My dear friend, the bare recollection of those hours still consoles me.
Even this effort to recall those ineffable (无法形容的) sensations, and give them utterance, exalts my soul above itself, and makes me doubly feel the intensity (强烈) of my present anguish (痛苦).
It is as if a curtain had been drawn from before my eyes, and, instead of prospects of eternal life, the abyss of an ever open grave yawned before me.
Can we say of anything that it exists when all passes away, when time, with the speed of a storm, carries all things onward,
-- and our transitory (短暂的) existence, hurried along by the torrent, is either swallowed up by the waves or dashed against the rocks?
There is not a moment but preys upon you, -- and upon all around you, not a moment in which you do not yourself become a destroyer.
The most innocent walk deprives of life thousands of poor insects: one step destroys the fabric (建筑物) of the industrious ant, and converts a little world into chaos.
No: it is not the great and rare calamities (灾害) of the world, the floods which sweep away whole villages, the earthquakes which swallow up our towns, that affect me.
My heart is wasted by the thought of that destructive power which lies concealed in every part of universal nature.
Nature has formed nothing that does not consume itself, and every object near it: so that, surrounded by earth and air, and all the active powers, I wander on my way with aching heart;
and the universe is to me a fearful monster, for ever devouring (吞食) its own offspring.
AUGUST 21.
In vain do I stretch out my arms toward her when I awaken in the morning from my weary slumbers (睡眠).
In vain do I seek for her at night in my bed, when some innocent dream has happily deceived me,
and placed her near me in the fields, when I have seized her hand and covered it with countless kisses.
And when I feel for her in the half confusion of sleep, with the happy sense that she is near, tears flow from my oppressed (被压迫的) heart;
and, bereft of all comfort, I weep over my future woes.{1}
AUGUST 22.
What a misfortune, Wilhelm! My active spirits have degenerated (退化) into contented indolence (懒散).
I cannot be idle, and yet I am unable to set to work.
I cannot think: I have no longer any feeling for the beauties of nature, and books are distasteful (令人反感的) to me.
Once we give ourselves up, we are totally lost.
Many a time and oft (常常) I wish I were a common labourer; that, awakening in the morning, I might have but one prospect, one pursuit, one hope, for the day which has dawned.
I often envy Albert when I see him buried in a heap of papers and parchments (羊皮纸文稿), and I fancy I should be happy were I in his place.{2}
Often impressed with this feeling I have been on the point of writing to you and to the minister, for the appointment at the embassy, which you think I might obtain.
I believe I might procure it. The minister has long shown a regard for me, and has frequently urged me to seek employment.
It is the business of an hour only. Now and then the fable of the horse recurs to me.
Weary of liberty, he suffered himself to be saddled (装以马鞍) and bridled (上马勒), and was ridden to death for his pains.
I know not what to determine upon.
For is not this anxiety for change the consequence of that restless spirit which would pursue me equally in every situation of life?
AUGUST 28.
If my ills would admit of any cure, they would certainly be cured here.
This is my birthday, and early in the morning I received a packet from Albert.
Upon opening it, I found one of the pink ribbons 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 were two volumes in duodecimo of Wetstein's "Homer," a book I had often wished for,
to save me the inconvenience of carrying the large Ernestine edition with me upon my walks.{3}
You see how they anticipate my wishes, how well they understand all those little attentions of friendship,
so superior to the costly presents of the great, which are humiliating (丢脸的).
I kissed the ribbon a thousand times, and in every breath inhaled (吸入) the remembrance (回忆) of those happy and irrevocable (不能挽回的) days which filled me with the keenest joy.
Such, Wilhelm, is our fate. I do not murmur at it: the flowers of life are but visionary (幻想的).
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How many pass away, and leave no trace behind -- how few yield any fruit -- and the fruit itself, how rarely does it ripen!
And yet there are flowers enough! and is it not strange, my friend, that we should suffer the little that does really ripen, to rot, decay, and perish unenjoyed?
Farewell! This is a glorious summer. I often climb into the trees in Charlotte's orchard (果园), and shake down the pears that hang on the highest branches.
She stands below, and catches them as they fall.
AUGUST 30.
Unhappy being that I am! Why do I thus deceive (欺骗) myself?
What is to come of all this wild, aimless, endless passion?
I cannot pray except to her. My imagination sees nothing but her: all surrounding objects are of no account, except as they relate to her.
In this dreamy state I enjoy many happy hours, till at length I feel compelled to tear myself away from her.
Ah, Wilhelm, to what does not my heart often compel me!
When I have spent several hours in her company, till I feel completely absorbed by her figure, her grace, the divine expression of her thoughts,
my mind becomes gradually excited to the highest excess, my sight grows dim, my hearing confused, my breathing oppressed as if by the hand of a murderer,
and my beating heart seeks to obtain relief for my aching senses.
I am sometimes unconscious whether I really exist.
If in such moments I find no sympathy, and Charlotte does not allow me to enjoy the melancholy consolation of bathing her hand with my tears,
I feel compelled to tear myself from her, when I either wander through the country, climb some precipitous (险峻的) cliff,
or force a path through the trackless thicket, where I am lacerated and torn by thorns and briers; and thence I find relief.
Sometimes I lie stretched on the ground, overcome with fatigue and dying with thirst; sometimes, late in the night,
when the moon shines above me, I recline against an aged tree in some sequestered forest, to rest my weary limbs, when, exhausted and worn, I sleep till break of day.
O Wilhelm! the hermit's cell, his sackcloth (粗布衣), and girdle of thorns would be luxury and indulgence compared with what I suffer.
Adieu! I see no end to this wretchedness except the grave.{4}
SEPTEMBER 3.
I must away. Thank you, Wilhelm, for determining my wavering purpose.
For a whole fortnight I have thought of leaving her. I must away.
She has returned to town, and is at the house of a friend. And then, Albert -- yes, I must go.
SEPTEMBER 10.
Oh, what a night, Wilhelm! I can henceforth (自此以后) bear anything. I shall never see her again.
Oh, why cannot I fall on your neck, and, with floods of tears and raptures, give utterance to all the passions which distract my heart!
Here I sit gasping for breath, and struggling to compose (使平静) myself.
I wait for day, and at sunrise the horses are to be at the door.
And she is sleeping calmly, little suspecting that she has seen me for the last time. I am free.
I have had the courage, in an interview of two hours' duration, not to betray (出卖) my intention.
And O Wilhelm, what a conversation it was!
Albert had promised to come to Charlotte in the garden immediately after supper.
I was upon the terrace under the tall chestnut trees, and watched the setting sun.
I saw him sink for the last time beneath this delightful valley and silent stream.
I had often visited the same spot with Charlotte, and witnessed that glorious sight;
and now -- I was walking up and down the very avenue which was so dear to me.
A secret sympathy had frequently drawn me thither before I knew Charlotte;
and we were delighted when, in our early acquaintance, we discovered that we each loved the same spot,
which is indeed as romantic as any that ever captivated (迷住) the fancy of an artist.
