Peanuts

Xu Dishan

Behind our house there lay half a mou of vacant land. Mother said, “it’s a pity to let it lie waste. Since you all like to eat peanuts so very much, why not plant some here?” that exhilarated us children and our servant girls as well, and soon we started buying seeds, ploughing the land and watering the plants. We gathered in a good harvest just after a couple of months!

Mother said, “How about giving a party this evening to celebrate the harvest and inviting your Daddy to have a taste of our newly-harvested peanuts?” We all agreed.

Mother made quite a few varieties of goodies out of the peanuts, and told us that the party would be held in the thatched pavilion on the peanut plot.

It looked like rain that evening, yet, to our great joy, father came nevertheless. “Do you like peanuts?” asked father.

“Yes, we do!” we vied in giving the answer.

“Which of you could name the good things in peanuts?”

“Peanuts taste good,” said my elder sister.

“Peanuts produce edible oil,” said my elder brother.

“Peanuts are so cheap,” said I, “that anyone can afford to eat them. Peanuts are everyone’s favourite. That’s why we call peanuts good.”

“It’s true that peanuts have many uses,” said father, “but they’re most beloved in one respect. Unlike nice-looking apples, peaches and pomegranates, which hang their fruit on branches and win people’s admiration with their brilliant colours, tiny little peanuts bury themselves underground and remain unearthed until they’re ripe. When you come upon a peanut plant lying curled up on the ground, you can never immediately tell whether or not it bear any nuts until you touch them.”

“That’s true,” we said in unison. Mother also nodded. “So you must take after peanuts,” father continued, “because they’re useful though not great and nice- looking.”

“Then you mean one should be useful rather than great and nice-looking,” I said. “That’s what I except of you,” father concluded.

We kept chatting until the party broke up late at night. Today, though nothing is left of the goodies made of peanuts, father’s words remain engraved in my mind.

落花生

许地山

我们屋后有半亩隙地。母亲说：“让它荒芜着怪可惜，既然你们那么爱吃花生，就辟来做花生园罢(1)。”我们几个姊弟(2)和几个小丫头都很喜欢——买种的买种，动土的动土，灌园的灌园；过了不几个月，居然收获了！

妈妈说：“今晚我们可以做一个收获节(3)，也请你们的爹爹来尝尝我们底新花生，如何？”我们都答应了。母亲把花生做成好几样食品(4)，还吩咐这节期要在园里底茅亭举行。

那晚上底天色不大好(5)，可是爹爹也来到，实在很难得！爹爹说：“你们爱吃花生吗？”

我们都争着答应：“爱！”

“谁能把花生底好处说出来？”

姊姊说：“花生底气味很美。”

哥哥说：“花生可以榨油。”

我说：“无论何等人都江堰市可以用贱价买它来吃；都喜欢吃它。这是它的好处。”

爹爹说：“花生底用处固然很多；但有一样是很可贵的。这小小的豆(6)不像那好看的苹果、桃子、石榴，把它们底果实悬在枝上，鲜红嫩绿的颜色(7)，令人一望而发生羡慕的心。它只把果子埋在地底，等到成熟，才容人把它挖出来。你们偶然看见一棵花生瑟缩(8)地长在地上，不能立刻辨出它有没有果实，非得等到你接触它才能知道。”

我们都说：“是的。”母亲也点点头。爹爹接下去说：“所以你们要像花生(9)，因为它是有用的，不是伟大、好看的东西。”我说：“那么，人要做有用的，不要做伟大、体面的人了。”爹爹说：“这是我对于你们的希望。”

我们谈到夜阑才散，所有花生食品虽然没有了，然而父亲底话现在还印在我心

Mr. About-the Same

Hu Shih

Do you know who is the most well-known person in China?

The name of this person is a household word all over the ry. His name is Cha and his given name, Buduo, which altoher mean “About the Same”. He is a native of every province, every ry and every village in this ry. You must have seen or heard about this person. His name is always on the lips of everybody because he is representative of the whole Chinese nation.

Mr. Cha Buduo has the same physiognomy as you and I. He has a pair of eyes, but doesn’t see clearly. He has a pair of ears, but doesn’t hear well. He has a nose and a mouth, but lacks a keen sense of smell and taste. His brain is none too small, but he is weak in memory and sloppy in thinking.

He often says: “whatever we do, it’s OK to be just about right. What’s the use of being precise and accurate:”

One day, when he was a child, his mother sent him out to buy her some brown sugar, but he returned with some white sugar instead. As his mother scolded him about it, he shook his head and said, “Brown sugar or white sugar, aren’t they about the same?”

One day in school, the teacher asked him, “Which province borders Hebei on the west?” He answered, “Shaanxi,” The teacher corrected him, “You are wrong. It’s Shanxi, Not Shaanxi.” He retorted, “Shaanxi or Shanxi, aren’t they about the same?”

Later Mr. Cha Buduo served as an assistant at a money shop. He could write and calculate all right, but his mathematics were/was often faulty. He would mistake the Chinese acter十（meaning 10）for 千（meaning 1000）or vice versa. The shop owner was infuriated and often took him to task. But he would only explain apoloically with a grin, “The acter千differs from 十in merely having one additional short stroke. Aren’t they about the same?”

One day, he wanted to go to Shanghai by train on urgent business. But he arrived at the railway station unhurriedly only to find the train already gone, because he was two minutes late. He stood staring helplessly at the smoke belching from the diminishing train, and shook his head, “Well, all I can do is leave tomorrow. After all, today and tomorrow are about the same. But isn’t the railway taking it too seriously? What’s the difference between departing at 8:30and 8:32?” He walked home slowly while talking to himself and kept puzzling over why the train hadn’t waited for him for two minutes more.

One day he suddenly fell ill and immediately told one of his family to fetch Dr. Wang of East Street. The latter went in hurry, but couldn’t find the physician on East Street. So he fetched instead Veterinarian Wang of West Street. Mr. Cha Buduo, lying on his sickbed, knew that a wrong person had been brought home. But, what with pain and worry, he could ill afford to wait any longer. So he said to himself, “Luckily, Vet Wang is about the same as Dr. Wang. Why not let Vet Wang have a try?” there- upon, the veterinarian walked up to his bed to work on him as if he were a cow. Consequently, Mr. Cha Buduo kicked the bucket before an hour was out.

When Mr. Cha Buduo was about to breathe his last, he uttered intermittently in one breath, “Live or die, it’s about…about…the same…Whatever we do…it’s OK…to be …just…just about right... Why…why…take it…so seriously?” as soon as he finished this pet phrase of his, he stopped breathing.

After Mr. Cha Buduo death, people all praised him for his way of seeing things and his philosophical approach to life. They say that he refused to take things seriously all his life and that he was never calculating or particular about personal gains or losses. So they called him a virtuous man and honored him with the posthumous reverent title Master of Easy-Going.

His name has spread far and wide and become more and more celebrated with the passing of time. Innumerable people have come to follow his example, so that everybody has become a Mr. Cha Buduo. But lo, China will hence be a nation of lazybones!

差不多先生传

胡适

你知道中国最有名的人是谁？提起此人，人人皆晓，处处闻名。他姓差，名不多(1)，是各省各县各村人氏。你一定见过他，一定听说过别人谈起他。差不多先生的名字天天挂在大家的口头，因为他是中国全国人的代表。

差不多先生的相貌和你和我都差不多。他有一双眼睛，但看的不很清楚；他有两只耳朵，但听的不很分明；有鼻子和嘴，但他对于气味和口味都不很讲究。他的脑子也不小，但他的记性却不很精明，他的思想也不很细密(2)。

他常常说：“凡事只要差不多，就好了。何必太精明呢？”

他小的时候，他妈叫他去买红糖，他买了白糖回来。他妈骂他，他摇摇头说：

“红糖白糖不是差不多吗？”

他在学堂的时候，先生问他：“直隶省(3)的西边是哪一省？”他说是陕西。先生说：“错了。是山西，不是陕西。”他说：“陕西同山西，不是差不多吗？”

后来他在一个钱铺(4)里做伙计，他也会写，也会算，只是总不会精细。十字常常写成千字，千字常常写成十字。掌柜的生气了，常常骂他。他只是笑嘻嘻地赔小心道：

“千字比十字只多一小撇，不是差不多吗？”

有一天他为了一件要紧的事，要搭火车到上海去。他从从容容地走到火车站，迟了两分钟，火车已经开走了。他白瞪着眼，望着远远的火车上煤烟，摇摇头道：“只好明天再走了，今天走同明天走，也差不多。可是火车公司未免太认真了。8点30分开，同8点32分开，不是差不多吗？“他一面说，一面慢慢地走回家，心里总不明白为什么火车不肯等他两分钟。

有一天，他忽然得了急病，赶快叫家人去请东街的汪医生。那家人急急忙忙地跑去，一时寻不着东街的汪大夫，却把西街牛医王大夫请来了。差不多先生病在床上，知道寻错了人；但病急了，身上痛苦，心里焦急，等不得了，心里想道：“好在王大夫同汪大夫也差不多，让他试试看罢。”于是这位牛医王大夫走近床前，用医牛的法子给差不多先生治病。不上一点钟，差不多先生就一命呜呼了。

差不多先生差不多要死的时候，一口气断断续续地说道：“活人同死人也……差……差不多，……凡事只要……差……差……不多……就……好了，……何……何……必……太……太认真呢？”他说完了这句格言(5)，方才绝气了。

他死后，大家都很称赞差不多先生样样事情看得破，想得通(6)；大家都说他一生不肯认真，不肯算账，不肯计较，真是一位有德行的人。于是大家给他取个死后的法号，叫他做圆通大师。

他的名誉越传越远，越久越大。无数无数的人都学他的榜样。于是人人都成了一个差不多先生。——然而中国从此就成为一个懒人国了。

Never Give Up the Pursuit of Learning

Hu Shih

Dear students of the Graduating Class,

As you are leaving your alma mater, I have nothing to offer you as a gift except a word of advice.

My advice is, “Never give up the pursuit of learning.” You have perhaps finished your college courses mostly for obtaining the diploma, or, in other words, out of sheer necessity. However, from now you are free to follow your own bent in the choice of studies. While you are in the prime of life, why not devote yourselves to a special field of study? Youth will soon be gone never to return. And it will be too late for you to go into scholarship when in your ining years. Knowledge will do you a good turn even as a means of subsistence. If you give up studies while holding a job, you will in a couple of years have had yourselves replaced by younger people. It will then be too late to remedy the situation by picking up studies again.

