Chapter 2 Chapter two

At the beginning of the last semester, all the students started talking about their future career, and I started thinking about it too.It seems impossible for me to make music as a career and work hard for it, but I can't think of any other career that would make me happy.My reluctance to follow my father's advice into trade and other trades was not from disapproval of such occupations, but simply from lack of interest.When I saw that my classmates were extremely proud of their chosen career, it seemed to inspire me, and I felt that my choice was both good and accurate. In short, I was also full of pride and love.The conditions were in my favour, since I had been taught the violin by a very good teacher since I was twelve years old, and my grades were relatively good.Notwithstanding my father's strenuous disapproval, my father's apprehension at not wanting his only son to pursue the most dubious of professions, the art, had all the more abetted my will to rebel, and my teachers encouraged me and endeavored to further my will.My father finally backed down, hoping that the test of time would change my mind during this school year, and I could only endure this long year with longing.

During my last semester, I fell in love with a beautiful girl for the first time in my life.I don't spend much time with her, and I don't have a strong desire to see her. I just enjoy the sweetness of my first love as if in a dream.During this time I was deeply immersed in music and love, and often stayed up all night because of excitement. For the first time in my life, I felt the melody of two ditties reverberating in my heart, and I tried to write them down.Creation filled my heart with shyness and urgent pleasure, and my love troubles, which were similar to games, were almost completely forgotten by comparison.At this time, I heard that my lover is learning to sing, and I really want to listen to it.After many months my wish was finally granted.At a party held at my home, this pretty lady was invited to perform and sing, but she tried her best to refuse, but she still didn’t. I waited eagerly for her to perform.A gentleman accompanied her on our little piano, and he struck a few beats, and she sang.Ah, she didn't sing very well, very badly, and as she sang, my surprise and pain gradually turned into a kind of sympathy, even a sense of humor, and I couldn't help worrying about the future of my love.

I am a patient, not industrious student, but not a good student, and I slacked off a bit in my last term.The reason was not my laziness, nor my love, but a youthful indifference and carelessness, a dullness of consciousness and head.This dullness is interrupted only occasionally, violently and abruptly, by the etheric possession of my strange time by my early creative urges.Then I felt myself surrounded by an air so clean and clear in which it was impossible to live dreamily, all senses were sharpened, a kind of alertness lay dormant.But few melodies were produced in these times, perhaps ten melodies and a few chord openings; but I have never forgotten the air of these times, this exceptionally clean, clear, almost icy air, and the intense concentration of thought. The atmosphere, in order to catch a melody correctly, is not affected by any accidental movements and behaviors.I'm not satisfied with these small accomplishments, nor do I think they are the best things, but I know that there is nothing in my life that would make me happier than to return to these quick-thinking, creative times. desired and important.

So I lived this idle life, lost in the violin, intoxicated by the fleeting melodies and colorful tones.But I soon realized that this is not creation, but just a kind of game and spiritual enjoyment that I strive to protect.I realized that pursuing a dream, and spending time on it, was another matter entirely, than the arduous and definite struggle for a musical form.And even then I understood somewhat that real creation is always lonely and that it necessarily requires us to give up all the pleasures of life for it. I was finally free, ended my middle school life, bid farewell to my parents and came to the music academy in the capital to start a new college life.This is something I have been looking forward to for a long time, and I firmly believe that I will become an excellent student of the music academy.In fact, it completely backfired.I tried my best to take various subjects, only to find that I had great difficulty in the required piano class, and at the same time, I saw my entire coursework like an insurmountable mountain lying in front of me.Although I had no intention of giving up, I was disappointed and confused.It was only then that I discovered that I lacked artistic talent. I undoubtedly underestimated the difficulty and difficulty of the road to art.Composing music is an absolute abhorrence to me, a very small amount of homework makes me feel like I have climbed a mountain, I have no confidence in learning, I don't know if I still have the ability to learn, and although I work hard, I have no fun.I feel so small and pathetic that I can only work as a clerk in some office, or learn something at ordinary schools.I can't complain, at least I can't complain in the letters to my family. I can only quietly and disappointedly continue on the road I have started. I think I can at least be an ordinary violinist.I practiced and practiced, and endured the blame and ridicule from the teachers. I saw with my own eyes that some students who I had despised made progress easily and were praised. I had to hide my ideal deeply.It's not very interesting to play the violin well, unless you become a virtuoso, you have nothing to boast about.It's clear that I'll be a useful craftsman after a lot of work and a lot of trouble, and I can earn my living as an obscure, humble violinist in any little band. .

