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安徒生的童话我们一定读过不少，但其文学成就是多方面的，除了童话以外，还著有小说、剧本、游记以及诗和自传等。《萨拉》选自安徒生的游记《瑞典纪行》（Pictures of Sweden，1851），描写了他在这个宁静小镇的所见所想，并不乏对人生的思考。
Sweden’s great King, Gustavus Adolphus注1, founded Sala. The little wood, close by, still preserves legends of the heroic King’s youthful love of his meeting here with Ebba Brahe.
Sala’s silver mines are the largest, the deepest, and oldest in Sweden: they reach to the depth of one hundred and seventy 1)fathoms, almost as deep as the Baltic. This of itself is enough to awaken an interest for a little town; but what is its appearance? “Sala,says the guide-book, “Lies in a valley, in a flat, and not very pleasant district.And so truly it is: it was not very attractive 2)approaching it our way, and the 3)high road led directly into the town, which is without any 4)distinctive character. It 5)consists of a long street with what we may 6)term a 7)nucleus and a few fibres. The nucleus is the market-place, and the fibres are the few lanes 8)diverging from it. The long street that is to say, long in a little town is quite without passengers; no one comes out from the doors, no one is to be seen at the windows.
It was therefore with pleased surprise that I 9)at length saw a human being: it was at an 10)ironmonger’s, where there hung a paper of pins, a handkerchief and two tea-pots in the window. There I saw a 11)solitary shop-boy, standing quite still, but leaning over the 12)counter and looking out of the open door. He certainly wrote in his journal, if he had one, in the evening: “Today a traveller drove through the town; who he was, God knows, for I don’t!友 yes, that was what the shop-boy’s face said, and an honest face it was.
In the 13)inn at which I arrived, there was the same grave-like stillness as in the street. The gate was certainly closed, but all the inner doors were wide open; the farm-yard rooster stood in the middle of the traveller’s room and 14)crowed, in order to show that there was somebody at home. The house, however, was quite 15)picturesque: it had an open 16)balcony, from which one might look out upon the yard, for it would have been far too lively had it been facing the street注2. There hung the old sign and 17)creaked in the wind, as if to show that it at least was alive. I saw it from my window; I saw also how the grass in the street had got the 18)mastery over the 19)pavement. The sun shone brightly, but shone as into the 20)bachelor’s solitary room, and on the 21)old maid’s 22)balsams in the flower-pots.
I looked out from the balcony into the neighbouring yard: there was not a 23)soul to be seen, but children had been playing there. There was a little garden made of dry sticks: they were stuck down in the soft soil and had been watered; a broken pan, which had certainly served by way of watering-pot, lay there still. The sticks 24)signified roses and 25)geraniums.
It had been a delightful garden alas, yes! We grown-up men we play just so: we make ourselves a garden with what we call love’s roses and friendship’s geraniums; we water them with our tears and with our heart’s blood; and yet they are, and remain, dry sticks without root. It was a 26)gloomy thought; I felt it, and in order to get the dry sticks in my thoughts to 27)blossom, I went out. I wandered in the fibres and in the long threads that is to say, in the small lanes and in the great street; and here was more life than I dared to expect. I met a 28)herd of cattle returning or going which I know not for they were without a 29)herdsman. The shop-boy still stood behind the counter, leaned over it and greeted me; the stranger took his hat off again that was my day’s 30)employment in Sala.
I knew no one in the town; I had no one to be my guide, so I 31)accompanied the cows, and came to the churchyard. The cows went past, but I stepped over the 32)stile, and stood amongst the graves, where the grass grew high, and almost all the tombstones lay with worn-out 33)inscriptions. On a few only the date of the year was 34)legible. Who rested here? Everything on the stone was 35)erased 36)blotted out like the earthly life of those 37)mortals that here were earth in earth. What life’s dream have you dead played here in silent Sala?
The setting sun shone over the graves; not a leaf moved on the trees; all was still still as death in the city of the silver-mines, of which this traveller’s 38)reminiscence is but a 39)frame around the shop-boy who leaned over the counter.
