The ruins of these might-have-beens
My Boyhood Dreams
儿时,那些梦想
by Mark Twain
译/齐文昱
The dreams of my boyhood? No, they have not been realized. For all who are old, there is something infinitely pathetic about the subject which you have chosen, for in no gray-headrs case can it suggest any but one thingmdisappointment. Disappointment is its own reason for its pain: the quality or dignity of the hope that failed is a matter aside.
我儿时的那些梦想?全都没有实现,一个也没有.但凡上了年事的人,聊起这个话题,总会陷入无穷的怆然;那些满头华发的老者,此时的心情,怕是唯有遗憾的惘然.丰盈而自豪的梦,失落了;加之我们黯然的心绪,苦楚便由此繁殖.
The dreamerrs valuation of the thing lostmnot another manrsmis the only standard to measure it by, and his grief for it makes it large and great and fine, and is worthy of our reverence in all cases. We should carefully remember that.
而童年梦想的落空,只有梦想的主人才干真正体悟其间的个中味道,对此,其余任何人都是没有发言权的.他们的哀伤,使得那个童年的梦看起来更加博大,宏远跟美好,令我们顿生敬畏.所有这一切,都可以细细体悟,铭刻心间.
There you have it: the measure of the magnitude of a dream-failure is the measure of the disappointment the failure cost the dreamer; the value, in othersr eyes, of the thing lost, has nothing to do with the matter. With this straightening-out and classification of the dreamerrs position to help us, perhaps we can put ourselves in his place and respect his dreammthe dreams our friends have cherished and reveal to us.
你晓得,要想揣度一次梦想的失落有多惨重,就要知晓它带给做梦的人的欣然有多深切.这与旁人的断定毫无关联.理清纷纷的脉络,分门别类地研讨那些童年有过梦想的人各自的主意,或者,我们便能把自己放在他们的地位,将心比心尊敬他们童年有过的梦想---那些我们的朋友爱护过,并向我们裸露过的梦想.
Some that I call to mind, some that have been revealed to me, are curious enough; but we may not smile at them, for they were precious to the dreamers, and their failure has left scars which give them dignity and pathos. With this theme in my mind, dear heads that were brown when they and mine were young together rise old and white before me now, beseeching me to speak for them, and most lovingly will I do it.
对那些梦想,那些我还能记起的梦想,那些友人向我倾诉的妄想,只管未免怪僻离奇,但我们不该一笑了之,因为,这些曾被各自的主人珍重有加的童年梦想,一旦幻灭,就会给他的领有者留下创口,满是悲怆的尊严.想到这样的话题,便有很多亲热的人影在记忆中闪现.他们曾与我共度青春时间.而今,满头青丝已是鬓发如雪.怀着心中的爱,我乐意替他们讲述曾经有过的儿时幻想,由于他们好像在热切地等待.
Howells, Hay, Aldrich, Matthews, Stockton, Cable, Remusmhow their young hopes and ambitions come flooding back to my memory now, out of the vague far past, the beautiful past, the lamented past! I remember it so wellmthat night we met togethermit was in Boston, and Mr. Fields was there, and Mr. Osgood, and Ralph Keeler, and Boyle OrReilly, lost to us now these many yearsmand under the seal of confidence revealed to each other what our boyhood dreams had been: dreams which had not as yet been blighted, but over which was stealing the gray of the night that was to comema night which we prophetically felt, and this feeling oppressed us and made us sad.
透过恍惚的往事尘烟,巡回俏丽忧婉的过往.豪威尔斯,海伊,奥尔德里奇,马修斯,斯托克顿,凯布尔,莱摩斯hh此时在我脑际激荡磅礴的,是他们年少时的希冀与理想.旧事如斯逼真.那晚我们在波士顿小聚,当时在场的有菲尔德先生,奥斯古德先生,还有拉尔夫.基勒和奥赖利.其中许多人尔后多年间杳无新闻.那晚,仿佛与外面的世界完整隔离,我们这些彼此信赖的朋友袒露了各自儿时的梦想.那是些此前尚未泯灭的梦.讲述中人不知鬼不觉永夜将尽,东方渐白.那晚,我们有心领神会的雷同感触,这样的心绪不禁教人沉郁哀伤.
