"Forgive Me" - 1947
我疲倦地坐下，随手燃着含在口中的烟斗，觉得好像卸了一个重担般的舒适， 然而当烟云渐渐布满小室的时候，一种激荡的情绪从眼球的小孔爬进了脑海。 我默然，悲哀占了我。
我轻抚着从美国带回来的烟斗，好像是爱惜身体某一个部分似的。 街外的喧嘈消失了，也只留了静寂，让时间独奏着死亡进行曲。 阔别了家七年的我，回来以后每夜这样独坐沉思，酝酿着走他乡的念头。
一天我留在家中，我就要负起一个未完成的任务，而妻就是这个任务的对象。本来我预定一抵家就要解除这个担子，但是一见了妻的憔悴面容，又恐怕她受不起这个严重的打击，更且我不愿残忍地把重逢带给她的快乐予以毁灭，希望能够一点点地给她最大的安慰，然后发言。 但是当我的眼光和她那发射悲哀的视线接触时，我的勇气又全消了。 最痛苦的是在我们相对的时候，她的嘴唇微动，好像告诉我她已经知道了似的。 却又不说出来，只强压着心的哀号和眼的酸泪，益使我觉得自己是一个怯懦的逃兵。
事情是这样的。 七年前当我第二次去国的时候，本来是准备带大儿子同来的，妻却坚持我带二儿子。 她的理由是大儿子在高中就快毕业，而读书聪明，还是让他继续向学的好。
我明白妻的意思，而且很感激她，因为大儿子是前妻所出，二儿子才是她的骨肉。 我为了家庭的融合，常常设法多给二儿子一点机会。 到底大儿子的年纪较长，也很明白我的苦衷，故深得谅解。 而妻却采取相反的立场，认为大儿子蒙受天大的损失，我们应该予以弥补。 最后她说： “我明白大儿子对你的意义，他不独是你的儿子，而且是前妻的纪念品。 我将尽两个母亲的本份来爱护他，你此行尽可放心，我是不会辜负你的。”
“我和二儿子抵美后，家乡也糟了日寇残踏，和妻的通信也就断绝了几年。 在这期间的末期，我悲伤地埋葬了因过劳成肺病而死亡的二儿子。 胜利后，又以更大的悲哀瞒着妻，希望自己回来才亲自传递这个不幸的消息。
烟斗的烟全烧焦了，我还坐着不动。 然而我的精神清醒了许多，我万不能再继续逃避下去。 如果我默然地再去国，或者从此被妻原谅的机会也失去。 而且妻说大儿子在北方教学，迟早也要回家见我的，我不能就此而离开家庭。 与其把妻骗到幻想中去，建筑那必塌的楼台，倒不如大家生活到现实里来。 我一定要告诉她，我反正不能再将自己的灵魂宰割。
第二天黄昏的时候，我向妻说： “原谅我 。 。 。 。 ” 我鼓起来的勇气却只能说出这三个字。
“我知道你一定很痛苦。” 妻在我停顿的时候插了话来。她继续说：“原谅我，我本来早就想告诉你的，但是我缺乏勇气。 我不愿夺去你回家的喜悦，而结果反使你独自默默地吞受最大的痛苦。 是的，大儿子三年前在抗战的前线上死了。知道是这样，早年我就该在信中告诉你。 我希望能够补偿你的损失。”
我在打击中望着流泪的妻，我知道一切都没有关系了。 妻比我还有勇气。 这一想，我的力量也增强了起来。
我们互相交换了不幸的消息后，大家都陷入沉默中，我们之间的空气好像凝结起来，成了一座厚厚的石墙，动也不动。 我不知这样僵持了多久，只意识到黑暗已侵入室里来，妻的影子已经模糊了起来。 凭吊的时候已经过去了，现在是互相安慰的时候。 我上前紧握着妻的手，低声地说：“我们还没有失去一切，至少你我还存在，我们当初也是这样开始的。 死固然可怕，然而人类不会因为怕死而不愿生。 生比死还强。”
“我们可以补偿一切，” 妻的声音微弱而战抖： “唉，这冷酷的人生。”
我心里想： 伤后的创痕是无法消失的。 血流过的地方，眼泪是洗不清的。 这方面的损失是永远不能补偿的了。 “让我们燃着灯光吧。 我觉得人必需离开坟墓才能生活，在黑暗中是看不清楚的。”
I sit down in fatigue and casually light on the smoking pipe in my mouth. Like having released a heavy load, I feel comfortable with a sense of relief. But as the smoke gradually fills up the small room, a stirring emotion from the tiny orifices of my eyes crawls into my mind. I become speechless, as sadness overwhelms me. Like cherishing a certain part of my body, I lightly stroke the pipe I brought back from America. The noise from outside the street has faded and left behind only silence, allowing time to perform solo on the march of death. Having left home for seven years, upon return, every night I always sit alone in deep thought, entertaining the idea of going abroad again.
