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This day is consecrated to the commemoration of the dead. Do you know, Enrico, that all you boys should, on this day, devote a thought to those who are dead? To those who have died for you,—for boys and little children. How many have died, and how many are dying continually! Have you ever reflected how many fathers have worn out their lives in toil? how many mothers have descended to the grave before their time, exhausted by the privations to which they have condemned themselves for the sake of sustaining their children? Do you know how many men have planted a knife in their hearts in despair at beholding their children in misery? how many women have drowned themselves or have died of sorrow, or have gone mad, through having lost a child? Think of all these dead on this day, Enrico. Think of how many schoolmistresses have died young, have pined away through the fatigues of the school, through love of the children, from whom they had not the heart to tear themselves away; think of the doctors who have perished of contagious diseases, having courageously sacrificed themselves to cure the children; think of all those who in shipwrecks, in conflagrations, in famines, in moments of supreme danger, have yielded to infancy the last morsel of bread, the last place of safety, the last rope of escape from the flames, to expire content with their sacrifice, since they preserved the life of a little innocent. Such dead as these are innumerable, Enrico; every graveyard contains hundreds of these sainted beings, who, if they could rise for a moment from their graves, would cry the name of a child to whom they sacrificed the pleasures of youth, the peace of old age, their affections, their intelligence, their life: wives of twenty, men in the flower of their strength, octogenarians, youths,—heroic and obscure martyrs of infancy,—so grand and so noble, that the earth does not produce as many flowers as should strew their graves. To such a degree are ye loved, O children! Think Today on those dead with gratitude, and you will be kinder and more affectionate to all those who love you, and who toil for you, my dear, fortunate son, who, on the day of the dead, have, as yet, no one to grieve for.
这一天是悼念死者的日子。你知道吗，安利柯，你们所有的孩子都应该在今天缅怀那些死去的人。缅怀那些为了你们——为了孩子们而牺牲的人们。多少人已经死去，又有多少人正将死去啊！你可曾想过有多少父亲在辛苦的工作中耗尽了生命呢？多少母亲为了养育孩子，困苦疲乏，提早入土呢？你知道有多少因见自己的孩子陷于不幸，而绝望地拿刀刺穿自己心脏的男人吗？有多少因为失去孩子而投河自尽、悲伤而死，又或者疯癫失常的女人吗？今天想想所有这些死去的人吧，安利柯。想想有多少女老师因操劳学校的事务，并一心一意热爱学生而消瘦憔悴、英年早逝；想想为了拯救孩子勇于献身，感染传染病而死去的医生们；想想那些在海难、火灾、饥荒中的人们，在生死关头，将最后一小块面包、最后的安全场所、最后一条从火焰中逃生的绳索让给了幼儿们，因为保全了幼小而无辜的生命，他们满足于自己的牺牲而从容瞑目了。像这样死去的人真是数也数不清啊，安利柯。每座墓地都长眠着成百上千这样神圣的灵魂，要是他们能够暂时从墓中复活，他们将要呼唤那个他们牺牲自己的青春年华、老年的安宁、爱情、才能和生命换来的那个孩子的名字:二十岁的少妇、正当壮年的男子、八旬老者、青年人——那些为幼儿献身的英勇的无名烈士们——如此伟大，如此高尚，地球上生长的鲜花都不足以点缀他们的墓地。人们是如此地爱你们啊，孩子们！怀着感激之心，在今天想想那些死去的人吧，这样一来，对于爱你的人和为你劳苦的人，你会更亲切和友好的。我亲爱的、幸运的儿子啊，在万灵节的这天，你还没有要为之哀悼的人呢。
Thy Mother.
你的母亲