精美英文欣赏:朋友(巴金)

在爷爷去世后的十月，我种了一些郁金香、水仙、雪花莲、番红花及蓝铃花。每一个花苞对我来说都是一种安慰，都是给爷爷的一份爱，都是春天的一份承诺。

A promise of spring

Early in the spring, about a month before my grandpa's stroke, I began walking for an hour every afternoon. Some days I would walk four blocks south to see Grandma and Grandpa.

At eighty-six, Grandpa was still quite a gardener, so I always watched for his earliest blooms and each new wave of spring flowers.

I was especially interested in flowers that year because I was planning to landscape my own yard and I was eager to get Grandpa's advice. I thought I knew pretty much what I wanted — a yard full of bushes and plants that would bloom from May till November.

It was right after the first rush of purple violets in the lawns and the sudden blaze of forsythia that spring that Grandpa had a stroke. It left him without speech and with no movement on his left side. The whole family rallied to Grandpa. We all spent many hours by his side. Some days his eyes were eloquent — laughing at our reported mishaps, listening alertly, revealing painful awareness of his inability to care for himself. There were days, too, when he slept most of the time, overcome with the weight of his approaching death.

As the months passed, I watched the growing earth with Grandpa's eyes. Each time I was with him, I gave him a garden report. He listened, gripping my hand with the sure strength and calm he had always had. But he could not answer my questions. The new flowers would blaze, peak, fade, and die before I knew their names.

Grandpa's illness held him through the spring and on, week by week, through summer. I began spending hours at the local nursery, studying and choosing seeds and plants. It gave me special joy to buy plants I had seen in Grandpa's garden and give them humble starts in my own garden. I discovered Sweet William, which I had admired for years in Grandpa's garden without knowing its name. And I planted it in his honor.

As I waited and watched in the garden and by Grandpa's side, some quiet truths emerged. I realized that Grandpa loved flowers that were always bloom; he kept a full bed of roses in his garden. But I noticed that Grandpa left plenty of room for the brief highlights. Not every nook of his garden was constantly in bloom. There was always a treasured surprise tucked somewhere.

I came to see, too, that Grandpa's garden mirrored his life. He was a hard worker who understood the law of the harvest. But along with his hard work, Grandpa knew how to enjoy each season, each change. We often teased him about his life history. He had written two paragraphs summarizing fifty years of work, and a full nine pages about every trip and vacation he'd ever taken.

In July, Grandpa worsened. One hot afternoon arrived when no one else was at his bedside. He was glad to have me there, and reached out his hand to pull me close.

I told Grandpa what I had learned — that few flowers last from April to November. Some of the most beautiful bloom for only a month at most. To really enjoy a garden, you have to plant corners and drifts and rows of flowers that will bloom and grace the garden, each in its own season.

His eyes listened to every word. Then, another discovery: "If I want a garden like yours, Grandpa, I'm going to have to work." His grin laughed at me, and his eyes teased me.

"Grandpa, in your life right now the chrysanthemums are in bloom. Chrysanthemums and roses." Tears clouded both our eyes. Neither of us feared this last flower of fall, but the wait for spring seems longest in November. We knew how much we would miss each other.

Sitting there, I suddenly felt that the best gift I could give Grandpa would be to give voice to the testimony inside both of us. He had never spoken of his testimony to me, but it was such a part of his life that I had never questioned if Grandpa knew. I knew he knew.

"Grandpa," I began — and his grip tightened as if he knew what I was going to say — "I want you to know that I have a testimony. I know the Savior lives. I bear witness to you that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I love the Restoration and joy in it." The steadiness in Grandpa's eyes told how much he felt it too. "I bear witness that President Kimball is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true, Grandpa. Every part of me bears this witness."

"Grandpa," I added quietly, "I know our Father in Heaven loves you." Unbidden, unexpected, the Spirit bore comforting, poignant testimony to me of our Father's love for my humble, quiet Grandpa.

A tangible sense of Heavenly Father's compassionate awareness of Grandpa's suffering surrounded us and held us. It was so personal and powerful that no words were left to me — only tears of gratitude and humility, tears of comfort.

Grandpa and I wept together.

It was the end of August when Grandpa died, the end of summer. As we were choosing flowers from the florist for Grandpa's funeral, I slipped away to Grandpa's garden and walked with my memories of columbine and Sweet William. Only the tall lavender and white phlox were in bloom now, and some baby's breath in another corner.

