Living in this world with its fleeting days and teeming millions, what can I do but waver and wader and live a transient life? What have I been doing during the 8,000 fleeting days except wavering and wandering? The bygone days, like wisps of smoke, have been dispersed by gentle winds, and, like thin mists, have been evaporated by the rising sun. What traces have I left behind? No, nothing, not even gossamer-like traces. I have come to the world stark naked, and in the twinkling of an eye, I am to go back as stark naked as ever. However, I am taking it very much to heart: why should I be made to pass through the world for nothing at all?
你聪明的 ， 告诉我 ， 我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？
O you the wise, would you tell me please: why should our days go by never to return?
（张培基 译）
匆匆
Haste
朱自清
Zhu Ziqing
燕子去了 ， 有再来的时候；杨柳枯了 ， 有再青的时候；桃花谢了 ， 有再开的时候 。但是 ， 聪明的 ， 你告诉我 ， 我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？——是有人偷了他们罢：那是谁？又藏在何处呢？是他们自己逃走了罢：现在又到了哪里呢？
The swallows may go, but they will return another day; the willows may whither, but they will turn green again; the peach blossoms may fade and fall, but they will bloom again. You who are wiser than I, tell me, then: why is it that the days, once gone, never again return? Are they stolen by someone? Then, by whom? And where are they hidden? Or do they run away by themselves? Then, where are they now?
我不知道他们给了我多少日子；但我的手确乎是渐渐空虚了 。在默默里算着 ， 八千多日子已经从我手中溜去；像针尖上一滴水滴在大海里 ， 我的日子滴在时间的流里 ， 没有声音 ， 也没有影子 。我不禁头涔涔而泪潸潸了 。
I do not know how many days I’ve been given, yet slowly but surely my supply is diminishing. Counting silently to myself, I can see that more than 8,000 of them have already slipped through my fingers, each like a drop of water on the head of a pin, falling into the ocean. My days are disappearing into the stream of time, noiselessly and without a trace; uncontrollably, my sweat and tears stream down.
去的尽管去了 ， 来的尽管来着；去来的中间 ， 又怎样地匆匆呢？早上我起来的时候 ， 小屋里射进两三方斜斜的太阳 。太阳他有脚啊 ， 轻轻悄悄地挪移了；我也茫茫然跟着旋转 。于是——洗手的时候 ， 日子从水盆里过去；吃饭的时候 ， 日子从饭碗里过去；默默时 ， 便从凝然的双眼前过去 。我觉察他去的匆匆了 ， 伸出手遮挽时 ， 他又从遮挽着的手边过去 ， 天黑时 ， 我躺在床上 ， 他便伶伶俐俐地从我身上跨过 ， 从我脚边飞去了 。等我睁开眼和太阳再见 ， 这算又溜走了一日 。我掩着面叹息 。但是新来的日子的影儿又开始在叹息里闪过了 。
What’s gone is gone, and what is coming cannot be halted. From what is gone to what is yet to come, why must it pass so quickly? In the morning when I get up, there are two or three rays of sunlight slanting into my small room. The sun, does it have feet? Stealthily it moves along, as I too, unknowingly, follow its progress. Then as I wash up, the day passes through my washbasin, and at breakfast through my rice bowl. When I am standing still and quiet, my eyes carefully follow its progress past me. I can sense that it is hurrying alone, and when I stretch out my hands to cover and hold it, it soon emerges from under my hands and moves along. At night, as I lie on my bed, agilely it strides across my body and flies past my feet. And when I open my eyes to greet the sun again, another day has slipped by. I bury my face in my hands and heave a sigh. But the shadow of the new day begins darting by, even in the midst of my sighing.

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