by Antoine de St. Exupery

本次小編節(jié)選了《風(fēng)、沙與星辰》中的一段文字與大家分享，文章開頭作者得知一位飛行員前輩飛行遇難，在一輛簡(jiǎn)陋的令人壓抑的“老爺車”上，同行的公務(wù)員們對(duì)那位飛行員的遭遇的反應(yīng)引發(fā)了作者深刻的思考。成為一個(gè)在安逸中自甘墮落的小資產(chǎn)者顯然不是作者的選擇，作者選擇在天空翱翔，并通過每一次的不同經(jīng)歷悟出各種關(guān)于生命的真理。若你讀完此書，你將會(huì)永遠(yuǎn)記得一句話：“在云海上空依靠指南針飛行確實(shí)很美好，也很痛快，但是……但你要記?。涸坪Ｖ隆侨f劫不復(fù)?！辈诲e(cuò)，在這個(gè)價(jià)值觀迷亂的年代，唯有認(rèn)清自己的角色，我們才能生得坦然，死得從容，同時(shí)賦予生命和死亡以意義。

It was three in the morning when they woke me. I 1）thrust the shutters open with a dry snap， saw that rain was falling on the town， and got 2）soberly into my 3）harness. A half-hour later I was out on the pavement shining with rain， sitting on my little 4）valise and waiting for the bus that was to pick me up. So many other flyers before me， on their day of ordination， had undergone this humble wait with beating heart.

Finally I saw the old-fashioned vehicle come round the corner and heard its tinny 5）rattle. Like those who had gone before me， I 6）squeezed in between a sleepy customs guard and a few 7）glum government clerks. The bus smelled 8）musty， smelled of the dust of government offices into which the life of a man sinks as into a 9）quicksand. It stopped every five hundred yards to take on another 10）scrivener， another guard， another inspector.

Those in the bus who had already gone back to sleep responded with a vague grunt to the greeting of the newcomer， while he crowded in as well as he was able and instantly fell asleep himself. We 11）jolted mournfully over the 12）uneven pavements of 13）Toulouse， one mail pilot or another got into this bus and was for the moment indistinguishable from these bureaucrats. But as the street lamps moved by， as the field drew nearer and nearer， the old omnibus rattling along lost little by little its reality and became a grey 14）chrysalis from which one emerged 15）transfigured.

凌晨三點(diǎn)，我被人叫醒了。我用力推開了百葉窗，發(fā)現(xiàn)城里正在下雨，我神情凝重地穿好降落傘背帶。半個(gè)小時(shí)以后，我來到被雨水洗刷一新的人行道，坐在自己的小行李箱上，等待著公司的班車。在我之前，已經(jīng)有許多伙伴在即將踏上征程的時(shí)候，也和我一樣，在沉重的等待中備受煎熬。

那輛老式車子終于出現(xiàn)在街角，像破銅爛鐵一樣叮咣亂響。和其他的伙伴一樣，這次輪到我有權(quán)與還在犯迷糊的海關(guān)職員和幾個(gè)沉悶的公務(wù)員一起擠在長板凳上。車上彌漫著一股霉味，就像是積滿塵垢的機(jī)關(guān)和破舊的辦公室。而人一旦陷入這樣的辦公室里，就再難自拔了。車子每開500碼就要停一次，好讓秘書、海關(guān)職員或督察員之類的人上車。

剛上來的新乘客朝著已經(jīng)快要睡著的老朋友問好，并在得到了嘟囔著的回答后，找了個(gè)位置擠坐下來，然后很快也打起盹來。在圖盧茲高低不平的街道上，我們凄涼地顛簸著；飛行員與公務(wù)員混坐在一起，一點(diǎn)也不起眼。但是，街燈一盞盞閃過去，機(jī)場(chǎng)越來越近。這輛古董箱里的老爺車在咯吱咯吱聲中逐漸幻化成一只灰色的蝶蛹，坐在里面的人就像蝴蝶一樣，即將破蛹而出。

Morning after morning a flyer sat here and felt of a sudden， somewhere inside the vulnerable man subjected to his neighbors surliness， the stirring of the pilot of the Spanish and African mails， the birth of him who， three hours later， was to confront in the lightnings the dragon of the mountains； and who， four hours afterwards， having vanquished it， would be free to decide between a 16）detour over the sea and a direct assault upon the 17）Alcoy range， would be free to deal with storm， with mountain， with ocean. And thus every morning each pilot before me， in his time， had been lost in the anonymity of daybreak beneath the 18）dismal winter sky of Toulouse， and each one， transfigured by this old omnibus， had felt the birth within him of the 19）sovereign who， five hours later， leaving behind him the rains and snows of the North， had 20）throttled down his motor and begun to drift earthward in the summer air beneath the shining sun of 21）Alicante.

