The Fascinating Moonrise
There is a hill near my home that I often climb at night. The noise of the city is a far-off murmur. In the hush of dark I share the cheerfulness of crickets and the confidence of owls. But it is the drama of the moonrise that I come to see. For that restores in me a quiet and clarity that the city spends too freely.
From this hill I have watched many moons rise. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn; shy, misty moons in spring; lonely, white winter moons rising into the utter silence of an ink-black sky and smoke-smudged orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and then calmed my soul.
But we, who live indoors, have lost contact with the moon. The glare of street lights and the dust of pollution veil the night sky. Though men have walked on the moon, it grows less familiar. Few of us can say what time the moon will rise tonight.
Still, it tugs at our minds.
If we unexpectedly encounter the full moon, huge and yellow over the horizon, we are helpless but to stare back at its commanding presence. And the moon has gifts to bestow upon those who watch.
I learned about its gifts one July evening in the mountains. My car had mysteriously stalled, and I was stranded and alone. The sun had set, and I was watching what seemed to be the bright-orange glow of a forest fire beyond a ridge to the east. Suddenly, the ridge itself seemed to burst into flame. Then, the rising moon, huge and red and grotesquely misshapen by the dust and sweat of the summer atmosphere, loomed up out of the woods. Distorted thus by the hot breath of earth, the moon seemed ill-tempered and imperfect. Dogs at nearby farmhouse barked nervously, as if this strange light had wakened evil spirits in the weeds.
But as the moon lifted off the ridge it gathered firmness and authority. Its complexion changed from red, to orange, to gold, to impassive yellow. It seemed to draw light out of the darkening earth, for as it rose, the hills and valleys below grew dimmer. By the time the moon stood clear of the horizon, full-chested and round and of the colour of ivory, the valleys were deep shadows in the landscape. The dogs, reassured that this was the familiar moon, stopped barking. And all at once I felt a confidence and joy close to laughter.
The drama took an hour. Moonrise is slow and serried with subtleties. To watch it, we must slip into an older, more patient sense of time.
To watch the moon move inflexibly higher is to find an unusual stillness within ourselves. Our imaginations become aware of the vast distance of space, the immensity of the earth and the huge improbability of our own existence. We feel small but privileged.
Moonlight shows us none of life’s harder edges. Hillsides seem silken and silvery, the oceans still and blue in its light. In moonlight we become less calculating, more drawn to our feelings.
翻译：
那迷人的月光
在我家附近有一座小山，我经常在夜里爬。城市的喧嚣是遥远的低语。在黑暗的静谧中，我分享着蟋蟀的欢乐和猫头鹰的自信。但这是我所看到的月亮升起的戏剧。因为这使我重新恢复了平静而清晰的城市生活。
从这座山上我看到了许多月亮升起。每个人都有自己的心情。秋天有广阔的，自信的秋月;在春天朦胧的月亮;孤独的，白色的冬季月亮升起在漆黑的天空中，在干燥的田野上烟雾模糊的橙色月亮。每一个人，就像美妙的音乐，让我的心兴奋，然后让我的灵魂平静下来。
但我们住在室内，与月球失去了联系。街灯的强光和污染的尘土笼罩着夜空。虽然人类在月球上行走，但它变得不那么熟悉了。很少有人能说出今晚月亮何时升起。
尽管如此，它仍在我们的脑海中拉扯。
如果我们出乎意料地遭遇到一轮明月，巨大而又黄色的天边，我们只能无奈地盯着它的指挥。而月亮也有礼物送给那些看的人。
七月的一个晚上，我在山里得知了它的礼物。我的车神秘地熄火了，我被困在了那里。太阳已经落山了，我正在观看一场从山脊到东方的森林大火的明亮的橙色光芒。突然，山脊本身似乎燃烧起来。接着，那颗冉冉升起的月亮，又大又红，在夏季大气的尘土和汗水中怪异地扭曲，从树林中隐约出现。由于地球灼热的气息扭曲了，月亮似乎变得暴躁和不完美。附近农舍的狗紧张地吠叫着，仿佛这奇怪的光唤醒了野草中的恶鬼。
但是，当月亮从山脊上升起时，它变得坚定而权威。它的肤色从红色变成了橙色，变成了金色，变成了淡黄色。它似乎从黑暗的泥土中抽出光来，因为随着它的升起，下面的山谷和山谷变得越来越暗淡。当月亮从地平线上清晰地站起来，胸膛和圆圆的和象牙色的时候，山谷是大地的阴影。狗儿们打消了这个疑虑，说这是熟悉的月亮，停止了吠叫。突然，我感到了一种自信和快乐，接近于笑声。
这出戏花了一个小时。月亮的升起是缓慢的，充满了微妙的变化。为了观看它，我们必须进入一个更古老、更耐心的时间观念。
观察月亮的变化，是在我们自己内部找到一种不寻常的平静。我们的想象力开始意识到空间的巨大距离，地球的浩瀚以及我们自身存在的巨大的不可能。我们感到自己渺小却享有特权。
月色让我们看不到生活的艰难。山坡上似乎有丝光和银色，大海依然蔚蓝。在月光下，我们变得不那么精于算计，更容易被我们的感情所吸引。
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