必讀優美雙語散文

英語散文的發展歷程十分曲折,散文大家風格多變,兼之中英語言個性殊異,若要成功地把英語散文大家的作品翻譯到中文,既須瞭解英語散文發展的概況,又須注意保證氣韻邏輯通暢,文氣沛然,才能傳神譯出,曲盡其妙,令漢語讀者獲得相同或相近的審美感受。下面本站小編爲大家帶來必讀優美雙語散文，希望大家喜歡!

必讀優美雙語散文：最好的愛

I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims the sky is bluer. Mozart moves her to tears. She has lost 15 pounds and looks like a cover girl.

“I’m young again!” she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love, I’ve taken a good look at my old one. My husband of almost 20 years, Scott, has gained 15 pounds. Once a marathon runner, he now runs only down hospital halls. His hairline is receding and his body shows the signs of long working hours and too many candy bars. Yet he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table and I want to ask for the check and head home.

When my friend asked me “What will make this love last?” I ran through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attraction, communication. Yet there’s more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled up newspaper, Scott flipped it playfully at me: this led to an all-out war. Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and raced each other to see who could make it to the checkout first. Even washing dishes can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises. One time I came home to find a note on the front door that led me to another note, then another, until I reached the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find Scott holding a “pot of gold” (my cooking kettle) and the “treasure” of a gift package. Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror and little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys. And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house, the kids - and even him - to meet my sisters for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.

There is sharing. Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens - we also share ideas. Scott came home from a convention last month and presented me with a thick historical novel. Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction, he had read the novel on the plane. He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to be able to exchange ideas about the book after I’d read it.

There is forgiveness. When I’m embarrasssingly loud and crazy at parties, Scott forgives me. When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market, I gave him a hug and said, “It’s okay. It’s only money.”

There is sensitivity. Last week he walked through the door with that look that tells me it’s been a tough day. After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened. He told me about a 60-year-old woman who’d had a stroke. He wept as he recalled the woman’s husband standing beside her bed, caressing her hand. How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there were still people who have been married 40 years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned after years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer’s disease on her father-in-law’s personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, this is too much heartache for one week. Through my tears, as I went out to run some errands, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played. I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor’s house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends. That night, I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that the joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he’ll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows that I sleep with a pillow over my head; I’ll lock us out of the house at a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer: it’s just a familiar hue. We don’t feel particularly young: we’ve experienced too much that has contributed to our growth and wisdom, taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we’ve got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott’s wedding band engraved with Robert Browning’s line “Grow old along with me!” We’re following those instructions.

“If anything is real, the heart will make it plain.”

我的一位朋友正在熱戀。她坦稱天空比以前更藍了，莫扎特的音樂讓她落淚。她體重降了十五磅，看上去就像一個封面女郎。

“我又年輕啦!”她激動地大喊。

當我的朋友幸福地大談特談她的新歡時，我對我的舊愛細細審視了一遍。和我共度了將近二十年的丈夫斯科特體重增了十五磅。從前的馬拉松運動員，如今只能在醫院的大廳裏跑來跑去的。他前額的頭髮越來越少，從體型能看出他長時間工作並且糖塊吃得太多。但他仍能隔着餐館的桌子，用眼神向我發出某種暗示，然後我會立即結賬，一起回家。

當朋友問我“是什麼讓我們的愛情持續”時，我的腦海裏立刻浮現出所有那些顯而易見的答案：承諾、共同愛好、無私奉獻、身體吸引、溝通交，還有很多。我們仍然擁有樂趣，那些隨意而來的美好時光。昨天，解開捆報紙的橡皮筋後，斯科特開玩笑地彈了我一下，隨即引發了一場全面的“戰爭”。上週六在雜貨店，我們分開購物，比賽誰先買好東西到結賬處。甚至洗碗也能大鬧一下。我們只是享受簡單的共處。

另外還有驚喜。一天我回到家，看到前門上貼着一張便條，它把我引向另一張便條，然後是另一張，一直把我引到家裏可進入的壁櫥。我打開壁櫥門，發現斯科特站在裏面，一手拿着“金壺”(我的蒸煮鍋)，一手拿着一包包裝精美的“寶物”。我有時也在鏡子上給他留便條，或把小禮物放在他的枕頭下。