As long as I stay home I have to carry on an incomplete task, and its target is my wife. Originally I was prepared to relieve this burden as soon as I arrived home, but once I saw Wife’s thin and pallid complexion, I was afraid she would not be able to take this severe shock. Furthermore, I didn’t want to be so cruel as to destroy her happiness from our reunion. Before telling her, I hoped to increasingly give her a greatest sense of contentment. But when my vision encountered the light of sadness in her eyes, I completely lost my courage. When we faced each other, what pained me the most was how her lips slightly moved as if she was telling me she already knew. But she just couldn’t say it as she suppressed the sorrowful cry from her heart and the bitter tears in her eyes. It made me feel more like an army deserter.
This is what happened. On my second trip abroad seven years ago, I was prepared to take the older son with me, but Wife insisted I should take the second son instead. Her reasoning was that the older son would soon graduate from high school, and he was smart in studying, so it is better to let him continue his study.
I understood Wife’s intention and felt grateful to her because the older son is from my former wife, while the second is her own flesh and bone. For the sake of family harmony, I often tried to give the second son a little more opportunities, as the first son is older and should be able to understand my difficulties and forgive me. Yet contrarily, Wife took an opposite stance and considered the older son to have suffered extreme loss, so we should compensate him. At the end she said, “I understand the significance of the older son to you, as he is not only your son, but also a memento of your former wife. You could surely be at ease on your journey this time. I will love and protect him as I take up the responsibility of two mothers. I will not let you down.”
After my second son and I arrived in America, my homeland was brutally ruined by the Japanese army, and correspondence with Wife was cut off for a few years. At the end of this period, I sadly buried my second son who died of lung disease due to excessive labor. After victory, with greater sadness I hid it from Wife, hoping I would personally deliver this unfortunate news to her upon return.
The tobacco in my pipe has all been burnt, and I remain sitting still. Yet I am more alert and realize there is no other way I could continue to avoid giving her the sad news. If I quietly go aboard again, then, perhaps I would forever lose the opportunity to be forgiven by Wife. Besides, Wife said the older son is teaching up north; sooner or later he would come back to see me, so I just can’t leave home this way. Rather than deceiving Wife into an illusion that is built on a tower destined to collapse, it is better that we all live in reality. I must tell her. In any case, I can no longer slaughter my soul again.
On the evening of the second day, I said to Wife, “Forgive me . . . .” The courage I garnered could only help me speak these two words.
“I know you must be in great pain,” Wife interrupts when I pause. She continues, “Forgive me, I had intended to tell you earlier but I lack the courage. I don’t want to take away your joy of returning home. But it resulted in having you quietly endure the greatest pain all by yourself. Yes, the older son had died three years ago on the frontline of the War of Resistance. If I had known it would turn out this way, I would have told you earlier in my letter. I hope I can compensate for your loss.” In shock I look at my crying Wife and I know nothing matters now. Wife has more courage than I. With such thought, my ability has grown stronger.
After exchanging the unfortunate news with each other, we both fall into deep silence. The air between us seems to have solidified and turned into a thick wall that stays put. I don’t know how long we have frozen like that, and I am only aware that darkness has invaded the room and Wife’s shadow has grown blurry. The time of remembrance of the past is over; now is the time for mutual support. I get up and firmly hold on Wife’s hands, saying in a low voice, “We have not lost everything, at least you and I are still alive. This is how we started at the beginning. Death is indeed horrific, but no human would not want to live because of the fear of death. Life is stronger than death.” “We can compensate for all losses.” Wife’s voice is weak and shaky, “Oh, this callous life.” I think in my heart: It is impossible for a scar from a wound to disappear. Where blood has shed, tears can not wash it clean. The loss of this nature can never be compensated.
“Let us turn on the light. I believe people must leave the tomb before they can live, as we cannot see clearly in the dark.”