝望中也还掺杂着一丝陶醉的感觉。
因此，谁不愿意冒着恐惧的危险，去博取爱情的喜悦？那是怎样的狂喜啊！仅仅是事后回想，都会让你激动不已。告诉她你爱她，你为她而活，你愿为她而死——是多么美妙啊！诚然，你是那么语无伦次，你滔滔不绝地倾倒出了那么多的狂热而荒唐的言语！哦！她假装不相信，这对你多么残酷！你对她是多么敬畏！假若你对她的尊严稍有冒犯，你是多么痛苦不堪！然而，那些她欺负你、而你一点也不知犯了什么错却乞求她原谅的时刻，又是多么甜蜜！她这个小坏蛋，经常会故意冷落你，只为了看你垂头丧气的样子，这种时刻，世界是多么黑暗！而当她绽放笑容的时候，整个世界又是多么阳光灿烂！你是多么嫉妒她周围的每一个人啊！你多么讨厌每个和她握手的男性，每个被她亲吻的女性——为她梳头的女仆，替她擦鞋的侍童，她照料的小狗——但你却不得不对上面最后提到的这位恭恭敬敬！你是多么渴望见到她！真正见到她时你又是多么傻气，双眼盯着她看，却说不出一句话！不管是白天还是黑夜，任何时候，你只要出门，就会发现，要让自己最后不走到她窗户的对面，是多么不可能！你还没有足够的勇气进去找她，但你在街角流连，眼光离不开她的窗口。啊，要是房子着了火就好了——房子已经上过保险，所以没关系——然后你就可以冲进房门，冒着生命危险英雄救美，而自己却被严重烧伤！你愿为她做任何事，即使是琐碎的事也让你感到多么的甜蜜。你甚至会像小狗一样观察她，只为猜出她最微小的心愿。能够服从她的命令，你多么自豪！听凭她呼来喝去，又让你多么开心！对你来说，将自己的整个生命奉献给她，彻底忘了自己的存在，是如此简单的一件事情。你会在每个节假日都去她的神庙奉上微薄的贡品，而只要她肯屈尊接受，你便会受宠若惊，觉得得到的不仅是回报。她触碰过的一切物品都变得神圣，在你看来都珍贵异常——她的小手套，她系过的绸带，她头发上别过的玫瑰——而这玫瑰枯萎的叶子至今仍夹在某本诗集里。
而她是多么美丽，那种美丽又多么令人赞叹！就像走入凡间的天使，让其它一切都因之变得平庸而俗气。她是如此圣洁，不容任何人触碰。凝视她仿佛几乎是遐想。亲吻她就像是在庄重的教堂中放声大唱滑稽小调一样。即使双膝跪地，然后战战兢兢地将她精致的小手举到你唇边，就足以造成对她的亵渎了。
啊，那些傻里傻气的日子啊！在那些傻傻的日子里，我们无私而单纯；在那些傻傻的日子里，我们单纯的心里充满了真理、信仰和敬畏；在那些傻傻的日子里，我们有着崇高的渴望的卓绝的奋斗！然后，噢，是这些聪明睿智的日子——我们开始明白金钱才是唯一值得努力奋斗的东西，卑鄙和谎言才是唯一可以相信的东西，除了我们自己，我们开始对一切生灵漠不关心！
Ah, lad, cherish love's young dream while it lasts! You will know too soon how truly little Tom Moore sang when he said that there was nothing half so sweet in life. Even when it brings misery it is a wild, romantic misery, all unlike the dull, worldly pain of after-sorrows. When you have lost her—when the light is gone out from your life and the world stretches before you a long, dark horror, even then a half-enchantment mingles with your despair.
And who would not risk its terrors to gain its raptures? Ah, what raptures they were! The mere recollection thrills you. How delicious it was to tell her that you loved her, that you lived for her, that you would die for her! How you did rave, to be sure, what floods of extravagant nonsense you poured forth, and oh, how cruel it was of her to pretend not to believe you! In what awe you stood for her! How miserable you were when you had offended her! And yet, how pleasant to be bullied by her and to sue for pardon without having the slightest notion of what your fault was! How dark the world was when she snubbed you, as she often did, the little rogue, just to see you look wretched; how sunny when she smiled! How jealous you were of every one about her! How you hated every man she shook hands with, every woman she kissed—the maid that did her hair, the boy that cleaned her shoes, the dog she nursed—though you had to be respectful to the last-named! How you looked forward to seeing her, how stupid you were when you did see her, staring at her without saying a word! How impossible it was for you to go out at any time of the day or night without finding yourself eventually opposite her windows! You hadn't pluck enough to go in, but you hung about the corner and gazed at the outside. Oh, if the house had only caught fire—it was insured, so it wouldn't mattered—and you could have rushed in and saved her at the risk of your life, and have been terribly burned and injured! Anything to serve her. Even in little things that was so sweet. How you would watch her, spaniel-like, to anticipate her slightest wish! How proud you were to do her bidding! How delightful it was to be ordered about by her! To devote your whole life to her and to never think of yourself seemed such a simple thing. You would go without a holiday to lay a humble offering at her shrine, and felt more than repaid if she only deigned to accept it. How precious to you was everything that she had hallowed by her touch—her little glove, the ribbon she had worn, the rose that had nestled in her hair and whose withered leaves still mark the poems you never care to look at now.