Therefore, during this period, I am extremely eager-almost anything can be granted-to get rid of the joyless music shackles and live an ordinary life without sound and rhythm.Where I expected to find joy, achievement, honor, and perfection, I saw only demands, rules, responsibilities, difficulties, and dangers.I visualize works of art that are either vulgar or blatantly contrary to the laws of art and are therefore worthless.So I packed up all my great ideas and hopes.I am one of thousands of young people who dare to pursue art but lack the ability to become a real artist. This situation lasted for about three years.By this time I was in my early twenties, had clearly chosen the wrong career, and could only complete the path I had begun with shame and a sense of duty.I'm no longer caring about music. I just use my fingers, do the hard work, and make mistakes in harmony.So I was taking difficult piano lessons with a sneering teacher who saw all my efforts as mere waste of time.

If the original ideal hadn't been secretly playing tricks in my mind, then my life in the past few years would have been much easier.I am a free man, with many friends, a good-looking, lively young man, of a wealthy family.I could have enjoyed everything and lived a leisurely life of eating, drinking and having fun.But I don't want to do that. In a word, I feel it is my duty to make my youth happy and fulfilling first of all.I didn't expect that, at the moment when my artistic career was unsuspecting, I would feel nostalgia, and I was unable to contain and forget my disappointment.Only once did I achieve my goal.

It was the stupidest day of my stupid youth.At that time, I was pursuing a female student of Professor H, a famous singer.Her case seemed to be similar to mine. She came to school with great hopes, found strict teachers, was not used to her own work, and finally decided that she could not even speak well.She gave up on herself and flirted with the boys all day long, knowing all the stupid things we did.She has a fiery, brightly colored beauty that is so fleeting. The pretty Miss Letty always captured me with her innocent sympathy, whenever she saw me.My love for her was always fleeting, and I often forgot about her, but whenever I was with her, the infatuation always came back to me.She treated me like any other male classmate, teasing us to enjoy her charms while she herself participated in the action with the curious sensuality of her youth.She was very beautiful, but only when she spoke and acted, when she laughed with her soft, deep voice, when she danced or made her lovers jealous of each other. revealed.So I used to laugh at myself when I came home after every social function she attended, proving to myself that it was impossible for a man of my type to seriously fall in love with this lovely cynical woman .But sometimes she achieved her goal again, and she moved me so strongly with a gesture or a soft voice that I got mad again and wandered frantically around her apartment until midnight.

My conduct during that brief period was part brutality, part willful indulgence.After days of frustration and torpor-like silence, my youth demanded violent action and fun, and I went out to have fun with a group of friends my own age.We became a jovial, indulgent, even dangerous gang of troublemakers with a dubious, yet sweet, heroic reputation among Liddy and her circle.Because of the various circumstances at the time, and the indulgence of my youth, I have already exceeded the limit, so how much youthful fun and intoxication were in the behavior at that time, I can no longer judge today.There is one thing that may be called an excess, and I regret it when I think of it.It happened one day in winter, when there was no class, we went to the country together, eight young people, maybe ten, including Liddy and her three girlfriends.We also took the sleds that were used for children's games in those days, and we searched for roads and slopes to ski on the hills around the city.I clearly remember that it was very cold that day, the sun came and went, and the biting cold wind mixed with snowflakes.The girls' brightly colored clothes and headscarves stood out against the white background, and their dresses fluttered violently in the cold wind.Our little group was full of jubilant din, yelling and mocking each other, throwing snowballs at each other, causing a big fight, until everyone was sweating profusely and covered in snow, we stopped for a short rest, and after a while started a new war.We piled snow into a big bunker, some for defense and some for attack, and we also slid down the hillside on the sled we brought with us from time to time.

At noon, everyone was very hungry because of strenuous exercise. We found a good restaurant in a village and asked them to cook.Barbecue, usurped their piano, sang, yelled, and demanded lots of wine and grog.After the dishes were served, a jolly luncheon began, and after numerous pours of wine, the girls drank coffee while we drank grog.In the small dining room, there was a lot of noise, and everyone was already dizzy.I stayed with Liddy all the time, and she was in a good spirits today, and she was especially hospitable to me.She looked particularly beautiful in this lively and interesting atmosphere, her beautiful eyes were sometimes bold, and sometimes shyly shone with tenderness.Then we played a game of gambling and punishment. The person who presided over the game imitated our teacher's actions next to the piano for everyone to guess; .

