The Death of the Moth
Virginia Woolf
Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths； they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights and ivyblossom which the commonest yellow underwing asleep in the shadow of the curtain never fails to rouse in us. They are hybridhybrid n.杂种， 混血儿， 混合物 adj.混合的， 杂种的 creatures， neither gay like butterflies nor sombre like their own species. Nevertheless the present specimen， with his narrow haycoloured wings， fringed with a tassel of the same colour， seemed to be content with life. It was a pleasant morning， midSeptember， mild， benignant， yet with a keener breath than of the summer months. The plough was already scoring the field opposite the window， and where the share had been， the earth was pressed flat and gleamedgleam n.微弱的闪光， 一丝光线， 瞬息的一现 vi.闪烁， 隐约地闪现vt.使发微光， 使闪烁 with moisturemoisture n.潮湿， 湿气. Such vigour came rolling in from the fields and the down beyond that it was difficult to keep the eyes strictly turned upon the book. The rooks too were keeping one of their annual festivities； soaring round the treetops until it looked as if a vast net with thousands of black knots in it has been cast up into the air； which， after a few moments sank slowly down upon the trees until every twig seemed to have a knot at the end of it. Then， suddenly， the net would be thrown into the air again in a wider circle this time with the utmost clamour and vociferationvociferation n.大声叫嚷， 喧嚷， as though to be thrown into the air and settle slowly down upon the treetops were a tremendously exciting experience.
The same energy which inspired the rooks， the ploughmen， the horses， and even， it seemed， the lean barebacked downs， sent the moth fluttering from side to side of his square， of the windowpane. One could not help watching him. One was， indeed， conscious of a queer feeling of pity for him. The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormousenormous adj.巨大的， 庞大的， （古）极恶的， 凶暴的 and so various that to have only a moth，s part in life， and a day moth，s at that， appeared a hard fate， and his zest in enjoying his meager opportunities to the full， pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment， and， after waiting there a second， flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth？ That was all he could do， in spite of the size of the downs， the width of the sky， the faroff smoke of houses， and the romantic voice， now and then， of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did. Watching him， it seemed as if a fiber， very thin but pure， of the enormous energy of the world had been thrust into his frail and diminutivediminutive adj.小的， 指小的， 小型的 n.小的人， 指小辞， 指小词， 爱称 body. As often as he crossed the pane， I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life.
Yet， because he was so small， and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridorscorridor n.走廊 in my own brain and in those of other human beings， there was something marvelous as well as patheticpathetic adj.可怜的， 悲惨的 about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers， had set it dancing and zigzagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life， seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspectioncircumspection n.细心， 慎重 and dignity. Again， the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity.
After a time， tired by his dancing apparently， he settled on the window ledge in the sun， and the queer spectacle being at an end， I forgot about him. Then， looking up， my eye was caught by him. He was trying to resume his dancing， but seemed either so stiff or so awkward that he could only flutter to the bottom of the windowpane； and when he tried to fly across it he failed. Being intent on other matters I watched these futile attempts for a time without thinking， unconsciously waiting for him to resume his flight， as one waits for a machine， that has stopped momentarilymomentarily adv.即刻， to start again without considering the reason for its failure. After perhaps a seventh attempt he slipped from the wooden ledge and fell， fluttering his wings， on to his back on the windowsill. The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It flashed upon me that he was in difficulties； he could no longer raise himself； his legs struggled vainlyvainly adv.徒劳地. But， as I stretched out a pencil， meaning to help him to right himself， it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death. I laid the pencil down again.