On impulse, I cut the prettiest strands of phlox and baby's breath and made one more arrangement for the funeral. When they saw it, friends and family all smiled to see Grandpa's flowers there. We all felt how much Grandpa would have liked that.

The October after Grandpa's death, I planted tulip and daffodil bulbs, snowdrops, crocuses, and bluebells. Each bulb was a comfort to me, a love sent to Grandpa, a promise of spring.

早春时节，大约在爷爷中风前的一个月，我开始每天下午散步一个小时。有些日子，我会步行向南穿过四个街区去看望爷爷奶奶。八十六岁的爷爷仍然是一个杰出的花匠，因此我总是观察着他最早盛开的花，以及一片又一片春的花海。

那年，我打算把自己的小院美化一下，因此对花特别感兴趣，期望能够得到爷爷的指导。我以为自己知道究竟需要什么——满院子花草树木，从五月一直开到十一月。

那年春天，就是在草坪里第一丛紫罗兰和突然盛开的鲜艳连翘出现后，爷爷得了中风。他嘴巴不能说话了，身体的左半部分也不能动。家里所有人都来看望爷爷，我们都花了大量的时间陪在他身边。有几天，他眼睛很有神——笑我们所汇报来的不幸，听我们说话也很机警，并说他不能料理自己心里感觉很痛苦。有时候，他一整天都出在睡眠的状态，而且体重也有所增加，随时可能有生命危险。

随着时间的推移，几个月过去了。我像爷爷一样望着地上长出来的东西。每次我和他在一起，我都要向他汇报一下花园的情况。他一边听着，一边用平静地用他一贯的力量紧握着我的手。然而，他无法回答我的问题。因此，很多花朵绽放、憔悴、凋谢和死亡，我甚至都不知道他们的名字。

从春季开始，爷爷就一直受疾病的折磨，一直持续到夏季。我开始料理当地的苗圃，研究选择种子和植株。我买了些曾在爷爷的花园里见过的树木，尽心尽力地种在了我自己的花园里，这给我带来很特别的快乐。我在爷爷的花园里发现了我喜欢多年的美洲石竹，以前一直不知道它的名字，现在我以爷爷的名誉栽下了它。

当我守护在爷爷身边的时候，一些真理静静地涌现。我知道爷爷深爱着那些繁盛的花草；在他的花园里，他种了一苗圃的玫瑰。不过，我也发现爷爷留了很多空地方，只为了能够让光线照进来。花园里并不是每个角落都经常有花开放，但总有一个接一个的惊喜从某个地方冒出来。

我也发现爷爷的花园是他一生的真实写照。他是一个勤劳的工人，他理解收获的规律。但是说起他的辛勤劳动，他又是一个知道如何享受四季和变化的人，我们经常拿他的过去开玩笑。他写了两段文字概述了他五十年的工作。其中，足足有九页文字记载的是他的每次旅行和假期。

七月，爷爷的病情恶化了。有一天下午天气很炎热，没有人在爷爷身边。只有我在，他很高兴，就伸出他的手把我抱得紧紧的。

我把我所学到的告诉了爷爷——很少有花能从五月开到十一月，绝大多部分花最多开一个月。为了真正达到欣赏花园的目的，你必须在每个角落都种上花，丛丛花儿开放，把花园装扮得非常漂亮，每个角落都有四季。

他用眼睛认真地倾听着我的每句话，另一个发现是：“爷爷，如果我想要我的花园像你的花园话，我必须去工作。”他对着我笑，漏出了牙齿，眼神也在嬉笑我。

“爷爷，现在菊花正在开放，菊花和玫瑰花都在开放。”我们俩的眼里都盈满了泪花，我们都不害怕最后一朵花凋谢，但在十一月等待春天未免有点太长了，我们都知道我们会非常想念对方的。

我坐在那里，突然感到我能给爷爷的最好礼物是说出我们之间的承诺。他从来没有对我说起他的承诺，但我从来没有质疑过的就是他人生中的这一部分，如果爷爷知道的话。我知道他所知道的。

“爷爷，”我开始说——他嘴唇紧闭，好像知道我要说什么似的——“我想要你知道我有一个承诺。我知道救世主是存在的，我向你作证约瑟夫•史密斯是个预言家。我爱王政复辟时代，也很希望能加入它。”爷爷坚定的眼神也告诉了我他也有如此强烈的感受。“我向你作证金博尔总统是一个预言家。爷爷，我知道《魔门经》是真的，我拿整个人来向你作证。”

