列夫·托尔斯泰
LeoTolstoy
Hay,hay,never-returningtimeofchildhood!Howcanwehellovinganddwellinguonitsrecollections?Theycheerandelevatethesoul,andbecometooneasourceofhigherjoys。
Sometimes,whendreamingofbygonedays,fancythat,tiredoutwithrunningabout,Ihavesatdowninmyhigharm-chairbythetea-table。Itislate,andIhavelongsincedrunkmycuofmilk。MyeyesareheavywithsleeasIsitthereandlisten。HowcouldInotlisten,seeingthatMammaisseakingtosomebody,andthatthesoundofhervoiceissomelodiousandkind?Howmuchitsechoesrecalltomyheart!WithmyeyesveiledwithdrowsinessIgazeatherwistfully。Suddenlysheseemstogrowsmallerandsmaller,andherfacevanishestoaoint;yetIcanstillseeit—canstillseeherasshelooksatmeandsmiles。Somehowitleasesmetoseehergrownsosmall。Iblinkandblink,yetshelooksnolargerthanaboyreflectedintheuilofaneye。ThenIrousemyself,andtheicturefades。OncemoreIhalf-closemyeyes,andcastabouttotryandrecallthedream,butithasgone,Irisetomyfeet,onlytofallbackcomfortablyintothearmchair。
“There!Youarefallingasleeagain,littleNicolas,”saysMamma。“Youhadbettergotoby-by。”
“No,Iwontgotoslee,Mamma,”Irely,thoughalmostinaudibly,forleasantdreamsarefillingallmysoul。Thesoundsleeofchildhoodisweighingmyeyelidsdown,andforafewmoments。Isinkintoslumberandoblivionuntilawakenedbysomeone。Ifeelinmysleeasthoughasofthandwerecaressingme。Iknowitbythetouch,and,thoughstilldreaming,Iseizeholdofitandressittomylis。Everyoneelsehasgonetobed,andonlyonecandleremainsburninginthedrawing-room。Mammahassaidthatsheherselfwillwakeme。ShesitsdownonthearmofthechairinwhichIamaslee,withhersofthandstrokingmyhair,andIhearherbeloved,well-knownvoicesayinmyear:“Getu,mydarling。Itistimetogoby-by。”
Noenviousgazeseeshernow。Sheisnotafraidtosheduonmethewholeofhertendernessandlove。Idonotwakeu,yetIkissandkissherhand。
“Getu,then,myangel。”
Sheassesherotherarmroundmyneck,andherfingersticklemeastheymoveacrossit。Theroomisquietandinhalf-darkness,buttheticklinghastouchedmynervesandIbegintoawake。Mammaissittingnearme—thatIcantell—andtouchingme;Icanhearhervoiceandfeelherresence。Thisatlastrousesmetosringu,tothrowmyarmsaroundherneck,tohidemyheadinherbosom,andtosaywithasigh:
“Ah,dear,darlingMamma,howmuchIloveyou!”
Shesmileshersad,enchantingsmile,takesmyheadbetweenhertwohands,kissesmeontheforehead,andliftsmeontoherla。
“Doyoulovemesomuch,then?”shesays。Then,afterafewmomentssilence,shecontinues:“Andyoumustlovemealways,andneverforgetme。IfyourMammashouldnolongerbehere,willyouromisenevertoforgether—never,Nicolinka?”andshekissesmemorefondlythanever。
“Oh,butyoumustnotseakso,darlingMamma,myowndarlingMamma!”IexclaimasIclasherknees,andtearsofjoyandlovefallfrommyeyes。
How,aftersceneslikethis!Iwouldgoustairs,andstandbeforetheicons,andsaywitharaturousfeeling,“GodblessPaaandMamma!”andreeatarayerformybelovedmotherwhichmychildishlishadlearnttolis—theloveofGodandotherblendingstrangelyinasingleemotion!
AftersayingmyrayersIwouldwramyselfuinthebedclothes。Myheartwouldfeellight,eaceful,andhay,andonedreamwouldfollowanother。Dreamsofwhat?Theywereallofthemvague,butallofthemfullofureloveandofasortofexectationofhainess。Usually,also,therewouldbesomefavoritetoy—achinadogorharestuckintothebed-cornerbehindtheillow,anditwouldleasemetothinkhowwarmandcomfortableandwellcared—foritwasthere。Also,IwouldrayGodtomakeeveryonehay,sothateveryonemightbecontented,andalsotosendfineweathertomorrowforourwalk。ThenIwouldturnmyselfoverontotheotherside,andthoughtsanddreamswouldbecomejumbledandentangledtogetheruntilatlastIsletsoundlyandeacefully,thoughwithafacewetwithtears。
Doinafterlifethefreshnessandlight-heartedness,thecravingforloveandforstrengthoffaith,everreturnwhichweexerienceinourchildhoodsyears?Whatbettertimeisthereinourlivesthanwhenthetwobestofvirtues—innocentgaietyandaboundlessyearningforaffection—areoursoleobjectsofursuit?
