心如花园(心如花园双语悦读)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：双语悦读编辑组

出版社：外语教学与研究出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

心如花园(心如花园双语悦读)试读：

My grandfather took me to the fish pond on the farm when I was about seven, and he told me to throw a stone into the water. He told me to watch the circles created by the stone. Then he asked me to think of myself as that stone.

"You may create lots of splashes in your life, but the waves that come from those splashes will disturb the peace of all your fellow creatures," he said.

"Remember that you are responsible for what you put in your circle and that circle will also touch many other circles.

"You will need to live in a way that allows the good that comes from your circle to send the peace of that goodness to others. The splash that comes from anger or jealousy will send those feelings to other circles. You are responsible for both."

That was the first time I realized that each person created the inner peace or discord that flowed out into the world. We cannot create world peace if we are riddled with inner conflict, hatred, doubt or anger.

We radiate the feelings and thoughts that we hold inside, whether we speak them or not. Whatever is splashing around inside of us is spilling out into the world, creating beauty or discord with all other circles of life.

splash　n. 　飞溅的水花

discord　n. 　不和，纷争

radiate　v. 　传播

spill　v. 　溢出

在我大约7岁那年，祖父带我到农场的鱼塘边玩儿。他让我往水中扔一颗石子，并叫我仔细观察石子激起的波纹。之后，他让我把自己想象成那颗石子。“生活中，你可能会溅起很多水花，而由此产生的波纹会打破周围的平静。”他说。“记住，你要对自己激起的波纹负责，因为它们会触碰到他人的波纹。”“你应该努力通过自己的波纹将平和传递给别人，而那些带着愤怒和嫉妒的水花则会向他人传递消极的情绪，因此，你对它们都要负责。”

这是我第一次意识到，每个人内心的平和或不安都会传递给整个世界。如果我们的心中充斥着矛盾、仇恨、怀疑或愤怒，就不可能创造一个和平的世界。

无论是否表达出来，我们的情感和思绪无时无刻不在向外界释放着。无论我们内心激起的水花是哪一种，都会溅向这个世界，与他人的生命波纹共振，构成或美好或躁动的生活。Music to My Ears心灵之乐

I am a former elementary school music teacher from Seattle, Washington. I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons—something I've done for over 30 years. Over the years I have found that children have many levels of musical ability. I've never had the pleasure of having a protégé though I have taught some talented students.

However I've also had my share of what I call "Musically challenged" pupils. One such student was Robert. Robert was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robert. But Robert said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano. So I took him as a student.

Well, Robert began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. Much as Robert tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I required all my students to learn.

Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always say, "My mom's going to hear me play some day." But it seemed hopeless.

He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robert off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stepped in. Then one day Robert stopped coming to our lessons.

I thought about calling him but assumed, because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue something else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed to the students homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robert (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mom had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing.

"Miss Smith... I've just got to play!" he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be alright.

The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robert up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my "curtain closer".

Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robert came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an egg-beater through it, "Why didn't he dress up like the other students?" I thought. "Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?"

Robert pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories.

He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people at his age. After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause.

Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robert in joy. "I've never heard you play like that, Robert! How did you do it?" Through the microphone Robert explained, "Well, Miss Smith... remember I told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard my play. I wanted to make it special."

There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robert from the stage to be placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robert as my pupil.

No, I've never had a protégé, but that night I became a protégé of Robert's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it was he that taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance on someone even though you don't know why.

supplement　v. 　补充

protégé　n. 　门徒，门生

endeavor　n. 　努力

salvage　v. 　挽救

magnificent　adj. 　出色的

perseverance　n. 　坚持不懈

我以前是华盛顿州西雅图市的小学音乐教师。三十多年来，我一直通过业余教钢琴课补贴家用。多年下来，我发现孩子们的音乐才华参差不齐。尽管我教过一些有天分的学生，但我从未有过收了得意门生的欣喜。

但是，我却有过一些我称之为“音乐才能不足”的学生，比如罗伯特。罗伯特的妈妈是个单身母亲，她送罗伯特来上第一节钢琴课时，罗伯特都11岁了。我向罗伯特解释说我更愿意接收年纪小一点的初学者（尤其是男孩子！）做学生。罗伯特却说他妈妈一直都梦想能够听到他的琴声，于是我收下了他。