還有理解。我理解他爲什麼一定要和夥伴們打籃球。他也理解我爲什麼每年都要找個機會離開家和孩子們(甚至他)幾天，同我的姐妹們沒完沒了地聊啊笑啊。

還有分享。我們不但分享家務瑣事和爲人父母的責任，還有思想交流。斯科特上月去開會，回來後他送給我一本厚厚的歷史小說。雖然他更喜歡恐怖及科幻小說，他還是在飛機上將這本小說讀完。當他解釋說是因爲想在我讀完後能與我交換心得時，我深受感動。

還有寬恕。當我在聚會上讓人尷尬地喊叫瘋狂時，他原諒了我。當他承認在股市賠進去我們的一些積蓄時，我擁抱着他說：“沒關係，不過是些錢罷了。”

還有敏感。上個星期當他回來的時候，臉上的神情讓我感覺他這天過得很不好。他與孩子們玩了一會兒，之後我問他發生了什麼事。他給我講述了一個六十歲老太太的事情。這個老太太得了中風。回憶起老太太的丈夫站在她牀邊、撫摸着她的手的情形，他情不自禁地流下了眼淚。他怎忍心告訴這個與她相伴四十年的丈夫他的妻子可能永遠不會康復啊!我也不禁落淚。因爲那位老太太不治的病情，因爲仍有四十年的夫妻，因爲經過數年的病房工作，整天面對垂死的病人，我的丈夫仍會感動，仍存憐憫。

還有信仰。上週二，一個朋友到家裏來，向我傾訴她的丈夫正在流失和癌症鬥爭的勇氣。週三，我和一個朋友一起午餐——她正煩惱着在離婚之後如何重新梳理自己的生活。週四，一個鄰居告訴我老年癡呆症在她岳父身上有着多麼可怕的影響。週五，一個兒時的朋友打長途電話告訴我她的父親去世了。在我掛了電話之後，想：這個星期真是一個傷心的星期。哭過之後，我有事要出去一下。我注意到鮮豔奪目的橙色劍蘭正在我的窗外開放着。我聽到我的孩子和他們的朋友一起玩耍的嬉戲聲。我看到鄰居家正好在舉行着婚禮。新娘穿着綢緞和蕾絲的禮服，將花束拋向她歡呼的朋友。那晚，我告訴我的丈夫發生的這些事情。

最後，還有相互瞭解。我知道斯科特會把衣服扔得到處都是，然後晚上又面對滿地的東西臉紅;約會時他總是遲到，還會把盒子裏最後一塊巧克力吃掉。他也知道我總是喜歡在頭上放着枕頭睡覺;把我們鎖在屋外是我的家常便飯，還有我也會把盒子裏最後一塊巧克力吃掉。

我覺得我們的愛之所以能延續是因爲它很溫馨。當然，我的天空並沒有變得更藍：它還是我熟悉的色彩。我們也不特別地感到年輕：我們經歷得太多了。這讓我們成熟，帶來智慧，也在我們的身體上刻下印記，讓我們切身感受到痛苦，也創造了我們共同的回憶。

但願我們都知道是什麼讓我們的愛保持下來的。在我還是新娘的時候，斯科特給我的結婚戒指上面刻着羅伯特•勃朗寧的名言：“讓我們一起變老吧!”我們一直遵循着這些指導。

“如果任何事情都是真的，心裏都會明白的。”

　必讀優美雙語散文：萌芽期的終結

He stopped the lawn mower in the middie of the yard, because he felt that the sun at just that moment had gone down and the stars come out. The fresh-cut grass that had showered his face and body died soft!y away. Yes, the stars were there, faint at first, but brightening in the clear desert sky. He heard the porch screen door tap shut and felt his wife watching him as he watched the night.

"Almost time," she nodded; he did not have to check his watch. In the passing moments he felt very old, then very young, very cold, then very warm, now this, now that. Suddenly he was miles away. He was his own son talking steadily, moving briskly to cover his pounding heart and the resurgent panics as he felt himself slip into fresh uniform, check food supplies, oxygen flasks, pressure helmet, space-suiting, and turn as every man on Earth tonight turned, to gaze at the swiftly filling , quickly, he was back, once more the father of the son, hands gripped to the lawn-mower handle. His wife called, "Come sit on the porch.""I've got to keep busy!"