The old omnibus has vanished， but its 22）austerity， its discomfort， still live in my memory. It was a proper symbol of the 23）apprenticeship we had to serve before we might possess the stern joys of our craft. Everything about it was intensely serious.

I remember three years later， though hardly ten words were spoken， learning in that bus of the death of Lécrivain， one of those hundred pilots who on a day or a night of fog have retired for eternity.

It was three in the morning， and the same silence was abroad when we heard the field manager， invisible in the darkness， address the inspector： “Lécrivain didnt land at 24）Casablanca last night.”

“Ah！” said the inspector. “Ah…” Torn from his dream he made an effort to wake up， to display his zeal， and added： “Is that so？ Couldnt he get through…Did he come back？”

And in the dead darkness of the omnibus the answer came： “No.”

We waited to hear the rest， but no word sounded. And as the seconds fell it became more and more evident that that “no” would be followed by no further word， was eternal and without appeal， that Lécrivain not only had not landed at Casablanca but would never again land anywhere.

And so， at daybreak on the morning of my first flight with the mails， I went through the sacred 25）rites of the craft， and I felt the selfconfidence 26）oozing out of me as I stared through the windows at the 27）macadam shining and reflecting back the street lights. Over the pools of water I could see great palms of wind running. And I thought： “My first flight with the mails！ Really， this is not my lucky day.” I raised my eyes and looked at the inspector. “Would you call this bad weather？”I asked. He threw a weary glance out of the window.“Doesnt prove anything，” he 28）growled finally. And I wondered how one could tell bad weather. The night before， with a single smile Guillaumet had wiped out all the evil 29）omens with which the veterans overwhelmed us， but they came back into my memory. “I feel sorry for the man who doesnt know the whole line 30）pebble by pebble， if he runs into a snow-storm. Oh， yes， I pity the fellow.” Our elders， who had their prestige to think of， had all bobbed their heads solemnly and looked at us with embarrassing sympathy， as if they were pitying a flock of condemned sheep.

For how many of us had this old omnibus served as refuge in its day？ Sixty？ Eighty？ I looked around me. Luminous points glowed in the darkness. Cigarettes punctuated the humble meditations of worn old clerks. How many of us had they 31）escorted through the rain on a journey from which there was no coming back？ I heard them talking to one another in murmurs and whispers. They talked about illness， money， shabby domestic cares. Their talk painted the walls of the dismal prison in which these men had locked themselves up. And suddenly I had a vision of the face of destiny.

Old bureaucrat， my comrade， it is not you who are to blame. No one ever helped you to escape. You， like a 32）termite， built your peace by blocking up with cement every 33）chink and cranny through which the light might pierce. You rolled yourself up into a ball in your genteel security， in routine， in the stifling conventions of provincial life， raising a modest rampart against the winds and the tides and the stars. You have chosen not to be 34）perturbed by great problems， having trouble enough to forget your own fate as man. You are not the dweller upon an 35）errant planet and do not ask yourself questions to which there are no answers. You are a petty bourgeois of Toulouse. Nobody grasped you by the shoulder while there was still time. Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and hardened， and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician， the poet， the astronomer that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.

The 36）squall has ceased to be a cause of my complaint. The magic of the craft has opened for me a world in which I shall confront， within two hours， the black dragons and the crowned crests of a coma of blue lightnings， and when night has fallen. I， delivered， shall read my course in the stars.

每位伙伴都曾經(jīng)歷過這一幕，在一個(gè)和此刻相似的清晨，從一個(gè)地位低下、仍然要遭到督察員訓(xùn)斥的低級(jí)職員，瞬間變成了一名飛西班牙和非洲郵航班機(jī)的飛行員；三個(gè)小時(shí)之后，他就要在閃光電球中迎戰(zhàn)巨龍般的群山；再過個(gè)四小時(shí)，他將降伏巨龍，終于擁有了至高的權(quán)力，來決定是繞航海路還是直接飛越阿爾科伊的層巒疊嶂。他將向狂風(fēng)暴雨、崇山峻嶺和驚濤駭浪發(fā)起挑戰(zhàn)。在圖盧茲冬季陰霾的天空下，每天清晨在我之前的每一位飛行員，都曾混雜在默默無聞的人群里，且在這老爺車中破繭成蝶，感到自己將成為最高主宰。五個(gè)小時(shí)后，他將把北方的雨雪甩在自己身后，減慢馬達(dá)的轉(zhuǎn)速，在阿利坎特盛夏的燦爛陽光中緩緩降落。

這輛老爺車早已消失了，但它的簡(jiǎn)陋與不舒適卻給我留下了深刻的印象。它象征著從事我們這個(gè)既艱苦又快樂的職業(yè)所必需的準(zhǔn)備工作。在這里，一切都顯得那么質(zhì)樸。

