我的生活海伦凯勒摘抄 海伦·凯勒自传《我的生活》第66期

海伦·凯勒自传《我的生活》第66期  

O dark
dark
amid the blaze of noon

Irrecoverably dark
total eclipse
Without all hope of day!
将人间的所有希望摒弃！
In imagination I can hear Homer singing
as with unsteady
hesitating steps he gropes his way from camp to camp—singing of life
of love
of war
of the splendid achievements of a noble race. It was a wonderful
glorious song
and it won the blind poet an immortal crown
the admiration of all ages.
I sometimes wonder if the hand is not more sensitive to the beauties of sculpture than the eye. I should think the wonderful rhythmical flow of lines and curves could be more subtly felt than seen. Be this as it may
I know that I can feel the heart-throbs of the ancient Greeks in their marble gods and goddesses.
Another pleasure
which es more rarely than the others
is going to the theatre. I enjoy having a play described to me while it is being acted on the stage far more than reading it
because then it seems as if I were living in the midst of stirring events. It has been my privilege to meet a few great actors and actresses who have the power of so bewitching you that you fet time and place and live again in the romantic past. I have been permitted to touch the face and costume of Miss Ellen Terry as she impersonated our ideal of a queen; and there was about her that divinity that hedges sublimest woe. Beside her stood Sir Henry Irving
wearing the symbols of kingship; and there was majesty of intellect in his every gesture and attitude and the royalty that subdues and overes in every line of his sensitive face. In the king's face
which he wore as a mask
there was a remoteness and inaccessibility of grief which I shall never fet.
I also know Mr. Jefferson. I am proud to count him among my friends. I go to see him whenever I happen to be where he is acting. The first time I saw him act was while at school in New York. He played "Rip Van Winkle." I had often read the story
but I had never felt the charm of Rip's slow
quaint
kind ways as I did in the play. Mr. Jefferson's beautiful
pathetic representation quite carried me away with delight. I have a picture of old Rip in my fingers which they will never lose. After the play Miss Sullivan took me to see him behind the scenes
and I felt of his curious garb and his flowing hair and beard. Mr. Jefferson let me touch his face so that I could imagine how he looked on waking from that strange sleep of enty years
and he showed me how poor old Rip staggered to his feet.