皮特·斯坦哈特/ Peter Steinhart
皮特·斯坦哈特(1785—1851)美國博物學家，作家。他曾是以奧特朋（1785—1851，美國鳥類學家，畫家及博物學家）命名的雜誌的編輯及專欄作家，並且一幹就是二十年。他的作品曾被很多報刊采用，如：《紐約時報》《洛杉磯時報》《瓊斯媽媽》等。
Ace in the Hole
Understand these new words before you read this article.
1. profound [pr?u'faund] adj. 深厚的；意義深遠的
2. stall [st?:l] v. 停止
3. bestow [bi'st?u] v. 授予
4. loom [lu:m] v. 朦朧地出現；隱約可見
There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night. The noise of the city is a far-off murmur. In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls. But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see. For that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely.
From this hill I have watched many moons rise. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn; shy, misty moons in spring; lonely, winter moons rising into the utter silence of an ink-black sky and smoke-smudged orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and then calmed my soul.
Moon gazing is an ancient art. To prehistoric hunters the moon overhead was as unerring as heartbeat. They knew that every 29 days it become full-bellied and brilliant, then sickened and died, and then was reborn. They knew the waxing moon appeared larger and higher overhead after each succeeding sunset. They knew the waning moon rose later each night until it vanished in the sunrise. To have understood the moon’s patterns from experience must been a profound thing.
But we, who live indoors, have lost contact with the moon. The glare of street lights and the dust of pollution veil the night sky. Though men have walked on the moon, it grows less familiar. Few of us can say when the moon will rise tonight.
Still, it tugs at our minds. If we unexpectedly encounter the full moon, huge and yellow over the horizon, we are helpless but to stare back at its commanding presence. And the moon has gifts to bestow upon those who watch.
I learned about its gifts one July evening in the mountains. My car had mysteriously stalled, and I was stranded and alone. The sun had set, and I was watching what seemed to be the bright-orange glow of a forest fire beyond a ridge to the east. Suddenly, the ridge itself seemed to burst into flame. Then, the rising moon, huge and red and grotesquely mishappen by the dust and sweat of the summer atmosphere, loomed up out of the woods.
Distorted thus by the hot breath of earth, the moon seemed ill-tempered and imperfect. Dogs at nearby farmhouses barked nervously, as if this strange light had wakened evil spirits in the weeds.
But as the moon lifted off the ridge it gathered firmness and authority. Its complexion changed from red, to orange, to gold, to impassive yellow. It seemed to draw light out of the darkening earth, for as it rose, the hills and valleys below grew dimmer. By the time the moon stood clear of the horizon, full chested and round and the color of ivory, the valleys were deep shadows in the landscape. The dogs, reassured that this was the familiar moon, stopped barking. And all at once I felt a confidence and joy close to laughter.
The drama took an hour. Moonrise is slow and serried with subtleties. To watch it, we must slip into an older, more patient sense of time. To watch the moon move inexorably higher is to find an unusual stillness within ourselves. Our imaginations become aware of the vast distances of space, the immensity of the earth and huge improbability of our own existence. We feel small but privileged.
Moonlight shows us none of life’s harder edges. Hillsides seem silken and silvery, the oceans still and blue in its light. In moonlight we become less calculating, more drawn to our feelings.
And odd things happen in such moments. On that July night, I watched the moon for an hour or two, and then got back into the car, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine start, just as mysteriously as it had stalled a few hours earlier. I drove down from the mountains with the moon on my shoulder and peace in my heart.
I return often to the rising moon. I am draw especially when events crowd ease and clarity of vision into a small corner of my life. This happens often in the fall. Then I go to my hill and await the hunter’s moon, enormous and gold over the horizon, filling, the night with vision.
An owl swoops from the ridge top, noiseless but bright as flame. A cricket shrills in the grass. I think of poets and musicians. Of Beethoven’s“Moonlight Sonata”and of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice,“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! /Here will we sit and let the sounds of music/Creep in our ears.”I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon. With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night.
Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night. We are all apt to pose deeper questions—about our origins and destinies. We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the daylight world. We become philosophers and mystics.
At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us. We open the vents of feeling and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day. We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunter and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.
