The-Death-Of-The-Moth原文及译文

THEDEATHOFTHEMOTH飞蛾之死Mothsthatflybydayarenotproperlytobecalledmoths;theydonotexcitethatpleasantsenseofdarkautumnnightsandivy–blossomwhichthecommonestyellow–underwingasleepintheshadowofthecurtainneverfailstorouseinus.Theyarehybridcreatures,neithergaylikebutterfliesnorsombreliketheirownspecies.Neverthelessthepresentspecimen,withhisnarrowhay–colouredwings,fringedwithatasselofthesamecolour,seemedtobecontentwithlife.Itwasapleasantmorning,mid–September,mild,benignant,yetwithakeenerbreaththanthatofthesummermonths.Theploughwasalreadyscoringthefieldoppositethewindow,andwherethesharehadbeen,theearthwaspressedflatandgleamedwithmoisture.Suchvigourcamerollinginfromthefieldsandthedownbeyondthatitwasdifficulttokeeptheeyesstrictlyturneduponthebook.Therookstoowerekeepingoneoftheirannualfestivities;soaringroundthetreetopsuntilitlookedasifavastnetwiththousandsofblackknotsinithadbeencastupintotheair;which,afterafewmomentssankslowlydownuponthetreesuntileverytwigseemedtohaveaknotattheendofit.Then,suddenly,thenetwouldbethrownintotheairagaininawidercirclethistime,withtheutmostclamourandvociferation,asthoughtobethrownintotheairandsettleslowlydownuponthetreetopswereatremendouslyexcitingexperience.真正的蛾子从不在白天活动，比如最常见的黄夜蛾，它们只是栖息在窗帘的阴影里，让人忍不住联想到黑沉沉的秋夜，还有常春藤花。而那些在白天飞来飞去的蛾子其实是杂交的，所以它们不像普通蛾子那样阴沉，也不像蝴蝶那样欢快。然而我现在看到的这一只似乎还活得挺自在。他翅膀狭窄，颜色像枯草，翅膀边缘有同样颜色的穗。时值9月中旬，一个美丽的清晨，气候温和舒适，有阵阵微风，空气比夏天还清新。窗户对面，人们已经开始犁地。所到之处土壤压得平平整整，泛着湿润的光泽。田野和远处高地上的热闹景象让我难以静下心来看书。树顶上的白嘴鸦们也聚集起来，大声叫嚣着，仿佛在庆祝节日。从远处看去，这一大群白嘴鸦简直像一个打满黑结的大网，这大网撒到空中又慢慢落下，于是每个树枝都落上了一个结。突然，这大网再次抛洒起来，这次抛得更远，白嘴鸦的吵闹声也更大，好像每次的撒网和慢慢地落下都是一件多么激动的事情。Thesameenergywhichinspiredtherooks,theploughmen,thehorses,andeven,itseemed,theleanbare–backeddowns,sentthemothflutteringfromsidetosideofhissquareofthewindow–pane.Onecouldnothelpwatchinghim.Onewas,indeed,consciousofaqueerfeelingofpityforhim.Thepossibilitiesofpleasureseemedthatmorningsoenormousandsovariousthattohaveonlyamoth’spartinlife,andadaymoth’satthat,appearedahardfate,andhiszestinenjoyinghismeagreopportunitiestothefull,pathetic.Heflewvigorouslytoonecornerofhiscompartment,and,afterwaitingthereasecond,flewacrosstotheother.Whatremainedforhimbuttoflytoathirdcornerandthentoafourth?Thatwasallhecoulddo,inspiteofthesizeofthedowns,thewidthofthesky,thefar–offsmokeofhouses,andtheromanticvoice,nowandthen,ofasteameroutatsea.Whathecoulddohedid.Watchinghim,itseemedasifafibre,verythinbutpure,oftheenormousenergyoftheworldhadbeenthrustintohisfrailanddiminutivebody.Asoftenashecrossedthepane,Icouldfancythatathreadofvitallightbecamevisible.Hewaslittleornothingbutlife.