Some people say, “Once you have a job, you’ll come up against the urgent problem of making a living. How can you manage to find time to study? Even if you want to, will it be possible with no library or no laboratory available?”

Now let me tell you this. Those who refuse to study for lack of a library will most probably continue to do so even though there is a library. And those who refuse to do research for lack of a laboratory will most probably continue to do so even though a laboratory is available. As long as you set your mind on studies, you will naturally cut down on food and clothing to buy books or do everything possible to acquire necessary instruments.

Time is no object. les Darwin could only work one hour a day due to ill health. Yet what a remarkable man he was! If you spend one hour a day reading 10 pages of a book, you can finish more than 3600 pages a year, and 110000 pages in 30 years.

Dear students, 110,000 pages will be quite enough to make a learned man of you. It will take you one hour to read three tabloids a day, and one and half hours to finish four rounds of mah-jong a day. Reading tabloids, playing mah-jong or striving to be a learned man, the choice lies with you.

Henrik Ibsen says, “it is your supreme duty to cast yourself into a useful implement.”

Learning is the casting mould. Forsake learning, and you will ruin yourself.

Farewell! Your alma mater is watching eagerly to see what will become of you ten years from now.

不要抛弃学问(1)

胡适

诸位毕业同学，你们现在要离开母校了，我没有什么礼物送给你们，只好送你们一句话罢。

这一句话是：“不要抛弃学问。”以前的功课也许有一大部分是为这张文凭，不得已而做的，从今而后，你们可以依自己的心愿去自由研究了(2)。趁现在年富力强的时候，努力做一种学问。少年是一去不复返的，等到精力衰时，努力做学问(3)也来不及了。即为吃饭计，学问决不会辜负人的(4)。吃饭而不求学问，三年五年后，你们都江堰市要被后来少年淘汰掉的。到那时再想做点学问来补救，恐怕已太晚了。

有人说：“出去做事之后，生活问题急需解决，哪有工夫去读书？即使要做学问，既没有图书馆，又没有实验室，哪能做学问？”

我要对你们说：凡是要等到有了图书馆才读书的，有了图书馆也不肯读书。凡是要等到有了实验室才做研究的，有了实验室也不肯做研究。你有了决心要研究一个问题，自然会撙衣节食(5)去买书，自然会想出来法子来设置仪器。

至于时间，更不成问题(6)。达尔文一生多病，不能多作工，每天只能做一点钟的工作。你们看他的成绩！每天花一点钟看10页有用的书，每年可看3600多页书，30年可读11万页书。

诸位，11万页书可以使你成一个学者了，可是，每天看三种小报也得费你一点钟的工夫，四圈麻将也得费你一点半钟的光阴。看小报呢，还打麻将呢？还是努力做一个学者呢？全靠你们自己的选择(7)！

易卜生说：“你的最大责任是把你这块材料铸造成器。”

学问便是铸器的工具。抛弃了学问便是毁了你们自己。

再会了！你们的母校眼睁睁地要看(8)你们十年之后成什么器。

Books and I

Xia Mianzun

For twenty years past, books have eaten into at least 10-20 percent of my pocket. Now the only things of some value under my roof, if any, are my books.

Since I have never entertained ambition for making a profound study of any subject, the books I have acquired cover almost everything--religion, art, literature, sociology, philosophy, history, biology, etc. Most of them are Chinese translations of literary works by famous foreign writers and anthologies of Chinese poetry and prose through the ages. The rest, often called an outline or introduction, are merely on rudiments of various subjects.

I never care to borrow books from other people or a library. It seems that books bought can better satisfy my bibliomania than books borrowed. You may also attribute this to some sort of desire for personal possession. Whenever I have some new acquisitions, it always gives me great pleasure and satisfaction to stamp my ex-libris on them one by one.

As soon as a new book comes to hand, I always read the preface first and then the table of contents. If it happens to be a thin one, I often finish reading it at one sitting. Otherwise, I often browse through one or two chapters or sections before putting it onto my bookshelf. I seldom read a thick book from cover to cover unless it is a novel. By dint of the first impression it made on me at the time of buying, I have a rough idea of what a book is about and what useful materials in it are available to me. But I have little idea which book is to be read or looked over again at what time. It is completely subject to the whims of the moment. This often prompts me to liken myself and the books on my shelves respectively to an ancient emperor and his concubines housed separately in a row of adjoining rooms.

Much as I love books, I take little care of them. In doing my reading, I often mark out what I regard as important in a book. If it is a thread-bound Chinese book, I use a writing brush to draw small circles as markings. Otherwise, I use a red pencil to draw heavy underlines. Consequently, the books I have read are rarely clean.

It is said that those who have a great liking for candies will sicken to see them when later they happen to work in a candy store. Likewise, ever since I began to work in a bookstore, my obsession with books has been very much on the ine. Nevertheless, I still can not help slipping back into the same old rut, eager to buy this and that book. This is probably because candies are to be eaten with the mouth and not worth keeping as knick-knacks while books can be bought without being read and just left on a shelf.

我之于书(1)

夏丐尊

二十年来，我的生活费中至少十分之一二是消耗在书上的(2)。我的房子里(3)比较贵重的东西就是书。

我一向没有对于任何问题作高深研究的野心，因之所以买的书范围较广，宗教、艺术、文学、社会、哲学、历史、生物，各方面差不多都有一点。最多的是各国文学名著的译本，与本国古来的诗文集，别的门类只是些概论等类的入门书而已。

我不喜欢向别人或图书馆借书。借来的书，在我好像过不来瘾似的(4)，必要是自己买的才满足。这也可谓是一种占有的欲望。买到了几册新书，一册一册在加盖藏书印(5)记，我最感到快悦的是这时候。

书籍到了我的手里，我的习惯是先看序文，次看目录。页数不多的往往立刻通读(6)，篇幅大的，只把正文任择一二章节略加翻阅，就插在书架上。除小说外，我少有全体读完的大部的书，只凭了购入当时的记忆，知道某册书是何种性质，其中大概有些什么可取的材料而已。什么书在什么时候再去读再去翻，连我自己也无把握，完全要看一个时期一个时期的兴趣。关于这事，我常自比为古时的皇帝，而把插在架上的书籍诸列屋而居的宫女(7)。

我虽爱买书，而对于书却不甚爱惜。读书的时候，常在书上把我认为要紧的处所标出。线装书竟用红铅笔划粗粗的线。经我看过的书，统计统体干净的很少。

据说，任何爱吃糖果的人，只要叫他到糖果铺中去做事，见了糖果就会生厌。自我入书店以后，对于书的贪念也已消除了不少了，可不免要故态复萌(8)，想买这种，想买那种。这大概因为糖果要用嘴去吃，摆存毫无意义，而书则可以买了不看，任其只管插在架上的缘故吧。

The Sight of Father’s Back

Zhu Ziqing

It is more than two years since I last saw father, and what I can never for is the sight of his back --- Misfortunes never come singly. In the winter of more than two years ago, grandma died and father lost his job. I left Beijing for Xuzhou to join father in hastening home to attend grandma’s funeral. When I met father in Xuzhou, the sight of the disorderly mess his courtyard and the thought of grandma started tears trickling down my cheeks. Father said, “Now that things’ve come to such a pass, its no use crying. Fortunately, Heaven always leaves one a way out.”

After arriving home in Yangzhou, father paid off debts by selling or pawning things. He also borrowed money to meet the funeral expenses. Between grandmas funeral and fathers unemployment, our family was then in reduced circumstances. After the funeral was over, father was to go to Nanjing to look for a job and I was to return to Beijing to study, so we started out toher.

I spent the first day in Nanjing strolling about with some friends at their invitation, and was ferrying across the Yangtse River to Pukou the next morning and thence taking a train for Beijing on the afternoon of the same day. Father said he was too busy to go and see me off at the railway station, but would ask a hotel waiter that he knew to accompany me there instead. He urged the waiter again and again to take good care of me, but still did not quite trust him. He hesitated for quite a while about what to do. As a matter of fact, nothing would matter at all because I was then twenty and had already travelled on the Beijing-Pukou Railway a couple of times. After some wavering, he finally decided that he himself would accompany me to the station. I repeatedly tried to talk him out of it, but he only said, “Never mind! It won’t do to trust guys like those hotel boys!"

We entered the railway station after crossing the River. While J was at the booking office buying a ticket, father saw to my luggage. There was quite a bit of luggage and he had to bargain with the porter over the fee. I was then such a smart aleck that I frowned upon the way father was haggling and was on the verge of chipping in a few words when the bargain was finally clinched. Getting on the train with me, he picked me a seat close to the carriage door. I spread on the seat the brownish fur lined overcoat he had got tailor made for me. He told me to be watchful on the way and be careful not to catch cold at night He also asked the train attendants to take good care of me. I sniggered at father for being so impractical, for it was utterly uss to entrust me to those attendants, who cared for nothing but money. Besides, it was certainly no problem for a person of my age to look after himself. Oh, when I come to think of it, I can see how smarty I was in those days!

I said, “Dad, you might leave now.” But he looked out of the window and said, “I’m going to buy you some tangerines. You just stay here. Don’t move around.” I caught sight of several vendors waiting for customers outside the railings beyond a platform. But to reach that platform would require crossing the rail way track and doing some climbing up and down. That would be a strenuous job for father, who was fat. I wanted to do all that myself, but he stopped me, so I could do nothing but let him go. I watched him hobble towards the railway track in his black skullcap, black cloth mandarin jacket and dark blue cotton-padded cloth long gown. He had little trouble climbing down the railway track, but it was a lot more difficult for him to climb up that platform after crossing the railway trade His hands held onto the upper part of the platform, his legs huddled up and his corpulent body tipped slightly towards the left, obviously making an enormous exertion. While I was watching him from behind, tears gushed from my eyes. I quickly wiped them away lest he or others should catch me crying. The next moment when I looked out of the window again, father was already on the way back, holding bright red tangerines in both hands. In crossing the railway track, he first put the tangerines on the ground, climbed down slowly and then picked them up again. When he came near the train, I hurried out to help him by the hand. After boarding the train with me, he laid all the tangerines on my overcoat, and patting the dirt off his clothes, he looked somewhat relieved and said after a while, “I must be going now. Don’t for to write me from Beijing!” I gazed after his back retreating out of the carriage. After a few steps, he looked back at me and said, “Go back to your seat. Don’t leave your things alone.” I, however, did not go back to my seat until his figure was lost among crowds of people hurrying to and fro and no longer visible. My eyes were again wet with tears.

