《四季隨筆》節(jié)選 - 秋 02

《四季隨筆》是吉辛的散文代表作。其中對隱士賴克羅夫特醉心于書籍、自然景色與回憶過去生活的描述，其實是吉辛的自述，作者以此來抒發(fā)自己的情感，因而本書是一部富有自傳色彩的小品文集。

吉辛窮困的一生，對文學(xué)名著的愛好與追求，以及對大自然恬靜生活的向往，在書中均有充分的反映。本書分為春、夏、秋、冬四個部分，文筆優(yōu)美，行文流暢，是英國文學(xué)中小品文的珍品之一。

以下是由網(wǎng)友分享的《四季隨筆》節(jié)選 - 秋 02的內(nèi)容，讓我們一起來感受吉辛的四季吧!

How the mood for a book sometimes rushes upon one, either one knows not why, or in consequence, perhaps, of some most trifling suggestion. Yesterday I was walking at dusk. I came to an old farmhouse; at the garden gate a vehicle stood waiting, and I saw it was our doctor's gig. Having passed, I turned to look back. There was a faint afterglow in the sky beyond the chimneys; a light twinkled at one of the upper windows. I said to myself, "Tristram Shandy," 1 and hurried home to plunge into a book which I have not opened for I dare say twenty years.

有時，閱讀一本書的沖動會突然襲上心頭，要么你根本不知所以然，要么可能是因為很不足道的緣由。昨天，我在暮色中散步，來到一間舊農(nóng)舍前。花園門口等候著一輛車，我認(rèn)出那是我們醫(yī)生的馬車。路過之后，我轉(zhuǎn)身回望。晚霞還在煙囪后的天空留連，房屋高處的一扇窗子上，有一縷光在閃爍。我自言自語地說了聲“《項狄傳》”，便匆匆忙忙趕回家，一頭扎進(jìn)了那本我敢說已經(jīng)二十年沒翻開的書中。

Not long ago, I awoke one morning and suddenly thought of the Correspondence between Goethe2 and Schiller3; and so impatient did I become to open the book that I got up an hour earlier than usual. A book worth rising for; much better worth than old Burton4, who pulled Johnson out of bed. A book which helps one to forget the idle or venomous chatter going on everywhere about us, and bids us cherish hope for a world "which has such people in't."

不久前的一個早晨，我醒來后突然想起《歌德席勒通信集》；因為急不可耐地要翻開那本書，我竟然比平常早起了一個小時。這是一本值得為之早起的書，比起將約翰遜從被窩里拽起來的老伯頓要好得多。這本書讓人忘卻了我們周圍無處不在的無聊或惡意的閑聊，讓我們對一個“有這樣的人生活其中”的世界還抱有希望。

These volumes I had at hand; I could reach them down from my shelves at the moment when I hungered for them. But it often happens that the book which comes into my mind could only be procured with trouble and delay; I breathe regretfully and put aside the thought. Ah! the books that one will never read again. They gave delight, perchance something more; they left a perfume in the memory; but life has passed them by for ever. I have but to muse, and one after another they rise before me. Books gentle and quieting; books noble and inspiring; books that well merit to be pored over, not once but many a time. Yet never again shall I hold them in my hand; the years fl y too quickly, and are too few. Perhaps when I lie waiting for the end, some of those lost books will come into my wandering thoughts, and I shall remember them as friends to whom I owed a kindness — friends passed upon the way. What regret in that last farewell!

這些都是我手頭有的書，我在渴望閱讀它們的時候可以隨手從書架上取下來。但很多時候，我想起的某本書總是要費勁周折苦等幾日才能得到，我只好懊惱地長出一口氣，將這個思緒拋在一邊。哦！那些我再也不會讀的書。它們給人帶來歡樂，也許還有其他；它們在記憶中留下芬芳；但是生活已經(jīng)永遠(yuǎn)地將它們拋下了。只有在冥想中，它們才會一一浮現(xiàn)在我的腦海中。那些溫和讓人平靜的書，那些高貴給人靈感的書，那些值得一遍遍潛心細(xì)讀的書。然而，我再也不會將它們捧在手中了。時間飛逝太快，又有限得可憐。也許，當(dāng)我躺下等著生命終結(jié)時，一些已然忘卻的書會來到我游移不定的思緒中，我會記起它們，就像記起那些在人生路上我受惠未報但失去聯(lián)系的老朋友一樣。在那最后的告別中該有多大的遺憾?。?/p>