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I study images of quasars giving birth to galaxies, galaxie whirling in the shapes of pinwheels, supernovas ringed by strands of luminous debris, and all the while I'm delving back toward that utter g when you and I and my daughter and her new husband and the bright heavenly host were joined in the original burst of light.
我研究类星体产生星系的图像，这些星系如同玩具风车一样旋转，超新星周围是一条条由星体遗骸组成的闪闪发光的带状物。我在这中间一直不断地探索宇宙的开始，一直追溯到你，我，我的女儿，她的新婚丈夫，以及天空中大量闪闪发光的星星汇合成最初的原始大耀光。
On these cool September mornings, I've been poring over two sets of photographs, those from deep space and those from Eva's wedding, trying to figure out why such different images-of supernova and shining daughter, of spinning galaxies and trembling bouquets-set up in me the same hum of delight. The feeling is unusually intense for me just now, so soon after the nuptials, but it has never been rare. As far back as I can remember, things seen or heard or smelled, things tasted or touched, have provoked in me an answering vibration. The stimulus might be the sheen of moonlight on the edles of a white pine, or the iridescent glimmer on a dragonfly's tail, or the lean silhouette of a ladder-back chair, or the glaze on a hand-thrown pot. It might be bird song or a Bach sonata or the purl of water over stone. It might be a line of poetry, the outline of cheek, the savor of bread, the sway of a bough or a bow. The provocation might be as grand as a mountain sunrise or as humble as an icicle's jeweled tip, yet in each case a familiar surge of gratitude and wonder wells up in me.
九月凉爽的早晨，我一直在研究两套照片：一套来自遥远的天际，一套来自伊娃的婚礼。我在试图弄清楚为什么这些不同的形象——超新星和闪亮的女儿，旋转的星系和颤动的花束——都在我心中激起了同样喜悦的旋律。婚礼结束并没有多久，这种感觉在我心中异常强烈，事实上这种感觉常常会有。就我所能回想起的，无论是所见、所听、所闻，是所品尝或所触摸的事物，都曾激起我回应的共鸣。触动这种激情的，也许是倾泻在白松松针上的月色，是蜻蜓尾部变幻不定的彩虹色的闪光。它可能是小鸟的歌唱、巴赫的奏鸣曲，或流水淌过石头的潺潺声；它可能来自一行诗、面包的香味或者是树枝的摇曳和琴弓的拉动；它可能来自高山日出的壮观场面，也可能仅仅起自不起眼的冰锥儿头上晶莹的冰珠。但不管是何种起因，每次我心中都会涌起同样的感激和惊叹。
Now and again some voice raised on the stairs leading to my study, some passage of music, some noise from the street, will stir a sympathetic thrum from the strings of the guitar that tilts against the wall behind my door. Just so, over and over again, impulses from the world stir a responsive chord in me-not just any chord, but a particular one, combining notes of elegance, exhilaration, simplicity, and awe. The feeling is as recognizable to me, as unmistakable, as the sound of Ruth's voice or the beating of my own heart.
通向我书房楼梯上响起的谈话声、飘过的乐声街道上的嘈杂声，都会不时激起那把倾斜着放在我的门后墙上的吉他的和弦共鸣。就这样一次又一次地，外部世界总会激起我回应的和弦——那不是一种任意的和弦，而是混合了优雅、振奋、简洁和敬畏各种音符的一种特别的和弦。这种感觉如辨别鲁思的声音或确定我的心跳一样清晰，准确无误。