She came down the steps and across the lawn. "Don't worry about Robert; he'll be all right."

"But it's all so new," he heard himself say. "It's never been done before. Think of it - a manned rocket going up tonight to build the first space station. Good lord, it can't be done, it doesn't exist, there's no rocket, no proving ground, no take-off time, no technicians. For that matter, I don't even have a son named Bob. The whole thing's too much for me!""Then what are you doing out here, staring?"He shook his head. "Well, late this morning, walking to the office, I heard someone laugh out loud. It shocked me, so I froze in the middle of the street. It was me, laughing! Why? Because finally I really knew what Bob was going to do tonight; at last I believed it. Holy is a word I never use, but that's how I felt stranded in all that traffic. Then, middle of the afternoon I caught myself humming. You know the song. 'A wheel in a wheel. Way in the middle of the air.' I laughed again. The space station, of course, I thought. The big wheel with hollow spokes where Bob'll live six or eight months, then get along to the moon. Walking home, I remembered more of the song. 'Little wheel run by faith, Big wheel run by the grace of God.' I wanted to jump, yell, and flame-out myself!"His wife touched his arm. "If we stay out here, let's at least be comfortable."

They placed two wicker rockers in the center of the lawn and sat quietly as the stars dissolved out of darkness in pale crushings of rock salt strewn from horizon to horizon.

"Why," said his wife, at last, "it's like waiting for the fireworks at Sisley Field every year."

"Bigger crowd tonight . . ."

"I keep thinking - a billion people watching the sky right now, their mouths all open at the same time."

They waited, feeling the earth move under their chairs.

"What time is it now?"

"Eleven minutes to eight."

"You're always right; there must be a clock in your head."

"I can't be wrong tonight. I'll be able to tell you one second before they blast off. Look! The ten-minute warning!"

On the western sky they saw four crimson flares open out, float shimmering down the wind above the desert, then sink silently to the extinguishing the new darkness the husband and wife did not rock in their r a while he said, "Eight minutes." A pause. "Seven minutes." What seemed a much longer pause. "Six . . ."

His wife, her head back, studied the stars immediately above her and murmured, "Why?" She closed her eyes. "Why the rockets, why tonight? Why all this? I'd like to know."

He examined her face, pale in the vast powdering light of the Milky Way. He felt the stirring of an answer, but let his wife continue.

"I mean it's not that old thing again, is it, when people asked why men climbed Mt. Everest and they said, 'Because it's there'? I never understood. That was no answer to me."

Five minutes, he thought. Time ticking . . . his wrist watch . . . a wheel in a wheel . . . little wheel run by . . . big wheel run by . . . way in the middle of . . . four minutes! . . . The men snug in the rocket by now, the hive, the control board flickering with lips moved.

"All I know is it's really the end of the beginning. The Stone Age, Bronze Age, Iron Age; from now on we'll lump all those together under one big name for when we walked on Earth and heard the birds at morning and cried with envy. Maybe we'll call it the Earth Age, or maybe the Age of Gravity. Millions of years we fought gravity. When we were amoebas and fish we struggled to get out of the sea without gravity crushing us. Once safe on the shore we fought to stand upright without gravity breaking our new invention, the spine, tried to walk without stumbling, run without falling. A billion years Gravity kept us home, mocked us with wind and clouds, cabbage moths and locusts. That's what's so god-awful big about tonight . . . it's the end of old man Gravity and the age we'll remember him by, for once and all. I don't know where they'll divide the ages, at the Persians, who dreamt of flying carpets, or the Chinese, who all unknowing celebrated birthdays and New Years with strung ladyfingers and high skyrockets, or some minute, some incredible second the next hour. But we're in at the end of a billion years trying, the end of something long and to us humans, anyway, honorable."Three minutes . . . two minutes fifty-nine seconds . . . two minutes fifty-eight seconds . . .

"But," said his wife, "I still don't know why."

Two minutes, he thought. Ready? Ready? Ready? The far radio voice calling. Ready! Ready! Ready! The quick, faint replies from the humming rocket. Check! Check! Check!

