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发帖数: 70 | 1 介绍
这篇文章原是我写给孩子们的一封信。三个大的孩子在上大学，正努力适应独立的生活
，也面对各种成年人的压力。最小的女儿已经读高中，从此家里不再有儿童。于是出于
感慨，我写了这封信，分享自己童年的记忆，回顾童年对一生的影响，希望能帮助孩子
们理解自己的心理，更好地应对青少年时期的各种挑战。
我曾经试图把这篇短文翻译成中文，但是在翻译时我发现，很难复制当初的意境。在写
英文信时，我心里想着孩子们，掏心掏肺地把自己最深层的心理挖掘出来，展示给他们
。但是在翻译时，我很难想象是在写给他们，写作的激情就减弱，变得笔下艰涩。最后
我决定不再执拗，还是用英文改写这篇博文，算是一次尝试。好在我的目标读者是熟悉
的同学和朋友们，理解文中的英语应该没有大问题。
文章的最后附有一张单字表，列出相对生僻的单词的中文解释，希望对读者有帮助。
二零一九年九月中 于美国家中
电邮：[email protected] 博客：https://www.lyz.com
Childhood Paradise
When I was young, before 12 years old to be precise, I was extremely happy
inside. Actually, only much later did I realize that I was very happy back
then. At the time, I did not know it, because I had nothing else to compare
my feelings with. As a child, I also had a few moments of sorrow and fear,
but I forgot it quickly afterwards every time and became happy again, as if
nothing had happened. I did not worry, so I did not see other people worry.
With no concept of worry, I did not recognize happiness, even though I was
happy almost every day. It was so easy to be happy in those days that I did
not feel it was special or precious.
I remember that I often stayed alone for hours in the wild field with tall
grass, lying down in the shade of a huge tree and staring at the lush crown
from below. Leaves shivered in the gentle breeze, under glimmering sun rays
through chasms between clouds. My eyes roamed around the treetop but
gradually gravitated toward certain leaves that captured my interest at the
moment, just like how I would find playmates on the school playground. I
watched my little green pals carefully, to the extent that I felt I knew
them individually. Sometimes, I acquainted myself with leaves on the same
branch. They were adjacent to each other and similar, with similar shapes,
colors and veins, all tender and all quivering in the wind, but moving in
different directions and patterns, and with different rhythms. They were
like brothers and sisters, all very quiet and very happy but with different
personalities, and they were my friends. I would be enthralled with them and
their playful activities, forgetting the rest of the world and totally
losing track of time.
On gloomy days, I wandered listlessly on desolate pathways, with eyes
fixated on the reflections in those potholes filled up by rain. In the water
, there was a live-sized, humongous, upside-down universe, which always
looked ominously grayer and more fascinating than the real one, and each
puddle on the ground was like a window on top of that inverted cosmos, where
trees and buildings were their own vintage black and white replicas, clouds
formed a fractured, unfathomably deep floor, and the sky became a
bottomless abyss, which would turn anyone into an acrophobic if he dared to
gaze from above. I was mesmerized with that more glamorous world, which
belonged only to me, because nobody else seemed to want or even notice it,
until my fear for height suddenly kicked in, and I jerked back from the edge
of the illusory universe, with a chill running down my spine out of phobia.
I enjoyed watching clouds, big or small, in bright white, sentimental grey,
fire red, sunset orange, or gloomy black. I loved them in all shapes and
patterns, and in all types of weather, sunny, overcast or stormy. I would
ride a bike between school and home, with my head raised up all the way,
watching the ever-shifting clouds in the sky and imagining the worlds on
them. For a period, I liked heroes on horseback, and the clouds were all
kinds of giant heroes and all kinds of giant horses. At another time, I
fancied world-traveling airships, and all clouds became zeppelins with wild
configurations. One day in middle school, the whole sky was filled with
waving clouds from edge to edge, and they were all burning wildly. Some were
fiery red like iron rods just taken out of a furnace, some were bright
orange like lumbers lit up in fire. I watched and was in complete awe. Then
the awe became a crushing fear. I run inside the house, yet could not help
but peek at the sky through a window, with my whole body shaking unstoppably
.
That was my childhood paradise, my personal Garden of Eden. It was all in my
head, away from the real world, hidden in plain sight from other people,
including those closest to me, like my parents, sisters and friends. I never
talked about this paradise with anyone, not because I wanted to hide it, I
didn’t, but because it was so commonplace to me. It was with me every day,
and I took it for granted. Besides, nobody in real life, or in the books I
had read, mentioned things like that. I was not a good talker anyway. In
fact, I was shy and awkward, and I did not have the necessary vocabulary,
occasion, or incentive to tell it to others. Compared with my paradise, both
school and the bigger society were uninteresting or not-so-interesting. I
really did not have much motivation to bother myself with them and was hence
shy or anti-social. Why did I want to mingle with those grumpy and
insidious people when I had my own personal wonderland?