“爷爷，”我语气平和地又说了一句，“我知道我们的上帝是爱你的。”我爷爷地位卑微，但人很平和，我不假思索地意外地想到这种精神给我带来了上帝对爷爷的热爱。

上帝对爷爷所遭受的苦难表示了很大的同情，这种意识一直环绕和支持着我们。这种自我意识是如此有力，以至我无法用语言将其描述——只有感恩和谦恭，还有安慰的泪水。

爷爷和我都流下了眼泪。

八月底，也是夏季即将过去的时候，爷爷还是走了。当大家在花店为爷爷的葬礼选择葬花时，我悄悄地离开来到爷爷的花园。走在花园里，回忆着那些耧斗菜和美洲石竹，现在只有熏衣草和白色夹竹桃在开花，另一个角落里还开放着一些满天星。

一时心血来潮，我把最漂亮的几束夹竹桃和满天星剪了下来，给爷爷葬礼增添了一份装扮。看到这些花的时候，亲友们都因为看到爷爷的花而露出微笑。我们都知道爷爷一定会很喜欢那些花儿的。

在爷爷去世后的十月，我种了一些郁金香、水仙、雪花莲、番红花及蓝铃花。每一个花苞对我来说都是一种安慰，都是给爷爷的一份爱，都是春天的一份承诺。

一个朋友说过：“我若是灯，我就要用我的光明来照彻黑暗。”

我不配做一盏明灯。那么就让我做一块木柴罢。我愿意把我从太阳那里受到的热放散出来，我愿意把自己烧得粉身碎骨给人间添一点点温暖。

Friends

On my recent travels, I came to realize still more fully the significance of the word “friend”.

Seven or eight days ago, I said to a friend whom I had just come to know, “I can’t help feeling embarrassed before my friends. You’re all so nice to me. I simply don’t know how to repay your kindness,” I did not make this remark out of mere modesty and courtesy. I truly meant what I said. The next day, I said goodbye to this friend, not knowing if I could ever see him again. But the little warmth that he gave me has been keeping my heart throbbing with gratitude.

The length of my days will not be unlimited. However, whenever I look back on brief past life, I find a beacon illuminating my soul and thereby lending a little brightness to my being. That beacon is friendship. I should be grateful to it because it has helped me keep alive up to now and clear away the shadow left on me by me old family.

Many people forsake their friends in favor of their own families, or at least draw l line of demarcation between families and friends, considering the former to be many times more important than the latter. That seems to be a matter of course. I have also seen with my own eyes how some people abandon their friends as will as their own careers soon after they get married…

Friends are transient whereas families are lasting—that is the tenet, as I know, guiding the behavior of many people. To me, that is utterly inconceivable. Without friends, I would have been reduced to I don’t know what a miserable creature.

Friends are my saviors. They give me things which it is beyond my family to give me. Thanks to their fraternal love, assistance and encouragement, I have time and again been saved from falling into an abyss while on its verge. They have been enormously generous towards me.

There was a time when my life was miserable and gloom. My friend then gave me in large quantities sympathy, love, joy, and tears—things essential for existence. It is due to their bountiful free gifts that I also have my share of warmth and happiness in my life. I accepted their kindnesses quietly without ever saying a word of thank and without ever doing anything in return. In spite of that, my friend never used the epithet “self-centered” when referring to me. They are only too generous towards me.

I visited many new places and met many new friends on my recent trip. My time was mostly taken up by looking around, listening, talking and walking. But I never ran into any trouble because my friends had done their utmost to make sure that I would be short of nothing. Whatever new places I called at, I always felt at home as if I were back in my old residence in shanghai which had already been raged to the ground by Japanese troops.

No matter how hard up and frugal my friends themselves were, they would unstintingly share with me whatever they had, although they knew I would not be able to repay them for their kindness. Some, whom I did not even know by name, showed concern over my health and went about inquiring after me. It was not until they saw my suntanned face and arms that they began to smile a smile of relief. All that was enough to move one to rears.

Some people believe that, without writing, I would lose my livelihood. One of my sympathizers in an article published two months ago in the Guangzhou republic daily supplement gives a full account of the conditions of my life. He also says that I would have nothing to live on once I should lay down my pen. That is not true at all. It has already been proved by my recent travels that my friend would never let me suffer from cold and hunger ever if I should go without writing a single word. There are a great many kind-hearted people in the world who never attach undue importance to themselves and their own families and who never place themselves and their families above anything else. It is owing to them that I still survive and shall continue to survive for a long time to come.