When we left the restaurant noisily and started our way home, it was already afternoon, but the sky was already a little dark.We are also symbolic children who indulge in mischief in the snow, and return to the city in the slowly falling twilight without any haste.I accompanied Litty, and I did not hesitate to clash with the other companions in order to be her knight.I took her on my sled and protected her from the snowballs that were constantly being thrown at her.In the end we were let off, and every girl had a companion, except for the two gentlemen who were cynical and pugnacious.I've never been so wildly excited.Liddy took my arm, and let me draw her gently towards me as we walked.Liddy whispered hurriedly in my ear, and was cheerfully silent at other times, and I felt she marched confidently beside me through the twilight.My heart was on fire, determined not to let go of this opportunity, or at least to seize this moment of intimacy and tenderness as much as possible.When we were about to enter the city, I suggested to take a detour. Without any objection, we turned into a beautiful mountain road. The road steeply wound around the valley. Standing on the road, you can have a panoramic view of the river, the valley and the city. Rows of bright street lamps and thousands of lights in the city in the distance have long been brightly lit.

Liddy still hooked my arm, made me talk to her, and laughed at my excessive excitement, which she herself looked extremely excited about.When I gently pulled her closer and tried to kiss her, she let go and jumped aside. "You see," she gasped, "we must slide down to the grass! Are you frightened, you hero?" I looked down and was terrified, the slope was so steep that for a moment I had the creeps on my skin. "No," I blurted out, "it's too dark now." She immediately gave me a mocking and disappointed look, called me a coward, and swore that if I dared not take her, she would slide down the mountain alone. "We're going to fall," she said with a smile, "but it's the funnest thing about the whole trip today!" She stimulated me so much that I decided to skate again. "Liddy," I whispered, "we'll slide down. If you fall, you'll have to massage me with snow, and if you get there safely, I'll be rewarded." She just laughed and got into the sleigh.I looked at her eyes shining with a kind smile.Then I climbed into the front seat and let her slide down with me in the back.I felt her hugging me, her arms folded on my chest, and when I tried to say something to her, I couldn't.The hill was so steep that I felt as if I had fallen out of mid-air.Immediately I put both heels on the ground, trying to stop the sledge, or at best fall, for I was suddenly afraid that Liddy would be in danger.But it was too late.The sled slid uncontrollably.I just felt a cold snowflake hit my face, a pain like a knife, and then I heard Liddy let out a horrible scream, and then I didn't know anything.At that time, I felt as if my head had been hit hard by a hammer, and there was a pain like being cut somewhere in my body.The last thing I felt was a cold. My amusing and foolish youth came to an end with this jovial but short sleigh ride.And all sorts of other fun things, including my love for Liddy, all died out with it. After this catastrophe of joy and sorrow, I got rid of everything.For others, it is a horrific time.They heard Liddy's screams, and laughed and sneered from the top of the hill into the darkness below, and when at last they realized what was wrong, they climbed down the hill with much difficulty, and much delay, because Wait for them to turn from indulgent noise to calm thinking.Liddy was pale and half unconscious, and in fact she was not hurt at all, except that the gloves were torn, and her delicate hands were a little scratched and bleeding.They thought I was dead and carried me away.I hit an apple tree or a pear tree while skating, and I broke a bone, and I tried everything I