《一个陌生女人的来信》是奥地利作家茨威格的最优秀的短篇小说。

作品讲述的是一个陌生的女人,在她生命的最后时刻,饱蘸着一生的痴情,写下了一封凄婉动人的长信,向一位著名的作家袒露了自己绝望的爱慕之情。小说以一名女子最痛苦的经历,写出了爱的深沉与奉献。
高尔基评价这篇小说“真是一篇惊人的杰作!”
女人的心思是细腻的,暗恋中的女人心思更是细腻到无以复加。一个小女人的心思,被放大化地描写,自然地流露,如此生动地被刻画,不禁让你悲从中来。
她爱他,爱得隐忍,爱得卑微,爱得不可理喻。即便后来她独自生下他们的孩子,她也从未想过去找他,并向他吐露心扉。因为她是多么懂得这个逍遥自在的浪子,不愿以爱之名绑住他、束缚他,令他为难,令他反感。她把一生都奉献给了他,尽管终其一生,他都没有认出过她。

真正诠释了“我爱你,但与你无关”那种极端无奈和彻骨悲凉。

小说以书信的形式讲述了一位女子在弥留之际,在她死去的孩子身旁,写下了一封凄婉的长信,向作家R诉说了她潜隐了一生的激情爱恋和情感痛苦。

由于父亲早逝,女孩与母亲过着深居简出,小市民的生活。随着时光的沉逝,女孩开始厌弃她与母亲的现实生存状态。女孩十三岁时,邻家搬来了一位英俊潇洒的年轻作家。从此,女孩的情感走上了一条不归路。深情而又高傲,是这女孩的悲剧,却也为这种爱感动而震撼!文字间有很强的画面感忍不住看下去。她13岁遇到他,爱了他,用了一生的时间,爱了整整18年。细腻的文字将人物心理诠释到了极致,将这个女人一生的心路历程坦露,少女的那种暗恋的娇羞,成年后奋不顾身的献身,孤注一掷离开的悲哀,热烈而孤独、幸福而痛苦。
爱情的萌芽总是小心翼翼,默默关注为他痴迷。当她沉浸在自己的迷恋中不愿与他人分享,偷偷观察着与他有关的情况,我们的心情也随之波动;读到她述说着自己为这份喜欢干过的傻事,心里无数次幻想遇见的场景,也许你也会想起你暗恋过的某个人……当她伤心欲绝不得不离开时,鼓足勇气,去按男主公的门玲,却没有人在家里,心里也随着故事情节而紧张、失落。
因为他的出现,改变了她平淡无奇的人生,成绩平平到班上的第一名、如饥似渴的读很多书、持之以恒的练起了钢琴;从此她的生活只有他,伴着回忆的点点滴滴度过她最美好的时光,爱他如生命,哪怕为了一点微小幸福都不顾一切的勇气。她的一生有幸福有坎坷,面对宿命,能看到她拥有强大信念的一面,却也能感受到悲哀和不幸。
她的爱无私而忘我,独自抚养骨肉,为了孩子游走在形形色色的男人中;再次相逢他只当她是风尘女子,往她衣服里塞钱,无法想象那一刻她是否疼到颤抖,为了他,放弃了做伯爵夫人的机会,就是要让自己是个自由身,随时接受爱人的召唤;剧院里,近在咫尺,闻着他的气息,深爱却不被认出……写到这里几乎用了一种令人窒息的、绝望的笔调,来叙说女主人公无尽的悲哀,她活得坚强而可怜得让人心疼。

他始终不记得他,甚至用同样的借口:“我要走了,我一回来就找你。”连头发花白的老管家在撞见她的一刹那都认出来了,震惊地看着她;而他哪怕在看完了这个陌生女人的信后,眼泪涌出来,却依然想不起来。想不起来她,不明白她究竟是怎样的一个女人。

  读书群里大家共读一本书,讨论极热烈。为作者对女性心理的描写细腻折服,同时感叹更多的是女主,陌生女人的极端自卑和高傲造成的悲惨人生! 有人这样说:“她的爱就是她自己的神圣的,隐秘的,一人独有的感情,都不跟被自己爱的人分

