HAPPY, happy, never-returning time of childhood! How can we help loving and dwelling1 upon its recollections? They cheer and elevate the soul, and become to one a source of higher joys.
Sometimes, when dreaming of bygone days, I fancy that, tired out with running about, I have sat down, as of old, in my high arm- chair by the tea-table. It is late, and I have long since drunk my cup of milk. My eyes are heavy with sleep as I sit there and listen. How could I not listen, seeing that Mamma is speaking to somebody, and that the sound of her voice is so melodious2 and kind? How much its echoes recall to my heart! With my eyes veiled with drowsiness3 I gaze at her wistfully. Suddenly she seems to grow smaller and smaller, and her face vanishes to a point; yet I can still see it--can still see her as she looks at me and smiles. Somehow it pleases me to see her grown so small. I blink and blink, yet she looks no larger than a boy reflected in the pupil of an eye. Then I rouse myself, and the picture fades. Once more I half-close my eyes, and cast about to try and recall the dream, but it has gone,
I rise to my feet, only to fall back comfortably into the armchair.
"There! You are failing asleep again, little Nicolas," says Mamma. "You had better go to by-by."
"No, I won't go to sleep, Mamma," I reply, though almost inaudibly, for pleasant dreams are filling all my soul. The sound sleep of childhood is weighing my eyelids4 down, and for a few moments I sink into slumber5 and oblivion until awakened6 by some one. I feel in my sleep as though a soft hand were caressing7 me. I know it by the touch, and, though still dreaming, I seize hold of it and press it to my lips. Every one else has gone to bed, and only one candle remains8 burning in the drawing-room. Mamma has said that she herself will wake me. She sits down on the arm of the chair in which I am asleep, with her soft hand stroking my hair, and I hear her beloved, well-known voice say in my ear:
"Get up, my darling. It is time to go by-by."
No envious9 gaze sees her now. She is not afraid to shed upon me the whole of her tenderness and love. I do not wake up, yet I kiss and kiss her hand.
"Get up, then, my angel."
She passes her other arm round my neck, and her fingers tickle10 me as they move across it. The room is quiet and in half-darkness, but the tickling11 has touched my nerves and I begin to awake. Mamma is sitting near me--that I can tell--and touching12 me; I can hear her voice and feel her presence. This at last rouses me to spring up, to throw my arms around her neck, to hide my head in her bosom13, and to say with a sigh:
"Ah, dear, darling Mamma, how much I love you!"
She smiles her sad, enchanting14 smile, takes my head between her two hands, kisses me on the forehead, and lifts me on to her lap.
"Do you love me so much, then?" she says. Then, after a few moments' silence, she continues: "And you must love me always, and never forget me. If your Mamma should no longer be here, will you promise never to forget her--never, Nicolinka? and she kisses me more fondly than ever.
"Oh, but you must not speak so, darling Mamma, my own darling Mamma!" I exclaim as I clasp her knees, and tears of joy and love fall from my eyes.
How, after scenes like this, I would go upstairs, and stand before the ikons, and say with a rapturous feeling, "God bless Papa and Mamma!" and repeat a prayer for my beloved mother which my childish lips had learnt to lisp-the love of God and of her blending strangely in a single emotion!
After saying my prayers I would wrap myself up in the bedclothes. My heart would feel light, peaceful, and happy, and one dream would follow another. Dreams of what? They were all of them vague, but all of them full of pure love and of a sort of expectation of happiness. I remember, too, that I used to think about Karl Ivanitch and his sad lot. He was the only unhappy being whom I knew, and so sorry would I feel for him, and so much did I love him, that tears would fall from my eyes as I thought, "May God give him happiness, and enable me to help him and to lessen15 his sorrow. I could make any sacrifice for him!" Usually, also, there would be some favourite toy--a china dog or hare-- stuck into the bed-corner behind the pillow, and it would please me to think how warm and comfortable and well cared-for it was there. Also, I would pray God to make every one happy, so that every one might be contented16, and also to send fine weather to- morrow for our walk. Then I would turn myself over on to the other side, and thoughts and dreams would become jumbled17 and entangled18 together until at last I slept soundly and peacefully, though with a face wet with tears.
Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness, the craving19 for love and for strength of faith, ever return which we experience in our childhood's years? What better time is there in our lives than when the two best of virtues--innocent gaiety and a boundless20 yearning21 for affection--are our sole objects of pursuit?
Where now are our ardent22 prayers? Where now are our best gifts-- the pure tears of emotion which a guardian23 angel dries with a smile as he sheds upon us lovely dreams of ineffable24 childish joy? Can it be that life has left such heavy traces upon one's heart that those tears and ecstasies25 are for ever vanished? Can it be that there remains to us only the recollection of them?
