They called it acute congestion of the stomach and brain. The doctor thought I could not live. Early one morning, however, the fever left me as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come. There was great rejoicing in the family that morning, but no one, not even the doctor, knew that I should never see or hear again.

家人们管这种病叫做胃和脑的急性阻塞症。医生认为我活不了了，然而造化弄人，就在某天早晨，我身上的烧突然退了，就像它到来时那样神秘莫测。那天早晨，家中充满了喜悦祥和的气氛，但是没有一个人，连同医生在内，全都不知道我再也看不见，再也听不见了。

I fancy I still have confused recollections of that illness. I especially remember the tenderness with which my mother tried to soothe me in my waling hours of fret and pain, and the agony and bewilderment with which I awoke after a tossing half sleep, and turned my eyes, so dry and hot, to the wall away from the once-loved light, which came to me dim and yet more dim each day. But, except for these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be memories, it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare. Gradually I got used to the silence and darkness that surrounded me and forgot that it had ever been different, until she came—my teacher—who was to set my spirit free. But during the first nineteen months of my life I had caught glimpses of broad, green fields, a luminous sky, trees and flowers which the darkness that followed could not wholly blot out. If we have once seen, "the day is ours, and what the day has shown."

如今，对疾病的回忆仍然会令我感到困惑。我特别记得母亲的悉心呵护，她在我一连数小时的焦躁和疼痛之中尽量抚慰我。我会在睡觉过程中惊悸着醒来，随之而来的是巨大的痛楚和迷惑，我试图转动眼睛，然而它是如此地干涩灼热；我把头扭向墙壁，因为那里曾有迷人的亮光，但是我只能看到暗淡模糊的一片，而且每天都在变暗。除了这些短暂的记忆，也就不曾剩下别样的东西了。事实上，这些回忆如梦似幻，恰如一场噩梦。渐渐地，我变得习惯于被寂静和黑暗所围裹，我也没有意识到这种生活有什么与众不同，直到她——我的老师到来的那一天——她引导我进入了精神自由的境界。总之，在我生命的最初十九个月中，我曾对这个世界匆匆一瞥，广袤的绿色田野，明亮的天空，树木和花丛的印记是随后而来的黑暗所无法抹煞掉的。假如我们曾经看见，“那一天就属于我们，那一天所展示的一切就属于我们”。