參考譯文
有一座小山就坐落在我家附近，我常常會在夜間去爬山。到了山上，城市裏的嘈雜就會變成遠方的低語。在安靜的黑夜裏，我能夠感覺到蟋蟀的歡樂和貓頭鷹的自信。不過，看月出才是我爬山的目的，重新找回在城市中輕易就迷失的那種寧靜與純真。
在小山上，我看過很多次月出。每次月出都是各有風情，不盡相同。秋日裏，圓圓的月亮露出豐收的自信；春風中，月亮灰蒙蒙地表達著羞澀；冬日裏，冰輪般的月亮孤獨地懸在漆黑的空中；夏日中，橘黃色的月亮朦朦朧朧地俯瞰著幹燥的田野。每一種月亮都似精美的音樂，感動我的心靈，撫慰我的靈魂。
賞月是一種古老的藝術。遠古時代的獵人，對空中月亮的了解如同知曉自己的心跳一樣，絲毫不差。他們熟悉29天中的每個月亮，月亮會由明亮飽滿變得萎縮，直至消失，然後再次複活；他們知道，月盈期間，每當日落，頭頂的月亮就會顯得更高更大；他們還知道，月虧期間，月出一日更比一日遲，直到有一天，太陽升起時仍不見月亮的蹤跡。古人能根據經驗知道到月亮的行蹤變化，真是造詣頗深的事情。
但生活在室內的我們，已經失去了和月亮的聯係。城市耀眼的街燈、玷汙的煙塵遮蔽了原本晴朗的夜空。人類雖已在月亮上邁出了第一步，反而對月亮變得更加陌生。沒有幾人能說得出今晚月亮何時升起。
無論如何，月亮仍然牽掛著我們的心。如果不經意間看到剛剛升起的、大大的、黃澄澄的滿月，我都會情不自禁地停下來，一睹她高貴的姿容。而月亮也會賜予觀看她的人禮物。
在七月山間的一個夜晚，我得到了她的禮物。車子莫名其妙地熄了火，我一個人束手無策地困在山中。太陽已經落山了，我看到東邊山頭閃出一團橘紅色的光線，好像森林著火一樣。刹那間，山頭也被火焰吞噬。過了一會兒，月亮突然從密林中探出漲紅的大大的臉，夏日空氣中彌漫的塵霧與汗氣，使月亮顯得有些荒謬的變形。
大地灼熱的呼吸扭曲了它，月亮變得格外暴躁，不再完美。不遠處，農舍裏的狗緊張地亂叫起來，好像這奇怪的光亮喚醒了野草中的魔鬼。
然而，隨著月亮慢慢爬上山頭，它聚合了全身的堅定與威嚴；它的麵孔也從紅變成了橘黃，又變成金色，最後成為淡淡的黃。月亮不斷地上升，下麵的丘陵山穀逐漸暗淡朦朧，好像大地的光亮讓月亮漸漸吸走了似的。待到皓月當空，圓圓的月亮灑下象牙般乳白的清輝，下麵的山穀在這樣的風景裏，形成了一片片幽深的陰影。這時，那些亂叫的狗才打消了疑慮——原來那團光是它們熟悉的月亮——停止了吠叫。在那一刻，我忽然覺得信心十足，心情歡暢，禁不住笑了起來。
整整一個小時，我都沉浸在這奇美的景觀裏。月出是緩緩而又充滿微妙的。要想欣賞月出，我們得退回到過去的時代，帶著一種對時間有耐心的心態去欣賞。看著月亮毫無顧忌地不斷攀升，我們能找到內心少有的寧靜。我們的想象力能讓我們感到宇宙的廣闊和大地的無限，忘卻自己的存在，感覺自我的渺小，卻又深感自己的獨特。
月光從不向我們展示生活的艱辛。山坡好像在銀色月光下披上了柔和的輕紗。在月光的照耀下，海水顯得碧藍而靜謐。沉浸在月光中，我們不再像白天那般精於算計，而是沉浸在自我內心的情感之中。
正當我陶醉於月色之美時，奇妙的事情發生了。就是在七月的那個夜晚，我看了一兩個小時的月景後，回到車裏，再次轉動鑰匙發動汽車時，發動機出人意料地響了起來，和幾個小時前熄火時一樣蹊蹺而神秘。我開著車沿著山路回家，月光灑在肩上，心中滿是平靜。
從那以後，我常常會到山上看月出。當成堆的事務漸漸平息，生活逐漸明朗，這時常發生在秋季，我就會爬上那座小山。我等著獵人之月的出現，等著金色豐盈的月亮俯照大地，給黑夜帶來光明。
一隻貓頭鷹靜悄悄地從山頭俯衝而下，卻在月色下如火光閃過。一隻蟋蟀在草叢中尖聲歌唱，我不由得想起了詩人和音樂家——貝多芬的《月光奏鳴曲》和莎士比亞筆下的《威尼斯商人》中洛倫佐的話：“月光沉睡在這岸邊多麽迷人！我們要坐在這裏讓音樂之聲，潛入我們的耳內。”我不清楚他們的詩篇與音樂是否與蟋蟀的歌聲相似，在某種程度上可以算做月的聲音。想到這些，城市生活帶給我的昏亂心緒，便在夜的寧靜中消失了。
戀人和詩人在夜裏能尋找到更深奧的生活意義。其實，我們都愛問一些深奧的問題——關於我們的祖先、我們的命運。我們隻想縱容這些永遠找不到答案的謎團，不喜歡那些主導著白天世界的、沒有情感的幾何教科書。在夜裏，我們都成為哲學家和神秘家。
當月亮升起之時，我們放慢思想，讓它追隨天堂的腳步。不經意間，一種魔力就會遍布全身。我們會敞開情感之門，讓白天被理智束縛的那部分思緒自由奔湧。我們能跨越遙遠的時空，聽遠古獵人的細語，看久遠時代戀人與詩人們眼中的世界。
月圓月缺，總是牽掛著我們的心緒。當月亮升起之時，我們放慢思想，讓它追隨天堂的腳步。
Seize Your Time
According to the article, match each of the following verbs with its meaning.
(1) vanisha. to become difficult to see
(2) swoopb. to allow yourself to have or do something that you know you will enjoy
(3) melt intoc. to disappear suddenly
(4) indulge ind. to suddenly move downwards through the air
Practicing for Better Learning
Do the following statements agree with the information in the reading text?
Write
TRUEif the statement agrees with the information
FALSEif the statement contradicts the information
______ (1) The purpose of climbing the hill for the author was getting rid of troubles in life.
______ (2) The Moon unlocks our minds because of its peace.
Show Window
Think about what adjectives that describe the Moon. Try to share your
idea with your friends.
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先逝的人們對我敲響警鍾：最好現在就看清並接受真理，不然，日後必將陷入驚恐，卻無法麵對，隻能愚蠢地呼天搶地，哀怨連連。我寧願高興，而不願悔恨，我也將不再胡思亂想。