我還記得，三年后的一天，就是在這種車上，在不到十句話的聊天中，我便得知了飛行員勒克里萬的死訊。他是我們幾百名伙伴中的一員，在一個(gè)大霧迷茫的白天或夜晚，永遠(yuǎn)地離開了我們。

那次也是在凌晨三點(diǎn)，四周同樣一片死寂。突然間，我們?cè)谏焓植灰娢逯傅暮诎抵新牭浆F(xiàn)場(chǎng)經(jīng)理朝著督察員說道：“勒克里萬昨夜沒有在卡薩布蘭卡著陸?！?/p>

“啊！”督察員回答，“是嗎！” 他從夢(mèng)中驚起，努力讓自己清醒過來，關(guān)切地問道：“是嗎！他沒能飛過去？他半道返航了嗎？”

從這老式車的漆黑深處只傳來一句回答：“沒有?！?/p>

我們還在等著聽下文，可卻什么話也沒等到。時(shí)間一秒一秒地流逝著，顯然，這個(gè)“沒有”后面已經(jīng)沒有下文了。這個(gè)“沒有”是終審判決，勒克里萬不只是沒有在卡薩布蘭卡著陸，他再也不會(huì)在任何地方著陸了。

因此，在我第一次執(zhí)行郵航任務(wù)的清晨，輪到我來參加這個(gè)神圣的就職儀式了。透過車窗，望著被街燈照得明晃晃的碎石路，我心里十分不踏實(shí)。一陣陣狂風(fēng)掠過地上的水洼，我不禁想到：“我的第一次郵航……真是太倒霉了。” 我抬起頭，望了一眼督察員，說道：“天氣不怎么樣吧？”督察員疲憊地瞧了一眼車窗外，嘟囔著：“這可說不好?！蔽宜伎贾鴫奶鞖鈺?huì)有什么樣的預(yù)兆。就在出發(fā)前夕，吉奧梅特的一個(gè)微笑驅(qū)散了老飛行員壓在我們心上的所有不祥之兆；可是，此時(shí)此刻，這些兆頭又重新浮現(xiàn)在我的腦海中：“誰要是不了解航線上的每座山石，而且又碰上暴風(fēng)雪，那可夠倒霉的……哦，是啊，夠倒霉的……”我們的前輩，他們要維護(hù)自己的威信，帶著讓人難堪的憐憫，看著我們，搖搖頭，仿佛在為我們的天真與無知而惋惜。

這輛老爺車曾經(jīng)成為我們之中多少人的歸宿？六十人還是八十人？我環(huán)顧身旁，發(fā)現(xiàn)在黑暗中有幾點(diǎn)香煙點(diǎn)明的閃爍。那些陷入沉思的煙客都是上了年紀(jì)的老公務(wù)員，他們給我們之中的多少人當(dāng)過送殯客？我在無意中也聽到一些他們低聲交談的秘聞?shì)W事。他們談著生老病死，談著金銀玉帛，談著煩人的家長里短。這些事情就像是一堵堵死氣沉沉的圍墻，將他們囚禁在黯淡的監(jiān)牢之中。突然之間，命運(yùn)的真面目出現(xiàn)在我的眼前。

我跟前的這位同事是個(gè)老公務(wù)員，我不是要指責(zé)他，但他從來都無法從這座監(jiān)獄中逃出來。你就像白蟻一樣，用水泥封死了所有透光的縫隙，滿足于“小資”的安穩(wěn)生活，墨守著外省人的那些繁文縟節(jié)。你筑起這座謙卑的堡壘，擋住了風(fēng)沙雨雪，也遮住了日月星辰。你根本不把心思放在那些所謂的重大事情上。你想盡一切辦法，要把人類的狀況忘得一干二凈。你根本就不是這顆不安行星上的居民，你從不問自己那種沒有答案的問題。你只不過是圖盧茲的一個(gè)小資產(chǎn)者。即使還來得及，也沒有人會(huì)把手搭在你的肩膀上。現(xiàn)在，作為你身體的黏土已經(jīng)干枯而堅(jiān)硬，再也沒有誰能夠喚醒沉睡在你身上的音樂家、或是很早以前隱居在你身上的詩人或天文學(xué)家了。

我不再抱怨狂風(fēng)暴雨了。飛行員這個(gè)職業(yè)的魅力為我開創(chuàng)了另一個(gè)新世界，兩個(gè)小時(shí)之內(nèi)，我就要到那里與眾黑龍搏斗，與電閃雷鳴的險(xiǎn)峰周旋；在那個(gè)新世界里，我突出重圍，在夜幕下的星辰中自由翱翔，尋找著屬于自己的航道。