介绍:
Walden [ˈwɔldən] (Issue 166)
13. House-Warming (13)
[15] Every man looks at his wood-pile with a kind of affection. I love to have mine before my window, and the more chips the better to remind me of my pleasing[ˈpliːzɪŋ] work. I had an old axe which nobody claimed, with which by spells in winter days, on the sunny side of the house, I played about the stumps which I had got out of my bean-field. As my driver[ˈdraɪvə] prophesied when I was plowing, they warmed me twice -- once while I was splitting them, and again when they were on the fire, so that no fuel could give out more heat. As for the axe, I was advised to get the village blacksmith to "jump" it; but I jumped him, and, putting a hickory helve from the woods into it, made it do. If it was dull, it was at least hung true.
[16] A few pieces of fat pine were a great treasure. It is interesting to remember how much of this food for fire is still concealed in the bowels of the earth. In previous years I had often gone prospecting over some bare hillside, where a pitch pine wood had formerly stood, and got out the fat pine roots. They are almost indestructible. Stumps thirty or forty years old, at least, will still be sound at the core, though the sapwood has all become vegetable mould[məʊld], as appears by the scales of the thick bark forming a ring level with the earth four or five inches distant from the heart. With axe and shovel you explore this mine, and follow the marrowy store, yellow as beef tallow, or as if you had struck on a vein of gold[gəʊld], deep into the earth. But commonly I kindled my fire with the dry leaves of the forest, which I had stored up in my shed before the snow came. Green hickory finely split makes the woodchopper's kindlings, when he has a camp in the woods. Once in a while I got a little of this. When the villagers were lighting their fires beyond the horizon, I too gave notice to the various wild inhabitants of Walden vale, by a smoky streamer from my chimney, that I was awake. –
Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn,
Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth[haːθ],
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
每个人看着自己的柴堆都会有一种特殊的爱意。我喜欢把我的木柴垒在窗前，垒的越多越让我想起我那愉快的工作。我有一把没人认领的老斧头，陆陆续续在冬天的日子，在房子朝阳的一面，我戏弄那些我从豆田里挖出来的树根。就像当我在犁地的时候，我的驱策者曾经预言的，他们温暖了我两次——一次是当我劈开它们，另一次是当它们在火上，结果就是那些燃料提供不出更多热量。至于那把斧子，有人建议我到乡村铁匠那里“戗[qiāng]”一下；但是我强过了他，给斧子按上取自林里的核桃木手柄，让它干活儿。如果它有点钝，至少维持了原来的样子。
几片油脂的松木是一笔巨大财产。有趣的是记着有多少这种火的食物仍然掩藏在大地的碗里。在先前的年月，我经常去查勘某个光秃秃的山脊，那里一片油松林曾经站立，从那里翻出饱满的油松根。它们几乎是坚不可摧的。那些树根至少都在三十到四十岁的树龄，根核还相当结实，虽然白木质的边材都已经全变成腐殖土，那厚树结与大地形成的水平圈离树心约四到五英寸远。用斧子和铁铲你探索这一矿藏[cáng]，追着那多骨髓的有力的储藏，颜色黄如牛油，或如同你碰到了一脉金矿，深入到地下。可是我通常用森林里的干树叶燃起我的火，那是我在大雪来临前储藏在我的棚屋里的。绿山核桃树被细碎地劈裂来做伐木人的火引子，当他们在林子里露营。一度我曾经得到一些。当村民们在地平线那边点着了他们的火，我也报告给形形色色瓦尔登溪谷的野地居民们，通过我烟囱飘出的一条烟带子，说我是在醒着。——
轻如薄翼的烟，伊卡洛斯鸟儿，
熔化你的鸟翼在上升的飞翔里，
无歌的云雀，黎明的信使，
盘旋在村庄上方如同围着巢穴；
或者还有，离别的梦，
子夜视觉的朦胧的阴影，
收集起你的裙裾；
通过星夜的薄纱，而且通过白昼
暗淡那光和遮天蔽日；
去吧，你这来自我壁炉不断的焚香，
请求神们宽恕这清澈的火苗。
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