Chapter 8 old tombstone
In a small town, there was a man who owned a house to himself.One night, his whole family sat together.This is the season of "long nights" as it is often called.This moment is both warm and comfortable.The lights came on; the long curtains were drawn.There are many flower pots on the window; outside is a beautiful moonlight.But they're not talking about it.They were talking about an ancient boulder.The stone lay in the yard next to the kitchen door.
Maids often put polished copper utensils on it to dry; children also like to play on it.In fact it is an old tombstone.
"Yes," said the owner of the house, "I believe it was moved from the old convent that was demolished. People sold all the pulpits, plaques and tombstones in it! My dead father bought several The headstones, each of which was broken off, were used as paving stones, but this headstone remained, lying there in the yard without moving."
"One can tell at a glance that it is a tombstone," said the eldest child, "and we can still see a hourglass and a fragment of an angel engraved on it. But almost all the writing on it is blurred, Only the name Breben with a large letter S after it and 'Marta' a little further away! Nothing else to see. Only when it rains, or when we wash it off Later, we can see clearly."
"My God, this is the tombstone of Brebenswani and his wife!" broke in an old man.He was so old he could have been the grandfather of everyone in the house. "Yes, they are the last couple buried in this old abbey cemetery. They have been a good couple since I was a boy. Everyone knows them and everyone likes them. They are a couple of elders in this little town. Everyone It is said that all their gold could not be filled in one barrel. But their clothes were very simple, and were always made of coarse materials; but their tablecloths, sheets, etc. were always white. They—Bleben and Marr Ta--is a lovely couple! When they sat on a stool on the high stone steps in front of the house, the old lime tree covered their heads with branches; they nodded kindly and tenderly to you. Put your head on—it pleases you. They are very kind to the poor; they feed and clothe them. Their beneficence speaks volumes of their goodwill and Christianity.
"The lady died first! I remember that day very well. I was a very small child, and I went with my father to old Breben's house. She had just closed her eyes, and the old man was very sad and cried. Like a little child. Her body is still in the bedroom, not far from where we sit now. He told my dad and some neighbors how lonely he would be after this, how good she was , how many years they have lived together, how they first met, and then how they fell in love. As I said, I was very young at the time, so I could only stand by and listen. I heard this old man speak, and I Notice, too, that when he told of their betrothal, how beautiful she was, and how he found many innocent pretexts to see her, he animated and his cheeks grew red; I was amazed. So he talked of his wedding day; and his eyes sparkled now. He seemed to be back in those happy days. But she—an old woman—was Lying in the next room, dead. An old man himself, talking of the hopeful days! Yes, yes, that's the way things are!
"I was only a child then, but now I am old, old--like Brebenswani. Time has passed, and everything has changed! I remember the day she was buried: Prebenswani followed closely behind the coffin. Years ago the couple had prepared their tombstone, with their names and inscriptions engraved on it—just without the date of death. One evening the tombstone was carried into the churchyard and laid on the grave, and a year later it was raised again, and old Preben lay down again by his wife's side.
"They didn't leave a lot of money behind them, as people think and say. The little that was left was given to distant relatives—relatives that were not known until then. The wooden house— — and a stool under the linden tree at the top of its steps — had been dismantled by the municipality because it was too decayed to allow it to survive, and the same fate followed for the monastery: the cemetery was leveled Now, the tombstone of Preben and Martha, like the others, was sold to anyone who would buy it. Now, by a coincidence, the tombstone was not broken and used; Lying in this yard as a place for the maids to put kitchen utensils and children to play.
A street is now paved on the spot where Brebon and his wife rest.No one remembered them anymore. "
The old man who told the story shook his head sadly.
"Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!" he said.
So they talked about other things in this room.But the youngest child—the one with the big serious eyes—climbed into a chair behind the curtain, and looked out into the yard.The moon was shining brightly on the great headstone--to him.It had always been a hollow and drab old stone.But it lay there now like a page in a whole history.The stories the child had heard about old Breben and his wife seemed to be written on it.He looked at it, then at the white moon, at the clear high sky.It was like the face of the Creator, smiling at the whole world.
"Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!" were the words spoken by the people in the room.At this time, an invisible angel flew in, kissed the child's forehead, and whispered to him at the same time: "Keep this seed well, keep it well until it is ripe!" You, my child, that dim inscription on the old tombstone, every word of it, shall radiate golden light for generations to come! That old couple will walk arm in arm through the ancient streets again, smiling standing, showing their fresh and healthy faces, sitting under the bodhi tree, on the stool on that high step, nodding to those who pass by—whether rich or poor. From this moment on, this seed, In due time it will ripen and blossom into a poem. What is beautiful and good is never forgotten; it will gain eternal life in legend and song."