I remember that Howellsrs voice broke twice, and it was only with great difficulty that he was able to go on; in the end he wept. For he had hoped to be an auctioneer. He told of his early struggles to climb to his goal, and how at last he attained to within a single step of the coveted summit. But there misfortune after misfortune assailed him, and he went down, and down, and down, until now at last, weary and disheartened, he had for the present given up the struggle and become editor of the Atlantic Monthly. This was in 1830. Seventy years are gone since, and where now is his dream? It will never be fulfilled. And it is best so; he is no longer fitted for the position; no one would take him now; even if he got it, he would not be able to do himself credit in it, on account of his deliberateness of speech and lack of trained professional vivacity; he would be put on real estate, and would have the pain of seeing younger and abler men intrusted with the furniture and other such goodsmgoods which draw a mixed and intellectually low order of customers, who must be beguiled of their bids by a vulgar and specialized humor and sparkle, accompanied with antics.
豪威尔斯童年的梦想是做拍卖师.陈述中,他的声音两度沙哑,简直不能自已,最终竟热泪潸然.早年,他朝着梦想的方向艰苦而缓慢地执著前行,终于,热望中梦想的高峰触手可及.然而就在此时,挫折连着挫折接踵袭来,他开端松懈,沉沦,放弃hh直到如今,厌倦了,灰心了,他不再空费力量,于是"委身"成为《大西洋月报》的编辑.那是1830年的事件.七十年年华如逝水,而今,他那可恨的童年梦想又在哪里呢?他那可恶的未遂的儿时梦想.不外兴许这是上天最好的部署.现在的他,恐怕已经无奈担负拍卖师的角色,估计也没什么人会聘请他.就算有人会,只怕的表示也无法令人称道.如今这位老先生,讲话习惯了咬文嚼字,更学不来职业拍卖师们那些练习有素的油滑表演.假设他的梦想成真,估量只能眼巴巴看着能干而年青的同行纯熟地拍卖家什杂物,引来一堆不拘一格的街市俗人,魔域2.4无敌版,眉开眼笑地讲着听众们心领神会的粗鄙段子,时不断还要载歌载舞地耍宝搞笑,甚至主顾们被唬得如痴如醉,甚至忘了出价竞拍.比拟之下,这位老先生,以他的身份与自持,恐怕只合适来主持拍卖房产.看着少年拍卖师那边热火朝天的热烈局面,老眼昏花中,他的心间必定擦过一丝痛楚.
But it is not the thing lost that counts, but only the disappointment the loss brings to the dreamer that had coveted that thing and had set his heart of hearts upon it, and when we remember this, a great wave of sorrow for Howells rises in our breasts, and we wish for his sake that his fate could have been different.
小小梦想的落空,自身并不值得在意.主要的是随之而来的惆怅.要知道梦想的主人曾经对它专一地觊觎,全情地付出.想到这些,豪威尔斯那哀伤的涟漪就在我们心头升腾、荡漾成一脉悲戚的波涛.出于怜悯,我乐意期求运气,让他有机遇今生重现,一切能够从头再来.
At that time Hayrs boyhood dream was not yet past hope of realization, but it was fading, dimming, wasting away, and the wind of a growing apprehension was blowing cold over the perishing summer of his life. In the pride of his young ambition he had aspired to be a steamboat mate; and in fancy saw himself dominating a forecastle some day on the Mississippi and dictating terms to roustabouts in high and wounding tones.
那晚,海伊讲述他的童年梦想,着重点并不是他如何一往情深地期望梦想的实现;而是跟着时光流逝,那小小的童年梦想逐步黯淡,含混,融化.潜生暗长的忧愁,犹如起于青萍之末的冷风,吹过他潦倒而孤寒的青春岁月.年少时,他骄人的梦想是想做轮船的大副.迷幻的向往中,他可以矗立于船楼,航行在密西西比河上,取红枣3粒、白果3粒放入小锅中,气度轩昂,君临天下;可以发号施令的对水手大声地发号施令.
I look back now, from this far distance of seventy years, and note with sorrow the stages of that dreamrs destruction. Hayrs history is but Howellsrs, with differences of detail. Hay climbed high toward his ideal; when success seemed almost sure, his foot upon the very gang-plank, his eye upon the capstan, misfortune came and his fall began. Downmdownmdownmever down: Private Secretary to the President; Colonel in the field; Charge drAffaires in Paris; Charge drAffaires in Vienna; Poet; Editor of the Tribune; Biographer of Lincoln; Ambassador to England; and now at last there he liesmSecretary of State, Head of Foreign Affairs. And he has fallen like Lucifer, never to rise again. And his dreammwhere now is his dream? Gone down in blood and tears with the dream of the auctioneer.