就这样，罗伯特开始了他的钢琴课，从一开始我就觉得他的努力是白费的。不管罗伯特怎么用功，他就是没有乐感和最起码的节奏感。可是他勤勤恳恳地练习音阶和那些我要求所有学生都要学会的简单曲子。

几个月过去了，他一直在努力着，我也一直在倾听着，夸奖着，希望这样能够鼓励他。每周的课结束后他总是说：“总有一天，我妈妈会听到我的演奏。”但是，这看上去真是毫无希望。

他就是没有天分。我只在他妈妈用那辆老旧的汽车接送他的时候远远地看见过她。她总是微笑着挥挥手，却从没有进来过。后来有一天，罗伯特再也没来上课了。

我想过给他打电话，但又一想，也许是因为他没有音乐天分，所以就去做别的事情了。我也暗自庆幸他终于不用来了。他可是没给我的钢琴课做什么好宣传！

几星期后，演奏会举办在即，我把通知寄到了学生们家里。让我吃惊的是，罗伯特收到通知后问我他能不能来参加演奏会。我告诉他那只是为目前上课的学生举行的，因为他终止了钢琴课，所以他并不具备参加的资格。他说，他妈妈一直生病，不能带他来上课，可是他一直都在练习。“史密斯小姐……我一定得演奏！”他坚持道。我不知道自己最终怎么会答应了他，也许是他的坚持，也许是我内心深处的声音在告诉自己不会有什么问题。

演奏会之夜终于到了。中学体育馆内家长亲友济济一堂。我把罗伯特安排在最后一个上场表演，那之后我就要上台来感谢所有学生，并演奏终场曲目。我想即便罗伯特演砸了，我也能通过我演奏的“谢幕曲”来挽救。

演奏会进行得很顺利。学生们的勤奋练习得到了展示。这时，罗伯特上台了，他的衣服皱皱巴巴，头发更是乱得好像用打蛋器搅拌过。“他怎么就不能打扮得像其他学生一样？”我想，“为什么在这个特殊的夜晚，他妈妈都不提醒他梳梳头呢？”

罗伯特拉出琴凳，开始演奏。听到他宣布将演奏莫扎特的《C大调第21钢琴协奏曲》时我很惊讶，接下来听到的更是令我目瞪口呆。他的手指在琴键上显得那么轻盈，它们简直是在象牙色的琴键上翩翩起舞。

他的琴声时而轻柔，时而响亮；从快板到华丽的装饰音，莫扎特作品所要求的那种挂留和弦被他演奏得太出色了！我从来没听过莫扎特的作品被他这个年龄的孩子演奏得这么好。六分半钟之后他在壮丽的高潮中结束演奏，全场起立，掌声雷动。

我被完全折服了，含着眼泪跑上舞台，抱着罗伯特欣喜若狂。“我从来没听过你弹得这么棒，罗伯特！你是怎么做到的？”罗伯特对着话筒说道：“哦，史密斯小姐……您还记得我告诉过您我妈妈病了吧？嗯，其实，她得了癌症，今早去世了。嗯……她天生是聋人，所以今晚是她第一次能真正听到我的演奏。我想做得好一些。”

那天晚上，在场的每个人都哭了。当社会福利机构的工作人员把罗伯特从舞台上带走去抚育照顾时，我注意到他们的眼睛都是红肿的。我心中暗想，能够收罗伯特做我的学生，我的人生变得多么充实而有意义！

是的，我没有收过天才学生，但在那一晚我成了罗伯特的学生。他是老师，我是学生，是他教会了我坚持不懈和爱以及相信自己，甚至冒着风险去相信一个人，即使你不知道为什么。The Wholeness of Life完美人生

Once a circle missed a wedge. The circle wanted to be whole, so it went around looking for its missing piece. But because it was incomplete and therefore could roll only very slowly, it admired the flowers along the way. It chatted with worms. It enjoyed the sunshine. It found lots of different pieces, but none of them fit. So it left them all by the side of the road and kept on searching. Then one day the circle found a piece that fit perfectly. It was so happy. Now it could be whole, with nothing missing. It incorporated the missing piece into itself and began to roll. Now that it was a perfect circle, it could roll very fast, too fast to notice flowers or talk to the worms. When it realized how different the world seemed when it rolled so quickly, it stopped, left its found piece by the side of the road and rolled slowly away.