could to heal it but it didn't work. Everyone thought I had a concussion, but it wasn't that serious.The head and brain were indeed injured. I was in a coma for a long time before waking up in the hospital. The wound on the head healed completely, and the brain also returned to health, but several wounds on the left leg were not intact.I have since become a crippled man who can only limp and can no longer walk, let alone run and dance.Since then, my youth has been shattered into a lonely situation, where I can only suffer humiliation and resign myself to the mercy of fate.But I still think often of this twilight skiing, and how its consequences were by no means my destiny. Of course I seldom thought of my broken leg, but often of other consequences of this misfortune, which were indeed salutary and gratifying.Unfortunate as it was to be frightened in the dark, the months of repose and long meditation which followed were a most salutary recuperation for me. During the first period of my long recumbency, the first week after the injury, I have no memory of it at all.I was unconscious for a long time, and when I regained consciousness I was very weak and dull.My mother came to the hospital and faithfully stayed by my bedside every day.When I looked at her and said a few words to her, she was very happy, almost smiling, and although she was extremely worried about me, it was not about my body, but about my intelligence, which is what I later learned. I just found out.We often have long conversations in the quiet and bright ward, but our hearts are not very harmonious, and I always tend to lean more towards my father.Now because of her concern and my gratitude, we have reached a reconciliation, and we both have a long-standing expectation of mutual understanding and have long been comfortable with the status quo, and now dialogue can promote trust.We looked at each other understandingly, and no one talked about these things.She took good care of me when I was sick, and she was my mother again.I gazed at her again with the affection of my childhood, forgetting for the moment everything else.Then of course our relationship went back to what it used to be, and we both avoided talking about the time in the hospital to avoid mutual embarrassment. I gradually stopped paying attention to the situation in front of me, and felt more at ease, because my high fever had subsided, and the doctor no longer had to try to keep it a secret from me, because in fact, this fall left a permanent memory for me.I saw that my youth, which I hadn't consciously enjoyed, was suddenly cut off and became impoverished. I had to devote all my time to this incident, and I had to lie in a hospital bed for at least three or four moon. I, too, have tried desperately to think of a way to change the status quo, to paint a picture of the future, but always in vain.Many thoughts have not been properly considered, and I am tired and fall asleep. I am faced with fear and disappointment in life, and I am forced to find peace from thinking.My unhappiness haunted me all the time till midnight, and I could think of nothing that could comfort me. One night, I woke up after a few hours of drowsy sleep.I felt as if I had dreamed of something beautiful, and I tried my best to remember it, but I couldn't remember anything.It obviously made me feel better, and I was free to imagine that I had gotten over all the unpleasant things and put them all behind me.When I lay down and meditated silently, I felt a warm current of recovery and relief flowing gently through my body. A melody came to my lips. I hummed it almost silently, and kept humming. Suddenly, the music resumed. Shining on me like a new star, I've long lost track of music, and now my heart beats to the beat of the music, all the flowers of my life bloom again, and I breathe pure freshness Air.I lay there in a daze, surrounded by silence, and there seemed to be a soft chorus singing towards