本帖最后由 ヮ成熟、羙° 于 2014-4-3 17:53 编辑
三颗桃核
荷叶/译
观察随便哪一个孩子，你会发现无论哪一天他都会发现一两件让他开心的事，尽管一下刻他就可能满脸泪痕。接下来再看看随便哪个大人，你会注意到周复一周，月复一月，他无可奈何地迎接着每一天的到来，礼貌而漫不经心度过每一天。实际上，多数人都象触犯戒律的人一样悲惨。尽管他们厌倦的连错都不去犯，他们的罪过就是漫不经心。但事实是他们很少笑，以致于当他们笑起来，你会认不出他们的脸孔，和我们司空见惯的一成不变的大不相同，显得扭曲变形。即使这时，成人也不能像孩子一样笑，因为孩子的笑容来自眼角，而成人的微笑却来自嘴唇。那不是在笑，是在咧嘴，这种笑只是滑稽，和开心不沾边。接下来，人人都知，有一个节点（谁又能界定这个节点何时来临呢），成人变成了老人，那时，他就又会笑了。 似乎幸福和简单有关，它是一种能从简单的事物中提取快乐的能力，比如说，一颗桃核。 很显然幸福与成功无关。亨利斯图亚特爵士当然很成功。二十年前，他从伦敦来到我们村，买下几所旧宅子，把它们连成一片，作为他和家人周末休憩之所。他是个大律师，村里人几乎达到尊祟父辈一样崇拜他辉煌的事业。 我记得大约十年前，他成为国王的顾问，看他从伦敦驶来的火车上下来，我和阿默德走过去祝贺。我们眉开眼笑，他却像刚接到判决书一样悲惨。当他升了骑士时，情况也一样。他一丝笑容也没有，甚至都没有去蓝狐酒吧喝上一杯，以示庆祝。他接受成功就像孩子吃药一样。没有一次成就给他疲惫的双眼带来一丝笑意。 他退下来后不久，有一天，他在花园里闲逛，我问他实现所有报负后的感受是什么。他低头看着玫瑰花，继续浇着水，然后说：“实现报负后唯一的价值就在于那时你认识到它们根本不值得去实现。”他迅速将谈话转向了更加实用的话题，片刻之后，我们就谈起了天气，一个万无一失的话题。那是两年前的事情。 我想起了这件事，是因为昨天我路过他家时，把大车停在了他家花园外。我停下来是为了给一辆公交让路。我正坐下来装烟斗，突然听到墙那面传来了一阵纯粹的大笑。 我往里窥视，看到亨利爵士欣喜若狂，正在毫无顾忌地跳着部落出征时的舞蹈。即使当他看到我正满脸迷茫地盯着他看，他既不生气，也不尴尬，而是朝我大喊，让我爬过去。“杰，过来看，瞧！我终于做到了，我终于做到了！” 他站在那儿，手里拿个小盒，里面装着土，我观察到里面有三颗小芽。 “只有三颗！”他说，眉开眼笑。 “三颗什么？”我问。 “桃核，‘他回答；“我一直想使桃核发芽，孩提时，我从晚会上拿回桃核，成人后，我宴会后拿回桃核，我种过，然后就忘了种在哪了。现在，我终于成功了，并且，我只有三颗桃核，你瞧，一棵，两棵，三棵幼苗。”他数着。 亨利爵士跑开了，招呼他妻子来看他的成功，他纯朴简单的成功。
邓肯
附：原文 Three Peach Stones Observe a child;any one will do. You will see that not a day passes in which he does not findsomething or other to make him happy, though he may be in tears the nextmoment. Then look at a man; any one of us will do. You will notice that weeksand months can pass in which day is greeted with nothing more than resignation,and endure with every polite indifference. Indeed, most men are as miserable assinners, though they are too bored to sin-perhaps their sin is theirindifference. But it is true that they so seldom smile that when they do we donot recognize their face, so distorted is it from the fixed mask we take forgranted. And even then a man can not smile like a child, for a child smileswith his eyes, whereas a man smiles with his lips alone. It is not a smile; buta grin; something to do with humor, but little to do with happiness. And then,as anyone can see, there is a point (but who can define that point?) when a manbecomes an old man, and then he will smile again. It would seem that happiness issomething to do with simplicity, and that it is the ability to extract pleasureform the simplest things-such as a peach stone, for instance. It is obvious thatit is nothing to do with success. For Sir Henry Stewart was certainlysuccessful. It is twenty years ago since he came down to our village from London , and boughta couple of old cottages, which he had knocked into one. He used his house asweekend refuge. He was a barrister. And the village followed his brilliantcareer with something almost amounting to paternal pride. I remembersome ten years ago when he was made a King's Counsel, Amos and I, seeing himget off the Londontrain, went to congratulate him. We grinned with pleasure; he merely looked asmiserable as though he'd received a penal sentence. It was the same when he wasknighted; he never smiled a bit, he didn't even bother to celebrate with around of drinks at the "Blue Fox". He took his success as a childdoes his medicine. And not one of his achievements brought even a ghost of asmile to his tired eyes. I asked him oneday, soon after he'd retired to potter about his garden, what is was like toachieve all one's ambitions. He looked down at his roses and went on wateringthem. Then he said "The only value in achieving one's ambition is that youthen realize that they are not worth achieving." Quickly he moved theconversation on to a more practical level, and within a moment we were back toa safe discussion on the weather. That was two years ago. I recall thisincident, for yesterday, I was passing his house, and had drawn up my cart just outside his garden wall. I had pulled in from the road for no other reason thanto let a bus pass me. As I set there filling my pipe, I suddenly heard a shoutof sheer joy come from the other side of the wall. I peeredover. There stood Sir Henry doing nothing less than a tribal war dance of sheerunashamed ecstasy. Even when he observed my bewildered face staring over thewall he did not seem put out or embarrassed, but shouted for me to climb over. "Come and see,Jan. Look! I have done it at last! I have done it at last!" There he was,holding a small box of earth in his hand. I observed three tiny shoots out ofit. "And therewere only three!" he said, his eyes laughing to heaven. "Threewhat?" I asked. "Peach stones", he replied. "I've always wanted to make peach stones grow,even since I was a child, when I used to take them home after a party, or as aman after a banquet. And I used to plant them, and then forgot where I planted them. But now at last I have done it, and, what's more, I had only three stones, and there you are, one, two, three shoots," he counted. And Sir Henry ranoff, calling for his wife to come and see his achievement-his achievement of simplicity. R. Duncan
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发表于 2014-4-3 04:07:04
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