犁地的农夫、马和远处的高地所散发的活力不仅鼓舞了白嘴鸦，连这只蛾子也在它所占领的一个小小窗格上扑来扑去，让人忍不住去看他，虽然这让人有一种不舒服的、怜悯的感觉。在这样一个似乎充满无限欢乐的早晨，命运却只让他扮演一只蛾子，这多少有些残忍，而这只蛾子努力地享受着这少得可怜的快乐，又显得多么可悲。他活泼地从窗格的一个角跳到另一个角，停一秒钟，又飞快地跳到第二个角。他还能做什么呢？除了跳到第三个角，再跳到第四个角。这就是他所能做的。远处的高地绵延不绝，天空广阔，炊烟随风飘荡，海上不时传来轮船的汽笛声，引人遐想。而他已经做了他所能做的一切。仿佛有一条线，虽然细如毫发，却承载着全世界的力量，注入他小小的身体。每当他跳跃窗格，那条线仿佛都清晰可见。他虽渺小，却也是活生生的生命。Yet,becausehewassosmall,andsosimpleaformoftheenergythatwasrollinginattheopenwindowanddrivingitswaythroughsomanynarrowandintricatecorridorsinmyownbrainandinthoseofotherhumanbeings,therewassomethingmarvellousaswellaspatheticabouthim.Itwasasifsomeonehadtakenatinybeadofpurelifeanddeckingitaslightlyaspossiblewithdownandfeathers,hadsetitdancingandzig–zaggingtoshowusthetruenatureoflife.Thusdisplayedonecouldnotgetoverthestrangenessofit.Oneisapttoforgetallaboutlife,seeingithumpedandbossedandgarnishedandcumberedsothatithastomovewiththegreatestcircumspectionanddignity.Again,thethoughtofallthatlifemighthavebeenhadhebeenborninanyothershapecausedonetoviewhissimpleactivitieswithakindofpity.然而，如此渺小的他，如此简单的一种生命形式，却从敞开的窗户飞进来，努力引起人类的注意和思索，这就显得有点可贵了，同时也愈发可悲。仿佛有人取来一口生命的元气，小心翼翼地用绒毛和羽毛装饰起来，再让这作品翩翩起舞，来展示生命的本质。这样的展示却不能不让人觉得怪异。人们常常忘却生命的本质，只看到生命的匆忙、生命的专横、生命带来的快乐，以及生命的沉重，仿佛必须带着无比的谨慎和高贵才算生活。所以，这只飞蛾不断重复的简单活动难免让人可怜。如果他能以其它形式的生命体存在，又会是怎样的光景呢？Afteratime,tiredbyhisdancingapparently,hesettledonthewindowledgeinthesun,and,thequeerspectaclebeingatanend,Iforgotabouthim.Then,lookingup,myeyewascaughtbyhim.Hewastryingtoresumehisdancing,butseemedeithersostifforsoawkwardthathecouldonlyfluttertothebottomofthewindow–pane;andwhenhetriedtoflyacrossithefailed.BeingintentonothermattersIwatchedthesefutileattemptsforatimewithoutthinking,unconsciouslywaitingforhimtoresumehisflight,asonewaitsforamachine,thathasstoppedmomentarily,tostartagainwithoutconsideringthereasonofitsfailure.Afterperhapsaseventhattemptheslippedfromthewoodenledgeandfell,flutteringhiswings,ontohisbackonthewindowsill.Thehelplessnessofhisattituderousedme.Itflasheduponmethathewasindifficulties;hecouldnolongerraisehimself;hislegsstruggledvainly.But,asIstretchedoutapencil,meaningtohelphimtorighthimself,itcameovermethatthefailureandawkwardnessweretheapproachofdeath.Ilaidthepencildownagain.一段时间后，显然他跳舞跳得有些累了，于是停在了窗棱上，沐浴在阳光里。他这场奇怪的表演一结束，我也就暂时忘记了他。过了一会儿，我一抬头又注意到了他。他想继续跳舞，但是他的动作不是太僵硬就是太笨拙，只能扑到窗格的底部，当他想尽力飞跃的时候，他失败了。我思考着其它的事情，心不在焉地看着他徒劳的尝试，等着他再次开始跳舞，就像他只是一台暂时停下的机器，而忘了去想他为什么竟会失败。大约试到第七次，他扇着翅膀从窗棱上滑了下来，仰面跌在窗台上。他的无助震动了我。我突然想到，他遇到麻烦了。他的腿徒劳地挣扎着，再也站不起来了。当我拿起一根笔准备去帮他的时候，我才意识到这些失败和笨拙都代表着死之将至。于是我放