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.
在我家的附近有座小山， 我常在晚間爬上山去。此時，城市的喧囂成了遙遠的低語。在這黑夜的靜謐中，我盡情地分享蟋蟀的歡樂，感受貓頭鷹的自信。不過，我上山是來看月出的，因為這可以讓我的內心重新感到被城市消耗殆盡的平靜與清新。
在這座山上，我欣賞過許多次月亮升起的景象。每一次月的姿容性情都不同。秋天，滿月如輪，充滿自信;春天，月亮清霧迷蒙羞羞答答;冬天，銀白色的月亮掛在漆黑的、悄無聲息的夜空中，顯得那樣孤寂;夏天，桔黃色的月似被煙塵籠罩，俯瞰干燥的田野。每一種月亮，都像美妙的音樂，顫動我的心靈，令我的靈魂平靜。
但我們這些深居室內的人，已與月亮失去了聯系。城市中耀眼的街燈和污染性煙塵遮住了夜空。雖然人類已在月亮上行走過，但月亮對我們卻更加陌生了。現在已很少有人能說出今晚月亮何時升起。
但無論怎樣，月亮依然打動我們的心靈。
如果我們偶然遇見一輪黃燦燦的滿月高高掛在空中， 我們都會禁不住抬頭凝望她那高貴的儀容。而月亮會向那些注視她的人賜予厚禮。
我得到她的厚禮是在山間七月的一個夜晚。我的車突然無緣無故地熄了火，將我孤身一人困在山中，束手無策。太陽已經落山，我注視著東邊山頭涌起的一團桔紅色的明光，好像森林起火一般。突然，山頭自己也似乎燃起火焰，一會兒，一輪又大又紅的月亮從樹林中慢慢現出身來，夏天空氣中彌漫的灰塵與濕氣令它顯得異常怪異。大地灼熱的呼吸扭曲了它，它變得非常暴躁，不再完美。附近農舍的狗緊張地狂吠起來，因為這團奇怪的光亮叫醒了野草中的魔鬼。
然而當月亮緩緩從山頭升起，它聚集了越來越多的堅定與威嚴;它的面孔由紅色變成了桔紅，又變成金色，最后成為沉靜的黃色。它似乎吸收了正在漸漸轉暗的大地的光亮，因為隨著它的升起，下面的丘陵山谷變得愈來愈朦朧。等到皓月當空，滿月如盤，閃爍出象牙般的清輝，山谷便成了風景中一片幽深的陰影。那些狗明白了那團光原來是他們熟悉的月亮，也安定下來，停止了吠叫。霎時間，我也覺得信心倍增，心情舒暢，幾乎笑了起來。
這奇特的景觀持續了一個小時。月出是緩慢而充滿神奇的。觀看月出，我們必須回到一種古老的、耐心的時間觀念中去。觀看月亮不可阻擋地升上天空，會讓我們找到內心的無比安寧，我們的想象力能讓我們看到宇宙的遼闊和大地的廣袤，能讓我們忘掉自己的存在。我們覺得自身渺小，但又深感大自然的厚待。
月色下，我們看不到生活中堅硬的棱角。山坡在月光下如同籠上了一層柔和的銀紗;大海在月光下寧靜碧藍;我們在月光下也不再像白日那般心計來往，而是沉醉于自然的情感中。
（兼職編輯：楊帆）
