A Mother’s Letter to the World

Dear World：

My son starts school today．It’s going to be strange and new to him for a while．And I wish you would sort of1) treat him gently．

You see，up to now，he’s been king of the roost．He‘s been boss of the back yard．I have always been around to repair his wounds，and to soothe2) his feelings．

But now―things are going to be different．

This morning，he’s going to walk down the front steps，wave his hand and start on his great adventure that will probably include wars and tragedy and sorrow．To live his life in the world he has to live in will require faith and love and courage．

So，World，I wish you would sort of take him by his young hand and teach him the things he will have to know．Teach him―but gently，if you can．Teach him that for every scoundrel3)，there is a hero；that for every crooked4) politician there is a dedicated leader；that for every enemy there is a friend．Teach him the wonders of books．Give him quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky，bees in the sun，and flowers on the green hill．Teach him it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat．Teach him to have faith in his own ideas，even if everyone else tells him they are wrong．Teach him to sell his brawn and brains to the highest bidder5)，but never to put a price on his heart and soul．Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob．．．and to stand and fight if he thinks he’s right．Teach him gently，World，but don’t coddle him，because only the test of fire makes fine steel．
This is a big order，World，but see what you can do．He‘s such a nice little fellow．


This NOTE 注释：

1. sort of adv. 有几分地

2. soothe vt. 使(某人,其神经,其情绪)平静, 安慰, 使(痛苦,疼痛)缓和或减轻

3. scoundrel n. 无赖, 恶棍

4. crooked adj. 弯曲的, 拐骗的, 不老实的

5. highest bidder 最高价竞买人

（下周日就是母亲节了，在小儿的语文教材选读课本中有这样一篇文章——一位母亲写给世界的信，Peter搜出了其的英文版，说要放在旺旺上，开辟一个英语美文的专题，同时也祝各位妈妈节日快乐！）.

欢迎大家跟贴英语美文，或发至peter_981202@126.com!.

mother's hands
Night after night, she came to tuck me in, even long after my childhood years. Following her longstanding custom, she'd lean down and push my long hair out of the way, then kiss my forehead.

I don't remember when it first started annoying me — her hands pushing my hair that way. But it did annoy me, for they felt work-worn and rough against my young skin. Finally, one night, I shouted out at her, "Don't do that anymore —your hands are too rough!" She didn't say anything in reply. But never again did my mother close out my day with that familiar expression of her love.

Time after time, with the passing years, my thoughts returned to that night. By then I missed my mother's hands, missed her goodnight kiss on my forehead. Sometimes the incident seemed very close, sometimes far away. But always it lurked, in the back of my mind.

Well, the years have passed, and I'm not a little girl anymore. Mom is in her mid-seventies, and those hands I once thought to be so rough are still doing things for me and my family. She's been our doctor, reaching into a medicine cabinet for the remedy to calm a young girl's stomach or soothe the boy's scraped knee. She cooks the best fried chicken in the world... gets stains out of blue jeans like I never could...

Now, my own children are grown and gone. Mom no longer has Dad, and on special occasions, I find myself drawn next door to spend the night with her. So it was late on Thanksgiving Eve, as I slept in the bedroom of my youth, a familiar hand hesitantly run across my face to brush the hair from my forehead. Then a kiss, ever so gently, touched my brow.

In my memory, for the thousandth time, I recalled the night my young voice complained, "Don't do that anymore — your hands are too rough!" Catching Mom's hand in hand, I blurted out how sorry I was for that night. I thought she'd remember, as I did. But Mom didn't know what I was talking about. She had forgotten — and forgiven — long ago.

That night, I fell asleep with a new appreciation for my gentle mother and her caring hands. And the guilt that I had carried around for so long was nowhere to be found.

[ 本帖最后由 PETER-MM 于 2009-5-6 23:22 编辑 ].

【中文译文】：

母亲总是在我入睡之后，为我掖好被子，然后俯下身子，轻轻拨开覆在我脸上的长发，亲吻我的前额。日复一日，母亲一直保持着这个习惯，即使我已不再是小孩子了，这一切却依然故我。

不知从什么时候开始，母亲的这种习惯渐渐让我感到不悦----我不喜欢她那双布满老茧的手就这样划过我细嫩的皮肤。终于，在一个夜晚，我忍不住冲她吼了起来：“你不要再这样了，你的手好粗糙！”母亲无言以对。但从此却再没有用这种我熟悉的表达爱的方式来为我的一天画上句号。

日子一天天过去，随着时间的流逝，我却总是不由得想起那一夜。我开始想念母亲的那双手，想念她印在我前额上的“晚安”。这种渴望忽远忽近，但始终潜藏在我心灵深处的某个角落。

若干年后，我成熟了，已不再是个小女孩了。母亲也已到了古稀之年，可她却始终没有停止过操劳，用她那双曾经被我视为“粗糙”的手为我和我的家庭做着力所能及的事情。她是我们的家庭医生，小姑娘胃痛时，她会从药箱里找出胃药来，小男孩擦伤的膝盖时，她会去安抚他的伤痛。她能做出世界上最好吃的炸鸡，能把蓝色牛仔裤上的污渍去得毫无痕迹......

现在，我自己的孩子也已长大，有了自己的生活，母亲却没有了父亲的陪伴。有一次，恰好是感恩节前夜，我决定就睡在母亲旁边的卧室里，陪她度过这一夜。这是我儿时的卧室，一切都是那么的熟悉，还有一只熟悉的手犹豫着从我的脸上掠过，梳理着我前额的头发，然后，一个吻，带着一如往日的温柔，轻轻落在了我的额头。

在我的记忆里，曾几千次再现那晚的情景和我那稚嫩的抱怨声：“你不要再这样了，你的手好粗糙！”我一把抓住母亲的手，一股脑说出我对那一晚深深的愧疚。我想，她一定和我一样，对那晚的事历历在目。然而，母亲却不知我再说些什么-----她早忘了，早已原谅我了。

那天晚上，我带着对母亲新的感激安然入睡，我感激她的温柔，和她那呵护的双手。多年来压在我心头的负罪感也随之烟消云散。.