《追忆似水年华》是20世纪法国伟大小说家马塞尔·普鲁斯特的代表作，也是20世纪世界文学史上最伟大的小说之一。全书共七大卷，以叙述者“我”为主体，将其所见所闻所思所感融合一体，既有对社会生活，人情世态的真实描写，又是一份作者自我追求，自我认识的内心经历的记录。一起品尝下抖森同学给你准备的这块Petite Madeleine吧~
♥
——抖森朗读：《追忆似水年华》——
原声音频及中英文本
One day in winter, as I came home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea. She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called“petites madeleines,” And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate. Then that shuddered ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place.
有一年冬天，我回到家里，母亲见我冷成那样，便让我喝点茶暖暖身子。母亲叫人拿来一块点心，是那种又矮又圆的名叫“小玛德琳”的小蛋糕。我的心情很压抑，机械地舀了一勺茶送到嘴边，起先我已把一小口玛德琳蛋糕浸泡在那勺茶里。带着蛋糕渣的那一勺暖茶碰到我的上腭，我顿时混身一震，定住了，我感觉到自己身上正发生着非同小可的变化。
An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory—this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was myself.
一种舒坦的快感传遍全身，我感到超尘脱俗，却不知出自何因。我只觉得人生一世，荣辱得失都清淡如水，背时遭劫亦无甚大碍，所谓人生短促，不过是一时幻觉；那情形好比恋爱发生的作用，它以一种可贵的精神充实了我。也许，这感觉并非来自外界，它本来就是我自己。
I put down my cup and examine my own mind. I place in position before my mind's eye the still recent taste of that first mouthful, and I feel something start within me, something that leaves its resting-place and attempts to rise, something that has been embedded like an anchor at a great depth; I do not know yet what it is, but I can feel it mounting slowly; I can measure the resistance, I can hear the echo of great spaces traversed.
我放下茶杯，转向我的内心。我通过思索又追忆喝第一口茶时的感觉，再把第一口茶的滋味送到它的跟前。这时我感到内心深处有什麼东西在颤抖，而且有所活动，像是要浮上来，好似有人从深深的海底打捞起什麼东西，我不知道那是什麼，只觉得它在慢慢升起；我感到它遇到阻力，我听到它浮升时一路发出汩汩的声响。
Undoubtedly what is thus palpitating in the depths of my being must be the image, the visual memory which, being linked to that taste, has tried to follow it into my conscious mind. Will it ultimately reach the clear surface of my consciousness, this memory, this old, dead moment which the magnetism of an identical moment has travelled so far to importune, to disturb, to raise up out of the very depths of my being?
不用说，在我的内心深处跳动着的，一定是影像，一定是视觉的回忆，它同那种味道联系在一起，并试图随味道出现在我的脑海里。我无法请它告诉我这一感觉和哪种特殊境遇有关，这渺茫的回忆，这有着同样的吸引力，从遥遥远方而来，触动、震撼和撩拨起我内心深处感觉的古老而尘封的瞬间，最终能不能浮升到我清醒的意识的表层？
And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray , my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea.
然而，回忆却突然回来了：那味道就是我在贡布雷时星期天早晨吃到的小玛德琳蛋糕的味道（因为那些日子里我在做弥撒前都不会出门）。当我到莱奥妮姨妈的房内去请安时，她常常会把一块玛德琳蛋糕放到茶水中浸泡一下，然后拿给我吃。
When from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
但是天长日久之后，即使人亡物毁，久远的往事了无陈迹，唯独气味和味道虽说更脆弱却更有生命力；虽说更虚幻却更经久不散，更忠贞不渝。尽管其他的记忆早已烟消云散，但是气味和味道会在形销之后长期存在，如同灵魂一样，它们时刻准备着提醒我们，等待和期盼它们回归的那一刻；它们以细小到几乎无从辨认而又极其重要的蛛丝马迹，坚强不屈地支撑起整座回忆的巨厦。
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