me in the distance. I fell asleep again with this inner freshness.When I woke up the next morning I felt happier and lighter than I had in a long time.After my mother noticed it, she asked me why I was so happy.I pondered for a moment and told her that I hadn't thought of my violin for a long time, and now that it had entered my mind again, I was very happy. "But you won't be able to play the violin for a long time," she said with some worry. "It doesn't matter, even if I can't play at all." She didn't understand me and I couldn't explain it to her.She noticed, however, that my spirits were improving, and that no spiritual enemy was lurking behind this gratuitous euphoria.After a few days she cautiously reopened the question. "My dear, what are your plans for music? We're almost sure it's the music that killed you. Your father has talked to your teachers. We don't want to talk you out of it, at least not in the present case--but We think that if you have been disappointed in music and thought of giving up, then you should give up, and don't stay the same because of stubbornness and shame. What do you think?" I was reminded of my long period of indifference and disappointment with music.I tried to explain to my mother what happened during that period, but she acted as if she understood.But I said that it is better to be safe, in any case I don't want to give up halfway, I want to finish the music school.That's how things are decided for the time being.This woman failed to send my soul full of music.Regardless of whether I was lucky or unlucky playing the violin, I heard again the sounds of the most beautiful works of art in the world, and I knew that there was no other cure for my ailments than music.My current situation prevents me from playing the violin, and I may have to change to other occupations in the future, maybe a businessman; , I still have to live and breathe music.I want to compose again!In fact, what makes me happy is not playing the violin as I told my mother, but composing music, creating music, and I feel my hands trembling during creation.Sometimes I felt again the slight vibration of the fresh air, and felt as quick and calm in my mind as in my healthiest days, while my lameness and other defects seemed to me to be of little importance. I've been a victor ever since, and I've often let my desires gallop into healthy, youthful territory, when I've often been pained, angry, and ashamed by my disability and wanted to vent my hatred and curses, music There is always a way to ease the momentum of this pain, because there is always something in the music that comforts and refreshes me. Sometimes my father traveled here to visit my mother and me.Once, he found that my condition had improved, so he took my mother home.I felt a little lonely in the first few days, and I felt ashamed when I thought that I had hardly spoken to my mother and cared for her too little.At this time, what filled my body and mind was another kind of emotion, which far surpassed all kind comfort and sympathy. I was visited unexpectedly by a person who was afraid to come while my mother was around.This person is Liddy.I looked at her in great surprise.For the first few moments I couldn't remember how close I had been to her, how much I loved her.She came to see me with trepidation, fearing both my mother and going to court. She thought she was responsible for my misfortune, but gradually realized that the situation was not as dire as she imagined, and that she was not responsible at all.At this moment she breathed a sigh of relief, but she was still somewhat puzzled.Although the girl had a wicked heart, she showed the good nature of women throughout the whole process, and her heart was full of touching sympathy for misfortune.She even used the word "tragedy" so many times that I could hardly stop laughing.Mainly she didn't understand that I could be so happy that I didn't take my own misfortune seriously.She