逾越七十年的时间端详过往,可以伤感地体察到那个梦想一步步最终破灭的全进程.海伊的故事与豪威尔斯的故事大同小异.海伊也曾向着他的幻想艰巨,迟缓的前行,胜利俨然就在前方,他的脚恍如已经踏上跳板,眼中依稀看到了船上的起锚机,就在这个当口,挫败奔袭而来,刹那间似乎让他离梦想一泻千里.松散,沉溺,废弃,甚至沦落.后来,www.longsingarts.com,这位叱咤风波的大副"沦落"成了总统首席私家秘书,"沦落"成了战火中赴汤蹈火的上校,"沦落"成了巴黎代办大使、维也纳署理大使、"沦落"成了诗人,成了《论坛报》的编纂,成了林肯的传记作家,而他终极的头衔,是美国的国务卿和外长.他儿时的梦设想晓星一样坠落,注定不会再度升起.他那童年的梦想,如今又该到哪里找寻呢?童年的梦,成为船长或者拍卖师的小小痴想,而今全都了无踪影,他们的主人,一直地付出血汗和尽力,却离各自童年的理想越来越远.
And the young dream of Aldrichmwhere is that? I remember yet how he sat there that night fondling it, petting it; seeing it recede and ever recede; trying to be reconciled and give it up, but not able yet to bear the thought; for it had been his hope to be a horse-doctor. He also climbed high, but, like the others, fell; then fell again, and yet again, and again and again. And now at last he can fall no further. He is old now, he has ceased to struggle, and is only a poet. No one would risk a horse with him now. His dream is over.
奥尔德里奇年幼时的梦,如今又在何方?记得那晚,他坐在那里,目光中,儿时梦想的影子渐行渐远,手中仿佛仍然爱抚摸挲着她的余温.他也盼望着别人能给他些慰藉,而后止住话题,但对往事的追忆却每每让他骑虎难下.童年时,他的愿望,是做专门给马看病的兽医.他也曾向着梦想的高度攀缘,但犹如其别人一样,他从理想的云头跌落.跌落,一次,两次,三四次.而今,他已坠落到理想的谷底.渐渐老矣,他不再为了这个梦打拼,"屈尊"成了一名诗人.如今,估计没什么人敢牵着生病的马匹来求他治疗了.他的童年梦想,就此宣布终结.
Has any boyhood dream ever been fulfilled? I must doubt it. Look at Brander Matthews. He wanted to be a cowboy. What is he today? Nothing but a professor in a university. Will he ever be a cowboy? It is hardly conceivable.
似乎不什么人成绩了孩提时期的梦想.对此,我坚信不疑.布莱德.马修斯小时候梦想着什么?他梦想着当牛仔.现在呢?他偏偏成了在大学里的教书先生.有生之年,他还会再去圆了当牛仔的梦想吗?我们做梦也不敢想.
Look at Stockton. What was Stocktonrs young dream? He hoped to be a barkeeper. See where he has landed.
斯托克顿小时候梦想着什么职业?是酒吧老板.可他当初又在作着什么谋生呢?
Is it better with Cable? What was Cablers young dream? To be ring-master in the circus, and swell around and crack the whip. What is he today? Nothing but a theologian and novelist.
凯布尔的情况也好不了多少.小时候,他梦寐以求的工作,是当马戏团的指挥,可以神气十足地一边大声吆喝一边把手里的长鞭挥动的啪啪作响.现在?他研究神学,还写写小说.
And Uncle Remusmwhat was his young dream? To be a buccaneer. Look at him now.
莱摩斯叔叔小时候想做什么?做海盗.现在hh还不是一样.
Ah, the dreams of our youth, how beautiful they are, and how perishable! The ruins of these might-have-beens, how pathetic! The heart secrets that were revealed that night now so long vanished, how they touch me as I give them voice! Those sweet privacies, how they endeared us to each other! We were under oath never to tell any of these things, and I have always kept that oath inviolate when speaking with persons whom I thought not worthy to hear them.
儿时做过的梦啊,老是漂亮而纤弱.那些残留的,失踪的童年宿愿,凄美的让人肉痛.消失了,那晚咱们彼此吐露的所有心间的机密;而当我把这所有写成文字,却又再次被它们深深感动.那么多甜蜜而隐秘的小警惕愿,一下子让我们亲热了彼此.我们起誓,那晚的交谈不会对任何人提起.于是我在心头破下神圣的诺言,从不向本人不信任的人流露只言片语.
Oh, our lost YouthmGod keep its memory green in our hearts! for Age is upon us, with the indignity of its infirmities, and Death beckons!
哦,我们逝去的青春.沉沉暮色中孱弱老拙的行将就木,上苍偏偏又让青春的影子青涩鲜活地映入脑海,荡漾心头!