少年维特的烦恼 英文版 The Sorrows of Young Werther
歌德 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AUGUST 28.
If my ills would admit of any cure, they would certainly be curedhere. This is my birthday, and early in the morning I received apacket from Albert. Upon opening it, I found one of the pinkribbons which Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her,and which I had several times asked her to give me. With it weretwo volumes in duodecimo of Wetstein's "Homer," a book I had oftenwished for, to save me the inconvenience of carrying the largeErnestine edition with me upon my walks. You see how they anticipatemy wishes, how well they understand all those little attentionsof friendship, so superior to the costly presents of the great,which are humiliating. I kissed the ribbon a thousand times, andin every breath inhaled the remembrance of those happy and irrevocabledays which filled me with the keenest joy. Such, Wilhelm, is ourfate. I do not murmur at it: the flowers of life are but visionary.How many pass away, and leave no trace behind -- how few yield anyfruit -- and the fruit itself, how rarely does it ripen! And yetthere are flowers enough! and is it not strange, my friend, thatwe should suffer the little that does really ripen, to rot, decay,and perish unenjoyed? Farewell! This is a glorious summer. Ioften climb into the trees in Charlotte's orchard, and shake downthe pears that hang on the highest branches. She stands below,and catches them as they fall.