海倫·凱勒自傳《我的生活》第30期

　　第十四章

　　The winter of 1892 was darkened by the one cloud in my childhood’s bright sky. Joy deserted my heart, and for a long, long time I lived in doubt, anxiety and fear. Books lost their charm for me, and even now the thought of those dreadful days chills my heart. A little story called "The Frost King," which I wrote and sent to Mr. Anagnos, of the Perkins Institution for the Blind, was at the root of the trouble. In order to make the matter clear, I must set forth the facts connected with this episode, which justice to my teacher and to myself compels me to relate.

　　1892年冬天，我童年時(shí)代的明亮天空被一抹烏云所遮蓋。喜樂(lè)的心棄我而去。在很長(zhǎng)、很長(zhǎng)的一段時(shí)期里，我都活在疑惑、焦慮和恐懼之中。書(shū)本在我眼中失去了吸引力，直到現(xiàn)在，那段可怕的日子仍然令我心有余悸。我曾編寫(xiě)過(guò)一個(gè)題目叫做《冰雪之王》的小故事，我還把它送給了帕金斯盲人學(xué)院的阿納戈諾斯先生，這個(gè)故事就是引起麻煩的根源。為了把事實(shí)交代清楚，我必須先從相關(guān)的線索講起，我想，這對(duì)于我的老師和我要陳述的事件也是公平合理的。

　　I wrote the story when I was at home, the autumn after I had learned to speak. We had stayed up at Fern Quarry later than usual. While we were there, Miss Sullivan had described to me the beauties of the late foliage, and it seems that her descriptions revived the memory of a story, which must have been read to me, and which I must have unconsciously retained. I thought then that I was "making up a story," as children say, and I eagerly sat down to write it before the ideas should slip from me. My thoughts flowed easily; I felt a sense of joy in the composition. Words and images came tripping to my finger ends, and as I thought out sentence after sentence, I wrote them on my braille slate. Now, if words and images come to me without effort, it is a pretty sure sign that they are not the offspring of my own mind, but stray waifs that I regretfullydismiss. At that time I eagerly absorbed everything I read without a thought of authorship, and even now I cannot be quite sure of the boundary line between my ideas and those I find in books. I suppose that is because so many of my impressions come to me through the medium of others’ eyes and ears.

　　我是在家中寫(xiě)下那個(gè)故事的，時(shí)間是在我學(xué)會(huì)說(shuō)話之后的那年秋天。當(dāng)時(shí)，我們住在弗恩采石場(chǎng)，睡覺(jué)的時(shí)間也比平時(shí)晚得多。蘇立文小姐向我描述了深秋樹(shù)葉的美麗多彩，她的講述似乎喚醒了(我對(duì))某個(gè)故事沉睡的記憶。這個(gè)故事一定被我讀到過(guò)，我一定是在不知不覺(jué)間記住了這個(gè)故事。于是我想，我也要編寫(xiě)一個(gè)故事。說(shuō)寫(xiě)就寫(xiě)，我任憑各種各樣的思緒從頭腦中汩汩涌出。我體會(huì)到了文思泉涌的快樂(lè)，我發(fā)現(xiàn)了創(chuàng)作過(guò)程的喜悅。富有生命的文字和想象輕快地游走在我的指端，我把一個(gè)又一個(gè)句子寫(xiě)在了我的盲文木板上。如今，假如詞語(yǔ)和想象變得唾手可得，顯然，這表明它們并非是出自我思想的產(chǎn)物，最多只是被我頭腦遺棄的零星碎片。那時(shí)，我如饑似渴地汲取我讀到的任何東西，從來(lái)就不會(huì)對(duì)著作本身有什么想法。即使是現(xiàn)在，我也無(wú)法完全在我的思想和我讀到的那些書(shū)之間劃清界限。我想，這是因?yàn)槲疫^(guò)多地接受了別人的所見(jiàn)所聞，我只能依靠別人的眼睛“看”世界。

　　When the story was finished, I read it to my teacher, and I recall now vividly the pleasure I felt in the more beautiful passages, and my annoyance at being interrupted to have thepronunciation of a word corrected. At dinner it was read to the assembled family, who were surprised that I could write so well. Some one asked me if I had read it in a book.

　　故事一寫(xiě)完，我就讀給老師聽(tīng)。至今，我仍然清楚地記得當(dāng)時(shí)的情景——我沉醉其中的樣子，還有被老師糾正單詞讀音時(shí)的懊惱之情。晚餐時(shí)，我把故事讀給全家人聽(tīng)。他們驚訝于我寫(xiě)得如此之好，甚至有人問(wèn)我這是不是從書(shū)里讀到的故事。

　　This question surprised me very much; for I had not the faintest recollection of having had it read to me. I spoke up and said, "Oh, no, it is my story, and I have written it for Mr. Anagnos."

　　這讓我也感到非常吃驚，因?yàn)槲也挥浀糜姓l(shuí)曾為我讀過(guò)這樣的故事。我大聲說(shuō)道：“哦，不，這是我自己的故事，是我為阿納戈諾斯先生寫(xiě)的故事。”

　　Accordingly I copied the story and sent it to him for his birthday. It was suggested that I should change the title from "Autumn Leaves" to "The Frost King," which I did. I carried the little story to the post-office myself, feeling as if I were walking on air. I little dreamed how cruelly I should pay for that birthday gift.

　　于是，我把故事謄寫(xiě)下來(lái)，并且把它作為生日禮物寄給了阿納戈諾斯先生。有人建議我應(yīng)該把“冰雪之王”這個(gè)題目改為“秋天的落葉”，但是我堅(jiān)持用自己的題目。我親自把這個(gè)小故事送到了郵局。一路上，我仿佛覺(jué)得自己走在了云層里。我完全沒(méi)有料到我為這件生日禮物付出了多么慘痛的代價(jià)。