原文
It seemed to Rudolph that the lighthouse keeper was entirely aware of all the sounds of the storm and of its violent impact upon the lighthouse, but he knew them so well that he did not have to think about them: they were like the involuntary movements of his own heart and blood. In the same way, beneath the simple courtesy that made him speak and listen to his guest in specific ways, he was already calmly and mysteriously a part of him, as surely as the mainland was connected with the little island, and all the islands with one another, so commodiously, under the ocean.
Gradually Rudolph drew forth the sparse data of the old man’s life: He had been born in this very lighthouse eighty-three years before, when his father was the lighthouse keeper. His mother—the only women he had ever known—had taught him to read the Bible, and he read it daily. He had no other books.
As a musician, Rudolph had not had time to read much either—but then, he had lived in cities. He reached down and took his beloved violin out of its case.
“What do make with that, Sir?” the old man asked.
For a second Rudolph thought his host might be joking; but the serenity of the other’s expression reassured him. There was not even curiosity about the instrument, but rather a whole interest in him, the person, that included his “work”. In most circumstances Rudolph would have found it hard to believe that there could exist someone who did not know what a violin was; yet he had no inclination to laugh. He felt small and inadequate.
“I make—music with it,” he stammered in a low voice.
“Music,” the old man said ponderously. “I have heard of it. But I have never seen music.”
“One does not see music. One hears it.”
“Ah, yes,” the lighthouse keeper consented, as it were, with humility. This too was in the Nature of Things wherein all works were wonders, and all things were known eternally and were poignant in their transiency. His wide grey eyes rested upon the little fiddler and conferred upon him all the importance of which any individual is capable.
Then something in the storm and the lighthouse and the old man exalted Rudolph, filled him with compassion and love and spaciousness infinitely beyond himself. He wanted to strike a work of fire and stars into being for the old man. And, with the storm as his accompanist, he stood and began to play—the Kreutzer Sonata of Beethoven.
The moments passed, moments that were days in the creation of that world of fire and stars; abysses and heights of passionate struggle, the Idea of Order, and the resolution of all these in the greatness of the human spirit. Never before had Rudolph played with such mastery—or with such an accompanist. Waves and wind beat the tower with giant hands. Steadily above them the beacon blazed in its sure cycles of darkness and light. The last note ceased and Rudolph dropped his head on his chest, breathing hard. The ocean seethed over the island with a roar as of many voices.
The old man had sat unmoving through the work, his broad, gnarled hands resting on his thighs, his head bowed listening massively. For some time, he continued to sit in silence. Then he looked up, lifted those hands calmly, judiciously, and nodded his head.
“Yes,” he said, “That is true.”
参考译文
在鲁道夫看来，这位灯塔守护人完全听得到暴风雨的山呼海啸，完全感受得到海浪风暴对灯塔的猛烈冲击，然而他对这一切都早就习以为常了，根本就不在乎：暴风雨的咆哮和冲击就像自己的心脏在跳动，像自己的血液在流动。同样道理，出于简单的礼节，老人与来客以特殊方式进行交谈的时候，悄无声息不知不觉之间，他就已经成了对方的组成部分，就像大陆连接着这座小岛，而在浩瀚的海洋之下，无数座岛屿牢牢地连接在一起。
交谈之间，鲁道夫慢慢知道了老人本来也为数不多的几项数据：八十三年前他就出生在这座灯塔之内，他的父亲那时就是这座灯塔的守护人。他的母亲是他这辈子认识的唯一女性，教会他阅读《圣经》，从此他便每天都要读《圣经》。他也没有别的书可读。
作为音乐家，鲁道夫也没有多少时间去读书—可他却是在城市里生活的呀！他俯下身去，把自己心爱的小提琴从盒子里取了出来。
“先生，你用它来做什么东西呀?”，老人发问道。
一时间鲁道夫觉得老人是在开玩笑的吧？可是对方的面部表情是那样的平静安详，他才觉得老人是认真在问他问题呢。老人甚至都没有对这件乐器表现出任何的好奇心，而仅仅是关注他这个人，还有他干的“活儿”。在大多数情况下，鲁道夫很难相信居然还会有人不知道小提琴为何物。可眼下他却笑不出来，反而感到自己很渺小，也有些不合时宜。
“我是用它来。。。做音乐的，”他结结巴巴地小声说道。
“音乐，”这位灯塔守护人若有所思地说道，“我听说过，可我从没看见过音乐。”
“人们不是看音乐，是听音乐的。”
“啊，是啊，”老人附和道，仿佛还有点羞赧。这同样是世间万物的属性所在，因此所有的作品都堪称奇迹。即便是稍纵即逝，也会令人印象深刻，从而永世流传。老人灰黑色的大眼睛注视着这位小提琴手，心里就认定眼前的人是所有人心中的大贵人。
此时此刻，暴风雨，这座灯塔，还有这位老人，一起猛然激发了鲁道夫的艺术创作热情，他登时感到心中充满大爱，心潮澎湃, 不能自已。他就想为这位老人打造一部烈火与星辰交相呼应的旷世精品。于是，他站起身来，将暴风雨当作自己的伴奏师，开始演奏贝多芬的克鲁泽奏鸣曲。
乐曲的分分秒秒过去了，这就是烈火与星辰创世纪的时光，期间伴随着激烈战斗的低谷与高峰，贯穿着澄清玉宇建功立业的崇高目标，都在人类伟大精神发扬之下得以实现。鲁道夫从未像这次一样演奏得如此炉火纯青，也从未有过这样的伴奏师为他伴奏。狂风大浪用巨掌拍击着这座灯塔，上方的航标灯正在以预定的明灭空当光照海空。随着最后一个音符嘎然而止，鲁道夫把头垂到胸前，气喘吁吁，而整个海洋就仿佛万众欢呼一般拥抱了这座海岛。
老人在乐曲演奏的整个过程中端坐不动，那双骨节分明的大手就放在膝上，低着头，在庄严地聆听。好一会儿，他坐在那里一言不发。然后，他抬起头来，静静地举起双手，脸上浮现出洞察一切的表情，点了点头。
“对，”他说道。“正是这样！”