Tonight, he thought, even if we fail with this first, we'll send a second and a third ship and move on out to all the planets and later, all the stars. We'll just keep going until the big words like immortal and forever take on meaning. Big words, yes, that's what we want. Continuity. Since our tongues first moved in our mouths we've asked, What does it all mean? No other question made sense, with death breathing down our necks. But just let us settle in on ten thousand worlds spinning around ten thousand alien suns and the question will fade away. Man will be endless and infinite, even as space is endless and infinite. Man will go on, as space goes on, forever. Individuals will die as always, but our history will reach as far as we'll ever need to see into the future, and with the knowledge of our survival for all time to come, we'll know security and thus the answer we've always searched for. Gifted with life, the least we can do is preserve and pass on the gift to infinity. That's a goal worth shooting wicker chairs whispered ever so softly on the grass.

One minute.

"One minute," he said aloud.

"Oh!" His wife moved suddenly to seize his hands. "I hope that Bob . . ."

"He'll be all right!"

"Oh, God, take care . . ."

Thirty seconds.

"Watch now."

Fifteen, ten, five . . .

"Watch!"

Four, three, two, one.

"There! There! Oh, there, there!"

They both cried out. They both stood. The chairs toppled back, fell flat on the lawn. The man and his wife swayed, their hands struggled to find each other, grip, hold. They saw the brightening color in the sky and, ten seconds later, the great uprising comet burn the air, put out the stars, and rush away in fire flight to become another star in the returning profusion of the Milky Way. The man and wife held each other as if they had stumbled on the rim of an incredible cliff that faced an abyss so deep and dark there seemed no end to it. Staring up, they heard themselves sobbing and crying. Only after a long time were they able to speak.

"It got away, it did, didn't it?"

"Yes . . ."

"It's all right, isn't it?""Yes . . . yes . . .""It didn't fall back . . .?""No, no, it's all right, Bob's all right, it's all right."They stood away from each other at touched his face with his hand and looked at his wet fingers. "I'll be damned," he said, "I'll be damned."

They waited another five and then ten minutes until the darkness in their heads, the retina, ached with a million specks of fiery salt. Then they had to close their eyes.

"Well," she said, "now let's go in."

He could not move. Only his hand reached a long way out by itself to find the lawn-mower handle. He saw what his hand had done and said, "There's just a little more to do . . ."

"But you can't see."

"Well enough," he said. "I must finish this. Then we'll sit on the porch awhile before we turn in."

He helped her put the chairs on the porch and sat her down and then walked back out to put his hands on the guide bar of the lawn mower. The lawn mower. A wheel in a wheel. A simple machine which you held in your bands, which you sent on ahead with a rush and a clatter while you walked behind with your quiet philosophy. Racket, followed by warm silence. Whirling wheel, then soft footfall of thought.

I'm a billion years old, he told himself; I'm one minute old. I'm one inch, no, ten thousand miles, tall. I look down and can't see my feet they're so far off and gone away below.

He moved the lawn mower. The grass showering up fell softly around him; he relished and savored it and felt that he was all mankind bathing at last in the fresh waters of the fountain of youth.

Thus bathed, he remembered the song again about the wheels and the faith and the grace of God being way up there in the middle of the sky where that single star, among a million motionless stars, dared to move and keep on he finished cutting the grass.

他站在院子當中，關掉了割草機，因爲他感覺到，就在此刻，太陽消失在了地平線下，星星開始閃爍。包裹在周圍的鮮草碎屑漸漸落下。是啊，星星就在那兒，一開始還很黯淡，隨後就在這清麗的沙漠天空上閃閃發光。他聽到門廊邊中紗門關閉的聲音，感覺到妻子正看着他，就如同他正看着這滿天的星斗。

“快到時間了。”她說。

他點點頭，不用看錶。上一分鐘他還覺得自己很老、很冷，這會兒忽然變得又年輕又暖和。忽然間，他就到了幾英里之外，彷彿就是自己的兒子，正在堅定地說這話，神采奕奕地戴着護具，在穿上新制服瞬間的那一絲恐慌，檢查補給、氧氣瓶，加壓頭盔，宇航服，然後像今晚地球上所有其他人一樣，擡頭仰望這浩瀚星海。

忽然間，他又成爲了自己，手握着割草機的手柄。妻子叫道，“過來坐在門廊這兒吧。”

“我得忙活點什麼!”

