Lily4ever Lily4ever

Day 1
If, by some miracle, I were granted three seeing days, to be followed by a relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness and gentleness and companionship have made my life worth living. First I should like to gaze long upon the face of my dear teacher, Mrs. Ann Sullivan Macy, who came to me when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to see the outline of her face, so that I could cherish it in my memory, but to study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness and patience with which she accomplished the difficult task of my education. I should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabled her to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for all humanity which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that 'window of the soul,' the eye. I can only 'see' through my fingertips the outline of a face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I know my friends from the feel of their faces. But I cannot really picture their personalities, of course, through the thoughts they express to me, through whatever of their actions are revealed to me. But I am denied that deeper understanding of them which I am sure would come through sight of them, through watching their reactions to various expressions and circumstances, through noting the immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who are near to me I know well, because through the months and years they reveal themselves to me in all their phases; but of casual friends I have only an incomplete impression, an impression gained from handclasp, from spoken words which I take from their lips with my fingertips, or which they tap into the palm of my hand.
How much easier, how much more satisfying it is for you who can see to grasp quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtleties of expression, the quiver of a muscle, the flutter of a hand. But does it ever occur to you to use your sight to see the inner nature of a friend or acquaintance? Do not most of you seeing people grasp casually the outward features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance, can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? Some of you can, but many cannot. As an experiment, I have questioned husbands of long standing about the color of their wives' eyes, and often they express embarrassed confusion and admit that they so not know. And, inci’dentally, it is a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses, new hats, and changes in household arrangements.
The eyes of seeing persons soon become accustomed to the routine of their surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even in viewing the most spectacular sights the eyes are lazy. Court records reveal every day how inaccurately 'eyewitnesses' see. A given event will be 'seen' in several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, but few see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for just three days!
The first day would be a busy one. I should call to me all my dear friends and look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidence of the beauty that is within them. I should let my eyes rest, too, on the face of a baby, so that I could catch a vision of the eager, innocent beauty which precedes the individual consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - the grave, canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga, whose warm, tender, and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things

Three Days to See
by Helen Keller
假如给我三天光明 （海伦·凯勒）
I
All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours. But always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited.
Such stories set us thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What events, what experiences, what associations, should we crowd into those last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die to-morrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of 'Eat, drink, and be merry,' but most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories, the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of fortune, but almost always his sense of values is changed. He becomes more appreciative of the meaning of life and its permanent spiritual values. It has often been noted that those who live, or have lived, in the shadow of death bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future. When we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty tasks, hardly aware of our listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of all our facilities and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sounds hazily, without concentration and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we have until we lose it, of not being conscious of health until we are ill.
I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound.
Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. 'Nothing in particular,' she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing people see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a pine. In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter's sleep. I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of

On Joy and Sorrowby Kahill Gilbran欢乐与忧伤---纪伯伦Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.”And he answered: Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.And the selfsame well fromWhich your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.一位妇人说：请给我们谈谈欢乐和忧伤。他回答：你们的欢乐是无法掩饰的忧伤。你欢笑的泉眼常常也饱含着泪水。And how else can it be?The deeper that sorrow carves into your being.The more joy you can contain.Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cupThat was burned in the potter’s oven?And is not the lute that soothes your spirit,The very wood that was hollowed with knives?除此之外，又当如何？镌刻在你们身上的忧伤愈深，你们能盛装的欢乐愈多。斟满了美酒的杯盏，难道不是曾在陶工炉火中锻造的杯盏吗？When you are joyous, look deep into your heart andYou shall find it is only that which has givenYou sorrow that is giving you joy.When you are sorrowful look again in your heart,And you shall see that in truth you are weeping forThat which has been your delight.当你们快乐时，审视自己的内心，你们会发现曾经的忧伤如今却让你们快乐。当你们忧伤时，再次审视自己的内心，你们会发现曾经的快乐如今却让你们流泪。Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”But I say unto you, they are inseparable.Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.你们中有些人说：“欢乐胜于忧伤。”另一些人则说：“不，忧伤更伟大。”但我要说，他们是相辅相成的。它们一同降临，当其中一个单独与你同坐时，记住另一个正在你的床上安歇。Verily you are suspended like scalesBetween your sorrow and your joy.Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weighHis gold and his silver, needs must yourJoy or your sorrow rise or fall.的确，你们就像在忧伤与欢乐之间摇摆不定的天平。只有当你们彻底空虚时，你们才能平衡稳定。把你浮沉不定的快乐和悲伤都留给那用你来称量金银的守财奴吧。Kahill Gilbran:纪·哈·纪伯伦（1883-1931）黎巴嫩作家、诗人、画家，是阿拉伯文学的主要奠基人，被称为艺术天才、黎巴嫩文坛骄子。其主要作品有《泪与笑》《先知》《沙与沫》等，纪伯伦、鲁迅和拉宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔一样是近代东方文学走向世界的先驱。

