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They called it acute congestion of the stomach and brain. The doctor thought I could not live. Early one morning, however, the fever left me as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come. There was great rejoicing in the family that morning, but no one, not even the doctor, knew that I should never see or hear again.
家人們管這種病叫做胃和腦的急性阻塞癥。醫(yī)生認為我活不了了，然而造化弄人，就在某天早晨，我身上的燒突然退了，就像它到來時那樣神秘莫測。那天早晨，家中充滿了喜悅祥和的氣氛，但是沒有一個人，連同醫(yī)生在內，全都不知道我再也看不見，再也聽不見了。
I fancy I still have confused recollections of that illness. I especially remember the tenderness with which my mother tried to soothe me in my waling hours of fret and pain, and the agony and bewilderment with which I awoke after a tossing half sleep, and turned my eyes, so dry and hot, to the wall away from the once-loved light, which came to me dim and yet more dim each day. But, except for these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be memories, it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare. Gradually I got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded me and forgot that it had ever been different, until she came—my teacher—who was to set my spirit free. But during the first nineteen months of my life I had caught glimpses of broad, green fields, a luminous sky, trees and flowers which the darkness that followed could not wholly blot out. If we have once seen, "the day is ours, and what the day has shown."
如今，對疾病的回憶仍然會令我感到困惑。我特別記得母親的悉心呵護，她在我一連數小時的焦躁和疼痛之中盡量撫慰我。我會在睡覺過程中驚悸著醒來，隨之而來的是巨大的痛楚和迷惑，我試圖轉動眼睛，然而它是如此地干澀灼熱；我把頭扭向墻壁，因為那里曾有迷人的亮光，但是我只能看到暗淡模糊的一片，而且每天都在變暗。除了這些短暫的記憶，也就不曾剩下別樣的東西了。事實上，這些回憶如夢似幻，恰如一場噩夢。漸漸地，我變得習慣于被寂靜和黑暗所圍裹，我也沒有意識到這種生活有什么與眾不同，直到她——我的老師到來的那一天——她引導我進入了精神自由的境界。總之，在我生命的最初十九個月中，我曾對這個世界匆匆一瞥，廣袤的綠色田野，明亮的天空，樹木和花叢的印記是隨后而來的黑暗所無法抹煞掉的。假如我們曾經看見，“那一天就屬于我們，那一天所展示的一切就屬于我們”。
