冬雾Winter Fog
After two or three days of unseasonable and depressing warmth, with a lowering but not rainy sky.
两三天来,天气回暖,出现闷热,天空低沉而无雨。
I woke this morning to find the land covered with mist. There was no daybreak, and, after a long time, a sad glimmer2 of light appeared at the window. I begin to see the thin shapes of trees. The rustle of drops dripping onto the garden soil tells me that it will rain. But for my fire, the flame sings and leaps, and its red beauty is reflected on the window glass. I cannot give my thoughts to reading. Better to devote myself to the old exercise of the pen.
今晨醒来,大地已罩上一层浓雾。破晓时分,仍不见曙色,只是很久之后,窗边才透出一丝惨淡的晨曦。枯树瘦枝已清晰可辨,而园地里不绝传来的滴答声则告诉我,快下雨了。这时但见炉火如啸如跃,美艳的红光斜映在玻璃窗上。书已无心阅读,所以索性拾起笔来,重操那呆板的写作旧业。
I think of fogs in London, fogs of yellow or of black, and I, like a sort of dyspeptic owl, in idleness. On such a day, I remember, I once found myself at an end in both coal and lamp oil. With no money to buy either, all I could do was go to bed, till the sky once more became visible, but the second day found the fog thick as ever.
我想起伦敦的雾来,那黄雾和黑雾,弄得我像只害了积食症的猫头鹰似的,抑郁烦闷。记得以前也有过这么一天,煤与灯油全都告罄。我又无钱去买,无奈只得重新躺下,卧待天晴。但翌日阴霾如故。
I rose in darkness; I stood by the window, and saw that the street was lit up as at night, lamps and shop fronts perfectly visible. The fog, in fact, had risen, but still hung above the house-tops, impermeable by any heavenly beam.
我摸黑起来,伫立阁楼窗前,但见一街灯火,无异入夜,铺面光景,历历可见。实际上地面雾气已消,但在屋顶处氤氲不散,以致天光照射不入。
两三天来,天气回暖,出现闷热,天空低沉而无雨。
I woke this morning to find the land covered with mist. There was no daybreak, and, after a long time, a sad glimmer2 of light appeared at the window. I begin to see the thin shapes of trees. The rustle of drops dripping onto the garden soil tells me that it will rain. But for my fire, the flame sings and leaps, and its red beauty is reflected on the window glass. I cannot give my thoughts to reading. Better to devote myself to the old exercise of the pen.
今晨醒来,大地已罩上一层浓雾。破晓时分,仍不见曙色,只是很久之后,窗边才透出一丝惨淡的晨曦。枯树瘦枝已清晰可辨,而园地里不绝传来的滴答声则告诉我,快下雨了。这时但见炉火如啸如跃,美艳的红光斜映在玻璃窗上。书已无心阅读,所以索性拾起笔来,重操那呆板的写作旧业。
I think of fogs in London, fogs of yellow or of black, and I, like a sort of dyspeptic owl, in idleness. On such a day, I remember, I once found myself at an end in both coal and lamp oil. With no money to buy either, all I could do was go to bed, till the sky once more became visible, but the second day found the fog thick as ever.
我想起伦敦的雾来,那黄雾和黑雾,弄得我像只害了积食症的猫头鹰似的,抑郁烦闷。记得以前也有过这么一天,煤与灯油全都告罄。我又无钱去买,无奈只得重新躺下,卧待天晴。但翌日阴霾如故。
I rose in darkness; I stood by the window, and saw that the street was lit up as at night, lamps and shop fronts perfectly visible. The fog, in fact, had risen, but still hung above the house-tops, impermeable by any heavenly beam.
我摸黑起来,伫立阁楼窗前,但见一街灯火,无异入夜,铺面光景,历历可见。实际上地面雾气已消,但在屋顶处氤氲不散,以致天光照射不入。
·The Blanket 一床双人毛毯(11-10)
·最美丽的心(11-10)
·幸福的要诀(11-10)
·天使在你身边(11-10)
· 情人节：玫瑰的传说(11-10)
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