In recent years, both father and I have been living an unsettled life, and the circumstances of our family going from bad to worse. Father left home to seek a livelihood when young and did achieve quite a few things all on his own. To think that he should now be so downcast in old age! The discouraging state of affairs filled him with an uncontrollable feeling of deep sorrow, and his pent-up emotion had to find a vent. That is why even mere domestic trivialities would often make him angry, and meanwhile he became less and less nice with me. However, the separation of the last two years has made him more forgiving towards me. He keeps thinking about me and my son. After I arrived in Beijing, he wrote me a letter, in which he says, “I’m all right except for a severe pain in my arm. I even have trouble using chopsticks or writing brushes. Perhaps it won’t be long now before I depart this fife.” Through the glistening tears which these words had brought to my eyes I again saw the back of father’s corpulent form in the dark blue cotton-padded cloth long gown and the black cloth mandarin jacket. Oh, how I long to see him again!

背影

朱自清

我与父亲不相见已二年余了，我最不能忘记的是他的背影。那年冬天，祖母死了，父亲的差使也交卸了，正是祸不单行的日子，我从北京到徐州，打算跟着父亲奔丧回家。到徐州见着父亲，看见满院狼藉的东西，又想起祖母，不禁簌簌地流下眼泪。父亲说：“事已如此，不必难过，好在天无绝人之路！”

回家变卖典质，父亲还了亏空；又借钱办了丧事。这些日子，家中光景很是惨淡，一半为了丧事，一半为了父亲的赋闲。丧事完毕，父亲要到南京谋事，我也要回北京念书，我们便同行。

到南京时，有朋友约去游逛，勾留了一日；第二日上午便须渡江到浦口，下午上车北去。父亲因为事忙，本已说定不送我，叫旅涫里一个熟识的茶房陪我同去。他再三嘱咐茶房，甚是仔细。但他终于不放心，怕茶房不妥贴，颇踌躇了一会。其实那年我已二十岁，北京来往过两三次，是没有甚么要紧的了。他踌躇了一会，终于决定还是自己送我去。我两三回劝他不必去；他只说，“不要紧，他们去不好！”

我们过了江，进了车站。我买票，他忙着照看行李。行李太多了，得向脚夫行些小费，才可过去。他便又忙着和他们讲价钱。我那时真是聪明过分，总觉他说话不大漂亮，非自己插嘴不可。但他终于讲定了价钱；就送我上车。他给我拣定了靠车门的一张椅子；我将他给我做的紫毛大衣铺好坐位。他嘱我路上小心，夜里要瞥醒些，不要受凉。又嘱托茶房好好照应我。我心里暗笑他的迂，他们只认得钱，托他们直是白托！而且我这样大年纪的人，难道还不能料理自己么？唉，我现在想想，那时真是太聪明了！

我说道，“爸爸，你走吧。”他望车外看了看，说，“我买几个橘子去。你就在此地，不要走动。”我看那边月台的栅栏外有几个卖东西的等着顾客。走到那边月台，须穿过铁道，须跳下去又爬上去。父亲是一个胖子，走过去自然要费些事。我本来要去的，他不肯，只好让他去。我看见他戴着黑布小帽，穿着黑布大马褂，深青布棉袍，蹒跚地走到铁道边，慢慢探身下去，尚不大难。可是他穿过铁道，要爬上那边月台，就不容易了。他用两手攀着上面，两脚再向上缩；他肥胖的身子向左微倾，显出努力的样子。这时我看见他的背影，我的眼泪很快地流下来了。我赶紧拭干了泪，怕他看见，也怕别人看见。我再向外看时，他已抱了朱红的橘子往回走了。过铁道时，他先将橘子散放在地上，自己慢慢爬下，再抱起橘子走。到这边时，我赶紧去搀他。他和我走到车上，将橘子一股脑儿放在我的皮大衣上。于是扑扑衣上的泥土，心里很轻松似的，过一会说，“我走了；到那边来信！”我望着他走出去。他走了几步，回过头看见我，说，“进去吧，里边没人。”等他的背影混入来来往往的人里，再找不着了，我便进来坐下，我的眼泪又来了。

近几年来，父亲和我都是东奔西走，家中光景是一日不如一日。他少年出外谋生，独力支持，做了许多大事。那知老境却如此颓唐！他触目伤怀，自然情不能自己。情郁于中，自然要发之于外；家庭琐屑便往往触他之怒。他待我渐渐不同往日。但最近两年的不见，他终于忘却我的不好，只是惦记着我，惦记着我的儿子。我北来后，他写了一信给我，信中说道，“我身体平安，惟膀子疼痛利害，举箸提笔，诸多不便，大约大去之期不远矣。”我读到此处，在晶莹的泪光中，又看见那肥胖的，青布棉袍，黑布马褂的背影。唉！我不知何时再能与他相见!

Transient Days

Zhu ziqing

If swallows go away, they will come back again. If willows wither, they will turn green again. If peach blossoms fade, they will flower again. But, tell me, you the wise, why should our days go by never to return? Perhaps they have been stolen by someone. But who could it be and where could he hide them? Perhaps they have just run away by themselves. But where could they be at the present moment?

I don’t know how many days I am entitled to altoher, but my quota of them is undoubtedly wearing away. Counting up silently, I find that more than 8000 days have already slipped away through my fingers. Like a of water falling off a needle point into the ocean, my days are quietly dripping into the stream of time without leaving a trace. At the thought of this, sweat oozes from my forehead and tears trickle down my cheeks.

What is gone is gone, what is to come keeps coming. How swift is the transition in between! When I up in the morning, the slanting sun casts two or three squarish patches of light into my small room. The sun has feet too, edging away softly and stealthily. And, without knowing it, I am already caught in its revolution. Thus the day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands; vanishes in the rice bowl when I have my meal; passes away quietly before the fixed gaze of my eyes when I am lost in reverie. Aware of its fleeting presence, I reach out for it only to find it brushing past my outstretched hands. In the evening, when I lie on my bed, it nimbly strides over my body and flits past my feet. By the time when I open my eyes to meet the sun again, another day is already gone. I heave a sigh, my head buried in my hands. But, in the midst of my sighs, a new day is flashing past.

Living in this world with its fleeting days and teeming millions, what can I do but waver and wander and live a transient life? What have I been doing during the 8000 fleeting days except wavering and wandering? The bygone days, like wisps of smoke, have been dispersed by gentle winds, and, like thin mists, have been evaporated by the rising sun. What traces have I left behind? No, nothing, not even gossamer-like traces. I have come to this world stark naked, and in the twinkling of an eye, I am to go back as stark naked as ever. However, I am taking it very much to heart: why should I be made to pass through this world for nothing at all?

O you the wise, would you tell me please: why should our days go by never to return?

匆匆

朱自清

燕子去了，有再来的时候；杨柳枯了，在再青的时候；桃花谢了，有再开的时候1。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：现在又到了那里呢2？

我不知道他们给了我多少日子3；但我的手确乎是渐渐空虚了4。在默默里算着，八千多日子已经从我手中溜去5；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6。

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7斜斜的太阳。太阳他也有脚啊，轻轻悄悄地挪移8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，他便伶伶俐俐在从我身上跨过，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。

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，转眼间也将赤裸裸的回去罢？但不能平的9，为什么偏要白白走这一遭啊？

你聪明的，告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？

Friends

Ba Jin

On my recent travels, I came to realize still more fully the significance of the word “friend”.

Seven or eight days ago, I said to a friend whom I had just come to know, “I can’t help feeling embarrassed before my friends. You’re all so nice to me. I simply don’t know how to repay your kindness.” I did not make this remark out of mere modesty and courtesy. I truly meant what I said. The next day, I said goodbye to this friend, not knowing if I could ever see him again. But the little warmth that he gave me has been keeping my heart throbbing with gratitude.

The length of my days will not be unlimited. However, whenever I look back on my brief past life, I find a beacon illuminating my soul and thereby lending a little brightness to my being. That beacon is friendship. I should be grateful to it because it has helped me keep alive up to now and clear away the shadow left on me by my old family.

Many people forsake their friends in favour of their own families, or at least draw a line of demarcation between families and friends, considering the former to be many times more important than the latter. That seems to be a matter of course. I have also seen with my own eyes how some people abandon their friends as well as their own careers soon after they married…

Friends are transient whereas family are lasting—that is the tenet, as I know, guiding the behaviour of many people. To me, that is utterly inconceivable. Without friends, I would have been reduced to I don’t know what a miserable creature.

Friends are my saviours. They give me things which it is beyond my family to give me. Thanks to their fraternal love, assistance and encouragement, I have time and again been saved from falling into an abyss while on its verge. They have been enormously generous towards me.

There was a time when my life was miserable and gloomy. My friends then gave me in large quantities sympathy, love, joy and tears — things essential for existence. It is due to their bountiful free gifts that I also have my share of warmth and happiness in my life. I accepted their kindnesses quietly without ever saying a word of thanks and without ever doing anything in return. In spite of that, my friends never used the epithet “self-centered” when referred to me. They are only too generous towards me.

I visited many new places and met new friends on my recent trip. My time was mostly taken up by looking around, listening, talking and walking. But I never ran into any trouble because my friends had done their utmost to make sure that I would be short of nothing. Whatever new places I called at, I always felt at home as if I were back in my old residence in Shanghai which had been already been raged to the ground by Japanese troops.

No matter how hard up and frugal my friends themselves were, they would unstintingly share with me whatever they had, although they knew I would not be able to repay them for their kindness. Some, whom I did not even know by name, showed concern over my health and went about inquiring after me. It was not until they saw my suntanned face and arms that they began to smile a smile of relief. All that was enough to move one to tears.

Some people believe that, without writing, I would lose my livelihood. One of my sympathizers, in an article published two months ago in the Guangzhou Republic Daily Supplement, gives a full ac of the conditions of my life. He also says that I would have nothing to live on once I should lay down my pen. That is not true at all. It has already been proved by recent travels that my friends would never let me suffer from cold and hunger even if I should go without writing a single word. There are a great many kind-hearted people in the world who never attach undue importance to themselves and their own families and who never place themselves and their families above anything else. It is owing to them that I still survive and shall continue to survive for a long time to come.

I owe my friends many, many kindnesses. How can I repay them? But, I understand, they don’t need me to do that.

