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［美］Ｐｅｔｅｒ Ｓｔｅｉｎｈａｒｔ
译/曾庆强
There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night. The noise of the city is a far-off murmur. In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls. But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see. for that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely.
我家附近有一座小山，我常常在夜间爬上去。城市的噪音变成了远远的低语。在黑暗的寂静中，我分享着蟋蟀的欢乐和猫头鹰的自信。但我来观看的是月出的活剧。因为，这使我心中重新获得被城市过于慷慨地消耗掉的宁静与明澈。
From this hill I have watched many moon rises. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn; shy, misty moons in spring; lonely, white moons in winter, rising into the utter silence of an ink black sky; and smoke-smudged, orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and calmed my soul.
从这座小山上，我已观看过多次的月出。每一次月出都有其独特的情调。有又大又圆、充满信心的丰收的秋月；有羞涩、朦胧的春月；有升起在浓墨般的天空那完全的宁静中的孤独、发白的冬月；有挂在干旱的田野上，被烟雾熏染的桔色的夏月。每一次月出，就像美妙的音乐一样，激动着我的心弦，然后又抚慰我的心灵。
Moon gazing is an ancient art. To prehistoric hunters the moon overhead was as unerring as a heartbeat. They knew that every 29 days it became full-bellied and brilliant, then sickened and died, and then was reborn. They knew the waxing moon appeared larger and higher overhead after each succeeding sunset. They knew the waning moon rose later each night until it vanished in the sunrise. To have understood the moon抯 patterns from experience must have been a profound thing.
凝望月亮是一门古老的艺术。对于史前时代的猎人们来说，头顶上的月亮就像心跳一样准确无误。他们知道，每隔29天，月亮就会变得丰满圆润，光华四射，然后生病消瘦而死去，接着又再次诞生。他们知道，逐渐丰盈的月亮在一天接一天的日落之后会显得更大，在头上的位置更高。他们知道，逐渐亏缺的月亮一夜比一夜升起得晚，直到消失在日出之中。能凭经验懂得月亮的变化模式一定是一件很深奥的事。
Moonlight shows us none of life抯 harder edges. Hillsides seem silken and silvery, the oceans still and blue in its light. In moonlight we become less calculating, more drawn to our feelings.
月光从不向我们显示生活的任何一道较坚硬的边缘。月光下，山坡看起来如丝织银铸，海洋则显得静谧、深蓝。在月光中，我们变得不再那样斤斤计较，而更被我们的感情所吸引。
And odd things happen in such moments. On that July night, I watched the moon for an hour or two, and then got back into the car, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine start, just as mysteriously as it had stalled a few hours earlier I drove down from the mountains with the moon on my shoulder and peace in my heart.
在这样的时刻，会发生一些奇迹。在那个七月之夜，我观赏了一两个小时的月亮，然后回到汽车中，转动点火器的钥匙，接着便听见发动机开动了起来，正像几小时前熄火时一样神秘。我驱车下山，肩上沐浴着月光，心中充满宁静。
I return often to the rising moon. I am drawn especially when events crowd ease and clarity of vision into a small corner of my life. This happens often in the fall. Then I go to my hill and wait the hunter抯 moon, enormous and gold over the horizon, filling the night with vision.
我常常回到初升之月的身边，特别是当各种事务把悠闲和梦幻的清晰挤到我生活的一个小小的角落中去时，我更受到强烈地吸引。这种情况在秋天经常发生。于是我就到我的小山上去，等待那猎人的月亮，巨大、金黄的月亮升起在地平线上，使夜充满梦幻。
An owl swoops from the ridge top, noiseless but bright as flame. A cricket shrills in the grass. I think of poets and musicians. If Beethoven抯 揗oonlight Sonata攁nd of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice, How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!/ Here will we sit and let sounds of music/ Creep in our ears. I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon. With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night.
一只猫头鹰从山岭之巅猝然扑下，无声无息，但明亮如焰。一只蟋蟀在草丛中尖声吟唱。我想起诗人和音乐家，想起贝多芬的《月光奏鸣曲》，想起莎士比亚在《威尼斯商人》中创作的罗兰佐说道：“月光睡眠在这岸上何等美妙！让我们在这里坐下，让音乐之声轻轻注入我们耳中。”我思索着，他们的诗句与音乐是否像蟋蟀的乐曲一样，在某种意义上正是月亮的嗓音。带着这样的思绪，我那城市生活引起的茫然迷乱融化在夜的安谧之中。
Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night. We are all apt to pose deeper questions-about our origins and destinies. We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the day-lit world. We become philosophers and mystics.
恋人们和诗人们在夜里找到更深刻的含义。我们也都会情不自禁地提出更深刻的问题——关于我们的起源、我们的命运。我们沉溺这些谜中，而不是那统治着白昼世界的没有人情味的几何。我们变成了哲学家和神秘主义者。
At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us. We open the vents of feeling and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day. We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunters and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.
在月亮升起时，当我们按照天空的速度减缓我们大脑的节奏时，魔力就悄悄地笼罩了我们。我们打开感情的阀门，使我们大脑中那些在白昼里被理智锁住的部分驱动起来。越过遥远的时空，我们倾听古代猎人们的喃喃低语，看见久远以前诗人们和恋人们的幻梦重现。
译/曾庆强
There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night. The noise of the city is a far-off murmur. In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls. But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see. for that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely.