sincerely begged my pardon, and asked me to allow her to be my lover as compensation.This touching scene really rekindled the joy of victory in me. For such a foolish child as I am, there is no better consolation than this, and I am so satisfied that all reproaches and accusations melt away.And she was obviously not very happy with this comfort, and she felt more and more at ease, and her fear gradually disappeared, so her attitude towards me became more and more calm and indifferent.Afterwards I remembered that I must have hurt her a lot, because I underestimated her role in the whole incident so much that I almost forgot about her; because I restrained my sympathy and apology, which caused her to perform this beautiful scene; Although I was very courteous and courteous to her, I had lost all love for her, and that was the worst of all.She wants me to be her admirer even if I lose my limbs, even though she neither loves nor blesses me;Now, she understands very clearly that I have no infatuation, so the sympathy and warmth of visiting the sick on her pretty face have gradually disappeared and become indifferent.In the end she politely left and left. Although she promised to visit again next time, she did not come again. This ridiculous and pitiful end to my early love was very painful to me, and I almost lost my self-confidence, but this visit was still good for me.I was surprised that for the first time, I didn't look at this beautiful and respectable lady with enthusiastic colored eyes, as if I didn't know her before.It's as if someone gave me a doll, and I hold it and caress it like a three-year-old child. How can I not be overwhelmed by this feeling that the girl I loved so much a week ago is now a stranger? Surprised by the alienation and change. On that Sunday in winter, two of my fellow picnickers came to visit me several times, but we had nothing to say to each other. I think they let out a sigh of relief when they saw that I was much better. Please don't waste their time on me in the future.We did not see each other again after that.This incident obviously made a particularly painful impression on me: everything was gone from me, everything was foreign and irrelevant to me, and everything that should have belonged to my life in my youth.I suddenly saw how wrong and sad my life was during this time. Love, friends, habits and joys all left me in this year, like an old garment, without pain The earth has been cut off from me, and there is nothing left but wonder how they have been able to stay with me for so long, and how they can exist with me. What surprised me was another visit, totally unexpected.One day my stern and sarcastic music teacher came to see me.Leaning on crutches, with gloved hands, and with the same sharp tongue, he called the misfortune a "lady's cart," and it seemed to me that my misfortune was entirely my own fault.Nevertheless, I sensed that he was just blurting out what he said, and that although he spoke in exactly the same tone as in the past, it was not malicious, but just to let me understand that although he came to visit, he still thought I was a slow, unresponsive person. A student with mediocre grades, and told me that his colleagues and violin teachers also have the same opinion. They just hope that I will recover soon and make them happy.The words sounded like an apology for past brutality, and the tone was as sharp as before, but it sounded to me like a confession of kindness.I held out my hand to this unlovable teacher, and to show my trust in him, I tried to explain how I had grown over the year and how I had now revived my old feelings for music. The teacher shook his head, whistled mockingly, and asked me, "Oh, you want to be a composer?" "Maybe," I replied sullenly. "Oh, I wish you success. I thought you might get back into practice, and if you're trying to be a composer then of course there's no need for practice." "Do you think I'm inappropriate?" "Yes, why? You