These Things Shall Never Dieby Charles DickensThe pure, the bright, the beautiful,That stirred our hearts in youth,The impulses to wordless prayer,The dreams of love and truth;The longing after something's lost,The spirit's yearning cry,The striving after better hopes-These things can never die.The timid hand stretched forth to aidA brother in his need,A kindly word in grief's dark hourThat proves a friend indeed ;The plea for mercy softly breathed,When justice threatens nigh,The sorrow of a contrite heart-These things shall never die.Let nothing pass for every handMust find some work to do;Lose not a chance to waken love-Be firm, and just ,and true;So shall a light that cannot fadeBeam on thee from on high.And angel voices say to thee---These things shall never die.这些美好不会消逝查尔斯·狄更斯一切纯洁的、辉煌的、美丽的，强烈地震撼着我们年轻的心灵，推动着我们做无言的祷告，让我们梦想着爱与真理；在失去后感到珍惜的，使灵魂深切地呼喊着，为了更美好的梦想而奋斗着——这些美好不会消逝。羞怯地伸出援助的手，在你的兄弟需要的时候，伤痛、困难的时候，一句亲切的话就足以证明朋友的真心；轻声地祈求怜悯，在审判临近的时候，懊悔的心有一种伤感，这些美好不会消逝。在人间传递温情，尽你所能地去做；别错失了唤醒爱的良机——为人要坚定，正直，忠诚；因此上方照耀着你的那道光芒就不会消失。你将听到天使的声音在说——这些美好不会消逝。查尔斯·狄更斯（Charles Dickens）：1812－1870，英国著名作家。主要作品有《大卫·科波菲尔》《匹克威克外传》《雾都孤儿》 《老古玩店》《艰难时世》《我们共同的朋友》《双城记》等。

One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVIIby Pablo Neruda I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul.I love you as the plant that never bloomsbut carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;so I love you because I know no other waythan this: where I do not exist, nor you,so close that your hand on my chest is mine,so close that your eyes close with my dreams.第17首十四行诗巴勃罗·聂鲁达(覃学岚 译) 我爱你，但不会像爱刺激的玫瑰、黄玉或者康乃馨火舌般的花蕊那样。我爱你，像爱某些隐秘可爱的东西那样，在阴影与灵魂之间，偷偷地爱你。我爱你，就像爱从不开花，身上却透着看不见的花的光芒的植物那样；由于你的爱，某种纯真的香味自大地升起，隐隐活在我体内。我爱你，对爱的方式，时间，起点概不知晓。我爱你，爱得直截了当，既不复杂也不骄傲；我爱你，因为除了爱你，我不知道别的办法：你我形影相随，唇齿相依，亲密得我胸口上你与我的手莫辨彼此，亲密得我进入梦乡，你也会双眼紧闭。

The Road Not Taken BY ROBERT FROSTTwo roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.未选择的路（罗伯特·弗罗斯特）黄色的树林里分出两条路可惜我不能同时去涉足我在那路口久久伫立我向着一条路极目望去直到它消失在丛林深处但我却选择了另外一条路它荒草萋萋，十分幽寂显得更诱人，更美丽虽然在这条小路上很少留下旅人的足迹那天清晨落叶满地两条路都未经脚印污染呵，留下一条路等改日再见但我知道路径延绵无尽头恐怕我难以再回返也许多少年后在某个地方，我将轻声叹息将往事回顾：一片树林里分出两条路——而我选择了人迹更少的一条，从此决定了我一生的道路。《未选择的路》是美国著名诗人罗伯特·弗罗斯特的著名诗篇。罗伯特·弗罗斯特堪称美国20世纪90年代最受欢迎的诗人之一，是美国非官方的桂冠诗人，他一生致力于诗歌的创作，主要写作并出版了10部诗集，这一首是其第三部诗集《山的间隔》中的名篇。