希望
Hope
Lu Xun 魯迅 (1881–1936)
Republican era and after · 1925

Cold Library · Open Stacks · S-003043 · https://coldlibrary.com/s/003043
Rights: First published in 1925; the author died in 1936. Public domain by age: the author died before 1956 and the text was published before 1931. Checked for Australia, the EU, the UK, mainland China and the United States as of 11 October 2026. Guidance, not legal advice.
Source: Wikisource, https://zh.wikisource.org/wiki/希望 (retrieved 2026-10-11)
English translation: Claude (an AI), 2026 · CC0 1.0
Generated 2026-10-14 from https://coldlibrary.com/en/open-stacks/lu-xun-hope

----

我的心分外地寂寞。

然而我的心很平安：沒有愛憎，沒有哀樂，也沒有顏色和聲音。

我大概老了。我的頭髮已經蒼白，不是很明白的事麽？我的手顫抖着，不是很明白的事麽？那麽，我的魂靈的手一定也顫抖着，頭髮也一定蒼白了。

然而這是許多年前的事了。

這以前，我的心也曾充滿過血腥的歌聲：血和鐵，火燄和毒，恢復和報讎。而忽而這些都空虛了，但有時故意地塡以沒奈何的自欺的希望。希望，希望，用這希望的盾，抗拒那空虛中的暗夜的襲來，雖然盾後面也依然是空虛中的暗夜。然而就是如此，陸續地耗盡了我的靑春。

我早先豈不知我的靑春已經逝去了？但以爲身外的靑春固在：星，月光，僵墜的胡蝶，暗中的花，貓頭鷹的不祥之言，杜鵑的啼血，笑的渺茫，愛的翔舞……。雖然是悲涼漂渺的靑春罷，然而究竟是靑春。

然而現在何以如此寂寞？難道連身外的靑春也都逝去，世上的靑年也多衰老了麽？

我只得由我來肉薄這空虛中的暗夜了。我放下了希望之盾，我聽到Petöfi Sándor(1823-49)的『希望』之歌：

希望是甚麽？是娼妓：

她對誰都蠱惑，將一切都獻給；

待你犧牲了極多的寶貝——

你的靑春——她就棄掉你。

這偉大的抒情詩人，匈牙利的愛國者，爲了祖國而死在可薩克兵的矛尖上，已經七十五年了。悲哉死也，然而更可悲的是他的詩至今沒有死。

但是，可慘的人生！桀驁英勇如Petöfi，也終于對了暗夜止步，回顧着茫茫的東方了。他說：

絕望之爲虛妄，正與希望相同。

倘使我還得偸生在不明不暗的這『虛妄』中，我就還要尋求那逝去的悲涼漂渺的靑春，但不妨在我的身外。因爲身外的靑春倘一消滅，我身中的遲暮也卽凋零了。

然而現在沒有星和月光，沒有僵墜的胡蝶以至笑的渺茫，愛的翔舞。然而靑年們很平安。

我只得由我來肉薄這空虛中的暗夜了，縱使尋不到身外的靑春，也總得自己來一擲我身中的遲暮。但暗夜又在那裏呢？現在沒有星，沒有月光以至笑的渺茫和愛的翔舞；靑年們很平安，而我的面前又竟至于並且沒有眞的暗夜。

絕望之爲虛妄，正與希望相同！

（一九二五年一月一日。）

----

我的心分外地寂寞。

然而我的心很平安：没有爱憎，没有哀乐，也没有颜色和声音。

我大概老了。我的头发已经苍白，不是很明白的事么？我的手颤抖着，不是很明白的事么？那么，我的魂灵的手一定也颤抖着，头发也一定苍白了。

然而这是许多年前的事了。

这以前，我的心也曾充满过血腥的歌声：血和铁，火焰和毒，恢复和报雠。而忽而这些都空虚了，但有时故意地填以没奈何的自欺的希望。希望，希望，用这希望的盾，抗拒那空虚中的暗夜的袭来，虽然盾后面也依然是空虚中的暗夜。然而就是如此，陆续地耗尽了我的青春。