Recently I came across the following words in a book by a French philosopher:

One condition of life is consumption… Survival in this world is parable from generosity, without which we would perish and become dried-up from within. We must put forth flowers. Moral integrity and unselfishness are the flowers of life.

Now so many flowers of life are in full bloom before my eyes. When can my life put forth flowers? Am I already dried-up from within?

A friend of mine says, “If I were a lamp, I would illuminate darkness with my light.”

I, however, don’t qualify for a bright lamp. Let me be a piece of firewood instead. I’ll radiate the heat that I have absorbed from the sun. I’ll burn myself to ashes to provide this human world with a little warmth.

朋友

巴金

这一次的旅行使我更了解一个名词的意义，这个名词就是：朋友。

七八天以前我曾对一个初次见面的朋友说：“在朋友们面前我只感到惭愧(1)。你们待我太好了，我简直没法报答你们。”这并不是谦虚的客气话，这是真的事实。说过这些话，我第二天就离开了那个朋友，并不知道以后还有没有机会再看见他。但是他给我的那一点点温暖至今还使我的心颤动(2)。

我的生命大概不会很长久罢。然而在短促的过去的回顾中却有一盏明灯，照彻了我的灵魂的黑暗，使我的生存有一点光彩。这盏灯就是就友情。我应该感谢它，因为靠了它我才能够活到现在；而且把旧家庭给我留下的阴影扫除了的也正是它。

世间有不少的人为了家庭抛弃朋友，至少也会在家庭和朋友之间划一个界限，把家庭看得比朋友重过若干倍。这似乎是很自然的事情。我也曾亲眼看见一些人结婚以后就离开朋友，离开事业。……

朋友是暂时的，家庭是永久的。在好些人的行为里我发见了这个信条。这个信条在我实在是不可理解的。对于我，要是没有朋友，我现在会变成怎样可怜的东西，我自己也不知道(3)。

然而朋友们把我救了。他们给了我家庭所不能给的东西。他们的友爱，他们的帮助，他们的鼓励，几次把我从深渊的边沿救回来。他们对我表示了无限的慷慨(4)。

我的生活曾经是悲苦的，黑暗的。然而朋友们把多量的同情，多量的爱，多量的欢乐，多量的眼泪分了给我，这些东西都是生存所必需的。这些不要报答的慷慨的施舍，使我的生活里也有了温暖，有了幸福(5)。我默默地接受了它们。我并不曾说一句感激的话，我也没有做过一件报答的行为。但是朋友们却不把自私的形容词加到我的身上。对于我，他们太慷慨了(6)。

这一次我走了许多新地方，看见了许多新朋友。我的生活是忙碌的：忙着看，忙着听，忙着说，忙着走。但是我不曾遇到一点困难，朋友们给我准备好了一切，使我不会缺少什么。我每走到一个新地方，我就像回到我那个在上海被日本兵毁掉的旧居一样。

每一个朋友，不管他自己的生活是怎样苦，怎样简单，也要慷慨地分一些东西给我，虽然明知道我不能够报答他。有些朋友，连他们的名字我以前也不知道，他们却关心我的健康，处处打听我的“病况”，直到他们看见了我那被日光晒黑了的脸和膀子，他们才放心地微笑了，这种情形的确值得人掉泪。

有人相信我不写文章就不能够生活。两个月以前，一个同情我的上海朋友寄稿到《广州民国日报》的副刊，说了许多关于我的生活的话。他也说我一天不写文章第二天就没有饭吃(7)。这是不确实的。这次旅行就给我证明；即使我不再写一个字，朋友们也不肯让我冻馁。世间还有许多慷慨的人，他们并不把自己个人和家庭看得异常重要，超过一切。靠了他们我才能够活到现在，而且靠了他们我还要活下去。

朋友们给我的东西是太多、太多了(8)。我将怎样报答他们呢？但是我知道他们是不需要报答的。

最近我在一个法国哲学家的书里读到了这样的话：“生命的一个条件就是消费……世间有一种不能跟生存分开的慷慨，要是没有了它，我们就会死，就会从内部干枯。我们必须开花。道德，无私心就是人生的花。”

在我的眼前开放着这么多的人生的花朵了。我的生命要到什么时候才会开花？难道我已经是“内部干枯”了吗？

一个朋友说过：“我若是灯，我就要用我的光明来照彻黑暗。”

我不配做一盏明灯。那么就让我做一块木柴罢。我愿意把我从太阳那里受到的热放散出来，我愿意把自己烧得粉身碎骨给人间添一点点温暖。

The Land of My Ancestors

Bing Xin

The River mouth at dawn,

Behind a white haze of mist,

‘Tis southern climes,

Behold, the rain is coming.

I have seen the blue sea all along,

Little aware of this green River,

O the land of my ancestors!

                      ---Sparkling Stars, 156

Fuzhou of Fujian Province will always be my old home. Though I was brought up elsewhere, Fuzhou is nevertheless the land of my ancestors!

As yet, I have been back to Fuzhou no more than twice in my lifetime. I made the first tripe in the winter of 1911. Returned from the bitter cold North with its drab and dried up veation, I was amazed and delighted when greeted by the ming scenery of sapphire mountains and emerald rivers as well as red flowers and green leaves. I felt the sailing boat of my life steering its way into the green River after leaving the blue sea behind. At the Minjiang River, we changed from the big ship to a small boat, which took us to Daqiaotou (Big Bridge), where we were met by Uncle and cousins. They gathered round us and talked warmly with my parents in the local dialect. Thereupon, my 5-year-old younger brother whispered in my ear with a Shandong accent, “How come they can all speak the Fuzhou dialect?” We had both thought that the Fuzhou dialect was indeed most difficult for anyone to learn.

From then on, we lived an urban life for more than a year in Fuzhou. During such festivals as Lunar New Year, Lantern, Dragon Boat and Mid-Autumn, we all celebrated the festivities with plenty of food and fun. Particular mention, however, should be made of the Lantern Festival when Nanhoujie, the street known for its lantern fair and also the street where we lived, became as bright as broad daylight at night with myriads of lanterns and streams of spectators. The splendor and magnificence of the scene is beyond all description.

I made the second visit in 1956, also in winter. As the Yingtan-Xiamen Railway had not yet been built, the NPC gation, with myself as a member, had to go from Jiangxi Province by car. The highway from Jiangxi to Fuzhou, paved with red soil, was as smooth as a mirror. It was the most level soil-paved highway I had ever seen. This time I visited not only Fuzhou, but also Zhangzhou, Quanzhou, Xiamen and Gulangyu --- the southern frontiers of our ry. At the Xiamen seaside, I could see clearly through a telescope pedestrians and cows on the Quemoy Islands.

My experiences of this trip, however, are too numerous to be reed one by one here. Anyway, I deeply love Fuzhou, my ancestral home. Over there we have the typical southern scenery with blue mountains, green waters, limpid books…! There in the courtyard we can always see  some kind of flowers in full bloom throughout the year. Fruits ranging from loquats, lichees, longans to tangerines are in plenty. Is there anything more palatable to a little child than these fruits?

I did not visit all the local attractions in Fuzhou. Everywhere we could find historical relics as well as villages and towns inhabited by relatives of overseas Chinese. Fujianese expatriates are found all over the world. They have mostly started from scratch by the sweat of their brow. When I met some of them on my visits to Asian, African European and American ries, they all expressed warm feeling towards me while shaking my hands. As I ate Fuzhou food and sipped jasmine tea in their homes or shops, I felt that being a Fujianese, I could make myself at home wherever I travelled in the world.

My ancestral home is so endearing. Whenever I meet somebody hailing from Fuzhou or a friend who has recently been there, I always inquire of them about the present conditions of Fujian. They all tell me that compared with two decades ago, Fujian has made so much progress that it is now almost beyond recognition. Recently I have learned that people there have gone in for scientific farming and afforestation so that green and luxuriant veation has appeared on all mountains and fields. People have been advising me to pay another visit to my old home. Yes, I am more than eager to do so. And so are my numerous fellow townsmen in all corners of the world. I hope that toher with all the people in my home town as well as all overseas Chinese from Fujian, I can do my bit to make a still better place of my ancestral home, both materially and culturally.

我的父母之乡

冰心

清晓的江头(1)，

白雾茫茫；

是江南天气(2)，

雨儿来了——

我只知道有蔚蓝的海，

却原来还有碧绿的江，

这是我父母之乡！

繁星156(3)

福建福州永远是我的故乡，虽然我不在那里生长，但它是我的父母之乡！

到今日为止，我这一生中只回去过两次。第一次是一九一一年，是在冬季。从严冷枯黄的北方归来(4)，看到展现在我眼前的青山碧水(5)，红花绿叶，使我惊讶而欢喜！我觉得我的生命的风帆，已从蔚蓝的海，驶进了碧绿的江。这天我们在闽江口从大船下到小船，驶到大桥头，来接我们的伯父堂兄们把我们包围了起来，他们用乡音和我

的父母热烈地交谈。我的五岁的大弟弟悄悄地用山东话问我说：“他们怎么都会说福州话？”因为从来在我们姐弟心里，福州话是最难懂难说的！

这以后的一年多时间里，我们就过起了福州城市的生活。新年、元宵、端午、中秋……岁时节日，吃的玩的都是十分丰富而有趣。特别是灯节，那时我们家住在南后街，那里是灯市的街，元宵前后，“花市灯如昼”，灯影下人流潮涌，那光明绚丽的情景就说不尽了(6)。

第二次回去，是在一九五六年，也是在冬季。那时还没有鹰厦铁路，我们人大代表团是从江西坐汽车进去的。一路上红土公路，道滑如拭(7)，我还没有看见过土铺的公路，维修得这样平整的！这次我不但到了福州，还到了漳州、泉州、厦门、鼓浪屿……那是祖国的南疆了。在厦门前线(8)，我还从望远镜里看见了金门岛上的行人和牛，看得很清楚……

回忆中的情景很多，在此就不一一描写了。总之，我很喜欢我的父母之乡。那边是南国风光，山是青的，水是绿的，小溪流更是清可见底！院里四季都有花开。水果是从枇杷、荔枝、龙眼，一直吃到福桔！对一个孩子来说，还有什么比这个更惬意的呢？

我在故乡走的地方不多，但古迹、侨乡，到处可见，福建华侨，遍于天下(9)。我所到过的亚、非、欧、美各国都见到辛苦创业(10)的福建侨民，握手之余，情溢言表。在他们家里、店里，吃着福州菜，喝着茉莉花茶，使我觉得作为一个福建人是四海都有家的。

我的父母之乡是可爱的。有人从故乡来(11)，或是有朋友新近到福建去过，我都向他们问起福建的近况。他们说：福建比起二十多年前来，进步得不可辨认了。最近呢，农业科学化了，又在植树造林(12)，山岭田地更加郁郁葱葱了。他们都动员我回

去看看，我又何尝不想呢(13)？不但我想，在全世界的天涯海角，更不知有多少人在想！我愿和故乡的人，以及普天下的福建侨民，一同在精神和物质文明方面，把故乡建设得更美好(14)！

Tribute to the White Poplar

Mao Dun

The white poplar is no ordinary tree. Let me sing its praises.

