参观者们用恳求的目光彼此看了一眼，然后对解说员说：“够 了”。 在奥斯维辛，没有新东西可供报道。这里天气晴朗，树木青青， 门前还有儿童在打闹、嬉戏。
The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas
Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights,before the dark hour of reason grows. 在黑暗的理性到来之前，用以丈量童年的是听觉、嗅觉以及视觉。
从某种意义上说，在布热金卡，最可 怕的事情是这里居然阳光明媚温暖，一 行行白杨树婆娑起舞，在大门附近的草 地上，还有儿童在追逐游戏。
It all seemed frighteningly wrong, as in a nightmare, that at Brzezinka the sun should ever shine or that there should be light and greenness and the sound of young laughter. It would be fitting if at Brzezinka the sun never shone and the grass withered凋谢, because this is a place of unutterable 十足的 terror.
今天，在奥斯维辛，并没有可供报道的新闻。记者只有一种非写不可的 使命感，这种使命感来源于一种不安的心情：在访问这里之后，如果不说 些什么或写些什么就离开，那就对不起在这里遇难的人们。
The visitors look pleadingly祈求地 at each other and say to the guide, “Enough.” There is nothing new to report about Auschwitz. It was a sunny day and the trees were green and at the gates the children played.
这真像一场噩梦，一切都可怕地颠倒了。在 布热金卡，本来不该有阳光照耀，不该有光 亮，不该有碧绿的草地，不该有孩子们的嬉 笑。布热金卡应当是个永远没有阳光、百花 永远凋谢的地方，因为这里曾 Nhomakorabea是人间地狱。
And so there is no news to report about Auschwitz. There is merely the compulsion to write something about it, a compulsion that grows out of a restless feeling that to have visited Auschwitz and then turned away without having said or written anything would somehow be a most grievous痛苦的 act of discourtesy无礼 to those who died here.
The most terrible thing of all, somehow, was that at Brzezinka the sun was bright and warm, the rows of graceful poplars were lovely to look upon, and on the grass near the gates children played.