It was Saturday. As always, it was a busy one, for “Six days shall you labor and all your work” was taken seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr. Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood. Inside their own houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.
那天是星期六。和往常一樣，這是繁忙的一天，因為那時候“每周工作六天”的情況很嚴重。屋外，父親和隔壁的帕特里克先生正忙著砍柴。在他們自己的房子里，母親和帕特里克夫人正在進行春季大掃除。

Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites. Now, even at the risk of having Brother caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string. It seemed there was no limit to the heights to which kites would fly today.
不知怎么的，男孩們帶著風箏偷偷溜到了后院。現在，即使冒著讓伙伴被抓到清掃地毯的風險，他們還是把他送去廚房去拿更多的線。今天的風箏的飛行似乎可以飛得很高。

My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she cast a look toward the window. “Come on, girls! Let’s take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute.”
母親看了看客廳，里面的家具亂七八糟，需要徹底打掃。她又朝窗戶看了一眼。“來吧，女孩們！讓我們把線給男孩們，看他們放會風箏。”

On the way we met Mrs. Patric, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together with her girls.
在路上，我們遇到了帕特里克夫人，她和她的女兒們內疚地笑著，好像她做錯了什么。

There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys’ kites and they went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orange-colored spots of the kites. Now and then we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally bringing it down to earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.
從來沒有這樣的放風箏的日子！我們把所有的新線都給了男孩的風箏，風箏越來越高。我們幾乎看不清風箏上橙色的斑點。我們不時地慢慢地把一只風箏拉回來，看著它在風中上下飛舞，最后把它帶回了地面，只是為了再次把它送上天。

Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like schoolgirls. I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children forgot their everyday fights and little jealousies. “Perhaps it’s like this in the kingdom of heaven,” I thought confusedly.
就連我們的父親也放下工具加入了我們。我們的母親也輪到了，笑得像個女學生。我想我們都瘋了。父母忘記了自己的責任和尊嚴；孩子們忘記了他們每天的爭吵和小小的嫉妒。“也許在天國就是這樣，”我困惑地想。

It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the housed. I suppose we had some sort of supper. I suppose there must have been surface tidying-up, for the house on Sunday looked clean and orderly enough. The strange thing was, we didn’t mention that day afterward. I felt a little embarrassed. Surely none of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that deepest part of me where we keep “the things that cannot be and yet they are.”
天漸漸黑了，我們才睡意朦朧地走回屋里。我想我們吃了晚飯。我想一定是有人在整理房間，因為周日的房子看起來足夠干凈有序。奇怪的是，我們后來沒有提到那天。我感到有點尷尬。當然，其他人都沒有我那么興奮。我把記憶鎖在了我最深處，在那里我們保存著“這件不可能存在但的確存在的事”。

The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get some work out of the way while my three-year-old insistently cried her desire to “go park, see duck.”
多年以后，有一天，我在城市公寓的廚房里匆匆忙忙，想找點工作，而我三歲的孩子卻堅持喊著她想“去公園，看看鴨子”。

“I can’t go!” I said. “I have this and this to do, and when I’m through I’ll be too tired to walk that far.”
“我不能去！”我說。“我有很多事要做，當我做完的時候，我會累得走不了那么遠。”

My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling. “It’s a wonderful day,” she offered, “really warm, yet there’s a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?”
來看望我們的母親從正在剝的豌豆中抬起頭來。“今天天真好，”她主動說道，“真的很溫暖，還有些微風。你還記得我們放風箏的那一天嗎？”

I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories. “Come on,” I told my little girl. “You’re right, it’s too good a day to miss.”
我在爐子和水槽之間的沖刺中停了下來。鎖著的門敞開了，隨之而來的是一連串的回憶。“來吧，”我對我的小女兒說，“你說得對，今天天氣太好了，不要錯過。”

Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath of a great war. All evening we had been asking our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely, but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he thinking of --- what dark and horrible things?
又過了十年，我們處于一場偉大戰爭的余波中。整個晚上，我們都在問我們的歸國士兵，最小的帕特里克男孩，他作為戰俘的經歷。他曾經暢所欲言，但現在他沉默了很長一段時間。他在想什么——什么黑暗可怕的事情？

“Say!” A smile sipped out from his lips. “Do you remember --- no, of course you wouldn’t. It probably didn’t make the impression on you as it did on me.”
“嗯！”他嘴角微微一笑。“你還記得嗎？不，你當然不記得。你不可能像我印象這樣深刻。”

I hardly dared speak. “Remember what?”
我幾乎不敢說話。“記得什么？”

“I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp, when things weren’t too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?”
“我之前在戰俘營里，當情況不太好的時候經常會想起那一天。你還記得我們放風箏的那天嗎？”