享;我爱你跟你无关的逻辑真的没办法理解啊~~她是真的爱上一个人,还只是爱上爱情?
如何去爱另一个人,建立亲密关系也是需要学习的……不然就有点病态迷恋的味道了~” 有人这样评论: “嗯,读到现在,我对女主的感觉是敬佩她飞蛾扑火的勇气和坚持也觉得她很可怜。现今社会很少有这种不顾一切,毫无保留的爱。即使知道会受伤也不放弃,可怜的是她,坚持了一个不该坚持的人。 ” 还有人想到张爱玲遇到胡兰成。张爱玲说“见了他,她变的很低很低,低到尘埃里,但她的心是欢喜的,仍从尘埃里开出花来”
世间最说不清的可能就是人的情感了!甲之蜜糖,乙之砒霜啊!

深深迷恋作者的 文字!采撷几句共欣赏。Deeply infatuated with the author's words! Pick a few words for appreciation.

  I cannot stay alone with my dead child without pouring my heart out to someone; and to whom should I do that in this dreadful hour if not to you, who have been and still are all in all to me?

在这可怕的时刻,要是我不对你诉说,那该对谁去诉说!你过去是我的一切,现在也是我的一切!

Now I have only you left in the world; only you, who do not know me;

you, who are enjoying yourself all unheeding, sporting with men and things.
Only you, who have never known me, and whom I have never ceased to love.
在这个世界上我现在只有你,只有你了,而你对我却一无所知,此刻你完全感觉不到,正在嬉戏取闹,或者正在跟什么人寻欢作乐,调情狎昵呢。我现在只有你,只有同我素昧平生的你,我始终爱着的你。

A bespectacled, good-natured old was what I had anticipated; and you came looking just as you still look, for you are one on whom the years leave little mark.

我梦见的是一位戴眼镜的慈祥的老人,现在你来了——你,你的样子还是和今天一样,你,岁月不知不觉地在你身上流逝,但你却丝毫没有变化!
You were wearing a beautiful suit of light-brown tweeds, and you ran upstairs two steps at a time with the boyish ease that always characterizes your movements.
你穿了一件浅灰色的迷人的运动服,上楼梯的时候总是以你那种无比轻快的、孩子般的姿态,老是一步跨两级。
You were hat in hand, so that, with indescribable amazement, I should see your bright and lively face and your youthful hair.
Your handsome, slim, and sprucefigure was a positive shock to me.

你手里拿着帽子,我以无法描述的惊讶望着你那表情生动的脸,脸上显得英姿勃发,一头秀美光泽的头发:真的,我惊讶得吓了一跳,你是多么年轻、多么漂亮、多么修长笔挺、多么标致潇洒。这事不是很奇怪吗?

我不埋怨你,我爱你,爱的就是这个你:感情炽烈,生性健忘,一见倾心,爱不忠诚。

I don't blame you, I love you, love you is this: the feelings of a blazing, forgetfulness, love at first sight, not loyalty.

因为这个世界上没有什么东西可以比得上孩子暗地里悄悄所怀的爱情!

因为这种爱情不抱希望,低声下气,曲意逢迎,热情奔放……
这和成年女人那种欲火炙烈,不知不觉中贪求无厌的爱情完全不同。只有孤独的孩子才能把全部的热情集聚起来。
我毫无阅历,毫无准备……
我一头栽进我的命运,就像跌进一个深渊……
从那一秒钟起,我的心里就只有一个你!
But I am sure that no one else has ever loved you so slavishly(盲目地), with such doglike fidelity(忠贞), with such devotion, as I did and do
Nothing can equal the unnoticed love of a child.
It is hopeless and subservient; it is patient and passionate; it is something which the covetous love of a grown woman, the love that is unconsciously exacting(苛求的,难以取悦的) can never be.
None but lonely children can cherish such a passion.

I rushed to meet my fate.

