朱自清散文《匆匆》的英文翻译
2007-05-31 16:51阅读：
Rush
Swallows may have gone, but there is a time of return; willow trees
may have died back, but there is a time of renewal; peach blossoms
may have fallen, but they will bloom again. Now , you the wise,
tell me—why should our days leave us, never to return?—if they had
been stolen by someone, who could it be? Where could it he hide
them? If they had made the escape themselves, then where could they
be hiding now?
I don’t know how many days I have been given to spend, but I do
feel my hands are getting empty. Taking stock silently, I find that
more than eight thousand days have already slipped away form me.
Lik
e a drop of water from the point of a needle disappearing into the
ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time—soundless,
traceless. Already sweat is beading on my forehead, and tears are
welling up in my eyes.
Those that have gone have gone for good, those to come keep coming;
yet in between, how swift is the shift, in such a rush? When I get
up in the morning, the slanting sun marks its presence in my small
room in two or three oblongs. The sun has feet-look, he is
treading, lightly and furtively; and I am caught, blankly, in his
revolution. Thus- the day flows away through the sink when I wash
my hands, rubs off in the bowl when I eat my meal, and passes away
before my day-dreaming gaze as I reflect in silence. I can feel his
haste now, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but he keeps
flowing past my body, glides past my feet, in his agile way. The
moment I open my eyes and meet the sun again, one whole day has
gone. I bury my face in my hands and heave a sigh. But the new day
begins to flash past in the sigh.
What can I do, in this bustling world, with my days flying in their
escape? Nothing but to hesitate, to rush. What have I been doing in
that eight-thousand-day rush, apart from hesitating? Those bygone
days have been dispersed as smoke by a light wind, or evaporated as
mist by the morning sun. What traces have I left behind me? Have I
ever left behind any gossamer traces at all? I have come to the
world, stark naked; am I to go back, in a blink, in the same stark
nakedness? It is not fair though: why should I have made such a
trip for nothing.