瑞典国王古斯塔夫·阿道夫建立了萨拉城。萨拉城附近的那片小树林仍流传着这位英勇的国王年少时的爱情传说—他在这里遇见了艾巴·布拉。
萨拉的银矿是瑞典最大、最深及最古老的，它们深达170英寻（合306米），几乎与波罗的海一样深。这一点就足以引发人们对这座小镇的兴趣。不过，小镇的实际情况如何呢？“萨拉，”旅游书上这么说，“位于山谷中，地处平坦又不十分宜人的地区。”所言非虚，我们去萨拉的路的确并不吸引人，有一条大道直接进入城镇，路上的风景平淡无奇。萨拉城由一条长长的街道，还有我们可以称之为“核心”的区域以及一些“纤维”组成。“核心”是一个市场，而“纤维”则是从市场延伸出来的一些小巷。那条长长的街道—“长”是仅就这座小城而言—行人稀疏；没有人进出门口，窗前也不见人影。
因此，当我终于看见一个人的时候，我感到很惊喜。那是一家五金店，窗上挂着一张插满大头针的纸、一块手帕，还有两个茶壶。就在那里我看到了一个孤单的店小伙，一动不动地站着，倚着柜台，望出门外。夜晚降临的时候，他一定会在日记里—假如他有的话—写道：“今天有一个游人开车经过城里。他是什么人？这个只有上帝才知道，我可不晓得！”—是的，这就是那男孩脸上诉说的故事。那是一张坦诚的脸。
我抵达的那家客栈也充斥着和街上同样的死寂。大门紧闭，但里面所有的门都敞开着。庭院里的公鸡站在客房中央啼叫，以说明屋内还有生气。而房子的景致却非常别致：这里有一个露天阳台，从那儿可以眺望庭院，这阳台要是朝向街道的话就过于热闹了。那里挂着一块旧招牌，在风中嘎吱作响，仿佛要证明至少它还是活着的。我从窗里看到这块招牌，还看到街上的草已经漫过了人行道。太阳明亮地照耀着，却只照进了单身汉的孤单小房，照在老姑娘花盆里的凤仙花上。
我从阳台上望向毗邻的庭院：一个人影也没有，但刚才孩子们还在那里玩耍。有一个用干木棍做的小花园，木棍插在松软的泥土里，刚浇过水；还有一个破的锅静静地躺着，显然是被当作浇水壶用了。木棍代表了玫瑰和天竺葵。
那曾经是一座令人感到愉快的花园。啊，是的！我们这些长大了的人，我们是这般玩耍的：我们用我们称为“爱情”的玫瑰和“友谊”的天竺葵为自己建造了一座花园；我们用泪水和心中的热血浇灌它们；然而它们本来就是，也一直是干枯、没有根的木棍。这种想法是多么阴郁。我有这种感觉，为了让我心中的这些干枯木棍能够开出花朵，我走了出去。我在“纤维”和“长线”中漫步—即是那些小街道—还有那条长街，而在这些地方竟有我意料不到的蓬勃生机。我碰到一群牛，不知道它们是刚从哪里回来还是正在赶往哪里的路上，因为没看见牧人。那个店伙计还是站在柜台后，倚着柜台跟我打招呼；于是我这名陌生人又把帽子摘下来致意—这就是我那一天在萨拉的行程。
这座小城里没有一个我认识的人；没有谁可以当我的向导。所以我便与牛群结伴来到了墓地。牛群径自走过去了，我则跨过台阶，站到坟墓中间。草长得很高，几乎每一块墓碑上的碑铭都已经模糊不清了，只有一些还可以依稀分辨出碑上的年日。是谁长眠在此？石碑上的一切都已经湮灭—就像睡在这里的那些凡人的俗世生命一样，随风而逝了，尘归尘，土归土。在这寂静的萨拉城里，你们这些已逝者究竟怀有怎样的梦想呢？
斜阳照在了坟墓上。树上的叶子一动也不动。所有的一切都如此静默—死一般的静默—对于这座银矿之城，只是那个倚着柜台的店小伙被镶在了一位旅者的记忆的画框中。
Sweden’s great King, Gustavus Adolphus注1, founded Sala. The little wood, close by, still preserves legends of the heroic King’s youthful love of his meeting here with Ebba Brahe.