“我的心紧张得像根琴弦,你一出现,它就颤个不停。我的心始终为你而紧张,为你而颤动;可你对此毫无感觉,就像你口袋里装了怀表,你对它的绷紧的发条没有感觉一样。这根发条在暗中耐心地数着你的钟点,计算着你的时间,以它听不见的心跳陪着你东奔西走,而你在它那滴答不停的几百万秒当中,只有一次向它匆匆瞥了一眼。“

I was ever near you, and ever tense; but you were no more aware of it than you were aware of the tension of the main spring of the watch in your pocket faithfully recording the hours for you, accompanying your footsteps with its unheard ticking and vouchsafed only a hasty glance for one second among millions.

爱是一个人的事情,而爱情是两个人的事情。所以,我爱你,与你无关。Love is a person's thing, and love is a matter of two people. So, I love you, it has nothing to do with you.

除了你再也没有一个我可以爱的人了。但是你是我的什么人呢,你从来也没有认出过我,你从我身边走过,就像从一条河边走过,你踩在我的身上,就像踩在了一块石头上面,你总是走啊,走啊,不停地向前走着,却叫我在等待中逝去了一生。


I have no one left to love; no one in the world, except you.
But what can you be to me—you who have never, never recognized me, you who stepped across me as you might step across a stream,

you who trod(践踏) on me as you might tread(践踏) on a stone, you who went on your way unheeding(毫无感觉的), while you left me to wait for all eternity(永恒)?

我没有想到,我对你的心灵来说无论是相隔无数的山川峡谷,还是说在你和我那抬头仰望的目光之间只相隔你窗户的一层玻璃,其实都是同样的遥远。When nothing but the thin, shining pane of glass was between you and my uplifted eyes. l could ignore the fact that in reality I was as far from your mind as if I had been separated by mountains and valleys .

女人的脸在男人眼里一定是变化无常的,因为脸通常只是一面镜子,时而是热情的镜子,时而是天真烂漫的镜子,时而又是疲惫的镜子,镜子中的形象极易流逝,所以一个男人也就更加容易忘记一个女人的容貌,因为年龄就在这面镜子里带着光和影逐渐流逝,因为服装会把一个女人的脸一下打扮成这样,等会儿又变成那样。 lt is usually nothing more than the reflection of moods which pass as swiftly as an image vanishes from a mirror.

A man can readily forget a woman’s face, because age modifies its lights and shades, and because at different times the dress gives it so different a setting.

也许只有几小时,也许只有短短的几分钟,你会觉得我是个累赘,会恨我——但是我要保持我的自尊心,我要让你这一辈子想起我的时候没有一丝忧虑。我宁可独自承担一切,也不愿让你背上个包袱,我要使自己成为你所钟情过的女人中的独一无二的一个,让你永远怀着爱情和感激来思念她。可是,当然,你从来也没有思念过我,你已经把我忘在九霄云外了。

  在那些瞬间,我对一切总是有着双重的感觉,既感觉到流去的岁月,又感觉到现时的光阴,而在这一切之中,只感觉到你。你的房间里变化不大,多了几幅画,添了几本书,有几处地方添了几件以前没有见过的家具,不过我对一切都感到十分亲切。书桌上放着花瓶,瓶里插着玫瑰,插着我的玫瑰,这是前一天你过生日的时候我送你的,以纪念一个女人,对于她你已经记不起来,也认不出来了,即使现在她正在你的身边,手拉着手,嘴唇贴着嘴唇,你也认不出她了。不管怎么说,这些鲜花你供养着,这使我心里高兴:这样总还有我心底的一份情分,还有我的一缕呼吸萦绕着你。

How I lived simultaneously in the past and in the present, my whole being fused as it were with yours.
In your rooms, little was changed.
There were a few more pictures, a great many more books, one or two additions to your furniture—but the whole had the friendly look of an old acquaintance.
On the writing-table was the vase with the roses—my roses, the ones I had sent you the day before as a memento(纪念品) of the woman whom you did not remember, whom you did not recognize,
not even now when she was close to you, when you were holding her hand and your lips were pressed on hers.

But it comforted me to see my flowers there, to know that you had cherished something that was an emanation(散发的气息) from me, was the breath of my love for you.

美好的东西是忘不了的,我永远也忘不了你。你说,同时低下头来,目光直射进我的心里,仿佛要把我的形象深深印在你的脑海里似的。我感到这目光透进了我的心灵,在探索、追踪、在吮吸我的整个生命,这时我以为,盲人终于、终于复明了。他要认出我了,他要认出我了!我的整个灵魂都沉浸在这个想法之中,颤抖了。

“Good things are not forgotten, and I shall not forget you.”


