评论
打印
"Great Heaven! What is come to me! Never have I thought or felt like this before! It must be the summer air that affects me with feelings almost as disquieting as they are refreshing."
"我的天老爷！这是怎么一回事？我从来没有像现在这样的思想和感觉！这一定是春天的气息在作怪！它既使人激动，又使人感到愉快！"
He felt in his pocket for the papers.
他把手伸到衣袋里掏出文件。
"These police-reports will soon stem the torrent of my ideas, and effectually hinder any rebellious overflowing of the time-worn banks of official duties";
“这些东西现在可以分分我的心，并有效地阻止了陈旧的公务员队伍的任何叛逆出逃。”
he said to himself consolingly, while his eye ran over the first page.
他安慰自己。同时，他的眼睛在第一页上溜。
"Dame Tigbrith, tragedy in five acts."
“西格卜丽思夫人——五幕悲剧。”
"What is that? And yet it is undeniably my own handwriting.
“这是怎么一回事？这还是我亲手写的字呢。
Have I written the tragedy? Wonderful, very wonderful!—And this—what have I here?
难道我写了这部悲剧吗？棒极了！这就是我写的？
'Intrigue On The Ramparts; or The Day Of Repentance: vaudeville with new songs to the most favorite airs.' The deuce!
散步场上的阴谋；或者，忏悔的日子——歌舞喜剧。
Where did I get all this rubbish?
我从什么地方弄到这些东西呢？
Some one must have slipped it slyly into my pocket for a joke.
一定是别人放进我的衣袋里的。
There is too a letter to me; a crumpled letter and the seal broken."
现在又有一封信！皱巴巴的信，被撕开了。”
Yes; it was not a very polite epistle from the manager of a theatre, in which both pieces were flatly refused.
是的，这是剧院的经理写来的。剧本被拒绝了，而且信里的字眼也很不客气。
"Hem! hem!" said the clerk breathlessly, and quite exhausted he seated himself on a bank.
“哼！哼！”录事气喘吁吁地说，他有点累了，同时在一个凳子上坐下来。
His thoughts were so elastic, his heart so tender; and involuntarily he picked one of the nearest flowers.
他的思想是那么活跃，他的心是那么温柔。他不自觉地扯下长在近旁的一朵花。
It is a simple daisy, just bursting out of the bud.
这是一朵很普通的小雏菊，刚刚长出了花蕾。
What the botanist tells us after a number of imperfect lectures, the flower proclaimed in a minute.
一个植物学家要花几堂课才能对我们讲得清楚的东西，这朵花只须一分钟就解释清楚了。
It related the mythus of its birth, told of the power of the sun-light that spread out its delicate leaves, and forced them to impregnate the air with their incense,
它讲出它出生的经过，阳光的力量使它那娇嫩的叶子舒展开来，使空气中充满了它们的香气。
and then he thought of the manifold struggles of life, which in like manner awaken the budding flowers of feeling in our bosom.
于是他想起了生活的斗争；这斗争也同样唤醒我们胸中的情感。
