評論
打印
You try to drop the notion, as if it were not fairly your own;
你試圖揮去那團荒謬念頭，好像那完全不是你的真實想法，
you affect to slight it, as you would slight a boy who presumed on your acquaintance, but whom you have no desire to know.
你假裝不去想那滿心驚悚，好像路上走來個孩子，與你套近乎說是你的熟人，而你壓根不動聲色。
Yet your mother—how strange it is!—has no fears of such dark fancies.
可是，你的媽媽，看來不可思議！你好像絲毫沒有黑暗虛妄的恐懼。
Even now, as you stand beside her, and as the twilight deepens in the room,
即便現在，暮色使房間更為昏暗，你佇立她的身邊，
her low, silvery voice is stealing upon your ear, telling you that she can not be long with you;
她那銀鈴般聲音輕輕在你耳邊響起，她告訴你，不能長久與你生活一起，
—that the time is coming, when you must be guided by your own judgment, and struggle with the world unaided by the friends of your boyhood.
離別的時刻已經來臨，今后闖蕩社會只能依靠你自己判斷，獨自一人在這個世界打拼，別再指望孩提時代所有的外來肩膀。
There is a little pride, and a great deal more of anxiety, in your thoughts now,
你目光堅毅地看著家里壁爐里恍惚光焰，
as you look steadfastly into the home blaze, while those delicate fingers, so tender of your happiness, play with the locks upon your brow.
思緒萬千的心里或許存有些許驕傲，更多的則是憂慮。那些精致手指打開了你眉間心結，你的幸福剎那間變得旖旎溫柔。
To struggle with the world,—that is a proud thing; to struggle alone,—there lies the doubt!
在世打拼，畢竟引以為豪；獨自一人打拼，困惑不安郁悶！
Then crowds in swift upon the calm of boyhood the first anxious thought of youth.
青春時代第一次憂心忡忡，就這樣急遽闖入童年的靜穆安寧。
The hands of the old clock upon the mantel that ticked off the hours when Charlie sighed and when Charlie died, draw on toward midnight.
查理在嘆息，查理已死去，壁爐架上古老壁鐘仍然滴答不停，時針現在指向午夜。
The shadows that the fireflame makes grow dimmer and dimmer.
爐火陰影變得愈加黯淡，模糊不清。
And thus it is, that Home,—boy home, passes away forever,—like the swaying of a pendulum,—like the fading of a shadow on the floor.
這就是家，男孩的家，永遠消逝不再的家，好像鐘擺不停搖動中，地面陰影隨之一點點煙消云散。