have to understand that a conservatory student, if he doesn't work hard and is not up to the task, always thinks of composing. Anyone can do it, but everyone always knows what genius is. " "Of course I'm not a genius. So I should be a pianist?" "No, my dear sir, I'm afraid you can't do it either. You can go on to study the violin." "Yes. I would like to learn too." "I hope you study hard. I can't stay any longer, sir. I wish you a speedy recovery. Goodbye!" He left, leaving the astonishment to me.Before that, I rarely thought about going back to school.But now I am afraid that when I go back to school, I will encounter difficulties and misfortunes again, and everything will eventually become exactly the same as before.However, I didn't dwell on these issues. I understood that this Su-loving teacher's visit was entirely out of good intentions and to show concern for me. I am now able to take a recuperation trip, but I am hesitant to wait until the end of term for the holidays, preferring to study more for now.Now, for the first time, I feel that rest has an amazing power, especially a compulsive influence.I resumed my lessons and exercises with apprehension, and everything went better than before.Of course I see very clearly that I will never be a performance artist; yet I don't feel any pain about it in the present situation.Everything else was going well, especially music theory, harmony, and composition, which seemed to pass from a dark undergrowth into an open and bright garden after a long rest.I felt that my thoughts and attempts at practice no longer hovered outside the rules and laws of all music, but within the strict rules of the student, and were moving along a narrow, yet distinct, path towards freedom. step forward.In fact, of course, countless hours, countless days and nights lay before me like a fence, and I had to overcome all contradictions and difficulties with my wounded brain; But it was clearly displayed in front of my eyes. At the end of the term, our theory teacher surprised me by saying at the farewell party before the holiday: "You are the only student in this class who really knows something about music. If you have something to write, I would love to see it." Look." These comforting words stayed with me throughout the holiday.I have not been home for a long time, and now the ride back to my hometown not only arouses love in my heart, but also brings back almost forgotten memories of childhood and adolescence.My father met me at the station, and we rode home in a carriage.Early the next morning, I couldn't help but go for a stroll on the old streets.For the first time, the sadness of my youth, which has passed away, came to my heart.I limped with a cane through the streets, and everywhere I went brought up memories of my childhood games and lost joys, and it was a painful thing to me.I went home with a heavy heart, dreaming as I saw and heard who was speaking, all reminding me painfully of past ages and present disabilities.It also occurred to me that my mother, though never openly disapproving of my chosen profession, did not quite approve of it.She can understand to a certain extent that a fit and handsome young man wants to be a musician, performer or handsome conductor, but she really can't understand that a timid and mediocre cripple wants to be a violinist.Her point of view was supported by a distant relative of ours, an old lady.My father forbade the old lady from our house for a time, which annoyed her a great deal, but she continued to see my mother, and always came when my father was dealing with the accounts.From my childhood my mother had seldom exchanged opinions with me, regarding my chosen vocation as a deplorable depraved ambition, and my misfortunes as my doomed openness. punishments and warnings. In order to make me happy, my father contacted the Municipal Music Association and asked me to play the violin solo at a concert.But I couldn't, I