Your eyes studied me attentively, as if you wished to form an enduring image of me in your mind.

When I felt this penetrating glance, this exploration of my whole being, I could not but fancy that the spell of your blindness would at last be broken.

“He will recognize me! He will recognize me!” My soul trembled with expectation.

他从颤抖的手里把信放下,然后就久久的沉思。某种回忆浮现在他的心头,他想起了一个邻居的小孩儿,想起了一位姑娘,想起夜总会的一个女人,但是这些回忆模模糊糊,朦胧不清,宛如一块石头,在流水底下闪烁不定,飘忽无形.影子涌进来,退出去,可是总构不成画面。他感到了一些藕断丝连的感情,却又想不起来。他觉得所有这些形象都梦见过,常常在深沉的梦里见到过,然而仅仅是梦见.

他觉得,仿佛一扇看不见的门突然打开了,股股穿堂冷风从另一世界飕飕吹进他安静的屋子。他感觉到一次死亡,感觉到不朽的爱情,一时间他的心里百感交集,他思念起那个看不见的女人,没有实体,充满激情,犹如远方的音乐。

The letter fell from his nerveless hands.

He thought long and deeply.
Yes, he had vague memories of a neighbor’s child, of a girl, of a woman in a dancing hall—
all was dim and confused, like the flickering and shapeless view of a stone in the bed of a swiftly running stream.
Shadows chased one another across his mind, but would not fuse into a picture.
There were stirrings of memory in the realm of feeling, and still he could not remember.
It seemed to him that he must have dreamed of all these figures, must have dreamed often and vividly—and yet they had only been the phantoms(幻觉,幻象) of a dream.
His eyes wandered to the blue vase on the writing-table.
It was empty.
For years it had not been empty on his birthday.
He shuddered(发抖,打颤), feeling as if an invisible door had been suddenly opened, a door through which a chill breeze from another world was blowing into his sheltered room.
An intimation of death came to him, and an intimation of deathless love.

Something welled(迸发,涌进) up within him; and the thought of the dead woman stirred in his mind, bodiless and passionate, like the sound of distant music.


一朵花。

一朵独自盛放的花。

一朵静静恋上花蝴蝶的花。

一朵比谁都更懂得花蝶之恋的花。

一朵从独自开放到独自凋零,从未折枝的花。
一朵盛开在爱里,凋谢在爱里,零落成泥,惟香如故的花。
A flower. A flower that blooms alone. A flower that silently loves butterfly. A flower that knows the love of butterflie more than anyone else. A flower that has never broken a twig from a solitary bloom. A blossom in love, withered in love, died in mud, but fragrant flower.



I love you! None of your business

I love you! None of your business
Even at night the endless yearning
Only belongs to me
Don't take to the dawn
Maybe it can only exist in dark
I love you! None of your business
Even if I stand by your side
I don't want you to see
Let it hide in the behind
I love you! None of your business
That's why I don't remember your smile
But infinite see
Your upset
When I came to bloom
I love you! None of your business
Thoughts do not boil.
So I choose to go to sleep
Again to see you in my dream
I love you! None of your business
Eager to hide the eye
So I hide
Don't you see I get nervous
I love you! None of your business
Really ah
It only belongs to my heart
As long as you can be happy
My sorrow
You don't need to care

我爱你,与你无关

我爱你,与你无关
即使是夜晚无尽的思念
也只属于我自己
不会带到天明
也许它只能存在于黑暗
我爱你,与你无关
就算我此刻站在你的身边
依然背着我的双眼
不想让你看见
就让它只隐藏在风后面
我爱你,与你无关
那为什么我记不起你的笑脸
却无限地看见
你的心烦
就在我来到的时候绽放
我爱你,与你无关
思念熬不到天明
所以我选择睡去
在梦中再一次的见到你
我爱你,与你无关
渴望藏不住眼光
于是我躲开
不要你看见我心慌
我爱你,与你无关
真的啊
它只属于我的心
只要你能幸福
我的悲伤
你不需要管