I owe my friends many, many kindness. How can I repay them? But, I understand, they don’t need me to do that.

Recently I came across the following words in a book by a French philosopher:

One condition of life is consumption….survival in this world is inseparable from tithing. We mist put forth flowers. Moral integrity and unselfishness are the flowers of life.

Now so many flowers of life are in full bloom before my eyes. When can my life put forth flowers? Am I already dried-up from within?

A friend of mine says, “if I were a lamp, I would illuminate darkness with my light.”

I, however, don’t qualify for a bright lamp. Lat me be a piece of firewood instead. I’ll radiate the heat that I have absorbed from the sun. I‘ll burn myself to ashes t provide this human world with a little warmth.

这一次的旅行使我更了解一个名词的意义，这个名词就是：朋友。

七八天以前我曾对一个初次见面的朋友说：“在朋友们面前我只感到惭愧。你们待我太好了，我简直没法报答你们。”这并不是谦虚的客气话，这是事实。说过这些话，我第二天就离开了那个朋友，并不知道以后还有没有机会再看见他。但是他给我的那一点点温暖至今还使我的心颤动。

我的生命大概不会很长久罢。然而在短促的过去的回顾中却有一盏明灯，照彻了我的灵魂和黑暗，使我的生存有一点光彩。这盏灯就是友情。我应该感谢它。因为靠了它我才能够活到现在；而且把旧家庭给我留下的阴影扫除了的也正是它。

世间有不少的人为了家庭抛弃朋友，至少也会在家庭和朋友之间划一个界限，把家庭看得比朋友重过若干倍。这似乎是很自然的事情。我也曾亲眼看见一些人结婚以后就离开朋友，离开事业……

朋友是暂时的，家庭是永久的。在好些人的行为里我发现了这个信条。这个信条在我实在是不可理解的。对于我，要是没有朋友，我现在会变成怎样可怜的东西，我自己也不知道。

然而朋友们把我救了。他们给了我家庭所不能给的东西。他们的友爱，他们的帮助，他们的鼓励，几次把我从深渊的边沿救回来。他们对我表示了无限的慷慨。

我的生活曾经是悲苦的，黑暗的。然而朋友们把多量的同情，多量的爱，多量的欢乐，多量的眼泪分了给我，这些东西都是生存所必需的。这些不要报答的慷慨的施舍，使我的生活里也有了温暖，有了幸福。我默默地接受了它们。我并不曾说过一句感激的话，我也没有做过一件报答的行为。但是朋友们却不把自私的形容词加到我的身上。对于我，他们太慷慨了。 这一次我走了许多新地方，看见了许多新朋友。我的生活是忙碌的：忙着看，忙着听，忙着说，忙着走。但是我不曾遇到一点困难，朋友们给我准备好了一切，使我不会缺少甚么。我每走到一个新地方，我就像回到我那个在上海被日本兵毁掉的旧居一样。

每一个朋友，不管他自己的生活是怎样苦，怎样简单，也要慷慨地分一些东西给我，虽然明知道我不能够报答他。有些朋友，连他们的名字我以前也不知道，他们却关心我的健康，处处打听我的“病况”，直到他们看见了我那被日光晒黑了的脸和膀子，他们才放心地微笑了。这种情形的确值得人掉眼泪。

有人相信我不写文章就不能够生活。两个月以前，一个同情我的上海朋友寄稿到广州《民国日报》的副刊，说了许多关于我的生活的话。他也说我一天不写文章第二天就没有饭吃。这是不确实的。这次旅行就给我证明：即使我不再写一个字，朋友们也不肯让我冻馁。世间还有许多慷慨的人，他们并不把自己个人和家庭看得异常重要，超过一切。靠了他们我才能够活到现在，而且靠了他们我还要活下去。

朋友们给我的东西是太多、太多了。我将怎样报答他们呢?但是我知道他们是不需要报答的。

最近我在法国哲学家居友的书里读到了这样的话：“生命的一个条件就是消费……世间有一种不能跟生存分开的慷慨，要是没有了它，我们就会死，就会从内部干枯。我们必须开花。道德、无私心就是人生的花。”

在我的眼前开放着这么多的人生的花朵了。我的生命要到甚么时候才会开花?难道我已经是“内部干枯”了么？

一个朋友说过：“我若是灯，我就要用我的光明来照彻黑暗。”

我不配做一盏明灯。那么就让我做一块木柴罢。我愿意把我从太阳那里受到的热放散出来，我愿意把自己烧得粉身碎骨给人间添一点点温暖。