我家附近有一座小山，我常常在夜间爬上去。城市的噪音变成了远远的低语。在黑暗的寂静中，我分享着蟋蟀的欢乐和猫头鹰的自信。但我来观看的是月出的活剧。因为，这使我心中重新获得被城市过于慷慨地消耗掉的宁静与明澈。
From this hill I have watched many moon rises. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn; shy, misty moons in spring; lonely, white moons in winter, rising into the utter silence of an ink black sky; and smoke-smudged, orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and calmed my soul.
从这座小山上，我已观看过多次的月出。每一次月出都有其独特的情调。有又大又圆、充满信心的丰收的秋月；有羞涩、朦胧的春月；有升起在浓墨般的天空那完全的宁静中的孤独、发白的冬月；有挂在干旱的田野上，被烟雾熏染的桔色的夏月。每一次月出，就像美妙的音乐一样，激动着我的心弦，然后又抚慰我的心灵。
Moon gazing is an ancient art. To prehistoric hunters the moon overhead was as unerring as a heartbeat. They knew that every 29 days it became full-bellied and brilliant, then sickened and died, and then was reborn. They knew the waxing moon appeared larger and higher overhead after each succeeding sunset. They knew the waning moon rose later each night until it vanished in the sunrise. To have understood the moon抯 patterns from experience must have been a profound thing.
凝望月亮是一门古老的艺术。对于史前时代的猎人们来说，头顶上的月亮就像心跳一样准确无误。他们知道，每隔29天，月亮就会变得丰满圆润，光华四射，然后生病消瘦而死去，接着又再次诞生。他们知道，逐渐丰盈的月亮在一天接一天的日落之后会显得更大，在头上的位置更高。他们知道，逐渐亏缺的月亮一夜比一夜升起得晚，直到消失在日出之中。能凭经验懂得月亮的变化模式一定是一件很深奥的事。
Moonlight shows us none of life抯 harder edges. Hillsides seem silken and silvery, the oceans still and blue in its light. In moonlight we become less calculating, more drawn to our feelings.
月光从不向我们显示生活的任何一道较坚硬的边缘。月光下，山坡看起来如丝织银铸，海洋则显得静谧、深蓝。在月光中，我们变得不再那样斤斤计较，而更被我们的感情所吸引。
And odd things happen in such moments. On that July night, I watched the moon for an hour or two, and then got back into the car, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine start, just as mysteriously as it had stalled a few hours earlier I drove down from the mountains with the moon on my shoulder and peace in my heart.
在这样的时刻，会发生一些奇迹。在那个七月之夜，我观赏了一两个小时的月亮，然后回到汽车中，转动点火器的钥匙，接着便听见发动机开动了起来，正像几小时前熄火时一样神秘。我驱车下山，肩上沐浴着月光，心中充满宁静。
I return often to the rising moon. I am drawn especially when events crowd ease and clarity of vision into a small corner of my life. This happens often in the fall. Then I go to my hill and wait the hunter抯 moon, enormous and gold over the horizon, filling the night with vision.
我常常回到初升之月的身边，特别是当各种事务把悠闲和梦幻的清晰挤到我生活的一个小小的角落中去时，我更受到强烈地吸引。这种情况在秋天经常发生。于是我就到我的小山上去，等待那猎人的月亮，巨大、金黄的月亮升起在地平线上，使夜充满梦幻。
An owl swoops from the ridge top, noiseless but bright as flame. A cricket shrills in the grass. I think of poets and musicians. If Beethoven抯 揗oonlight Sonata攁nd of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice, How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!/ Here will we sit and let sounds of music/ Creep in our ears. I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon. With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night.
一只猫头鹰从山岭之巅猝然扑下，无声无息，但明亮如焰。一只蟋蟀在草丛中尖声吟唱。我想起诗人和音乐家，想起贝多芬的《月光奏鸣曲》，想起莎士比亚在《威尼斯商人》中创作的罗兰佐说道：“月光睡眠在这岸上何等美妙！让我们在这里坐下，让音乐之声轻轻注入我们耳中。”我思索着，他们的诗句与音乐是否像蟋蟀的乐曲一样，在某种意义上正是月亮的嗓音。带着这样的思绪，我那城市生活引起的茫然迷乱融化在夜的安谧之中。
Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night. We are all apt to pose deeper questions-about our origins and destinies. We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the day-lit world. We become philosophers and mystics.
恋人们和诗人们在夜里找到更深刻的含义。我们也都会情不自禁地提出更深刻的问题——关于我们的起源、我们的命运。我们沉溺这些谜中，而不是那统治着白昼世界的没有人情味的几何。我们变成了哲学家和神秘主义者。
At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us. We open the vents of feeling and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day. We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunters and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.
在月亮升起时，当我们按照天空的速度减缓我们大脑的节奏时，魔力就悄悄地笼罩了我们。我们打开感情的阀门，使我们大脑中那些在白昼里被理智锁住的部分驱动起来。越过遥远的时空，我们倾听古代猎人们的喃喃低语，看见久远以前诗人们和恋人们的幻梦重现。