她走下臺階，穿過草坪，“別爲羅伯特擔心了，他會沒事的。”

“但這一切都是這麼的全新。”他聽到自己在說，“以前從來沒有人做過。想想看—— 一架載人的火箭今晚會升上天空，建造第一座空間站。上帝啊，多麼神奇。以前從來沒有過火箭、試驗場，也沒有起飛時間，沒有航空技師。在這個意義上，我根本沒有一個叫羅伯特的兒子，這整件事對我來說太難接受了!”

“那你在這外面幹什麼，看什麼呢?”

他搖搖頭，“嗯，今天早些時候，在去辦公室的路上，我聽到有人在大笑。把我給震住了，我就這麼站在大路當中。笑的就是我!爲什麼?因爲我終於明白羅伯特今晚要做的事情的意義了。 至少我相信是這樣。神聖這個詞我以前從來都沒有用過，但這就是我站在川流不息地人羣中時的感覺。下午的時候，我又發現自己在哼歌兒。‘輪子是輪子，正在半空中。’你也知道這首歌。然後我又笑了。空間站，當然了，我想。帶着輪輻的大輪子，羅伯特要在那兒住六到八個月，然後登上月球。

“回到家，我又記起了這首歌的其餘部分，‘信念驅動小輪，上帝轉動大輪’。我想要跳躍，想要大叫，渾身充滿了力量!”

妻子撫摸着他的手臂，“如果要待在外面的話，至少換個舒服些的姿勢。”

他們搬出兩把搖椅放在草坪中央，靜靜地坐了下來。星星正在天邊閃爍。

“這一切意義何在?”妻子最後問，“這就像是每年新年時等待西斯利菲爾德的焰火一樣。”

“今夜會更盛大……”

“我一直在想——十多億人此刻正在看着天空，所有人都在翹首以盼。”

他們就這樣等着，感覺着椅子下大地的轉動。

“幾點了?”

“差十一分八點。”

“你從來都不會錯;腦子裏一定有一個鐘錶。”

“今晚我一定錯不了。我會精確到他們發射的那一秒。看!十分鐘警報!”

在西邊的天空，他們看到四個發着紅光的信號彈射向空中，然後緩緩落向沙漠，最終熄滅在地面上。

黑暗再次降臨，夫妻二人沒有再搖動他們的搖椅。

幾分鐘後，他說：“八分鐘。”停頓。“七分鐘。”似乎停頓了更長的時間。“六分——”

妻子轉過頭，研究着天上的星星，低語道，“意義何在呢?”她閉上眼睛，“爲什麼發射火箭?爲什麼是今晚?這一切意義何在?我想知道。”

他仔細地看着妻子的臉，那張臉在銀河昏暗的光芒下顯得有些蒼白。一個激動人心的答案就要脫口而出，但他還是讓妻子繼續。

“我是說，這不是舊話重提，是吧?每次有人問爲什麼要爬珠穆朗瑪峯時，被問的人回答：‘因爲山就在那兒。’我從來都沒明白過。這對我來說根本不是一個答案。”

五分鐘，他想道。時間在流逝……他的手錶……輪子套着輪子……小輪、大輪……空中……四分鐘!……他們應該已經在火箭裏了，儀表盤上的燈光正在一閃一閃。

他動了動嘴脣。

“我只知道，這只是萌芽期的終結。石器時代、青銅器時代、鐵器時代;從今以後這些人類站在地面上羨慕鳥兒的時代都將被冠以一個名字，也許可以叫地面時代，或者叫重力時代。億萬年來我們一直在和重力抗爭。當我們還是阿米巴原蟲，還是魚類的時候，我們掙扎着離開海洋，沒讓重力給壓垮。剛在地面站住腳我們就掙扎着要站立起來，不讓重力壓垮我們的脊樑，努力地獨立行走、奔跑而不要摔倒。十多億年來，重力一直將我們束縛在地面上，用雲朵、清風、菜蛾和蝗蟲來嘲笑我們。正因如此，今晚纔會如此地重要……這將是重力時代的終結，我們都會記住這個時代。我不知道他們會從何處來劃分這個時代。是從波斯人夢想着飛毯的時候來劃分，還是從中國人發明節慶用的焰火時算起。或者，這個時代將從下一個小時的某一分鐘開始。但是，在這個榮耀的時刻，結束了十億年來的努力，結束了一個如此久長的時代，在這個時候，我們都是其中的一分子。”

三分鐘……兩分五十九秒……兩分五十八……

“但是——”妻子說，“我還是不明白這究竟是爲什麼。”

兩分鐘，他想。準備好了嗎?準備好了嗎?準備好了嗎?無線電問訊。準備好了!準備好了!準備好了!嗡嗡作響的火箭傳來微弱的回答。檢查無誤!檢查無誤!檢查無誤!