In early high school, I was suddenly yanked out of the paradise, as
violently in psychology as a kid was snatched from his parent’s arms by
savage Vikings or American Indians. The only difference was that the
perpetrator in my case was myself. Almost overnight, the “real world” fell
on me. I had a huge crush on a girl and savored love for the first time; I
gained insights into Newton’s theorems and felt as if I found the key to
understanding the physical universe; I read a biography of FDR and was
inspired by his life. I don’t remember which of these events was first or
last, or which caused which. They all happened roughly at the same time.
Afterwards, I had new goals in life, as well as a new sense of urgency to
achieve them. I started to worry. Therefore, the paradise disappeared, and
my aimless and gleeful childhood ended. I became curious about how all
things work, I aspired to be good, to win, and to be number one, and I
craved to love, and to be loved by, a wonderful girl. I wanted all the best,
as if anything less in this dreary real world would not be worthy enough
for me to leave my personal paradise.
During the day, my whole mind was plunged into constant and deep
contemplations about math, physics, philosophy, and my plans for the future.
At night, I should sleep but could not stop thinking. My brain was like a
spinning engine, dangerously overheating and inching closer to a breakdown,
and I knew it. The harder I tried to stop thinking and fall asleep, the more
awake I became. When my insomnia became an issue and caused real pain for
me, I really missed the lost paradise. “Where is it? I want to drop all the
anxiety and misery and be happy again!” I thought to myself, and I
seriously tried to get back. I ran into wild fields, I kept my eyes up for
clouds, and I stared into puddles, but all I saw was just trees, clouds and
potholes, plain and ugly. My mind simply could not find an entrance back to
the old sanctuary. I developed a strong sense that I was robbed, kidnapped
to a hostile territory, far away from my beautiful home, and with no way
back.
From the age of 13 to mid-40’s, I was stuck in this real world. I fought
for survival and successes, keenly aware that I was in an unfriendly place
that was never meant to welcome me. Nothing here was for granted. If I
wanted or needed anything, I had to fight for it. At the same time, the
memory of my heavenly home lingered in the back of my mind. Many times when
I was under pressure, including the depressing period before the college
entrance exams, when I was continuously interrogated by the police after the
June 4 Movement, when I was forced to leave Shanghai and separate from my
newlywed wife after getting my Master’s, when I was unfairly treated at
schools, and when my business was facing headwinds, I visualized my
childhood paradise. The memories reminded me how beautiful life could be and
how blessed I had been. Such positive thoughts helped me put things into
perspective, stopped me from giving up during dark times and pulled me back
from the edge of mental collapse.
As time went on, I had family and kids, as well as a business, and I was
more adapted to this real world, which was actually my adoptive home. The
childhood paradise became more and more distant, and my memory inevitably
faded over the decades, from lively movies to static pictures and then to
sketchy drawings, but my longing to return never stopped. For the past
several years, I have had more opportunities to be close to nature and, to
my surprise, have experienced sporadic flashbacks of my childhood mentality.
Those moments made me ecstatic and nostalgic but also let me realize that
time has changed. I am now more or less comfortably and happily settled in
this real world, because there are people and things I love here. I cannot
leave them. I enjoy occasional visits to my childhood imaginary wonderland
but will never be able to fully go back to the old times.
The other day, I was at home thinking about my children who were away in
college, while looking at trees in the backyard through a window. Leaves
were fluttering in the wind, and memories of my old paradise suddenly
flooded back, mixed with images of my children’s wildly happy faces when
they were little. They were worry-free and full of energy. They did not
smile much. Instead, they laughed all the time, hard and loud. I started to
speculate that they might have their own internal wonderlands that I do not
know. Maybe every young kid has a hidden paradise that he just does not have
the chance to tell others, just like what happened to me when I was young.
Vocabulary
1. paradise 乐园
2. Garden of Eden 伊甸园
3. clumsy 笨拙的
4. pothole 马路路面上因破损造成的坑
5. humongous 非常巨大的
6. mesmerize 催眠
7. cosmos 宇宙
8. awkward 不合时宜的
9. grumpy 脾气怪异的
10. insidious 阴险的
11. listless 懒散的、无精打采的
12. gleeful 非常令人高兴的
13. quiver 颤抖
14. desolate 荒凉的
15. unfathomable 不可测的
16. sanctuary 安全避难所
17. abyss 悬崖
18. zeppelin 硬壳充气飞艇
19. acrophobic 有恐高症的人
20. Vikings 北欧海盗
21. FDR 富兰克林 罗斯福总统
22. insomnia 失眠症
23. ecstatic 欣喜若狂
24. nostalgic 怀旧的
25. enthrall 使着迷
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