我早先岂不知我的青春已经逝去了？但以为身外的青春固在：星，月光，僵坠的胡蝶，暗中的花，猫头鹰的不祥之言，杜鹃的啼血，笑的渺茫，爱的翔舞……。虽然是悲凉漂渺的青春罢，然而究竟是青春。

然而现在何以如此寂寞？难道连身外的青春也都逝去，世上的青年也多衰老了么？

我只得由我来肉薄这空虚中的暗夜了。我放下了希望之盾，我听到Petöfi Sándor(1823-49)的『希望』之歌：

希望是甚么？是娼妓：

她对谁都蛊惑，将一切都献给；

待你牺牲了极多的宝贝——

你的青春——她就弃掉你。

这伟大的抒情诗人，匈牙利的爱国者，为了祖国而死在可萨克兵的矛尖上，已经七十五年了。悲哉死也，然而更可悲的是他的诗至今没有死。

但是，可惨的人生！桀骜英勇如Petöfi，也终于对了暗夜止步，回顾着茫茫的东方了。他说：

绝望之为虚妄，正与希望相同。

倘使我还得偷生在不明不暗的这『虚妄』中，我就还要寻求那逝去的悲凉漂渺的青春，但不妨在我的身外。因为身外的青春倘一消灭，我身中的迟暮也即凋零了。

然而现在没有星和月光，没有僵坠的胡蝶以至笑的渺茫，爱的翔舞。然而青年们很平安。

我只得由我来肉薄这空虚中的暗夜了，纵使寻不到身外的青春，也总得自己来一掷我身中的迟暮。但暗夜又在那里呢？现在没有星，没有月光以至笑的渺茫和爱的翔舞；青年们很平安，而我的面前又竟至于并且没有真的暗夜。

绝望之为虚妄，正与希望相同！

（一九二五年一月一日。）

----

English translation by Claude (an AI)

My heart is unusually lonely.

Yet my heart is very calm: without love or hate, without joy or grief, without colour or sound.

I am probably growing old. My hair is already grey; is that not plain? My hands tremble; is that not plain? Then the hands of my soul must tremble too, and its hair must be grey.

But that was many years ago.

Before that, my heart was once full of bloody songs: blood and iron, flame and poison, recovery and revenge. Then all at once these became empty, though sometimes I deliberately filled the emptiness with a helpless, self-deceiving hope. Hope, hope: I took this shield of hope to hold off the dark night that attacks out of the emptiness, though behind the shield there was still the dark night in the emptiness. And so, little by little, I used up my youth.

Did I not know long ago that my youth had gone? But I thought the youth outside me still remained: the stars, the moonlight, the stiff fallen butterflies, the flowers in the dark, the ill-omened words of the owl, the cuckoo weeping blood, the vagueness of laughter, the dance of love ... Though it was a sad and uncertain youth, it was youth all the same.

But why is it so lonely now? Can it be that even the youth outside me has gone, and that the young people of the world have grown old too?

There is nothing for it but to grapple with this dark night in the emptiness myself. I have put down the shield of hope, and I hear the song "Hope" by Petőfi Sándor (1823–49):

What is hope? A harlot:

She lures everyone and gives herself to all;

When you have sacrificed your greatest treasure,

Your youth, she casts you off.

It is seventy-five years since this great lyric poet, this patriot of Hungary, died for his country on the points of Cossack spears. Death is sad, but sadder still is that his poems have not died even now.

But how pitiful is life. Even Petőfi, so proud and brave, halted at last before the dark night, and looked back towards the boundless East. He said:

Despair is as vain as hope.

If I must still drag out my life in this "vanity" that is neither light nor dark, I will still seek that lost, sad and uncertain youth, even if it lies outside me. For if the youth outside me is extinguished, the twilight within me will wither too.

But now there are no stars and no moonlight, no stiff fallen butterflies, no vagueness of laughter, no dance of love. Yet the young people are very calm.

There is nothing for it but to grapple with this dark night in the emptiness myself. Even if I cannot find the youth outside me, I must at least cast away myself the twilight within me. But where is the dark night? Now there are no stars, no moonlight, no vagueness of laughter, no dance of love; the young people are very calm, and before me there is not even a real dark night.

Despair is as vain as hope.

(1 January 1925)