And oh, how beautiful she was, how wondrous beautiful! It was as some angel entering the room, and all else became plain and earthly. She was too sacred to be touched. It seemed almost presumption to gaze at her. You would as soon have thought of kissing her as of singing comic songs in a cathedral. It was desecration enough to kneel and timidly raise the gracious little hand to your lips.
Ah, those foolish days, those foolish days when we were unselfish and pure-minded; those foolish days when our simple hearts were full of truth, and faith, and reverence! Ah, those foolish days of noble longings and of noble strivings! And oh, these wise, clever days when we know that money is the only prize worth striving for, when we believe in nothing else but meanness and lies, when we care for no living creature but ourselves!
小伙子们，在爱情初梦未醒之前，好好珍惜吧！你马上就能体会到托马斯·穆尔唱得多么贴切：世间万物都不如爱情一半儿甜美。即使是痛苦，爱情的痛苦也是疯狂而浪漫的，全然不似经历不幸后那种乏味、世俗的痛苦。当你失去了她——在生命之光黯然熄灭，眼前只剩空荡黑暗的恐怖世界之时，你的绝望中也还掺杂着一丝陶醉的感觉。
因此，谁不愿意冒着恐惧的危险，去博取爱情的喜悦？那是怎样的狂喜啊！仅仅是事后回想，都会让你激动不已。告诉她你爱她，你为她而活，你愿为她而死——是多么美妙啊！诚然，你是那么语无伦次，你滔滔不绝地倾倒出了那么多的狂热而荒唐的言语！哦！她假装不相信，这对你多么残酷！你对她是多么敬畏！假若你对她的尊严稍有冒犯，你是多么痛苦不堪！然而，那些她欺负你、而你一点也不知犯了什么错却乞求她原谅的时刻，又是多么甜蜜！她这个小坏蛋，经常会故意冷落你，只为了看你垂头丧气的样子，这种时刻，世界是多么黑暗！而当她绽放笑容的时候，整个世界又是多么阳光灿烂！你是多么嫉妒她周围的每一个人啊！你多么讨厌每个和她握手的男性，每个被她亲吻的女性——为她梳头的女仆，替她擦鞋的侍童，她照料的小狗——但你却不得不对上面最后提到的这位恭恭敬敬！你是多么渴望见到她！真正见到她时你又是多么傻气，双眼盯着她看，却说不出一句话！不管是白天还是黑夜，任何时候，你只要出门，就会发现，要让自己最后不走到她窗户的对面，是多么不可能！你还没有足够的勇气进去找她，但你在街角流连，眼光离不开她的窗口。啊，要是房子着了火就好了——房子已经上过保险，所以没关系——然后你就可以冲进房门，冒着生命危险英雄救美，而自己却被严重烧伤！你愿为她做任何事，即使是琐碎的事也让你感到多么的甜蜜。你甚至会像小狗一样观察她，只为猜出她最微小的心愿。能够服从她的命令，你多么自豪！听凭她呼来喝去，又让你多么开心！对你来说，将自己的整个生命奉献给她，彻底忘了自己的存在，是如此简单的一件事情。你会在每个节假日都去她的神庙奉上微薄的贡品，而只要她肯屈尊接受，你便会受宠若惊，觉得得到的不仅是回报。她触碰过的一切物品都变得神圣，在你看来都珍贵异常——她的小手套，她系过的绸带，她头发上别过的玫瑰——而这玫瑰枯萎的叶子至今仍夹在某本诗集里。
而她是多么美丽，那种美丽又多么令人赞叹！就像走入凡间的天使，让其它一切都因之变得平庸而俗气。她是如此圣洁，不容任何人触碰。凝视她仿佛几乎是遐想。亲吻她就像是在庄重的教堂中放声大唱滑稽小调一样。即使双膝跪地，然后战战兢兢地将她精致的小手举到你唇边，就足以造成对她的亵渎了。
啊，那些傻里傻气的日子啊！在那些傻傻的日子里，我们无私而单纯；在那些傻傻的日子里，我们单纯的心里充满了真理、信仰和敬畏；在那些傻傻的日子里，我们有着崇高的渴望的卓绝的奋斗！然后，噢，是这些聪明睿智的日子——我们开始明白金钱才是唯一值得努力奋斗的东西，卑鄙和谎言才是唯一可以相信的东西，除了我们自己，我们开始对一切生灵漠不关心！
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