When you travel by car through Northwest China’s boundless plateau, all you see before you is something like a huge yellow-and-green felt blanket. Yellow is the soil—the uncultivated virgin soil. It is the outer covering of the loess plateau accumulated by Mother Nature several hundred thousand years ago. Green are the wheat fields signifying man’s triumph over nature. They become a sea of rolling green waves whenever there is a soft breeze. One is here reminded of Chinese expressionmai lang meaning “rippling wheat” and cannot help admiring our forefathers’ ingenuity in coining such a happy phrase. It must have been either the brainwave of a clever scholar, or a linguistic gem sanctioned by long usage. The boundless highland, with dominant yellow and green, is flat like a whetstone. Were it not for distant mountain peaks standing side by side (which, as your naked eyes tell you, are bellow where you stand), you would probably for that you are on the highland. The sight of the scene will probably call up inside you a string of epithets like “spectacular” or “grand”. Meanwhile, however, your eyes may become weary of watching the same panorama, so much so that you are oblivious of its being spectacular or grand. And you may feel monotony coming on. Yes, it is somewhat monotonous, isn’t it?

Now what will become of your weariness if you suddenly raise your eyes only to catch sight of distant row of trees (or just a couple of them) standing there proudly like sentries. For my part, I cannot keep from uttering an exclamation of surprise!

They are white poplars. Though very common in Northwest China, they are no ordinary trees!

With straight trunks and branches, white poplars aim high. Their trunks are usually over ten feet tall and, as if wrought by human effort, utterly bare of branches below ten feet. Their twigs, also like things artificially shaped, all reach out towards the sky and grow close toher in a cluster without any sideway growth. Their leaves are broad and point upwards with very few slanting sideways, much less upside down. Their glossy barks are a faint light green with hazy silver spots. They stand erect and unbending in face of North China’s violent wind and snow. Though they may be only as big as the mouth of bowl, they strive to grow upwards until they reach the towering height of some twenty feet and stand indomitable against the northwest wind.

They are white poplar. Though very common in Northwest China, they are no ordinary tree!

You may call them unattractive because they have neither the graceful carriage of a dancer, nor such branches as can twine and climb. But nevertheless they are big and tall, honest and upright, simple and plain, earnest and unyielding—and not without gentleness and warmth though. They are giants among trees! When you trudge through the melting snow of the highland and see one or a row of white poplars standing proudly on the vast plains, how could you look upon them as nothing but mere trees? How could you for that with all their simplicity, earnestness and unyieldingness, they are symbolic of our peasants in the North? How could you fail to associate them with our dauntless soldiers guarding our homeland all over the vast rear? How could you fail to see that these trees, ever striving to put out their closely knit branches and leaves in an upward direction, are symbolic of the spirit and will of our men who, fighting heroically all over the northern plains, are writing the history of New China with their own blood?

White poplars are no ordinary trees. But these common trees in Northwest China are as much ignored as our peasants in the North. However, like our peasants in the North, they are bursting with vitality and capable of surviving any hardship or oppression. I pay tribute to them because they symbolize our peasants in the North and, in particular, the spirit of honesty, tenacity and forging ahead—a spirit central to our struggle for national liberation.

The reactionary diehards, who despise and snub the common people, can do whatever they like to eulogize the elite nanmu (which is also tall, straight and good-looking) and look down upon the common, fast-growing white poplar. I, for my part, will be loud in my praise of the latter!

白杨礼赞

茅盾

白杨树实在是不平凡的，我赞美白杨树！

当汽车在望不到边际的高原上奔驰，扑入你的视野的，是黄绿错综的一条大毡子(1)；黄的，那是土，未开垦的处女土，几十万年前由伟大的自然力所堆积成功的黄土高原的外壳；绿的呢，是人类战胜自然的结果，是麦田，和风吹送，翻起了一轮一轮的绿波——这时你会真心佩服昔人所造的两个字“麦浪”，若不是妙手偶得，便确是经过锤炼的语言的精华；黄与绿主宰着，无边无垠，坦荡如砥(2)，这时如果不是宛若并肩的远山的连峰提醒了你（这些山峰凭你的肉眼来判断，就知道是在你脚底下的），你会忘记了汽车是在高原上行驶。这时你涌起来的感想也许是“雄壮”，也许是“伟大”，诸如此类的形容词；然而同时你的眼睛也许觉得有点倦怠，你对当前的“雄壮”或“伟大”闭了眼(3)，而另一种味儿在你的心头潜滋暗长(4)了——“单调”！可不是，单调，有一点儿吧？

然而刹那间，要是你猛抬眼看见了前面远远地有一排，——不，或者甚至只是三五株，一二株，傲然地耸立，像哨兵似的树木的话，那你的恹恹欲睡(5)的情绪又将如何？我那时是惊奇地叫了一声的！

那就是白杨树，西北极普通的一种树，然而实在不是平凡的一种树！

那是一种力争上游的一种树，笔直的干，笔直的枝。它的干呢，通常是丈把高，像是加过人工似的，一丈以内，绝无旁枝；它所有的丫枝呢，一律向上，而且紧紧靠拢，也像是加过人工似的，成为一束，绝无横斜逸出(6)；它的宽大的叶子也是片片向上，几乎没有斜生的，更不用说倒垂了；它的皮，光滑而有银色的晕圈，微微泛出淡青色。这是虽在北方的风雪的压迫下却保持着倔强挺立的一种树！哪怕只有碗来精细罢，它却努力向上发展，高到丈许，二丈，参天耸立，不折不挠，对抗着西北风。

这就是白杨树，西北极普通的一种树，然而决不是平凡的树！

它没有婆娑的姿态，没有屈曲盘旋(7)的虬枝，也许你要说它不美丽，——如果美是专指“婆娑”或“横斜逸出”之类而言，那么白杨树算不得树中的好女子；但是它却是伟岸(8)，正直，朴质，严肃，也不缺乏温和，更不用提它的坚强不屈与挺拔，它是树中伟丈夫！当你在积雪初融的高原上走过，看见平坦的大地上傲然挺立这么一株或一排白杨树，难道你觉得树只是树？难道你就想不它的朴质，严肃，坚强不屈，至少也象征了北方的农民；难道你竟一点也不联想到，在敌后的广大土地上，到处有坚强不屈，就像这白杨树一样傲然挺立的守卫他们家乡的哨兵(9)，难道你又不更远一点想到这样枝枝叶叶靠紧团结，力求上进的白杨树，宛然象征了今天在华北平原纵横激荡(10)，用血写出新中国历史的那种精神和意志。

白杨不是平凡的树。它是西北极普遍，不被人重视，就跟北方农民相似；它有极强的生命力(11)，磨折不了，压迫不倒，也跟北方的农民相似。我赞美白杨树，就因为它不但象征了北方的农民，尤其象征了今天我们民族解放斗争中所不可缺的(12)朴质，坚强，以及力求上进的精神。

让那些看不起民众，贱视民众，顽固的倒退的人们去赞美那贵族化的楠木(13)（那也是直干秀颀(14)的），去鄙视这极常见，极易生长的白杨罢，但是我要高声赞美白杨树！

Autumn in Peiping

Yu Dafu

Autumn, wherever it is, always has something to recommend itself. In North China, however, it is particularly limpid, serene and melancholy. To enjoy its atmosphere to the full in the onetime capital, I have, therefore, made light of travelling a long distance from Hanghou to Qingdao, and thence to Peiping.

There is of course autumn in the South too, but over there plants wither slowly, the air is moist, the sky pallid, and it is more often rainy than windy. While muddling along all by myself among the urban dwellers of Suzhou, Shanghai, Xianmen, Hong Kong or Guangzhou, I feel nothing but a little chill in the air, without ever relishing to my heart’s content the flavour, colour, mood and style of the season. Unlike famous flowers which are most attractive when half opening, good wine which is most tempting when one is half drunk, autumn, however, is best appreciated in its entirety.

It is more than a decade since I last saw autumn in North. When I am in the South, the arrival of each autumn will put me in mind of Peiping’s Tao Ran Ting with its reed catkins, Diao Yu Tai with its shady willow trees, Western Hills with their chirping cts, Yu Quan Shan Mountain on a moonlight evening and Tan Zhe Si with its reverbrating bell. Suppose you put up in a humble rented house inside the bustling imperial city, you can, on ting up at dawn, sit in your courtyard sipping a cup of strong tea, leisurely watch the high azure skies and listen to pigeons circling overhead. Saunter eastward under locust trees to closely observe streaks of sunlight filtering through their foliage, or quietly watch the trumpet-shaped blue flowers of morning glories climbing half way up a dilapidated wall, and an intense feeling of autumn will of itself well up inside you. As to morning glories, I like their blue or white flowers best, dark purple ones second best, and pink ones third best. It will be most desirable to have them set off by some tall thin grass planted underneath here and there.

Locust trees in the North, as a decorative embellishment of nature, also associate us with autumn. On ting up early in the morning, you will find the ground strewn all over with flower-like pistils fallen from locust trees. Quiet and smelliness, they feel tiny and soft underfoot. After a street cleaner has done the sweeping under the shade of the trees, you will discover less lines left by his broom in the dust, which look so fine and quiet that somehow a feeling of forlornness will begin to creep up on you. The same depth of implication is found in the ancient saying that a single fallen leaf from thewutong tree is more than enough to inform the world of autumn’s presence.

The sporadic feeble chirping of cicadas is especially acteristic of autumn in the North. Due to the abundance of trees and the low altitude of dwellings in Peiping, cicadas are audible in every nook and cranny of the city. In the South, however, one cannot hear them unless in suburbs or hills. Because of their ubiquitous shrill noise, these cts in Peiping seem to be living off every household like crickets or mice.

As for autumn rains in the North, they also seem to differ from those in the South, being more appealing, more temperate.

