黄昏文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
何其芳文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
马蹄声，孤独又忧郁地自远至近，洒落在沉默的街上如白色的小花朵。我立住。一乘古旧的黑色马车，空无乘人，纡徐地从我身侧走过，疑惑着是载着黄昏，沿途散下它阴暗的影子，遂又自近而远地消失了。文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
街上愈荒凉，暮色下垂而合闭，柔和地，如从银灰的归翅间坠落一些慵倦于我心上。我傲然，耸耸肩，脚下发出凄异的长叹。文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
一列整饬的宫墙漫长地立着。 是环绕着一些凋残的华丽的古代梦，抑是一些被禁锢的幽灵们的怨叹呢：不少次，我以目光叩问它，它以叩问回答我，文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
——黄昏的猎人，你寻找着什么？文章源自英文巴士-https://www.en84.com/11903.html
狂奔的野兽寻找着壮士的刀，美丽的飞鸟寻找着牢笼，青春不羁之心寻找着毒色的眼睛。我呢？
我曾有一些带伤感之黄色的欢乐，如同三月的夜晚的微风飘进我梦里，又飘去了。我醒来，看见第一颗亮着纯洁的爱情的朝露无声地坠地。我又曾有一些寂寞的光阴，在幽暗的窗子下，在长夜的炉火边，我紧闭着门而它们仍然遁逸了。我能忘掉忧郁如同忘掉欢乐一样容易吗？
小山巅的亭子因暝色天空的低垂而更圆，而更高高地耸出林木的葱茏间，从它我得到仰望的惆怅。在渺远的昔日，当我身侧尚有一个亲切的幽静的伴步者，徘徊在这山麓下，曾不经意地约言：选一个有阳光的清晨登上那山巅去。但随后又不经意地废弃了。这沉默的街，自从再没有那温柔的脚步，遂日更荒凉。而我，竟惆怅又怨抑地，让那亭子永远秘藏着未曾发掘的快乐，不敢独自去攀登我甜蜜的想象所萦系的道路了。
Dusk
He Qifang
The sound of horses’ hooves, lonely and melancholy, draws near and scatters on the pitch-black road like tiny white flower-buds. I stand still. A black, old-fashioned carriage, without a soul on board, slowly passes by. I suspect it carries dusk, casting its dark shadow along the road; and then it draws away, and disappears.
The street is even more desolate than before. Twilight descends, gently closing in; as if from silver-grey homing wings it drops a certain lassitude into my heart. Proudly throwing back my shoulders, I heave a long, mournful sigh.
A well-preserved palace wall stretches before me. Does it enclose dreams of ancient, ruined splendour, or the moans of imprisoned spirits: more than once I implored it with my eyes, and it answered my question thus:
– Twilight hunter, what is it that you seek?
The frenzied wild beast seeks the strong man’s knife, the graceful soaring bird seeks a cage, the youthful unfettered heart seeks baneful eyes. And I?
I once had golden joys which deeply moved me, as when the March night air drifted into my dreams and drifted out again. When I awoke, I saw the first dewdrops of love, shining and pure, soundlessly falling to earth. I have also had spells of quiet solitude, under the dark window, before the all-night brazier; I closed the door tightly, yet they still escaped. Can I forget melancholy as easily as joy?
As the darkening sky descends, the pavilion on the small mountain peak stands out rounder and higher above the forest green; from it came the disappointment of my hopes. In the far-off, distant past, when I still had beside me a beloved, quiet companion, we wandered at the foot of this mountain peak, and on a sudden impulse, we made a vow that one fine morning we would climb this mountain. But afterwards, also on an impulse, we abandoned the idea. This pitch-black street, since those soft footsteps are no more, every day seems more desolate, and I, now disappointed and despondent, let the pavilion hoard forever those untasted joys. I dare not climb alone the path which my imagination clothed with such delight.
（Bonnie S. McDougall 译）
