《阳光与囚徒》，1847 年
the Sunbeam and the captive, 1847
现在是秋天。
It is autumn.
我们站在城墙上，眺望大海。
we stand on the ramparts, and look out over the sea.
我们看着众多的船只，以及海峡对岸的瑞典海岸，它高高耸立于倒映着傍晚天空余晖的水面之上。
we look at the numerous ships, and at the Swedish coast on the opposite side of the sound, rising far above the surface of the waters which mirror the glow of the evening sky.
在我们身后，树林的轮廓清晰可见；参天大树环绕着我们，黄色的树叶从树枝上飘落下来。
behind us the wood is sharply defined; mighty trees surround us, and the yellow leaves flutter down from the branches.
在城墙脚下，矗立着一座外观阴森的建筑，四周用栅栏围着。
below, at the foot of the wall, stands a gloomy looking building enclosed in palisades.
两者之间的空间又黑又窄，但城墙里那些覆盖着狭窄枪眼或窗户的铁栅栏后面肯定更加阴森，因为在这些地牢里关押着最邪恶的罪犯。
the space between is dark and narrow, but still more dismal must it be behind the iron gratings in the wall which cover the narrow loopholes or windows, for in these dungeons the most depraved of the criminals are not confined.
一束夕阳的余晖射进了其中一名囚徒空荡荡的牢房，因为上帝的阳光既照耀着恶人也照耀着好人。
A ray of the setting sun shoots into the bare cells of one of the captives, for God’s sun shines upon the evil and the good.
那个冷酷的罪犯不耐烦地看了一眼那道明亮的光线。
the hardened criminal casts an impatient look at the bright ray.
然后一只小鸟朝着栅栏飞去，因为鸟儿既会对正义之人也会对非正义之人叽叽喳喳地叫。
then a little bird flies towards the grating, for birds twitter to the just as well as to the unjust.
它只是叫着：“叽叽，叽叽”，然后栖息在栅栏附近，扇动着翅膀，从其中一根翅膀上啄下一根羽毛，鼓起身子，让胸前和喉咙周围的羽毛都竖了起来。
he only cries, “tweet, tweet,” and then perches himself near the grating, flutters his wings, pecks a feather from one of them, puffs himself out, and sets his feathers on end round his breast and throat.
那个戴着镣铐的坏人看着它，他那冷酷的脸上露出了较为温和的神情。
the bad, chained man looks at him, and a more gentle expression es into his hard face.
在他的胸膛里涌起一种连他自己也无法确切分析的思绪，但这种思绪与那道阳光、那只小鸟以及紫罗兰的香气有关，紫罗兰在春天会在城墙脚下茂盛地生长。
In his breast there rises a thought which he himself cannot rightly analyze, but the thought has some connection with the sunbeam, with the bird, and with the scent of violets, which grow luxuriantly in spring at the foot of the wall.
接着传来猎人号角欢快而饱满的声音。
then there es the sound of the hunter’s horn, merry and full.
小鸟受惊飞起，阳光渐渐消失，房间里又暗了下来，那个坏人的心里也暗了下来。
the little bird starts, and flies away, the sunbeam gradually vanishes, and again there is darkness in the room and in the heart of that bad man.
然而阳光毕竟照进过那颗心，小鸟的叽叽喳喳声也触动过它。
Still the sun has shone into that heart, and the-twittering of the bird has touched it.
响起来吧，你们那猎人号角的辉煌乐声；继续奏响你们那激动人心的音调吧，因为夜晚温和，海面缓缓起伏、平静无波，平滑得如同镜子。
Sound on, ye glorious strains of the hunter’s horn; continue your stirring tones, for the evening is mild, and the surface of the sea, heaving slowly and slowly, is smooth as a mirror.
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