A sudden gust of cool wind under the slaty sky, and rains will start pitter-pattering. Soon when the rain is over, the clouds begin gradually to roll towards the west and the sun comes out in the blue sky. Some idle townsfolk, wearing lined or unlined clothing made of thick cloth, will come out pipe in mouth and, loitering under a tree by the end of a bridge, exchange leisurely conversation with acquaintances with a slight touch of regret at the passing of time:

“Oh, real nice and cool—“

“Sure! Getting cooler with each autumn shower!”

Fruit trees in the North also make a wonderful sight in autumn. Take jujube tree for example. They grow everywhere—around the corner of a house, at the foot of a wall, by the side of a latrine or outside a kitchen door. It is at the height of autumn that jujubes, shaped like dates or pigeon eggs, make their appearance in a light yellowish-green amongst tiny elliptic leaves. By the time when they have turned ruddy and the leaves fallen, the north-westerly wind will begin to reign supreme and make a dusty world of the North. Only at the turn of July and August when jujubes, persimmons, grapes are 80-90 percent ripe will the North have the best of autumn—the golden days in a year.

Some literary critics say that Chinese literati, especially poets, are mostly disposed to be decadent, which acs for predominance of Chinese works singing the praises of autumn. Well, the same is true of foreign poets, isn’t it? I haven’t read much of foreign poetry and prose, nor do I want to enumerate autumn-related poems and essays in foreign literature. But, if you browse through collected works of English, German, French or Italian poets, or various ries’ anthologies of poetry or prose, you can always comes across a great many literary pieces eulogizing or lamenting autumn. Long pastoral poems or songs about the four seasons by renowned poets are mostly distinguished by beautiful moving lines on autumn. All that goes to show that all live creatures and sensitive humans alike are prone to the feeling of depth, remoteness, severity and bleakness. Not only poets, even convicts in prison, I suppose, have deep sentiments in autumn in spite of themselves. Autumn treats all humans alike, regardless of nationality, race or class. However, judging from Chinese idiom qiushi (autumn scholar, meaning and aged scholar grieving over frustrations in his life) and frequent ction in textbooks of Ouyang Xiu’s On the Autumn Sough and Su Dongpo’sOn the Red Cliff, Chinese men of letters seem to be particularly autumn-minded. But, to know the real flavour of autumn, especially China’s autumn, one has to visit the North.

Autumn in the South also has its unique features, such as the moonlit Ershisi Bridge in Yangzhou, the flowing sea tide at the Qiantangjiang River, the mist-shrouded Putuo Mountain and lotuses at the Lizhiwan Bay. But they all lack strong colour and lingering flavour. Southern autumn is to Northern autumn what yellow rice wine is to kaoliang wine, congee to steamed buns, perches to crabs, yellow dogs to camels.

Autumn, I mean Northern autumn, if only it could be made to last forever! I would be more than willing to keep but one-third of my life-span and have two-thirds of it bartered for the prolonged stay of the season!

故都的秋

郁达夫

秋天，无论在什么地方的秋天，总是好的(1)；可是啊，北国的秋，却特别地来得清，来得静，来得悲凉。我的不远千里(2)，要从杭州赶上青岛，更要从青岛赶上北平来的理由，也不过想饱尝一尝这“秋”，这故都的秋味。

江南，秋当然也是有的，但草木凋得慢，空气来得润，天的颜色显得淡，并且又时常多雨而少风；一个人夹在苏州上海杭州，或厦门香港广州的市民中间，浑浑沌沌地过去，只能感到一点点清凉，秋的味，秋的色，秋的意境与姿态，总看不饱，尝不透，赏玩不到十足(3)。秋并不是名花，也并不是美酒，那一种半开，半醉的状态，在领略秋的过程上，是不合适的。

不逢北国之秋，已将近十余年了。在南方每年到了秋天，总要想陶然亭的芦花，钓鱼台的柳影，西山的虫唱，玉泉的夜月，潭柘寺的钟声(4)。在北平即使不出门去罢，就是在皇城人海之中，租人家一椽破屋来住着，早晨起来，泡一碗浓茶，向院子一坐，你也能看到很高很高的碧绿的天色，听得到青天下驯鸽的飞声。从槐树叶底，朝东细数着一丝一丝漏下来的日光，或在破壁腰中，静对着像喇叭似的牵牛花（朝荣）的蓝朵，自然而然地也能感觉到十分的秋意。说到牵牛花，我以为以蓝色或白色者为佳，紫黑色次之，淡红色最下。最好，还要在牵牛花底教长着几根疏疏落落的尖细且长的秋草，使作陪衬。

北国的槐树，也是一种能使人联想起秋来的点缀。像花而又不是花的那一种落蕊，早晨起来，会铺得满地。脚踏上去，声音也没有，气味也没有，只能感出一点点极微细极柔软的触觉。扫街在树影下一阵扫后，灰土上留下来的一条条扫帚的丝纹，看起来既觉得细腻，又觉得清闲(5)，潜意识下并且还觉得有点儿落寞，古人所说的梧桐一叶而天下知秋的遥想，大约也就在这些深沉的地方。

秋蝉的衰弱的残声，更是北国的特产；因为北平处处全长着树，屋子又低，所以无论在什么地方，都听得见它们的啼唱。在南方是非要上郊外或山上去才听得到的。这秋蝉的嘶叫，在北平可和蟋蟀耗子一样，简直像是家家户户都养在家里的家虫(6)。

还有秋雨哩，北方的秋雨，也似乎比南方的下得奇，下得有味，下得更像样(7)。在灰沉沉的天底下，忽而来一阵凉风，便息列索落地下起雨来了。一层雨过，云渐渐地卷向了西去，天又青了，太阳又露出脸来了；著着很厚的青布单衣或夹袄的都市闲人，咬着烟管，在雨后的斜桥影里，上桥头树底下去一立，遇见熟人，便会用了缓慢悠闲的声调，微叹(8)着互答着说：

“唉，天可真凉了——”

“可不是么？一层秋雨一层凉了！”

北方的果树，到秋来，也是一种奇景。第一是枣子树；屋角，墙头，茅房边上，灶房门口，它都会一株株地长大起来。像橄榄又像鸽蛋似的这枣子颗儿，在小椭圆形的细叶中间，显出淡绿微黄的颜色的时候，正是秋的全盛时期；等枣树叶落，枣子红完，西北风就要起来了(9)，北方便是尘沙灰土的世界，只有这枣子、柿子、葡萄，成熟到八九分的七八月之交，是北国的清秋的佳日，是一年之中最好也没有的golden days。

有些批评家说，中国的文人学士，尤其是诗人，都带着很浓厚的颓废色彩，所以中国的诗文里，颂赞秋的文字特别的多。但外国的诗人，又何尝不然？我虽则外国诗文念得不多，也不想开账来，做一篇秋的诗歌散文钞，但你若去一翻英德法意等诗人的集子，或各国的诗文的anthology来，总能够看到许多关于秋的歌颂与悲啼。各著名的大诗人的长篇田园诗或四季诗里，也总以关于秋的部分，写得最出色而最有味。足见有感觉的动物，有情趣的人类，对于秋，总是一样的能特别引起深沉，幽远，严厉，萧索的感触来的。不单是诗人，就是被关闭在牢狱里的囚犯，到了秋天，我想也一定会感到一种不能自已的深情(10)；秋之于人，何尝有国别，更何尝有人种阶级的区别呢？不过在中国，文字里有一个“秋士(11)”的成语，读本里又有着很普遍的欧阳子的秋声(12)与苏东坡的《赤壁赋》(13)等，就觉得中国的文人，与秋的关系特别深了。可是这秋的深味，非要在北方，才感受得到底。

南国之秋，当然是也有它的特异的地方的，比如廿四桥的明月，钱塘江的秋潮，普陀山的凉雾，荔枝湾的残荷等等，可是色彩不浓，回味不永。比起北国的秋来，正像是黄酒之于白干，稀饭之于馍馍，鲈鱼之于大蟹，黄犬之于骆驼。

秋天，这北国的秋天，若留得往的话，我愿把寿命的三分之二折去，换得一个三分之一的零头。

Wild Grass

Xia Yan

There is a story which goes like this:

Someone asked, “What has the greatest strength on earth?” The answers varied. Some said, “The elephant.” Some said, “The lion.” Some said jokingly, “The fierce-browed guardian gods to Buddha.” But nobody of course could tell how strong the guardian gods were supposed to be.

All the answers turned out to be wide of the mark. The mightiest thing on earth is the seed of a plant. The great strength which a seed is capable of is simply matchless. Here goes another story:

The bones forming a human skull are so tightly and perfectly fit toher that all physiologists or anatomists, hard as they try, are powerless to take them apart without damaging them. It so happened that, at the suggestion of someone, some seeds of plant were placed inside a human skull awaiting dissection before heat and moisture were applied to cause them to grow. Once they started to grow, they let loose a terrific force to separate all the skull bones, leaving each of them intact. This would have been impossible with any mechanical power under the sun. See, how powerful the seeds of a plant can be!

This story may be somewhat too unusual for you to understand. Well, have you ever seen the growth of a bamboo shoot? Or the growth of tender grass from under a heap of rubble or rocks? Seeking sunlight and survival, the young plant will labour tenaciously through twists and turns to bring itself to the surface of the ground no matter how heavy the rocks overhead may be or how narrow the opening between them. While striking its roots deep into the soil, the young plant pushes its new shoots above-ground. The irresistible strength it can muster is such as to overturn any rock in its way. See, how powerful a seed can be!

Though nobody describes the little grass as a “husky”, yet its herculean strength is unrivalled. It is the force of life invisible to the naked eye. It will display itself so long as there is life. The rock is utterly helpless before this force—a force that will forever remain militant, a force that is resilient and can take temporary setbacks calmly, a force that is tenacity itself and will never give up until the goal is reached.

When a seed falls under debris instead of on fertile soil, it never sighs in despair because to meet with obstruction means to temper itself. Indomitable is the grass that begins its very life with a tough struggle. It is only fit and proper that the proud grass should be jeering at the potted flowers in a glass house.