Sala’s silver mines are the largest, the deepest, and oldest in Sweden: they reach to the depth of one hundred and seventy 1)fathoms, almost as deep as the Baltic. This of itself is enough to awaken an interest for a little town; but what is its appearance? “Sala,says the guide-book, “Lies in a valley, in a flat, and not very pleasant district.And so truly it is: it was not very attractive 2)approaching it our way, and the 3)high road led directly into the town, which is without any 4)distinctive character. It 5)consists of a long street with what we may 6)term a 7)nucleus and a few fibres. The nucleus is the market-place, and the fibres are the few lanes 8)diverging from it. The long street that is to say, long in a little town is quite without passengers; no one comes out from the doors, no one is to be seen at the windows.
It was therefore with pleased surprise that I 9)at length saw a human being: it was at an 10)ironmonger’s, where there hung a paper of pins, a handkerchief and two tea-pots in the window. There I saw a 11)solitary shop-boy, standing quite still, but leaning over the 12)counter and looking out of the open door. He certainly wrote in his journal, if he had one, in the evening: “Today a traveller drove through the town; who he was, God knows, for I don’t!友 yes, that was what the shop-boy’s face said, and an honest face it was.
In the 13)inn at which I arrived, there was the same grave-like stillness as in the street. The gate was certainly closed, but all the inner doors were wide open; the farm-yard rooster stood in the middle of the traveller’s room and 14)crowed, in order to show that there was somebody at home. The house, however, was quite 15)picturesque: it had an open 16)balcony, from which one might look out upon the yard, for it would have been far too lively had it been facing the street注2. There hung the old sign and 17)creaked in the wind, as if to show that it at least was alive. I saw it from my window; I saw also how the grass in the street had got the 18)mastery over the 19)pavement. The sun shone brightly, but shone as into the 20)bachelor’s solitary room, and on the 21)old maid’s 22)balsams in the flower-pots.
I looked out from the balcony into the neighbouring yard: there was not a 23)soul to be seen, but children had been playing there. There was a little garden made of dry sticks: they were stuck down in the soft soil and had been watered; a broken pan, which had certainly served by way of watering-pot, lay there still. The sticks 24)signified roses and 25)geraniums.
It had been a delightful garden alas, yes! We grown-up men we play just so: we make ourselves a garden with what we call love’s roses and friendship’s geraniums; we water them with our tears and with our heart’s blood; and yet they are, and remain, dry sticks without root. It was a 26)gloomy thought; I felt it, and in order to get the dry sticks in my thoughts to 27)blossom, I went out. I wandered in the fibres and in the long threads that is to say, in the small lanes and in the great street; and here was more life than I dared to expect. I met a 28)herd of cattle returning or going which I know not for they were without a 29)herdsman. The shop-boy still stood behind the counter, leaned over it and greeted me; the stranger took his hat off again that was my day’s 30)employment in Sala.
I knew no one in the town; I had no one to be my guide, so I 31)accompanied the cows, and came to the churchyard. The cows went past, but I stepped over the 32)stile, and stood amongst the graves, where the grass grew high, and almost all the tombstones lay with worn-out 33)inscriptions. On a few only the date of the year was 34)legible. Who rested here? Everything on the stone was 35)erased 36)blotted out like the earthly life of those 37)mortals that here were earth in earth. What life’s dream have you dead played here in silent Sala?
The setting sun shone over the graves; not a leaf moved on the trees; all was still still as death in the city of the silver-mines, of which this traveller’s 38)reminiscence is but a 39)frame around the shop-boy who leaned over the counter.
