冬天的雾.docVIP

Winter Mist (Excerpts) by Robert Palfrey Utter I like pond skating best by moonlight. The hollow山谷 among the hills will always have a bit of mist about it, let the sky be clear as it may. The moonlight, which seems so lucid透明的 and brilliant when you look up, is all pearl and smoke round the pond and the hills. The shore that was like iron under your heel as you came down to the ice is vague, when you look back at it from the center of the pond, as the memory of a dream. The motion is like flying in a dream; you float free and the world floats under you; your velocity速率 is without effort and without accomplishment, for, speed as you may, you leave nothing behind and approach nothing. You look upward. The mist is overhead now; you see the moon in a “hollow halo” at the bottom of an “icy crystal cup,” and you yourself are in just such another. The mist, palely opalescent乳白色, drives past her out of nothing into nowhere. Like yourself, she is the center of a circle of vague limit and vaguer content, where passes a swift, ceaseless不断的 stream of impression through a faintly微弱的 luminous发光的 halo of consciousness. If by moonlight the mist plays upon the emotions like faint, bewitching迷人的 music, in sunlight it is scarcely less. More often than not when I go for my skating to our cosy little river, a winding mile from the milldam水闸 to the railroad trestle支架, the hills are clothed in silver mist which frames them in vignettes小片段 with blurred edges. The tone is that of Japanese paintings on white silk, their color showing soft and dull through the frost-powder with which the air is filled. At the milldam the hockey players furiously猛烈地 rage施虐 together, but I heed留意 them not, and in a moment am beyond the first bend, where their clamor喧闹 comes softened on the air like that of a distant convention of politic crows. The silver powder has fallen on the ice, just enough to cover earlier tracings and leave me a fresh plate to etch侵蚀 with grapevines and arabesques中篇小说，华丽曲. The st