野草

夏衍

有这样一个故事。

有人问：世界上什么东西的气力最大(1)？回答纷纭的很，有的说“象”，有的说“狮”，有人开玩笑似的说：是“金刚”，金刚(2)有多少气力，当然大家全不知道。

结果，这一切答案完全不对(3)，世界上气力最大的，是植物的种子。一粒种子所可以显现出来的力，简直是超越一切，这儿又是一个故事。

人的头盖骨，结合得非常致密与坚固，生理学家和解剖学者用尽了一切的方法，要把它完整在分出来(4)，都没有这种力气，后来忽然有人发明了一个方法，就是把植物的种子放在要解剖的头盖骨里，给它以温度与湿度，使它发芽(5)，一发芽，这些种子便以可怕的力量，将一切机械力所不能分开的骨骼，完整地分开了。植物种子力量之大，如此如此。

这，也许特殊了一点，常人不容易理解，那么，你看见笋的成长吗？你看见被压在瓦砾和石块下面的一颗小草的生成吗？它为着向往阳光，为着达成它的生之意志(6)，不管上面的石块如何重，石块与石块之间如何狭，它必定要曲曲折折地，但是顽强不屈在透到地面上来，它的根往土壤里钻，它的芽往地面挺，这是一种不可抗拒的力，阻止它的石块，结果也被它掀翻，一粒种子的力量的大，如此如此。

没有一个人将小草叫做“大力士” (7)，但是它的力量之大，的确是世界无比，这种力，是一般人看不见的生命力，只要生命存在，这种力就要显现，上面的石块，丝毫不足以阻挡，因为它是一种“长期抗战”的力，有弹性，能屈能伸的力，有韧性，不达目的不止的力(8)。

种子不落在肥土而落在瓦砾中，有生命力的种子决不会悲观和叹气，因为有阻力才有磨炼。生命开始的一瞬间就带了斗争来的草，才是坚韧的草，也只有这种草，才可以傲然地对那些玻璃棚中养育着的盆花哄笑。

Honest Poverty

Fang Zhimin

I have been engaged in the revolutionary struggle for more than a decade. During these long militant years, I have lived a plain life with no luxuries to speak of. Millions of dollars passed through my hands, but I always saw to it that every singly cent of the money raised for the revolution was spent for no other purposes. This may sound like a miracle or an exaggeration to Kuomintang VIPs. Self-discipline and self-sacrifice, however, are the virtue acteristic of a communist. Therefore, should anyone inquire of me about my personal savings, let him read the following amusing episode:

On the day of my capture—a most inauspicious day it was—two Kuomintang soldiers discovered me in a wood. Sizing me up, they thought they had come upon a windfall and started making a frantic body search, hopefully to find on me hundred of silvers dollars or some jewellery like gold bracelets or rings. They frisked me from top to toe and passed their hands over everything on me from the collar of my jacket to the soles of my socks, but, contrary to their expectation, they found nothing at all, not even a single copper, except a watch and a fountain pen. They were exasperated, suspecting that I had my money hidden somewhere and refused to give it up. One of the two men had in his left hand a wooden-handled grenade. He pulled out the cord from inside the wooden handled and moved his legs one step apart as if he was about to throw the grenade. Glowering at me ferociously, he threatened loudly,

“Out with your money quick, or you die!”

“Hey!” I said drily with a faint smile. “Don’t you put on such nasty airs! True I haven’t got a single copper with me. You’re barking up wrong tree to seek a fortune from me.”

“Shit! Nobody can ever believe a big shot like you ain’t got no money!” the soldier with the grenade remained wholly incredulous.

“No money?” the other soldier joined in. “Impossible! It must be hidden somewhere. No fooling an old hand like me.” Meanwhile, he bent low to pass his hand again meticulously over every nook and corner of my clothes and the crotch of my trousers, still holding out high hopes of making a new discovery.

“You should believe me and stop messing around!” I explained again. “Unlike your Kuomintang officials who’re rolling in money, I’m really penniless. We join the revolution not for personal gain.”

Finally, when they knew for certain that there was no money on me, they gave up the body search. Nevertheless, they lowered their heads to scan here and there the place where I had hidden myself, but again in vain. How frustrated they must have felt! The soldier holding grenade pushed the cord back into its wooden handle, and turned round to scramble for my watch and fountain pen. The two men, however, settled their dispute by agreeing to divide the money equally between them after selling the spoils. They eyed me up and down with suspicion and amazement before barking out in chorus,” come along!”

Dear readers, maybe you wish to know if I have any private property at home. Just a minute! Let me see… Ah, here it is, but nothing much though. I have left with my wife for safekeeping a few changes of used underwear and a few pairs of socks with mended soles, all of which I used to wear last summer. She has now put them away in a remote mountain valley to prevent them from being stolen in case of Kuomintang attack, so that I may wear them again this summer. These are all the property I have to my name. But wouldn’t the aration of my “family treasures” make myself an object of lively ridicule to the rich?

To remain honest though poor, to live a clean and simple life—that is what we revolutionaries on to overcome innumerable difficulties!

清贫

方志敏

我从事革命斗争，已经十余年了。在长期的奋斗中，我一向是过着朴素的生活，从没有奢侈过。经手的款项，总在数百万元；但为革命而筹集的金钱，是一点一滴地用之于革命事业。这在国民党的伟人们(1)看来，颇似奇迹，或认为夸张；而矜持不苟，舍己为公，却是每个共产党员具备的美德。所以，如果有人问身边有没有一些积蓄，那我可以告诉你一桩趣事(2)：

就在我被俘的那一天——一个最不幸的日子，有两个国民党的兵士，在树林中发现了我，而且猜到我是什么人的时候，他们满肚子热望在我身上搜出一千或八百大洋(3)，或者搜出一些金镯金戒指一类的东西，发个意外之财(4)。那知道从我上身摸到下身，从袄领捏到袜底，除了一只时表和一枝自来水笔之外，一个铜板都没有搜出。他们于是激怒起来了，猜疑我是把钱藏在那里，不肯拿出来。他们之中有一个左手拿着一个木柄榴弹，右手拉出榴弹中的引线(5)，双脚拉开一步，作出要抛掷的姿势，用凶恶的眼光钉住我，威吓地吼道：

“赶快将钱拿出来，不然就是一炸弹，把你炸死去！(6)”

“哼！不要作出那难看的样子来吧！我确实一个铜板都没有存；想从我这里发洋财，是想错了(7)。”我微笑着淡淡地说。

“你骗谁！(8)像你当大官的人会没有钱！(9)”拿榴弹的兵士坚不相信。“决不会没有钱的(10)，一定是藏在那里，我是老出门的(11)，骗不得我。”另一个兵士一面说，一面弓着背重来一次将我的衣角裤裆过细的捏，总企望着有新的发现。

“你们要相信我的话，不要瞎忙吧(12)！我不比你们国民党当官的，个个都有钱，我今天确实是一个铜板也没有，我们革命不是为着发财啦！”我再向他们解释。

等他们确知在我身上搜不出什么的时候，也就停手不搜了；又在我藏躲地方的周围，低头注目搜寻了一番，也毫无所得，他们是多么地失望呵！那个持弹欲放地兵士，也将拉着的引线，仍旧塞进榴弹的木柄里，转过来抢夺我的表和水笔。后彼此说定表和笔卖出钱来平分，才算无话。他们用怀疑而又惊异的目光，对我自上而下地望了几遍，就同声命令地说：“走吧！”

是不是还要问问我家里有没有一些财产？请等一下，让我想一想，啊，记起来了，有的有的，但不算多。去年暑天我穿的几套旧的汗褂裤，与几双缝上底的线袜，已交给我的妻放在深山坞里保藏着——怕国民党军进攻时，被人抢了去，准备今年暑天拿出来再穿；那些就算是我唯一的财产了。但我说出那几件“传世宝”来，岂不要叫那些富翁们齿冷三天？(13)！

清贫，洁白朴素的生活，正是人们革命者能够战胜许多困难的地方！

Parting Sorrows

Zheng Zhenduo

Farewell, China, my beloved homeland! Leaning over the high railing, I watched the ship tearing itself away slowly from the shore, leaving a widening expanse of water in between. Many relatives and friends of mine were waving their hats and white handkerchiefs amidst shouts of “Adieu, adieu!” firecrackers were crackling and spluttering, and sailors shouting goodbye to their buddies on the shore. I was seized with violent emotion, tears welling up in my eyes and blurring my eyeglasses.

While the ship was steering ahead slowly, I saw on the way many warships in gray or white lying at anchor and fly flags other than our national ones. They were flying the red sun, the tricolour, the union jack or the stars and stripes.

The banks with their yellowish soil and green grass receded into two greenish strips until they became some mere islets on the horizon. The waters of the sea glistened under the setting sun and kept leaping like romping urchins. The water surface was a vast expanse of gold.

Farwell, China, my beloved homeland!

I cannot find it in my heart to leave China, much less during these stormy times when I have to abandon my bounden duty and leave behind so many dear brave fighters—men who are building a new China with their own blood and struggling and battling in all earnest. To quit China at this moment means to dodge my responsibility, and that makes me feel very guilty indeed!

Nevertheless, I shall eventually answer the call of the times and devote myself heart and soul to my motherland. I am parting from China acquire more experience and search for better ways of struggle. Dear brave fighters of every field, I shall be separated from you only for the present and will soon return to join your ranks with redoubled strength.

On my return, I hope, I shall see no more gray or white warships plying our territorial waters with flags of the red sun, the tricolour, the union jack or the stars and stripes. I hope I shall see instead our lovely great fleet flying our national colours.

Dear brave fighters, if the foreign warships by that time still hang on their presence in our territorial waters, I will join you to do my bit in ting rid of them.

That is my pledge!

Farewell, China, my beloved homeland!