瑞典国王古斯塔夫·阿道夫建立了萨拉城。萨拉城附近的那片小树林仍流传着这位英勇的国王年少时的爱情传说—他在这里遇见了艾巴·布拉。
萨拉的银矿是瑞典最大、最深及最古老的，它们深达170英寻（合306米），几乎与波罗的海一样深。这一点就足以引发人们对这座小镇的兴趣。不过，小镇的实际情况如何呢？“萨拉，”旅游书上这么说，“位于山谷中，地处平坦又不十分宜人的地区。”所言非虚，我们去萨拉的路的确并不吸引人，有一条大道直接进入城镇，路上的风景平淡无奇。萨拉城由一条长长的街道，还有我们可以称之为“核心”的区域以及一些“纤维”组成。“核心”是一个市场，而“纤维”则是从市场延伸出来的一些小巷。那条长长的街道—“长”是仅就这座小城而言—行人稀疏；没有人进出门口，窗前也不见人影。
因此，当我终于看见一个人的时候，我感到很惊喜。那是一家五金店，窗上挂着一张插满大头针的纸、一块手帕，还有两个茶壶。就在那里我看到了一个孤单的店小伙，一动不动地站着，倚着柜台，望出门外。夜晚降临的时候，他一定会在日记里—假如他有的话—写道：“今天有一个游人开车经过城里。他是什么人？这个只有上帝才知道，我可不晓得！”—是的，这就是那男孩脸上诉说的故事。那是一张坦诚的脸。
我抵达的那家客栈也充斥着和街上同样的死寂。大门紧闭，但里面所有的门都敞开着。庭院里的公鸡站在客房中央啼叫，以说明屋内还有生气。而房子的景致却非常别致：这里有一个露天阳台，从那儿可以眺望庭院，这阳台要是朝向街道的话就过于热闹了。那里挂着一块旧招牌，在风中嘎吱作响，仿佛要证明至少它还是活着的。我从窗里看到这块招牌，还看到街上的草已经漫过了人行道。太阳明亮地照耀着，却只照进了单身汉的孤单小房，照在老姑娘花盆里的凤仙花上。
我从阳台上望向毗邻的庭院：一个人影也没有，但刚才孩子们还在那里玩耍。有一个用干木棍做的小花园，木棍插在松软的泥土里，刚浇过水；还有一个破的锅静静地躺着，显然是被当作浇水壶用了。木棍代表了玫瑰和天竺葵。
那曾经是一座令人感到愉快的花园。啊，是的！我们这些长大了的人，我们是这般玩耍的：我们用我们称为“爱情”的玫瑰和“友谊”的天竺葵为自己建造了一座花园；我们用泪水和心中的热血浇灌它们；然而它们本来就是，也一直是干枯、没有根的木棍。这种想法是多么阴郁。我有这种感觉，为了让我心中的这些干枯木棍能够开出花朵，我走了出去。我在“纤维”和“长线”中漫步—即是那些小街道—还有那条长街，而在这些地方竟有我意料不到的蓬勃生机。我碰到一群牛，不知道它们是刚从哪里回来还是正在赶往哪里的路上，因为没看见牧人。那个店伙计还是站在柜台后，倚着柜台跟我打招呼；于是我这名陌生人又把帽子摘下来致意—这就是我那一天在萨拉的行程。
这座小城里没有一个我认识的人；没有谁可以当我的向导。所以我便与牛群结伴来到了墓地。牛群径自走过去了，我则跨过台阶，站到坟墓中间。草长得很高，几乎每一块墓碑上的碑铭都已经模糊不清了，只有一些还可以依稀分辨出碑上的年日。是谁长眠在此？石碑上的一切都已经湮灭—就像睡在这里的那些凡人的俗世生命一样，随风而逝了，尘归尘，土归土。在这寂静的萨拉城里，你们这些已逝者究竟怀有怎样的梦想呢？
斜阳照在了坟墓上。树上的叶子一动也不动。所有的一切都如此静默—死一般的静默—对于这座银矿之城，只是那个倚着柜台的店小伙被镶在了一位旅者的记忆的画框中。