refused, and hid all day in the small room where I had lived since childhood.What scares me the most is the endless questions and endless conversations, so I hardly ever go out.I just gazed out of the window at life in the street, at the schoolboys, especially the young girls, from time to time with unfortunate jealousy. I thought over and over again, how I wish I could express my love to a girl again in the future!I will always be left on the sidelines, for example, at a ball, I can only look on, and if a girl shows me kindness, it must be only sympathy!Ah, I have had enough of this sympathy. 这种情况下我不能再在家乡逗留下去了。我的双亲也很难容忍我那种容易冲动的忧郁症，因而当我提出筹划已久的旅行方案时，他们几乎没有反对意见，其实父亲早就许诺我去旅行了。我的残疾不仅破坏了我的身体，从此以后还永远破坏了我衷心想望的志愿和希望。我的弱点和残疾从未象那时候那样令我烦躁和痛苦，每一个健康的青年男子和每一个漂亮妇女的眼光都使我感到屈辱和痛苦。我慢慢地习惯于支着拐杖行走，不再感到有所不便时，我就明白自己受辱和苦恼的年代已经过去，可以顺心而有趣地打发日子了。 幸而我有能力单独旅行，不需要任何人帮助照料。任何人的陪伴都会打扰我，破坏我内心的平静。当我坐在火车里，没有任何人打量我，向我表示同情，我便会觉得浑身的轻松。我白天黑夜不停歇地赶路，第二天傍晚，当我透过浑浊的玻璃窗眺望高耸的山峰时，心里真有一种逃亡的感觉，不由得长叹了一口气。黄昏时分我们到了终点站，我疲倦而愉快地穿过格劳宾登①一座小城镇的黝暗街道，径直走向第一家旅馆，喝过一杯深红葡萄酒后我就沉入了睡乡，整整十个小时的睡眠不仅恢复了旅途的疲劳，还解除了大部分由来已久的烦恼。 ①格劳宾登（Graubuden)，瑞士一州名。 第二天清晨我登上了一辆小小的登山火车，火车沿着翻滚着白沫的山溪穿越过狭窄的山谷，抵达一座孤零零的小火车站，中午时分我就来到了这个国家最高的小山村之一的村子里了。 我在这寂静、贫困的村子里的一家独一无二的小旅舍里安下身来，秋天来临之前，我成了这里唯一的客人。我原来打算在这里作短期休息，然后再到瑞士各处旅游，观赏一下异国的风貌。可是高原上微风习习，空气清新，芬芳四溢，我再也舍不得离开了。我所在山谷的一面全是松树林子，几乎从山脚布满到山顶，另一面却是光秃秃的石岩。我就在这里打发着日子，有时坐在棕色的岩石上晒太阳，有时坐在小溪边倾听着潺潺的流水声，每到夜晚，这叮咚的水声便响彻整个村子。最初的日子里，我象饮啜一杯清凉饮料似的享受着这里的寂静，没有人注意我，没有人好奇地或者同情地朝我指指点点，我是自由自在的，象一只孤独的鸟儿飞翔在高原上，很快就忘却了自己的痛苦和那种病态的妒意。偶尔，我一想起自己还未能去过别的山上，未能拜访更多的山谷和阿尔卑斯山峰以及未能攀登那些危险的山径时，便感到难过。然而，总的说来我是愉快的，经历了几个月的烦恼激动之后，孤独的寂静包围着我，使我好似处身于一座坚固的城堡之中，我重又找回了曾被扰乱的平静的心灵，并且认识到自己身上那些弱点，倘若没有愉快开朗的心情，那么就会使自己变得灰心绝望。 山上度过的那几周几乎是我一生中最美好的日子。我呼吸着清新纯净的空气，饮啜着冰凉的溪水，凝视着在陡峭的山坡上照看着羊群吃草的牧人，他们头发乌黑，举止梦幻般的恬静。我还不时听到暴风雨掠过山谷的声音，感到雾气和云块拂过自己的脸颊。在岩石的缝隙中，我看到了小小的、柔嫩的、色彩斑斓的繁华世界以及茂盛可爱的翠绿苔藓。每当明朗的晴日，我喜欢攀登山峰，一直爬到对面的山顶，眺望那蓝天下的美丽如画的群山景色和白雪皑皑、好似披着耀眼的银装的田野。在山中小径的某一处，有一条小泉潺潺流过，形成了一个浅浅的水潭。我发现，凡是阳光灿烂的晴日，总有一群成百的蓝色小蝴蝶在这里憩息饮水，它们对我从不惧怕，我若是打扰了它们，它们便挥动着薄绸般的小翅膀，围着我翩翩飞舞。自从我结识它们之后，我只在阳光明媚的日子走这条小路，每次看见这密密麻麻的蓝色蝶群，就觉得它们好似在举行什么庆祝盛典。 我记得清清楚楚，那时候当然也不全是湛蓝的晴天和充满节日气氛的日子。在我的记忆中，那里不仅有雾天和雨天，还有大雪和严寒，甚至还有暴风雨和恶劣的气候。 我并不习惯于孤单寂寞，随着最初的体憩和享受过去之后，我感到不时有烦恼来侵袭我，并且又常常突然觉得恐怖正在降临。寒夜里，我常常独自坐在自己的小房间里，膝上盖着旅行毛毯，疲倦得无法抵御各种纷然而至的思想。我所向往的一切都是一个热血青年所渴望和追求的：热闹的宴会和欢乐的舞会，妇女的爱情和冒险记，事业和爱情的成功。然而这一切却都在大洋的彼岸，永远和我无缘，永远是可望而不可即。甚至在那放肆胡闹的年代，那次半带强迫的游戏，其结局是我的雪橇失事，尽管如此，在我的记忆中也还是美丽动人而且具有乐园的色彩的，好似一个失落了的欢乐的天堂，它们的回声一再地从远处迷迷糊糊地传来。有时候夜里暴风大作，冰冷而持续不断的暴雨倾泻而下，毁坏了松树林，发出可怕的声响，并且猛烈地撞击着破旧的屋顶，在这不眠的夏夜发出成千种无可形容的怪声，而我则躺在床上做着热烈而又毫无希望的梦，梦着生活和爱情，满腹的愤怒并且怨天尤人，我把自己看成是一个可怜的诗人和梦想者，他的美丽的梦想仅仅是一个稀薄的肥皂沫，与此同时，世界上其他成千上万的人却正为他们的年富力强而沾沾自喜，正向生命的一切顶峰伸出双手高声欢呼。 然而我仍然陶醉于群山和其他一切神圣的美景之中，它们似乎在透过一层面纱向我窥视，都从一个奇怪的远方在向我说话，于是我感到在我和那常使我痛苦不堪的烦恼之间隔着一道薄膜和一种令人微感陌生的东西。很快地这一切又变得如此遥远，不过我这颗尚未破碎的心还能够听到那好似来自另一世界的声音，听到那白天的欢腾和夜晚的悲叹。我看见并感到自己成了天空中飘浮的云块，成了田野里战斗的人群，不论是欢乐和享受，还是不幸和痛苦，它们两者发出的声响都是明朗而清晰的，从我的心灵深处散开，又从外面进人我的心灵，汇成一片和谐的音阶，闯进我的睡梦，不管我愿意不愿意，都为我所占有。 一个寂静的傍晚，我从山岩上回转家中，我第一次清楚地感觉到上述的一切，而当我反复思考之后，觉得自己本身就是一个谜。突然间我想出这一切意味着什么了，这是我早年就已尝到过的那种莫名其妙的、迷乱时刻的复生。伴随着这一回忆同时而来的是另一种愉快的开朗，一种近似玻璃般晶莹和透明的感情，没有丝毫伪装，也不存在任何痛苦或幸福，只意味着力量、音响和激流。从我膨胀的感情中产生的活力、光彩和奋斗精神，最终升华为音乐。 如今我在自己充满光明的日子里看到的是阳光、森林、棕色的山岩和远方的银色山峰，对于幸福、美、享乐有着加倍的感受。而在阴暗的时刻，我感到自己病态的心中有加倍的激情在膨胀扩大，我简直分不清快活和痛苦，而是这一种相等于另一种，两者都令我痛苦，两者都为我所珍爱。我内心不论是欢畅还是痛苦，我总是尽力静静地凝视着、认识着互相密不可分的光明和黑暗，它们的痛苦和宁静都是伟大音乐的节拍、力量和一个部分。 我没法描述这种音乐，在我的眼里，它是陌生的，也是无止境的。但是我能够听见它，我能够把这个世界作为一个整体来予以感受。我也能够把握它的一部分，那是很小的一部分，是它的反响、缩小和建议。我就这么思考着，整日价不断地汲取着，我感觉这一切必须用两只小提琴来加以表现，于是我便开始象一只刚学飞的鸟儿般勇敢地凌空翱翔，我天真无邪地写下了我第一首奏鸣曲。 有一天清晨我在自己的房间里试奏了第一乐章，我确实感到自己有许多弱点，感到不熟练和无把握，然而每一节拍都引起了我内心的颤动。我不知道音乐是否动听，但是我知道这是我自己的创造，是过去从未有过的。 楼下客厅里坐着旅馆老板的父亲，他整年整年一动不动地坐在那里，满头冰柱似的白发。这是一个八十多岁的老人，从来不说一句话，只是用安详的眼睛细细地环视着四周。他这种庄严的沉默真是一个谜。他这样坐着，究竟是因为他具有超人的智慧和安详的心灵，还是因为他的心力已经枯竭了呢。我每天早晨都夹着小提琴走到这个老头旁边去，因为我注意到，他总是十分注意倾听我的演奏和每一个乐曲。每当我见他独自一人坐在那里，我就走到他面前，给小提琴定好调后就为他奏第一乐章。这个耄耋老人静静地闭上他那黄眼白、红眼眶的眼睛，倾听着我的演奏，每当我停下来思考某一段音乐时，他也抬起本然的脸用那对平静的眼睛注视着我。我演奏完毕，向他点头致意时，他也狡黠地向我眨眨眼睛，似乎听懂了一切，用那对黄色的眼睛答复我的目光，接着便转过身子，微微低下脑袋，重又恢复了原来木然不动的状态。 山上的秋天来得格外早，当一天清晨我出发离开那里时，正是浓雾密布，淫雨霏霏，寒气袭人了。然而，我脑子里还是阳光明媚的晴日，而且除了有益的记忆外，还带走了对前途的愉快的勇气。