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you say it is only twelve o'clock。 suppose it isn't any later； can't you ever think it is afternoon when it is only twelve o'clock？
i can easily imagine now that the sun has reached the edge of that rice…field； and the old fisher…woman is gathering herbs for her supper by the side of the pond。
i can just shut my eyes and think that the shadows are growing darker under the madar tree； and the water in the pond looks shiny black。
if twelve o'clock can e in the night； why can't the night e when it is twelve o'clock？
十二点钟
妈妈，我真想现在不做功课了。我整个早晨都在念书呢。
你说，现在还不过是十二点钟。假定不会晚过十二点罢；难道你不能把不过是十二点钟想象成下午么？
我能够很容易地想象：现在太阳已经到了那片稻田的边缘上了，老态龙钟的渔婆正在池边采撷香草做她的晚餐。
我闭上了眼就能够想到，马塔尔树下的阴影是更深黑了，池塘里的水看来黑得发亮。
假如十二点钟能够在黑夜里来到，为什么黑夜不能在十二点钟的时候来到呢？
authorship
you say that father writes a lot of books； but what he writes i don't understand。
he was reading to you all the evening； but could you really make out what he meant？
what nice stories； mother； you can tell us！ why can't father write like that； i wonder？
did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and fairies and princesses？
has he forgotten them all？
often when he gets late for his bath you have to go and call him an hundred times。
you wait and keep his dishes warm for him； but he goes on writing and forgets。
father always plays at making books。
if ever i go to play in father's room； you e and call me； “what a naughty child！”
if i make the slightest noise； you say； “don't you see that father's at his work？”
what's the fun of always writing and writing？
when i take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book just as he does；—a； b； c； d； e； f； g； h； i；—why do you get cross with me； then； mother？
you never say a word when father writes。
when my father wastes such heaps of paper； mother； you don't seem to mind at all。
but if i take only one sheet to make a boat with； you say； “child； how troublesome you are！”
what do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of paper with black marks all over on both sides？
著作家
你说爸爸写了许多书，但我却不懂得他所写的东西。
他整个黄昏读书给你听，但是你真懂得他的意思么？
妈妈，你给我们讲的故事，真是好听呀！我很奇怪，爸爸为什么不能写那样的书呢？
难道他从来没有从他自己的妈妈那里听见过巨人、神仙和公主的故事么？
还是已经完全忘记了？
他常常耽误了沐浴，你不得不走去叫他一百多次。
你总要等候着，把他的菜温着等他。但他忘了，还尽管写下去。
爸爸老是以著书为游戏。
如果我一走进爸爸房里去游戏。你就要走来叫道：“真是一个顽皮的孩子！”
如果我稍微弄出一点声音，你就要说：“你没有看见你爸爸正在工作么？”
老是写了又写，有什么趣味呢？
当我拿起爸爸的钢笔或铅笔，像他一模一样地在他的书上写着，——a，b，c，d，e，f，g，h，i，——那时，你为什么跟我生气呢，妈妈？
爸爸写时，你却从来不说一句话。
当我爸爸耗费了那么一大堆纸时，妈妈，你似乎全不在乎。
但是，如果我只取了一张纸去做一只船，你却要说：“孩子，你真讨厌！”
你对于爸爸拿黑点子涂满了纸的两面，污损了许多许多张纸，心里以为怎样呢？
the wicked postman
why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent； tell me； mother dear？
the rain is ing in through the open window； making you all wet； and you don't mind it。
do you hear the gong striking four？ it is time for my brother to e home from school。
what has happened to you that you look so strange？
haven't you got a letter from father today？
i saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost everybody in the town。
only； father's letters he keeps to read himself。 i am sure the postman is a wicked man。
but don't be unhappy about that； mother dear。
tomorrow is market day in the next village。 you ask your maid to buy some pens and papers。
i myself will write all father's letters； you will not find a single mistake。
i shall write from a right up to k。
but； mother； why do you smile？
you don't believe that i can write as nicely as father does！
but i shall rule my paper carefully； and write all the letters beautifully big。
