【英文原文】

On Nov.18,1995, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and so he walks with the aid of two crutches.

The audience sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair and begins his play. But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. We thought that he would have to stop the concert. But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again.

The orchestra began and he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before.

Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a harmonious work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that.

When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium.

He smiled, wiped the sweat from this brow and then he said---not boastfully, but in a quiet, sacred tone---"You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."

This powerful line has stayed in my mind ever since I heard it. And who knows? Perhaps that is the definition of life---not just for artists but for all of us.

He has prepared all his life to make music on a violin of your strings, but all of a sudden, in the middle of a concert, he finds himself with only three strings; so he makes music with three strings, and the music he made that night with just three strings was more beautiful, more sacred, more memorable, than any that he had ever made before, when he had four strings.

So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world in which we live is to make music, at first with all that we have, and then, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left.

【中文译文】

1995年11月18日，小提琴家伊扎克・帕尔曼将要举办一场音乐会。如果你曾经听过帕尔曼的音乐会，你就知道对他来说走上舞台可不是一件容易的事情。他小的时候患过小儿麻痹症，所以他需要靠双拐走路。

观众在静静地等待着他穿过舞台坐在椅子上开始表演。但是这一次出了点儿问题。当他刚刚演奏完前面几小节的时候，一根琴弦断了。我们以为他不得不结束这场演奏会，然而他没有。他停了一下，闭上眼睛，然后向指挥示意重新开始。

乐队再一次开始演奏，他用前所未有的激情、力量和内心的纯净演奏着。

当然，我们每个人都知道仅用三根琴弦是无法演奏出和谐的乐曲的。你我都明白这一事实，但是那一晚伊扎克・帕尔曼就是拒绝承认。

当演奏结束的时候，大厅里一阵可怕的沉寂。接着，人们从座位上站起并欢呼起来，从观众席的每一个角落都爆发出热烈的掌声。

他微笑着，檫去额头的汗珠，没有一点骄傲，他用平静的、虔诚的语气说道：“有些时候音乐家要明白用不完整的乐器，你还能演奏出怎样的音乐。”

从那天起，这句有力的话一直留在我的心里。要知道，也许这就是对生命的解释----不仅是对音乐家，而是对所有的人。

伊扎克・帕尔曼一生都在做着用四弦的小提琴演奏音乐的准备，然而，突然间，就在音乐会上，他发现他只剩下三根琴弦，于是他用三根琴弦演奏。那一晚他用三根琴弦演奏的音乐比他以往用四根琴弦演奏的音乐更美妙，更神圣，更难忘。

我们要学会在这个动荡多变充满迷惑的世界里演奏音乐，也许开始的时候倾尽所有来演奏，当有些东西不再拥有的时候，就用我们所剩下的来演奏音乐。