离别(1)

郑振铎

别了，我爱的中国，我全心爱着的中国，当我倚在高高的船栏上，见着船渐渐的离岸了(2)，船与岸间的水面渐渐的阔了(3)，见着了许多亲友挥着白巾，挥着帽子，挥着手，说着Adieu, adieu！听着鞭炮劈劈拍拍的响着，水兵们高呼着向岸上的同伴告别时，我的眼眶是润湿了，我自知我的泪点已经滴在眼镜面了，镜面是模糊了，我有一种说不出的感动！

船慢慢的向前驶着，沿途见了停着的好几只灰色的白色的军舰。不，那不是悬着我们国旗的，它们的旗帜是“红日(4)”，是“蓝白红(5)”，是“红蓝条交叉着”的联合旗(6)，是有“星点红条”的旗(7)！两岸是黄土和青草，再过去是两条的青痕，再过去是地平线上的几座小岛山，海水满盈盈的照在夕阳之下，浪涛如顽皮的小童似的踊跃不定。水面上现出一片的金光。

别了，我爱的中国，我全心爱着的中国！

我不忍离了中国而去(8)，更不忍在这大时代中放弃每人应做的工作而去(9)，抛弃了许多亲爱的勇士在后面，他们是正用他们的血建造着新的中国，正在以纯挚的热诚，争斗着，奋击着。我这样不负责任的离开了中国，我真是一个罪人！

然而我终将在这大时代中工作着的，我终将为中国而努力，而呈献了我的身，我的心；我别了中国，为的是求更好的经验，求更好的奋斗工具。暂别了，暂别了(10)，在各方面争斗着的勇士们，我不久即将以更勇猛的力量加入你们当中了。

当我归来时，我希望这些悬着“红日”的，“蓝白红”的，有“星点红条”的，“红蓝条交叉着”的一切旗帜的白色灰色的军舰都已不见了(11)，代替它们的是我们的可喜爱的悬着我们的旗帜的伟大的舰队。如果它们那时还没有退去中国海(12)，还没有为我们所消灭，那末，来，勇士们，我将加入你们的队中，以更勇猛的力量，去压迫它们，去毁灭它们！

这是我的誓言！

别了，我爱的中国，我全心爱着的中国！

Time Is Life

Liang Shiqiu

It is most startling to hear a watch or clock clicking away the seconds, each click indicating the shortening of one’s life by a little bit. Likewise, with each page torn off the wall calendar, one’s life is shortened by another day. Time, therefore, is life. Nevertheless, few people treasure their time as much as their life. Time must not be wasted if you want to do your bit in your remaining years or acquire some useful knowledge to improve yourself and help others, so that your life may turn out to be significant and fruitful. All that is foolproof, yet few people really strive to make the best use of their time.

Personally, I am also a fritterer. I don’t play mahjong. I seldom go to the theatre or cinema—I go there maybe only once every few years. I seldom spend long hours watching TV—usually I watch TV for no more than 30 minutes at a sitting. Nor do I go visiting and gossiping from door to door. Some people asked me, “Then what do you do with most of your time?” Introspecting with remorse, I found that apart from the time earmarked for my job and unavoidable social activities, most of my time had been wasted. I should have concentrated my energies on reading whatever books I have not yet read. I should have utilized all my time in writing anything I want to write. But I’ve failed to do so. Very much of my times has been frittered away aimlessly. As the saying goes, “One who does not work hard in youth will grieve in vain in old age.”

Take the translation of Shakespeare for example. I had initially planned to spend 20 years of my spare time in doing the translation, finishing two plays a year. But I spent 30 years instead, due primarily to my slothfulness. The whole project would probably have fallen through had it not been for my fairly long life. After that I had other plans for work, but, because of my approaching senility, somehow I failed to do what I had wished to. Had I spurred myself on in my youth, I would have done more and better work. Alas, it is too late to repent.

Another example. The reading of Chinese classics is a must for all Chinese. But it was not until I was over 30 that I came to realize the importance of self-study in the matter of classics. I did read carefully though, marking words and phrases for special attention with small circles and dots. But my efforts at self-study were off and on. Confucius says, “I shall be free of great faults if I can live long enough to begin the study of Yi at the age of 50.” I feel ashamed to admit that I haven’t even touched Yi though I’m now over 80. Chinese history book are equally important. When I was leaving China to study abroad, father bought a set of the Tong Wen lithographic edition of the First Four Books of History, and crammed them into my travelling box, taking up half of its space. Several years later, however, after drifting along abroad, I returned home carrying with me the same books all unread. It was not until 40 years later that I plucked up enough courage to read through Dong Jian. So many books still remain to be read, and I much regret not having enough time to do it.

Whatever you do, you need a sound body first of all. In my school days, in response to the so-called “compulsory physical exercises”, I went in for many sports at the expense of many pairs of sneakers and rackets, thus luckily building up a minimum of good physique. When I was approaching old age, I did Tai ji quan (shadow boxing) for several years. Now I only do some walking exercises. Dear young friends, my advice to you is: Do physical exercises perseveringly. That has nothing to do with merry-making or time-wasting. Good health is the wherewithal for a successful life and career.

时间即生命

梁实秋

最令人怵目惊心的一件事，是看着钟表上的秒针一下一下的移动，每移动一下就是表示我们的寿命已经缩短了一部分。再看看墙上挂着的可以一张张撕下的日历，每天撕下一张就是表示我们寿命又缩短了一天，因为时间即生命，没有人不爱惜他的生命，但很少人珍视他时间。如果想在有生之年做一点什么事，学一点什么学问，充实自己，帮助别人，使生命成为有意义，不虚此生，那么就不可浪费光阴。这道理人人都懂(1)，可是很少人真能积极不懈的善为利用他的时间。

我自己就是浪费了很多时间的一个人(2)。我不打麻将，我不经常的听戏看电影，几年中难得一次，我不长时间看电视，通常只看半个小时，我也不串门子闲聊天。有人问我：“那么你大部分时间都做了些什么呢？”我痛自反省，我发现，除了职务上的必须及人情上所不能免的活动外，我的时间大部分都浪费了。我应该集中精力，读我所未读过的书，我应该利用所有时间，写我所要写的东西。但是我没能这样做。我的好多时间都糊里糊涂的混过去了，“少壮不努力，老大徒伤悲。”

例如我翻译莎士比亚，本来计划于课余之暇每年翻译两部，二十年即可完成，但是我用了三十年，主要的原因是懒。翻译之所以完成，主要的是因为活得相当长久，十分惊险(3)。翻译完成之后，虽然仍有工作计划，但体力渐衰，有力不从心之感(4)。假使年轻的时候鞭策自己，如今当有较好或较多的表现。然而悔之晚矣。

再例如，作为一个中国人，经书不可不读。我年三十才知道读书自修的重要(5)。我披阅，我圈点。但是恒心不足，时作时辍。五十以学易，可以无大过矣(6)，我如今年过八十，还没有接触过《易经》，说来惭愧。史书也很重要。我出国留学的时候，我父亲买了一套同文石印的前四史(7)，塞满了我的行箧的一半空间，我在外国混了几年之后又把前四史原封带回来了。直到四十年后才鼓起勇气读了《通鉴》(8)一遍。现在我要读的书太多，深感时间有限。

无论做什么事，健康的身体是基本条件。我在学校读书的时候，有所谓“强迫运动”，我踢破过几双球鞋，打断过几只球拍。因此侥幸维持下来最低限度的体力。老来打过几年太极拳，目前则以散步活动筋骨而已。寄语年轻朋友，千万要持之以恒的从事运动，这不是嬉戏，不是浪费时间。健康的身体是作人做事的真正的本钱(9)。

Father

Lu Yan

“Father is now over sixty, but he still wants to work to save up for a house to be built for me,” a friend of mine from North China told me.

That put me in mind of my father. My father was very much like his.

Father went through untold hardships for me all his life. He brought me up, sent me to school, had a house built for me and bought me a few mu of land. He went to Hankou to engage in trade the year when he was already sixty. And he tried to make out that he was still in his fifties lest people should consider him too old to be of much use. We had all tried to dissuade him from going out to Hankou, but he simply wouldn’t listen and left home carrying the luggage on his back.

“Let me toil a few more years for my son’s sake!” That was what he said.

It happened afterwards that the house was burned down. And he wanted to go back to his business in order to have the house rebuilt. I tried to console him, saying that there was no need for him to do it because in three years’ time I myself would have laid by enough money for a new house. He agreed. Then he gave me a lot of building materials and told me what to do with them. Shortly before his death, he urged me,

“You’d better started right away so that I can watch to see that everything is done properly.”

Unfortunately he didn’t live long enough to see the new house. He told me on his deathbed that had nothing to feel sorry about. But I knew he would be much happier if he could live a few more years just to see the new house put up. When I heard his dying groans and sighs, I believed they were caused not by physical pain, but by regret for not being able to live a few more years to help me with the new house.

Now I myself am a father of several children. Though I love my kids, I do not share the idea of father and people of his time that one can never do too much in his lifetime to help his children. Much as I admire father and people of his time for their moral excellence, I can never follow in their footsteps.

I think of my children as an encumbrance to me I haven’t worked out a long-term plan for them, nay, not even a short-term one.

“I’d like to give away my kids to anyone who’s willing to take them!” That’s what I say whenever I am fed up with them.

Alas, compared with father and people of his time, the present generation, I think, have pitifully low vitality. We in our twenties or thirties cannot compare with our elders in their sixties or seventies. Today they may be advanced in years or even no more, but they will, nevertheless, live forever and ever.

As for us, though still alive, we have long been dead.

父亲

鲁彦

“父亲已经上了六十岁了，还想作一点事业，积一点钱，给我造起屋子来(1)。”一个朋友从北方来，告诉了我这样的话。

他的话使我想起了我的父亲(2)。我的父亲正是和他的父亲完全一样的。

我的父亲曾经为我苦了一生，把我养大，送我进学校，为我造了屋子，买了几亩田地。六十岁那一年，还到汉口去做生意，怕人家嫌他年老，只说自己五十几岁(3)。大家都劝他不要再出门，他偏背着包裹走了。

“让我再帮儿子几年(4)！”他只是这样说。

后来屋子被火烧掉了，他还想再做生意，把屋子重造起来。我安慰他说，三年以后我自己就可积起钱造屋了(5)，还是等一等吧。他答应了。他给我留下了许多造屋的材料，告诉我这样可以做什么那样可以做什么。他死的以前不久，还对我说：

“早一点造起来吧，我可以给你监工(6)。”

但是他终于没有看见屋子重造起来就死了。他弥留的时候对我说，一切都满足了。但是我知道他倘能再活几年，我把屋子造起来，是他所最心愿的。我听他弥留时的呻吟和叹息。我知道他还想再活几年，帮我造起屋子来。

现在我自己已是几个孩子的父亲了。我爱孩子，但我没有像前一辈父亲的想法，帮孩子一直帮到老，帮到死还不足。我赞美前一辈父亲的美德，而自己却不跟着他们的步伐走去。

我觉得我的孩子累我，使我受到极大的束缚。我没有对他们永久的计划，甚至连短促的也没有。

“倘使有人要，我愿意把他们送给人家！”我常常这样说，当我厌恶孩子的时候。

唉，和前一辈做父亲的一比，我觉得我们这一辈生命力薄弱得可怜，我们二三十岁的前辈，他们虽然老的老死的死了，但是他们才是真正活着到现在到将来。

而我们呢，虽然活着，却是早已死了。