when i finish my writing； do you think i shall be so foolish as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag？
i shall bring it to you myself without waiting； and letter by letter help you to read my writing。
i know the postman does not like to give you the really nice letters。
恶邮差
你为什么坐在那边地板上不言不动的？告诉我呀，亲爱的妈妈。
雨从开着的窗口打进来了，把你身上全打湿了，你却不管。
你听见钟已打了四下么？正是哥哥从学校里回家的时候了。
到底发生了什么事，你的神色这样不对？
你今天没有接到爸爸的信么？
我看见邮差在他的袋里带了许多信来，几乎镇里的每个人都分送到了。
只有爸爸的信，他留起来给他自己看。我确信这个邮差是个坏人。
但是不要因此不乐呀，亲爱的妈妈。
明天是邻村市集的日子。你叫女仆去买些笔和纸来。
我自己会写爸爸所写的一切信；使你找不出一点错处来。
我要从a字一直写到k字。
但是，妈妈，你为什么笑呢？
你不相信我能写得像爸爸一样好？
但是我将用心画格子，把所有的字母都写得又大又美。
当我写好了时，你以为我也像爸爸那样傻，把它投入可怕的邮差的袋中么？
我立刻就自己送来给你，而且一个字母，一个字母地帮助你读。
我知道那邮差是不肯把真正的好信送给你的。
ＷＷw。xiＡosＨuotxt。ＣＯＭt××xt×小×说××天×堂
新月集 13
the hero
mother； let us imagine we are travelling and passing through a strange and dangerous country。
you are riding in a palanquin and i am trotting by you on a red horse。
it is evening and the sun goes down。 the waste of joradighi lies wan and grey before us。 the land is desolate and barren。
you are frightened and thinking —“i know not where we have e to。”
i say to you； “mother； do not be afraid。”
the meadow is prickly with spiky grass； and through it runs a narrow broken path。
there are no cattle to be seen in the wide field； they have gone to their village stalls。
it grows dark and dim on the land and sky； and we cannot tell where we are going。
suddenly you call me and ask me in a whisper； “what light is that near the bank？”
just then there bursts out a fearful yell； and figures e running towards us。
you sit crouched in your palanquin and repeat the names of the gods in prayer。
the bearers； shaking in terror； hide themselves in the thorny bush。
i shout to you； “don't be afraid； mother； i am here。”
with long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about their heads； they e nearer and nearer。
i shout； “have a care！ you villains！ one step more and you are dead men。”
they give another terrible yell and rush forward。
you clutch my hand and say； “dear boy； for heaven's sake； keep away from them。”
i say； “mother； just you watch me。”
then i spur my horse for a wild gallop； and my sword and buckler clash against each other。
the fight bees so fearful； mother； that it would give you a cold shudder could you see it from your palanquin。
many of them fly； and a great number are cut to pieces。
i know you are thinking； sitting all by yourself； that your boy must be dead by this time。
but i e to you all stained with blood； and say； “mother； the fight is over now。”
you e out and kiss me； pressing me to your heart； and you say to yourself；
“i don't know what i should do if i hadn't my boy to escort me。”
a thousand useless things happen day after day； and why couldn't such a thing e true by chance？
it would be like a story in a book。
my brother would say； “is it possible？ i always thought he was so delicate！”
our village people would all say in amazement； “was it not lucky that the boy was with his mother？”
英雄
妈妈，让我们想象我们正在旅行，经过一个陌生而危险的国土。
你坐在一顶轿子里，我骑着一匹红马，在你旁边跑着。
是黄昏的时候，太阳已经下山了。约拉地希的荒地疲乏而灰暗地展开在我们面前。大地是凄凉而荒芜的。
你害怕了，想道——“我不知道我们到了什么地方了。”
我对你说道：“妈妈，不要害怕。”
草地上刺蓬蓬地长着针尖似的草，一条狭而崎岖的小道通过这块草地。
在这片广大的地面上看不见一只牛；它们已经回到它们村里的牛棚里去了。
天色黑了下来，大地和天空都显得朦朦胧胧的，而我们不能说出我们正走向什么所在。
突然间，你叫我，悄悄地问我道：“靠近河岸的是什么火光呀？”
正在那个时候，一阵可怕的呐喊声爆发了，好些人影子向我们跑过来。
你蹲坐在你的轿子里，嘴里反复地祷念着神的名字。
轿夫们，怕得发抖，躲藏在荆棘丛中。
我向你喊道：“不要害怕，妈妈，有我在这里。”
他们手里执着长棒，头发披散着，越走越近了。
我喊道：“要当心！你们这些坏蛋！再向前走一步，你们就要送命了。”
他们又发出一阵可怕的呐喊声，向前冲过来。
你抓住我的手，说道：“好孩子，看在上天面上，躲开他们罢。”
我说道：“妈妈，你瞧我的。”
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