All of us have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limited and specified time to live. Sometimes it was as long as a year; sometimes as short as twenty-four hours, but always we were interested in discovering just how the doomed man chose to spend his last days or his last hours. I speak, of course, of free men who have a choice, not condemned criminals whose sphere of activities is strictly delimited. 

    Such stories set up thinking, wondering what we should do under similar circumstances. What associations should we crowd into those
last hours as mortal beings? What happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets? 

    Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we should die tomorrow. Such an attitude would emphasize sharply the values of life. We should live each day with a gentleness, a vigor, and a keenness of appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in the constant panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, of course, who would adopt the epicurean motto of “Eat, drink, and be merry,” most people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death. 

    我們都讀過這樣一些動人的故事，故事里主人公將不久于人世。長則一年，短則２４小時。但是我們總是很想知道這個即將離開人世的人是決定怎樣度過他最后的日子的。當然，我所指的是有權作出選擇的自由人，不是那些活動范圍受到嚴格限制的死囚。　
 
    這一類故事會使我們思考在類似的處境下，我們自己該做些什么？在那臨終前的幾個小時里我們會產生哪些聯想？會有多少欣慰和遺憾呢？ 

    有時我想，把每天都當作生命的最后一天來度過也不失為一個很好的生命法則。這種人生態(tài)度使人非常重視人生的價值。每一天我們都應該以和善的態(tài)度、充沛的精力和熱情的欣賞來度過，而這些恰恰是在來日方長時往往被我們忽視的東西。當然，有這樣一些人奉行享樂主義的座右銘——吃喝玩樂，但是大多數人卻不能擺脫死亡來臨的恐懼。 

    Most of us take life for granted. We know that one day we must die, but usually we picture that day as far in the future, when we are in buoyant health, death is all but unimaginable. We seldom think of it. The days stretch out in an endless vista. So we go about our petty task, hardly aware of our listless attitude towards life. 

    The same lethargy, I am afraid, characterizes the use of our faculties and senses. Only the deaf appreciate hearing, only the blind realize the manifold blessings that lie in sight. Particularly does this observation apply to those who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered impairment of sight or hearing seldom make the fullest use of these blessed faculties. Their eyes and ears take in all sights and sound hazily, without concentration, and with little appreciation. It is the same old story of not being grateful for what we conscious of health until we are ill. 

    I have often thought it would be a blessing if each human being were stricken blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness would make him more appreciative of sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound. 

    Now and then I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. “Nothing in particular,” she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little. 

    我們大多數人認為生命理所當然，我們明白總有一天我們會死去，但是我們常常把這一天看得非常遙遠。當我們身體強壯時，死亡便成了難以相象的事情了。我們很少會考慮它，日子一天天過去，好像沒有盡頭。所以我們?yōu)楝嵤卤疾ǎ�并沒有意識到我們對待生活的態(tài)度是冷漠的。 

    我想我們在運用我們所有五官時恐怕也同樣是冷漠的。只有聾子才珍惜聽力，只有盲人才能認識到能見光明的幸運。對于那些成年致盲或失陪的人來說尤其如此。但是那些聽力或視力從未遭受損失的人卻很少充分利用這些幸運的能力，他們對所見所聞不關注、不欣賞。這與常說的不失去不懂得珍貴，不生病不知道健康可貴的道理是一樣的。 

    我常想如果每一個人在他成年的早些時候，有幾天成為了聾子或瞎子也不失為一件幸事。黑暗將使他更珍惜光明；沉寂將教他知道聲音的樂趣。 

    有時我會試探我的非盲的朋友們，想知道他們看見了什么。最近我的一位非常要好的朋友來看我，她剛剛在樹林里走了很長時間，我問她看見了什么。“沒什么特別的，”她回答說。如不是我早已習慣了這樣的回答，我也許不會輕易相信，因為很久以前我就相信了有眼人看不見什么。 

    How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough shaggy bark of a pine. In spring I touch the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of awakening Nature after her winter’s sleep I feel the delightful, velvety texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently in a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in full song. I am delighted to have cool waters of a brook rush through my open fingers. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the pageant of seasons is a thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my finger tips. At times my heart cries out with longing to see all these things. If I can get so much pleasure from mere touch, how much more beauty must be revealed by sight. Yet, those who have eyes apparently see little. The panorama of color and action fill the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps, to appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but it is a great pity that in the world of light and the gift of sight is used only as mere convenience rather that as a means of adding fullness to life. #p#分頁標題#e#

    Oh, the things that I should see if I had the power of sight for three days! 

    我問自己在樹林中走了一小時，怎么可能什么值得注意的東西都沒有看到呢？而我一個盲人僅僅通過觸摸就發(fā)現了數以百計的有趣的東西。我感到樹葉的對稱美，用手摸著白樺樹光滑的樹皮或是松樹那粗糙的厚厚的樹皮。春天里我滿懷著希望觸摸著樹枝尋找新芽，那是大自然冬眼后醒來的第一個征象。我感到了花朵的可愛和茸茸的感覺，發(fā)現它層層疊疊地綻開著，大自然的神奇展現在我的面前。當我把手輕輕地放在一棵小樹上，如果幸運的話，偶爾會感到歌唱的小鳥歡快的顫動。我會愉快地讓清涼的溪水從手之間流過。對我來說，滿地厚厚的松針和松軟的草坪比奢華的波斯地毯更惹人喜愛。對我來說四季變換的景色如同一場動人心魄的不會完結的戲劇，劇中的人物動作從我的指尖流過。我的心不時在吶喊，帶著對光明的渴望。既然僅僅通過觸摸就能使我獲得如此多的喜悅，那么光明定會展示更多美好的事物啊。可惜的是那些有眼睛的人分明看到很少，整個世界繽紛的色彩和萬物的活動都被認為是理所當然。也許不珍惜已經擁有的，想得到還沒有得到的是人的特點，但是在光明的世界里只把視覺用做一種方便的工具，而不是豐富生活的工具，這是令人多么遺憾的事情啊。

    噢，假如我擁有三天光明，我將會看見多少事物啊！