|
第十四章
The
winter
of
1892
was
darkened
by
the
one
cloud
in
my
childhood's
bright
sky.
Joy
deserted
my
heart,
and
for
a
long,
long
time
I
lived
in
doubt,
anxiety
and
fear.
Books
lost
their
charm
for
me,
and
even
now
the
thought
of
those
dreadful
days
chills
my
heart.
A
little
story
called
"
The
Frost
King,"
which
I
wrote
and
sent
to
Mr.
Anagnos,
of
the
Perkins
Institution
for
the
Blind,
was
at
the
root
of
the
trouble.
In
order
to
make
the
matter
clear,
I
must
set
forth
the
facts
connected
with
this
episode,
which
justice
to
my
teacher
and
to
myself
compels
me
to
relate.
1892年冬天，我童年时代的明亮天空被一抹乌云所遮盖。喜乐的心弃我而去。在很长、很长的一段时期里，我都活在疑惑、焦虑和恐惧之中。书本在我眼中失去了吸引力，直到现在，那段可怕的日子仍然令我心有余悸。我曾编写过一个题目叫做《冰雪之王》的小故事，我还把它送给了帕金斯盲人学院的阿纳戈诺斯先生，这个故事就是引起麻烦的根源。为了把事实交代清楚，我必须先从相关的线索讲起，我想，这对于我的老师和我要陈述的事件也是公平合理的。
I
wrote
the
story
when
I
was
at
home,
the
autumn
after
I
had
learned
to
speak.
We
had
stayed
up
at
Fern
Quarry
later
than
usual.
While
we
were
there,
Miss
Sullivan
had
described
to
me
the
beauties
of
the
late
foliage,
and
it
seems
that
her
descriptions
revived
the
memory
of
a
story,
which
must
have
been
read
to
me,
and
which
I
must
have
unconsciously
retained.
I
thought
then
that
I
was
"
making
up
a
story,"
as
children
say,
and
I
eagerly
sat
down
to
write
it
before
the
ideas
should
slip
from
me.
My
thoughts
flowed
easily;
I
felt
a
sense
of
joy
in
the
composition.
Words
and
images
came
tripping
to
my
finger
ends,
and
as
I
thought
out
sentence
after
sentence,
I
wrote
them
on
my
braille
slate.
Now,
if
words
and
images
come
to
me
without
effort,
it
is
a
pretty
sure
sign
that
they
are
not
the
offspring
of
my
own
mind,
but
stray
waifs
that
I
regretfully
dismiss.
我是在家中写下那个故事的，时间是在我学会说话之后的那年秋天。当时，我们住在弗恩采石场，睡觉的时间也比平时晚得多。苏立文小姐向我描述了深秋树叶的美丽多彩，她的讲述似乎唤醒了（我对）某个故事沉睡的记忆。这个故事一定被我读到过，我一定是在不知不觉间记住了这个故事。于是我想，我也要编写一个故事。说写就写，我任凭各种各样的思绪从头脑中汩汩涌出。我体会到了文思泉涌的快乐，我发现了创作过程的喜悦。富有生命的文字和想象轻快地游走在我的指端，我把一个又一个句子写在了我的盲文木板上。如今，假如词语和想象变得唾手可得，显然，这表明它们并非是出自我思想的产物，最多只是被我头脑遗弃的零星碎片。
|