Wherenowareourardentrayers?Wherenowareourbestgifts—theuretearsofemotionwhichaguardianangeldrieswithasmileasheshedsuonuslovelydreamsofineffablechildishjoy?Canitbethatlifehasleftsuchheavytracesuononesheartthatthosetearsandecstasiesareforevervanished?Canitbethatthereremainstousonlytherecollectionofthem?
快乐的,快乐的,不再回来的童年时代啊!怎能不让我热爱和珍视对你的回忆呢?这些回忆让我精神亢奋、心灵欢快,是我无限乐趣的源泉。
有时,我会回忆起流逝的岁月。那时跑不动了,我就在茶桌旁那把高背安乐椅上安逸地坐下来;夜深了,我早就喝光我杯里的牛奶,迷迷糊糊地合上眼睛,静坐在那儿聆听妈妈在同什么人说话,她的声音是那么婉转优美!那声音不停地在我的心灵深处荡漾,让我想起那段美妙的时光。我用迷糊的睡眼渴望地看着妈妈的脸。忽然,妈妈的身影逐渐变小,她的面孔缩小成了一个小点。可是,我依然可以看到她,她笑眯眯地瞥了我一眼。不知什么缘故,我喜欢看见妈妈变得这么小的样子。我眨了眨双眼,她的样子变得和瞳人里的小孩儿一样大了。后来我被惊醒了,画面也不见了。我半眯着眼睛,举目四望,努力想使梦中的景象再现,却一点儿也想不起来了。我站起来,又马上惬意地躺回安乐椅上。
“你又睡着了,小尼古拉斯,”妈妈对我说,“你还是上楼去睡比较好。”
“我不想睡,妈妈,”我朦朦胧胧地念叨,我心里装的都是那些迷幻而幸福的梦想。还是小孩的我抵挡不住那浓浓的睡意,眼皮慢慢合了起来,刹那间就进入了沉沉的梦乡,直到最终被人唤醒。朦胧间,我觉得有人用手在轻轻地抚摩我,这种触摸的感觉告诉我,是妈妈的手。睡梦中的我情不自禁地拉住那只手,把它牢牢地按在嘴唇上。所有的人都已经离开,客厅里只剩下一根燃烧的蜡烛。妈妈说,她要自己叫醒我。妈妈坐在我睡的那张椅子的扶手上,用她那温暖的手抚摸着我的头发,用我熟悉的、暖人的声音在我耳边说:“起来吧,我的乖宝贝,该去睡觉了。”
她不会因为任何人嫉妒的眼光而有丝毫犹疑:她根本不顾虑把她的全部温柔和慈爱赋予我。我合着眼,只是一次又一次地亲她的手。
“起来吧,我的天使!”
她的另外一只手搂住我的脖子。手指滑过脖子,让我觉得很痒痒。房间里没有一点儿声音,光线忽明忽暗,但挠痒让我精神振奋,睡意全无。此刻,妈妈就坐在我的身边——这我感觉得到——充满爱意地抚摩着我;我听到她的声音,真实地感觉到她的气息。我赶紧跳了起来,双手抱住妈妈的脖颈,把头钻进她的怀里,叹息了一声,说道:“噢,亲爱的,亲爱的妈妈,我多么爱你呀!”
妈妈露出忧郁而迷人的微笑,然后用双手托住我的头,亲亲我的前额,最后抱起来让我坐在她的腿上。“这么说,你十分爱我?”她停了片刻,随后说,“记住,你一定要永远爱我,永远不要忘了我。如果妈妈不在这儿了,你能保证永远不忘掉她吗?永远不忘记,尼古林卡(尼古拉斯的小名)?”她更加轻柔地亲我。
“不,不要这么说,我亲爱的妈妈,我最亲爱的妈妈!”我喊了起来,使劲抱住她的双腿,爱和狂喜的泪水止不住地往下流。
所有的事情都过去后,我回到楼上,虔诚地站在圣像前祷告:“主啊,求你祝福我的爸爸和妈妈。”幼稚的我重复着为亲爱的妈妈祈祷——我对她的爱和对上帝的爱神奇地融合在了一起。