一个自由译者的生命记录

Streams in the Desert-September 6- -

                                      

I can't follow my previous schedule as to read through the book in callendar order. Life has been beleaguered by time-consuming assignments of translation for the sake of tomorrow's bread and all that. Time has been paid on errands that I don't see any soothing effect turned out as I secretly expected. A pat on the back, a hearty smile in appreciation, a free chat without being mistaken... I leaned on my shabby bike on the way to fetching fresh water, unable to come up with one single word to tell my frustration and sadness. Where art thou, Jesus? The old cookie vendor by the road is crying out for his goods at the top of his lungs. I envy him, for living such a beautiful small life.

"Thou remainest." (Heb. 1:11)
There are always lone hearth-fires; so many! And those who sit besides them, with the empty chair, cannot restrain the tears that will come. One sits alone so much. There is some One unseen, just here within reach. But somehow we don't realize His presence. Realizing is blessed, but -- rare. It belongs to the mood, to the feelings. It is dependent on weather conditions and bodily conditions. The rain, the heavy fog outside, the poor sleep, the twinging pain, these make one's mood so much, they seem to blur out the realizing.

When from my life the old-time joys have vanished,
Treasures once mine, I may no longer claim,
This truth may feed my hungry heart, and famished:
Lord, THOU REMAINEST! THOU art still the same! 

- 作者： 翰唐 访问统计：　2005年09月6日, 星期二 22:41 加入博采