【導讀】我是七月某夜在山間獲其厚贈的。那次，車子莫名其妙地熄火了，而我則只身。受困于這深山密林中。日已西落，入我眼簾的，是猶如森林大火般橙黃色亮光，自山脊后向東投射而來。聯(lián)系當時的作者所處的情境,在是上天賜予的一份厚禮。脈所阻擋，而作者在山的另一頭，如何欣賞到夕陽的余輝？突然間，那道山脈似乎也燃燒了起來。隨之，一輪巨大的紅。月由林間冉冉浮升，且因塵埃和暑汽之故而形態(tài)頗異。之故而顯形態(tài)之異。以便與后面狗吠形成照應(yīng)。然而，在月亮緩緩脫離山頭的同時，它也逐漸聚斂成型，重振威嚴?；鸺t、到橘紅、到金色、再到清冷的淺黃，其容顏都在不斷更易。它似乎正從淪入黑暗的大地身上汲取光亮。若有缺”相對比。運用擬人的手法darkening表示正在變黑，強調(diào)過程。直至月滿高掛、色若象牙之時，幽谷便成了山水間的重重陰影?；剡@一輪熟悉的月，吠犬們終于被安撫下來，便停止了叫聲。間，我頓時感到自信滿懷，無比愉悅，幾近要放聲大笑起來。

　　

【正文】 sshapen 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 illtempered and imperfect. Dogs 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 plexion 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, dull chested and round and 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 inexorably higher is to find an unusual stillness within ourselves. Our imaginations bee 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 bee less calculating, more drawn to our feelings. ? And odd things happen in such moments. On that July night, I watched the moon for an hour or two, and then got back into the car, turned the key in the ignition and heard the engine start, just as mysteriously as it had stalled a few hours earlier I drove down from the mountains with the moon on my shoulder and peace in my heart. ? I return often to the rising moon. I am drawn especially when events crowd ease and clarity of vision into a small corner of my life. This happens often in the fall. Then I go to my hill and wait the hunter’s moon, enormous and gold over the horizon, filling the night with vision. ? An owl swoops from the ridgetop, noiseless but bright as flame. A cricket shrills in the grass. I think of poets and musicians. If Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” and of Shakespeare, whose Lorenzo declaims in The Merchant of Venice, How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!/ Here will we sit and let sounds of music/ Creep in our ears. I wonder if their verse and music, like the music of crickets, are in some way voices of the moon. With such thoughts, my citified confusions melt into the quiet of the night. ? Lovers and poets find deeper meaning at night. We are all apt to pose deeper questionsabout our origins and destinies. We indulge in riddles, rather than in the impersonal geometries that govern the daylit world. We bee philosophers and mystics. ? At moonrise, as we slow our minds to the pace of the heavens, enchantment steals over us. We open the vents of feeling and exercise parts of our minds that reason locks away by day. We hear, across the distances, murmurs of ancient hunters and see anew the visions of poets and lovers of long ago.