瓦尔登湖:The Pond in Winter2

　　When I strolled around the pond in misty weather I was sometimes amused by the primitive mode which some ruder fisherman had adopted. He would perhaps have placed alder branches over the narrow holes in the ice， which were four or five rods apart and an equal distance from the shore， and having fastened the end of the line to a stick to prevent its being pulled through， have passed the slack line over a twig of the alder， a foot or more above the ice， and tied a dry oak leaf to it， which， being pulled down， would show when he had a bite.  These alders loomed through the mist at regular intervals as you walked half way round the pond.

　　Ah， the pickerel of Walden！ when I see them lying on the ice， or in the well which the fisherman cuts in the ice， making a little hole to admit the water， I am always surprised by their rare beauty，as if they were fabulous fishes， they are so foreign to the streets，even to the woods， foreign as Arabia to our Concord life.  They possess a quite dazzling and transcendent beauty which separates them by a wide interval from the cadaverous cod and haddock whose fame is trumpeted in our streets.  They are not green like the pines， nor gray like the stones， nor blue like the sky； but they have， to my eyes， if possible， yet rarer colors， like flowers and precious stones， as if they were the pearls， the animalized nuclei or crystals of the Walden water.  They， of course， are Walden all over and all through； are themselves small Waldens in the animal kingdom， Waldenses.  It is surprising that they are caught here ――that in this deep and capacious spring， far beneath the rattling teams and chaises and tinkling sleighs that travel the Walden road，this great gold and emerald fish swims.  I never chanced to see its kind in any market； it would be the cynosure of all eyes there. Easily， with a few convulsive quirks， they give up their watery ghosts， like a mortal translated before his time to the thin air of heaven.

　　As I was desirous to recover the long lost bottom of Walden Pond， I surveyed it carefully， before the ice broke up， early in '46， with compass and chain and sounding line.  There have been many stories told about the bottom， or rather no bottom， of this pond，which certainly had no foundation for themselves.  It is remarkable how long men will believe in the bottomlessness of a pond without taking the trouble to sound it.  I have visited two such Bottomless Ponds in one walk in this neighborhood.  Many have believed that Walden reached quite through to the other side of the globe.  Some who have lain flat on the ice for a long time， looking down through the illusive medium， perchance with watery eyes into the bargain，and driven to hasty conclusions by the fear of catching cold in their breasts， have seen vast holes "into which a load of hay might be driven，" if there were anybody to drive it， the undoubted source of the Styx and entrance to the Infernal Regions from these parts. Others have gone down from the village with a "fifty-six" and a wagon load of inch rope， but yet have failed to find any bottom； for while the "fifty-six" was resting by the way， they were paying out the rope in the vain attempt to fathom their truly immeasurable capacity for marvellousness.  But I can assure my readers that Walden has a reasonably tight bottom at a not unreasonable， though at an unusual， depth.  I fathomed it easily with a cod-line and a stone weighing about a pound and a half， and could tell accurately when the stone left the bottom， by having to pull so much harder before the water got underneath to help me.  The greatest depth was exactly one hundred and two feet； to which may be added the five feet which it has risen since， making one hundred and seven.  This is a remarkable depth for so small an area； yet not an inch of it can be spared by the imagination.  What if all ponds were shallow？

　　Would it not react on the minds of men？  I am thankful that this pond was made deep and pure for a symbol.  While men believe in the infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless.

　　啊，瓦尔登的梭鱼！当我躺在冰上看它们，或者，当我望进渔人们在冰上挖掘的井，那些通到水中去的小窟窿的时候，我常常给它们的稀世之美弄得惊异不止，好像它们是神秘的鱼，街上看不到，森林中看不到，正如在康科德的生活中看不到阿拉伯一样。他们有一种异常焰目、超乎自然的美，这使它们跟灰白色的小鳕鱼和黑线鳕相比，不啻天渊之别，然而后者的名誉，却传遍了街道。它们并不绿得像松树，也不灰得像石块，更不是蓝得像天空的；然而，我觉得它们更有稀世的色彩，像花，像宝石，像珠子，是瓦尔登湖水中的动物化了的核或晶体。它们自然是彻头彻尾的瓦尔登；在动物界之中，它们自身就是一个个小瓦尔登，这许多的瓦尔登啊！惊人的是它们在这里被捕到，――在这深而且广的水中，远远避开了瓦尔登路上旅行经过的驴马，轻便马车和铃儿叮当的雪车，这伟大的金色的翠玉色的鱼游泳着。这一种鱼我从没有在市场上看到过；在那儿，它必然会成众目之所瞩注。很容易的，只用几下痉挛性的急转，它们就抛弃了那水露露的鬼影，像一个凡人还没有到时候就已升上了天。

　　因为我渴望着把瓦尔登湖的相传早巳失去的湖底给予恢复，我在一八四六年初，在溶冰之前就小心地勘察了它，用了罗盘，绞链和测水深的铅锤。关于这个湖底，或者说，关于这个湖的无底，已经有许多故事传涌，那许多故事自然是没有根据的。

　　人们并不去探查湖底，就立刻相信它是无底之湖，这就奇怪极了。我在这一带的一次散步中曾跑到两个这样的无底湖边。许多人非常之相信，认为瓦尔登一直通到地球的另外一面。有的人躺卧在冰上，躺了很久，通过那幻觉似的媒介物而下瞰，也许还望得眼中全是水波，但是他们怕伤风，所以很迅速地下了结论，说他们看到了许多很大的洞穴，如果真有人会下去填塞干草，“其中不知道可以塞进多少干草”，那无疑是冥河的入口，从这些入口可以通到地狱的疆域里去。另外有人从村里来，驾了一头五十六号马，绳子装满了一车，然而找不出任何的湖底；因为，当五十六号在路边休息时，他们把绳子放下水去，要测量它的神奇不可测量，结果是徒然。可是，我可以确切地告诉读者，瓦尔登有一个坚密得合乎常理的湖底，虽然那深度很罕见，但也并非不合理。我用一根钩鳕鱼的钓丝测量了它，这很容易，只需在它的一头系一块重一磅半的石头，它就能很准确地告诉我这石头在什么时候离开了湖底，因为在它下面再有湖水以前，要把它提起来得费很大力气。最深的地方恰恰是一百零二英尺；还不妨加入后来上涨的湖水五英尺，共计一百零七英尺。湖面这样小，而有这样的深度，真是令人惊奇，然而不管你的想象力怎样丰富，你不能再减少它一英寸。如果一切的湖都很浅，那又怎么样呢？难道它不会在人类心灵上反映出来吗？我感激的是这一个湖，深而纯洁，可以作为一个象征。当人们还相信着无限的时候，就会有一些湖沼被认为是无底的了。

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