① This is the most primitive clock in ancient times.It is made of two glass spheres, upper and lower; they are held together by a small neck.The upper ball is filled with sand or mercury, which flows through the neck into the lower ball.This process usually takes an hour.Moments are counted in units of this exhausting process.This kind of bell was often used in ancient churches.
"Yes," said the owner of the house, "I believe it was moved from the old convent that was demolished. People sold all the pulpits, plaques and tombstones in it! My dead father bought several The headstones, each of which was broken off, were used as paving stones, but this headstone remained, lying there in the yard without moving."
"One can tell at a glance that it is a tombstone," said the eldest child, "and we can still see a hourglass and a fragment of an angel engraved on it. But almost all the writing on it is blurred, Only the name Breben with a large letter S after it and 'Marta' a little further away! Nothing else to see. Only when it rains, or when we wash it off Later, we can see clearly."
"My God, this is the tombstone of Brebenswani and his wife!" broke in an old man.He was so old he could have been the grandfather of everyone in the house. "Yes, they are the last couple buried in this old abbey cemetery. They have been a good couple since I was a boy. Everyone knows them and everyone likes them. They are a couple of elders in this little town. Everyone It is said that all their gold could not be filled in one barrel. But their clothes were very simple, and were always made of coarse materials; but their tablecloths, sheets, etc. were always white. They—Bleben and Marr Ta--is a lovely couple! When they sat on a stool on the high stone steps in front of the house, the old lime tree covered their heads with branches; they nodded kindly and tenderly to you. Put your head on—it pleases you. They are very kind to the poor; they feed and clothe them. Their beneficence speaks volumes of their goodwill and Christianity.
"The lady died first! I remember that day very well. I was a very small child, and I went with my father to old Breben's house. She had just closed her eyes, and the old man was very sad and cried. Like a little child. Her body is still in the bedroom, not far from where we sit now. He told my dad and some neighbors how lonely he would be after this, how good she was , how many years they have lived together, how they first met, and then how they fell in love. As I said, I was very young at the time, so I could only stand by and listen. I heard this old man speak, and I Notice, too, that when he told of their betrothal, how beautiful she was, and how he found many innocent pretexts to see her, he animated and his cheeks grew red; I was amazed. So he talked of his wedding day; and his eyes sparkled now. He seemed to be back in those happy days. But she—an old woman—was Lying in the next room, dead. An old man himself, talking of the hopeful days! Yes, yes, that's the way things are!
"I was only a child then, but now I am old, old--like Brebenswani. Time has passed, and everything has changed! I remember the day she was buried: Prebenswani followed closely behind the coffin. Years ago the couple had prepared their tombstone, with their names and inscriptions engraved on it—just without the date of death. One evening the tombstone was carried into the churchyard and laid on the grave, and a year later it was raised again, and old Preben lay down again by his wife's side.
"They didn't leave a lot of money behind them, as people think and say. The little that was left was given to distant relatives—relatives that were not known until then. The wooden house— — and a stool under the linden tree at the top of its steps — had been dismantled by the municipality because it was too decayed to allow it to survive, and the same fate followed for the monastery: the cemetery was leveled Now, the tombstone of Preben and Martha, like the others, was sold to anyone who would buy it. Now, by a coincidence, the tombstone was not broken and used; Lying in this yard as a place for the maids to put kitchen utensils and children to play.
A street is now paved on the spot where Brebon and his wife rest.No one remembered them anymore. "
The old man who told the story shook his head sadly.
"Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!" he said.
So they talked about other things in this room.But the youngest child—the one with the big serious eyes—climbed into a chair behind the curtain, and looked out into the yard.The moon was shining brightly on the great headstone--to him.It had always been a hollow and drab old stone.But it lay there now like a page in a whole history.The stories the child had heard about old Breben and his wife seemed to be written on it.He looked at it, then at the white moon, at the clear high sky.It was like the face of the Creator, smiling at the whole world.
"Forgotten! Everything will be forgotten!" were the words spoken by the people in the room.At this time, an invisible angel flew in, kissed the child's forehead, and whispered to him at the same time: "Keep this seed well, keep it well until it is ripe!" You, my child, that dim inscription on the old tombstone, every word of it, shall radiate golden light for generations to come! That old couple will walk arm in arm through the ancient streets again, smiling standing, showing their fresh and healthy faces, sitting under the bodhi tree, on the stool on that high step, nodding to those who pass by—whether rich or poor. From this moment on, this seed, In due time it will ripen and blossom into a poem. What is beautiful and good is never forgotten; it will gain eternal life in legend and song."
① This is the most primitive clock in ancient times.It is made of two glass spheres, upper and lower; they are held together by a small neck.The upper ball is filled with sand or mercury, which flows through the neck into the lower ball.This process usually takes an hour.Moments are counted in units of this exhausting process.This kind of bell was often used in ancient churches.