弗吉尼亚·伍尔芙/Virginia Woolf
Yet, because he was so small, and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridors in my own brain and in those of other human beings, there was something marvelous as well as pathetic about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zigzagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life, seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspection and dignity. Again, the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity.
After a time, tired by his dancing apparently, he settled on the window ledge in the sun, and the queer spectacle being at an end, I forgot about him. Then, looking up, my eye was caught by him. He was tryingto resume his dancing, but seemed either so stiff or so awkward that he could only flutter to the bottom of the windowpane；and when he tried to fly across it he failed. Being intent on other matters I watched these futile attempts for a time without thinking, unconsciously waiting for him to resume his flight, as one waits for a machine, that has stopped momentarily, to strut again without considering the reason for its failure. After perhaps a seventh attempt he slipped from the wooden ledge and fell, fluttering his wings, on to his back on the windowsill. The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It fashed upon me that he was in difficulties；he could no longer raise himself；his legs straggled vainly. But, as I stretched out a pencil, meaning to help him to right himself, it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death. I laid the pencil down again.
The legs agitated themselves once more. I looked as if for the enemy against which he struggled. I looked out of doors. What had happened there?Presumably it was midday, and work in the felds had stopped. Stillness and quiet had replaced the previous animations. The birds had taken themselves off to feed in the brooks. The horses stood still. Yet the power was there all the same, massed outside indifferent, impersonal, not attending to anything in particular. Somehow it was opposed to the little hay-coloured moth. It was useless to try to do anything. One could only watch the extraordinary efforts made by those tiny legs against an oncoming doom which could, had it chosen, have submerged an entire city, not merely a city, but masses of human beings；nothing, I knew, had any chance against death. Nevertheless after a pause of exhaustion the legs futtered again. It was superb this last protest, and so frantic that he succeeded at last in righting himself. One's sympathies, of course, were all on the side of life. Also, whenthere was nobody to care or to know, this gigantic effort on the part of an insignificant little moth；against a power of such magnitude, to retain what no one else valued or desired to keep, moved one strangely. Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignifcant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist flled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange. The moth having righted himself now lay most decently and uncomplainingly composed. O, yes, he seemed to say, death is stronger than I am.
然而，虽然他很小，却是一种很简单的能量形式。这种能量从打开的窗口纷至沓来，进入到我和他人头脑里无数狭小而繁复的角落，所以他身上有着某种可悲而神奇的东西。好像有人取来一小滴生命原汁，极其灵巧地为他装上羽翼，叫他来回穿梭飞舞，向我们展示生命的本质。这种展现十分奇特，叫人难以忘怀。望着他弯腰驼背，受人差遣，被人装扮，身负重荷，不得不特别小心、特别庄严地飞舞，你会忘记一切。另外，你如果想想他生成另一种样子会怎么生活，就会带着一种怜悯之心来看待他简单的活动。
过了一会儿，他显然飞累了，落在阳光下的窗台上。奇怪的场面一结束，我也就把他忘了。后来，我抬起头，目光又被他吸引住了。他想重新飞舞，但显得很僵硬，很笨拙，只能飞到窗格底下；想飞到窗格上面却没有成功。我因为注意别的事情，一时间看到这种徒劳的举动也没去细想，下意识地等着他重新飞起来，就像一台机器一时停了，等着它再启动一样，也不去考虑它停机的原因。大概试了七次以后，他在木质窗台上滑了一下，扇动着翅膀，后背着地落到窗沿上。他那无可奈何的样子引起了我的注意。我突然想到他遇到麻烦了。他自己爬不起来，双腿徒劳地挣扎着。但是，我伸出铅笔想帮他翻身的时候，才想到他飞不动，行动笨拙，是快要死了。我又把铅笔放下。
他的腿又抽搐了一下。我抬起头来，仿佛要寻找与他战斗的敌人。我朝门外望去。怎么回事儿？想必到了中午，田里没有人干活，静谧与安宁代替了先前的喧闹。白嘴鸦飞到河里觅食去了。马儿一动不动地站着。但是那种力量依然聚集在外面，冷冰冰的，对什么都不闻不问，似乎它在与这个干草色的飞蛾作对。做什么都没用，只能眼睁睁地望着小飞蛾的两条细腿在厄运即将来临之际乱踢乱蹬。如果愿意，厄运会淹没整个城市，不光是一座城市，还有大批大批的人；我知道什么也逃不过一死。然而，精疲力竭的飞蛾停了一会儿，又开始蹬腿，这最后的反抗非常精彩，十分激烈，终于他翻过身来。人的同情心自然都是向着生命的。而且，虽然没有人在意，没有人知道，这个微不足道的小飞蛾还是拼命地与这么巨大的力量抗争，保存别人看不起也不愿保留的东西，此情此景会给你一种奇特的感动。同时，你不知怎么又会看到生命，一滴纯粹的生命。我又拿起铅笔，虽然我知道不管用。但就在我拿铅笔的时候，死亡的迹象已经准确无误地表现出来了。飞蛾的身体松弛下来，立刻又僵硬了。抗争结束了。现在，微不足道的小生物死了。我打量着死飞蛾，是强大的力量打败这么卑微的对手，轻易取得了小小的胜利，这不能不让我惊讶。几分钟以前，生命令人惊异，而现在，死亡同样令人惊异。现在飞蛾翻过身来，体面而安详地躺着，没有一丝怨言。是啊，他似乎在说：死亡比我更强大。
心灵小语
人生苦短，若虚度年华，则短暂的人生就太长了。
——莎士比亚
W词汇笔记
narrow['n?r?u]adj.狭窄的，有限的；勉强的
例 His ship has traveled the narrow pass.
他的船穿过了这条狭窄的通道。
corridor['k?rid?：]n.走廊
例 His fans spilt over from the hall into the corridor.
他的粉丝们从大厅到走廊挤得水泄不通。
strangeness['streind?nis]n.奇妙；不可思议；陌生
例 The strangeness of her story inclines me to think she is telling the truth.
她把经过说得这么奇妙，我以为她讲的是事实。
resume[ri'zju：m]v.再继续；重新开始
例 Her mother tried to persuade her to resume her job as teacher.
她母亲试图劝她重新做她的教师工作。
S小试身手
好像有人取来一小滴生命原汁，极其灵巧地为他装上羽翼，叫他来回穿梭飞舞，向我们展示生命的本质。
译____________________________
他那无可奈何的样子引起了我的注意。
译____________________________
同时，你不知怎么又会看到生命，一滴纯粹的生命。
译____________________________
P短语家族
……there was something marvelous as well as pathetic about him.
as well as：以及；除……之外；既……又
造____________________________
Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it.
get over：从……中恢复过来
造____________________________