幸福的，幸福的，一去不返的童年时代啊！怎能不爱惜，不珍重对童年的回忆呢？这些回忆使我精神舒爽，心情振奋，是我的无上乐趣的泉源。
跑够了，你就坐在茶桌旁那把高背的安乐椅里；时候不早了，你早就喝完了你那杯加糖的牛奶，睡意蒙胧的闭上眼睛，但是一动也不动地坐着谛听。你怎么能不听呢？妈妈在同什么人谈话，她的声音是那么悦耳，那么动人。单单这种声音就给我的心灵很大的启发！我用蒙胧的睡眼凝视着她的脸，她突然变得愈来愈小，她的脸只有钮扣那么大；但我不是看得非常清楚：我看见，她望了我一眼，微微一笑。我喜欢看见她只有这么一点点大。我把眼睛眯缝得更细一些，她变得还没有瞳仁里的小人都么大了；但是我动了一下，这种魔力就破灭了。我眯起眼睛，扭过身去，拚命想使这种现象重现，但是徒劳无益。
我站起来，连脚带腿蜷缩成一团，舒适地躺到安乐椅里。
“你又要睡着了，尼古连卡 ① ，”妈妈对我说，“你最好上楼去。”
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①尼古连卡：尼古拉的小名。
“我不想睡，妈妈，”我回答她，但是模糊而甜美的幻想充满我的脑际，健康的孩子的睡意使我的眼睛闭拢，转瞬就进入梦乡，一直睡到我被唤醒为止。蒙胧中我常常感到什么人温存的手抚摩我；单凭这种抚摩，我就知道是她，还在梦中我就不由自主地拉住那只手，把它紧紧地，紧紧地按在嘴唇上。
所有的人都已经散去；客厅里只点着一根蜡烛；妈妈说，她要亲自唤醒我；是她坐在我睡的那张椅子上，用那温柔得惊人的手抚摩着我的头发，用我听惯了的、可爱的声音在我耳边说：
“起来，我的宝贝，该去睡了。”
没有任何人的冷淡的眼光会使她拘束：她不怕把她的全部温柔和慈爱倾注到我身上。我动也不动，又是更加热烈地吻她的手。
“起来，我的好宝贝！”
她用另外一只手托住我的脖子，她的手指迅速地动着，搔着我。房间里一片寂静，半明半暗；搔痒使我清醒，使我的神经兴奋；妈妈坐在我身边；她爱抚着我；我闻到她的香味，听到她的声音。这一切使我跳起来，双手搂住她的脖颈，把头偎在她怀里，上气不接下气地说：
“噢，亲爱的，亲爱的妈妈，我多么爱你呀！”
她忧愁而迷人地微微一笑，双手抱住我的头，吻我的前额，让我坐在她的膝头上。
“这么说你非常爱我？”她沉默了片刻，随后说：“记住，你要永远爱我，决不要忘记我。如果妈妈不在了，你不会忘掉她吗？尼古连卡，你不会忘记吧？”
她更加温存地吻我。
“得了，别说这种话，我亲爱的妈妈，我最亲爱的妈妈！”我叫起来，吻她的膝头，泪如泉涌，这是爱和狂喜的眼泪。
在这以后，当我回到楼上，穿上小棉袄，站在圣像前，说：“主啊，求你拯救我的爸爸和妈妈”时，我怀着多么奇妙的心清啊！当我重复我呀呀学语时初次为我亲爱的母亲祝福的祈祷文时，我对她的爱和对上帝的爱就奇异地交织在一起了。
祈祷以后，我往往就钻进被窝，心里觉得又轻松，又愉快，又高兴；一个梦想接着一个，但是梦想些什么呢？都很难捉摸，不过，梦里却充满了纯洁的爱和光明幸福的希望。有时我回忆起卡尔·伊凡内奇和他的悲苦命运（他是我所晓得的唯一不幸的人），我替他那么难过，那么爱他，难过得替他掉下泪来，我想道：“愿上帝赐给他幸福，使我能够帮助他，减轻他的痛苦；为了他，我情愿牺牲一切。”随后，我就把我心爱的瓷玩具———一只小兔或者一只小狗——放到鸭绒枕头角上，欣赏它那么美好、舒适而温暖地躺在那里。接着我又祈祷，求上帝赐给大家幸福，让大家都称心如意．明天散步有好天气；然后我翻个身，思绪和梦想就混成一片，脸上还带着湿漉漉的泪水，便平静而安然地进入了梦乡。
童年时代所具有的那种朝气蓬勃的精神，无忧无虑的心清，对爱的要求和信仰的力量，将来还会复返吗？当天真的喜悦和对爱的无限需求这两种至上的美德是人生唯一的愿望时，有什么时候会比它更美好呢？
那些热诚的祈祷在哪里？那最好的礼物—一纯洁的感动的眼泪——在哪里呢？抚慰人的天使飞来，微笑着揩干这些眼泪，把甜蜜的梦想送到纯洁无邪的孩子的想象中。
难道生活在我的心头遗留下那样苦痛的痕迹，使那些眼泪和欢欣永远离开了我？难道留下的只是回忆？
收听单词发音 |
1
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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14
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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