匆匆

朱自清
许景城 译



燕子去了，有再来的时候；杨柳枯了，有再青的时候；桃花谢了，有再开的时候。但是，聪明的，你告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？——是有人偷了他们罢：那是谁？又藏在何处呢？是他们自己逃走了罢：现在又到了哪里呢？


Gone are swallows, but they may come back again; withered are willows, but they may turn green again; fading away are peach blossoms, but they may flower again. Now, you my sage would you please tell me, why should our days roll by, never to return? Are they stolen by someone? If so, who could it be, and where could they be hidden? If they run away by themselves, where are they now?

我不知道他们给了我多少日子；但我的手确乎是渐渐空虚了。在默默里算着，八千多日子已经从我手中溜去；像针尖上一滴水滴在大海里，我的日子滴在时间的流里，没有声音，也没有影子。我不禁头涔涔而泪潸潸了。


I have no idea how many days I am granted, but I could feel that their weight in my hands becomes less and less. In contemplation, I count, there are more than eight thousand days having slipped away through my fingers. Like a drop of water falling off the point of a needle down to the sea, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless and traceless. Aware of this, I feel sweats exuding from my forehead, and tears brimming in my eyes.


去的尽管去了，来的尽管来着；去来的中间，又怎样地匆匆呢？早上我起来的时候，小屋里射进两三方斜斜的太阳。太阳他有脚啊，轻轻悄悄地挪移了；我也茫茫然跟着旋转。于是——洗手的时候，日子从水盆里过去；吃饭的时候，日子从饭碗里过去；默默时，便从凝然的双眼前过去。我觉察他去的匆匆了，伸出手遮挽时，他又从遮挽着的手边过去。天黑时，我躺在床上，他便伶伶俐俐地从我身上跨过，从我脚边飞去了。等我睁开眼和太阳再见，这算又溜走了一日。我掩着面叹息。但是新来的日子的影儿又开始在叹息里闪过了。


What should be gone will be gone for ever, and what should come will keep coming for good. Between going and coming, there is a flight of time! When I get up in the morning, the sunshine the slanting sun sheds beams into my room, edging away gently and quietly, as if he is footed. Without awareness, I feel myself already echoing his revolution.Thus, when I wash my hands, the sink washes away the day. When I have a meal, the bowl vanishes the day. When I am in contemplation, my gazing eyes feel the day passing by. When I feel it in a rush, I try to hold it to only find it slipping away from my outstretched hands. When night falls and I lie on my bed, it swiftly strides over my body and flits past my feet. When I wake and see the sun again, another day rolls by already. Burying my face in my hands, I heave a sigh, and the new day begins thrilling through it.

在逃去如飞的日子里，在千门万户的世界里的我能做些什么呢？只有徘徊罢了，只有匆匆罢了；在八千多日的匆匆里，除徘徊外，又剩些什么呢？过去的日子如轻烟，被微风吹散了，如薄雾，被初阳蒸融了；我留着些什么痕迹呢？我何曾留着像游丝样的痕迹呢？我赤裸裸来到这世界，转眼间也将赤裸裸地回去罢？但不能平的，为什么偏要白白走这一遭啊？


Amid the fleeting days, what could I do in the world of hustle and bustle, but roaming and sighing the flight of time? What have I done in the flight of eight thousand days, except roaming and roving? The bygone days like wisps of smoke, have been blown away by breezes and like clusters of thin mist, have been evaporated by the rising sun. What trace have I left behind me? Alas! Nothing! Nay, not even a gossamer-like trail! I have come to this world stark naked, and in a wink, shall I go back as stark naked as the beginning? However, I can’t get over it: why must I get through this journey of life for nothing?



你聪明的，告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？


You my sage, ple