The lesson of the story, I suggested, was that in some strange sense we are more whole when we are missing something. The man who has everything is in some ways a poor man. He will never know what it feels like to yearn, to hope, to nourish his soul with the dream of something better. He will never know the experience of having someone who loves him give him something he has always wanted or never had.

There is a wholeness about the person who has come to terms with his limitations, who has been brave enough to let go of his unrealistic dreams and not feel like a failure for doing so. There is a wholeness about the man who has learned that he is strong enough to go through a tragedy and survive, he can lose someone and still feel like a complete person.

Life is not a spelling bee, where no matter how many words you've gotten right, you're disqualified if you make one mistake. Life is more like a baseball season, where even the best team loses one-third of its games and even the worst team has its days of brilliance. Our goal is to win more games than we lose.

When we accept that imperfection is part of being human, and when we can continue rolling through life and appreciate it, we will have achieved a wholeness that others can only aspire to.

If we are brave enough to love, strong enough to forgive, generous enough to rejoice in another's happiness, and wise enough to know there is enough love to go around for us all, then we can achieve a fulfillment that no other living creature will ever know.

admire　v. 　羡慕，欣赏

incorporate...into　合并，并入

yearn　v. 　渴望，向往

condemn　v. 　谴责

spelling bee　拼写比赛

从前，有个圆圈缺了一块楔子。它想变得完整，于是便四处寻找它丢失的那部分。由于不完整，所以它只能慢慢地滚动。一路上，它欣赏花儿；它与小虫谈天说地。它还享受了阳光的照耀。圆圈找到了许多不同的楔子，但没有一块与它相配。所以，它将它们统统弃置路旁，继续寻觅。终于有一天，它找到了可以与自己完美契合的那部分。圆圈是那么高兴。现在它终于完整了，不缺任何东西了。它装好丢失的那块，开始滚动起来。现在它是个完整的圆圈了，可以滚动得非常快，快到无暇欣赏花儿，也无暇与小虫闲聊。当圆圈意识到由于滚得太快，世界变得如此不同时，它不禁停了下来，将找到的那块楔子弃置路旁，又开始慢慢地滚动。

我想这个故事告诉我们，从某种奇妙的意义上讲，当我们失去了一些东西时反而更加完整。一个拥有一切的人其实在某种程度上说算是个穷人。他永远也体会不到什么是渴望，什么是期待，体会不到梦想更美好的东西以充实自己的灵魂。他也永远不会有这样一种体验：一个爱他的人送给他梦寐以求的或者从未拥有过的东西意味着什么。

人生的完整性在于可以正视自身的缺陷，勇敢地摒弃不切实际的幻想而又不以此为缺憾。人生的完整性还在于学会勇敢面对人生悲剧而继续活下去，能够在失去亲人后依然表现出完整的个人风范。

人生不是一场拼字比赛，无论你拼出了多少单词，只要拼错了一个，你便前功尽弃了。人生更像是一个棒球赛季，即使最好的球队也会输掉三分之一的比赛，而最差的球队也有春风得意的时候。我们的目标就是多赢球，少输球。

当我们接受了“不完美”是人生的一部分时，当我们在人生之路上不断前进并能欣赏生命之美时，我们便获得了别人只能渴望的完整人生。

如果我们有足够的勇气去爱，足够强大的力量去宽容他人，足够宽厚地去为别人的幸福而快乐，并有足够的智慧意识到我们所有人身边充满了爱，那么我们就能得到其他生命所感受不到的满足感。Smiles with Gratitude感激的微笑

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Carl. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd." I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friend tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses I saw tears in his eyes.

As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives." He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.

I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before.

We talked all the way home, and I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes. We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Carl, the more I liked him. And my friends thought the same of him.

Monday morning came, and there was Carl with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Damn boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday! " He just laughed and handed me half the books. Over the next four years, Carl and I had become best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Carl decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship. Carl was valedictorian of our class.

I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak. On graduation day, I saw Carl. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good with glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous.

Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks!" he said.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began: "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, and maybe a coach... but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story." I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself on the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth.

nerd　n. 　书呆子

shrug　v. 　耸（肩）

crawl　v. 　爬

valedictorian　n. 　致告别辞者

smack　v. 　拍打

locker　n. 　有锁的寄物柜

上高一时，有一天，我看见班上的一个孩子放学后回家，他叫卡尔，看上去他把所有的书都带上了。我心想：“怎么会有人星期五把所有书都带回家呢？他一定是个书呆子。”我周末可是有好多计划的（参加聚会，而且明天下午还要和朋友一起玩橄榄球），于是，我耸耸肩，继续往前走。我正走着，发现一帮孩子向他跑去。他们往他身上撞，把他的书从手中撞掉，又把他绊倒，他摔在地上，眼镜也飞了。我看见他的眼镜掉落在离他十英尺远的草地上。他抬起头，我看见他眼睛里满是悲伤。我心中对他充满了同情，于是我慢慢跑向他。他趴在地上到处找眼镜，泪水在他眼睛里直打转。

我把眼镜递给他，说：“那些傻瓜，他们太无聊了。”他看着我说：“嗨，谢谢！”脸上展现出一个大大的微笑，这是那种真心感激的微笑。

我帮他捡起书，问他住在哪儿。结果发现他住得离我很近，我问怎么以前没看见过他，他说他以前上私立学校。我以前可是从来都不会跟私立学校的孩子玩儿的。

我们一路边走边聊，我帮他拿着书。其实他是一个挺酷的孩子，我问他愿不愿意星期六和我以及我的朋友一起玩橄榄球，他说愿意。我们整个周末都混在一起，我对卡尔的了解越多，就越喜欢他，我的朋友也一样喜欢他。

星期一早晨，我又碰到了抱着一大堆书的卡尔。我叫住他，说：“臭小子，你是不是要每天拿这堆书练肌肉啊！”他只是笑，把一半书递给我。在以后的四年中，卡尔和我成了最好的朋友。读四年级时，我们开始考虑申请大学。卡尔决定去乔治敦大学，我打算去杜克大学。我知道我们一直都会是朋友，距离根本不是问题。他要做医生，我则获得了橄榄球奖学金要去读商科，卡尔还将作为我们班的毕业生代表致告别辞。

我总取笑他是书呆子。他必须准备毕业典礼上的演讲，我很庆幸自己不必站在那里发表演说。毕业典礼那天，我见到卡尔。他看上去很棒，他是在高中期间真正找到自我的学生之一。他长高长壮实了，戴着眼镜挺好看的，他约会的次数比我还多，所有女孩都喜欢他！天啊，有时候我真嫉妒他。

今天也是让我妒忌他的一天。我能看出来他对一会儿的演讲感到很紧张，于是我拍着他的后背说：“嘿，伙计，你会很棒的！”他用那种表情（很感激的那种）看着我，笑了。“谢谢！”他说。

轮到他演讲了，他清了清喉咙，开始说道：“毕业之际，也是一个感谢那些帮你渡过难关的人的时刻。你的父母，你的老师，你的兄弟姐妹，也许还有教练……但最重要的是你的朋友。我在这里要告诉大家，做一个人的朋友是你能给他的最好礼物。我要给你们讲个故事。”接下来，他讲起他和我初次相遇的事。我看着他，不敢相信自己的耳朵。他说本来他打算在那个周末自杀，他说到自己如何清理了储物柜，以便他妈妈之后不用再来收拾，然后拿着自己的东西回家。他努力看着我，冲我微微一笑：“谢天谢地，我得救了，我的朋友救了我，我没有做那不堪的事。”当这个帅气的、人见人爱的男孩给我们讲述他最脆弱的时刻时，我听到了人们发出的惊讶声。我看到他的爸爸妈妈都在看着我，并向我微笑，也同样是那种感激的微笑。直到那一刻，我才感受到这微笑的深刻含义。A Moment of Joy片刻的欢乐

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss.

What I did not realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, and made me laugh and weep.

But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some people who had been partying or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under such circumstances, many drivers just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door.

This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her eighties stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" She said. I took the suitcase to the cab, and then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm, and we walked slowly toward the cab.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing," I told her, "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated." Oh, you're such a good boy," she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Can you drive through downtown?" "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly. "Oh, I don't mind," she said, "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice." I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter."What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.

It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said, "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was

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