今夜，他想，即使這第一次嘗試失敗，我們也還會發射第二艘、第三艘飛船，會踏上前往其他行星的旅途，不久的將來，就是其他的恆星。我們會一直繼續，就像“永恆”和“不朽”這兩個詞語所表達的意思一樣。這就是我們所要的。持之以恆。自從舌頭可以在嘴裏移動的那一刻起，我們就在問，這一切意義何在?只要死亡還在，就沒有其他更有意義的問題。就讓我們遷移向那成千上萬個環繞着其他恆星運行的行星吧，到時候，這個問題自然就會消失。

人類將會永生不朽，就如同這宇宙一般。人類將會繼續生存，就如同這宇宙。個體還是會死去，但是我們的歷史將會變得無限久遠，直到未來終結，伴隨着長久以來積累的知識，我們將會得到長久以來那個問題的答案。生命是一種恩賜，但至少我們可以保護、傳遞這種恩賜，直到永遠。這是個值得爭取的目標。搖椅在草地上輕輕地搖動。

一分鐘。

“一分鐘。”他大聲說。

“哦!”妻子忽然攥緊了雙手，“希望羅伯特——”

“他會平安無事的!”

“哦，上帝啊，保佑——”

三十秒。

“看吧。”

十五、十、五。

“看!”

四、三、二、一。

“那兒!那兒!哦，在那邊!那邊!”

他們都叫了出來，兩個人都站了起來。搖椅搖向身後，倒在了草坪上。男人和他的妻子搖擺着，激動地緊握着彼此的手。他們看到了天上的那束亮光，十秒鐘後，明亮的上升彗星點亮了空氣、使得星星黯然失色，隨後又像其他星星一樣隱沒在銀河中作爲報償。

男人和妻子緊握着彼此的手，就好像他們忽然發現自己正站在懸崖邊，前面就是無底的深淵。擡起頭，他們聽到了自己哭泣的聲音。很久很久，他們都說不出話來。

“走了，飛走了。是吧?”

“是……”

“一切正常，是吧?”

“是……是……”

“沒有掉下來……?”

“沒有，沒有，一切正常，羅伯特沒事，一切正常。”

最終，他們互相走開了一段距離。

他摸了摸自己的臉，看着溼漉漉的手指。“我一定是糟透了，糟透了。”

他們又等了五分鐘、十分鐘，仰望着星空，直到空氣中的鹽粒讓眼睛覺得難受才閉上眼睛。

“那麼——”她說，“我們進去吧。”

他動不了，只有他的雙手還在移動，握住了割草機的手柄。看到自己的動作後，他說，“還差一點點……”

“但是都已經看不見了。”

“還可以。”他說，“一定得弄完。然後我們在門廊再坐一會兒，之後再進去。”

他幫着妻子把搖椅搬進門廊，讓她坐下來，然後又走回草坪，握住割草機的手柄。割草機。大輪子套小輪子。握在手中的簡單機器。想着自己那簡單的哲學，推在前面走的機器。火箭，熱浪和寂靜。轉動的輪子，然後是這夜晚輕柔的腳步。

我有十億多歲了，他告訴自己;但我只剛剛誕生了一分鐘，我有一英寸，不，一萬英里高。我低頭看不到自己的腳，因爲它們離的太遠。

他推着割草機。碎草屑像雨滴一樣包裹着他;他品味着，覺得自己就是全人類的代表，正在最後一次沐浴着青春之泉的泉水。

沐浴着這泉水，他又一次想起了那首關於輪子、信仰和恩典的歌。上帝正站在雲端，看着億萬顆羣星中那一顆勇往直前的星。

他修整完了整片草地。