Father Forgets By W. Livingston Larned

Father Forgets 忘记 by W. Livingston Larned

Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek, and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room, alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily, I came to your bedside. These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you.

静听， 我儿： 我在你熟睡 的时候对 你 说， 一只小手 掌， 在你的脸 下压皱 ， 金发贴在 你潮湿的 额上。 我独自偷进 你的房内 ，只几 分钟以前 ， 我坐在图 书馆阅 报时， 一种窒息 的懊悔情绪 扫荡 我 全身， 我引咎的 来到 你 的床前。 孩儿，

I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor. At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!“ and I frowned, and said in reply,

我因为你你 没有擦鞋 ， 而让你劳 动。 当你将东西 掷在地板 上时， 我愤怒的 大声呵斥。 早餐时， 我也找错 。 你溢出了东 西， 你吞下你 的食物， 你将肘放 在桌上， 你在面包 上抹黄油太厚 。 当你开始游 戏时， 我去赶火 车的时候， 你转过来 挥挥手嚷着：

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in, timidly, with a sort of, hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?“ I snapped. You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart, and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

你没有说什 么， 但冲动的 一跃， 跑过来将 两臂抱住我的 颈 ， 与我亲吻 。 你的两个小 臂有一种 热 情， 上帝栽在 即使置之 也不会枯

你心中的花蕾 ， 不理， 萎。

然后你走了 。 踏击着楼梯 ， 上楼去了 。 啊，

And there was so much that was good, and fine, and true, in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself, over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse, to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed! It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours.

可是， 孩子， 并不是我 不爱你， 而是因为 我希望你—— 一个未成 年的孩子太多 ， 那是用我 自己的岁数的 尺 码， 来衡量你 的。 在你的品格 之中， 有许多地 方是真善美的 。 你的小小 是同在广 曙 光一样的 这个从你 进 来与我接

的心， 大的群山那边 的 大， 自然地冲动地 跑 吻可以证明。

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