下午的天灰蒙蒙的,阴沉沉的云让人只想待在家里,我坐在椅子上望着眼前的笔,台灯的暖黄色的光下墨绿与银交织的它看上去离我好近,又离我好远。原来这就是以Charles John Huffam Dickens,一个端庄的基督徒和一位以现实的笔触勾勒时代与人性的伟大小说家为原型的钢笔,那么从这支仅仅巴掌大小的文房玩意里又能反演出多少“他”的人生轨迹?如今的我不禁陷入了沉思,然而想着想着思绪好像也慢慢地飘回200多年前的伦敦天空,这里也是同样的灰蒙蒙一片,但是耳边似乎有呢喃:
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,
we had everything before us, we had nothing before us,
we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
(这是一个最好的时代,这是一个最坏的时代;
这是一个智慧的年代,这是一个愚蠢的年代;
这是一个信仰的时期,这是一个怀疑的时期;
这是一个光明的季节,这是一个黑暗的季节;
这是希望之春,这是失望之冬;
人们面前应有尽有,人们面前一无所有;
人们正踏上天堂之路,人们正走向地狱之门。
但是转眼又想到狄更斯生于维多利亚时代,或者应该是这样:
时之圣者也,时之凶者也。
此亦蒙昧世,此亦智慧世。
此亦光明时节,此亦黯淡时节。
此亦笃信之年,此亦大惑之年。
此亦多丽之阳春,此亦绝念之穷冬。
人或万物具备,人或一事无成。
我辈其青云直上,我辈其黄泉永坠。)
这支看似渺小的人间玩具里到底含了多少伟大的“他”,我不得而知。
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,
we had everything before us, we had nothing before us,
we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
(这是一个最好的时代,这是一个最坏的时代;
这是一个智慧的年代,这是一个愚蠢的年代;
这是一个信仰的时期,这是一个怀疑的时期;
这是一个光明的季节,这是一个黑暗的季节;
这是希望之春,这是失望之冬;
人们面前应有尽有,人们面前一无所有;
人们正踏上天堂之路,人们正走向地狱之门。
但是转眼又想到狄更斯生于维多利亚时代,或者应该是这样:
时之圣者也,时之凶者也。
此亦蒙昧世,此亦智慧世。
此亦光明时节,此亦黯淡时节。
此亦笃信之年,此亦大惑之年。
此亦多丽之阳春,此亦绝念之穷冬。
人或万物具备,人或一事无成。
我辈其青云直上,我辈其黄泉永坠。)
这支看似渺小的人间玩具里到底含了多少伟大的“他”,我不得而知。