Every night, Momo's mother lit a small lantern beside his burrow. Its light made a warm circle on the wall. Momo counted the shadows until he fell asleep. He never looked at the dark corner behind the door.
每天晚上，莫莫的妈妈都会在他的洞穴旁点一盏小灯。灯光在墙上照出一个暖暖的圆圈。莫莫数着影子，直到睡着。他从不看门后那个黑黑的角落。
One evening, the oil in the lantern ran out. The flame grew small, blinked twice, and disappeared. Momo sat very still. The dark was not empty. It seemed to breathe. 'Mama,' he whispered, 'is the dark a thing that can see me?'
一天傍晚，灯里的油用完了。火苗变小，闪了两下，就消失了。莫莫一动不动地坐着。黑暗并不是空的，它好像在呼吸。“妈妈，”他小声问，“黑暗会看见我吗？”
His mother did not laugh. She opened the door and let the night in. 'Come,' she said. 'Let us visit the old pear tree.' Outside, the sky was soft and blue, not black at all. A small wind moved the grass.
妈妈没有笑。她打开门，让夜色进来。“来吧，”她说，“我们去看看那棵老梨树。”外面，天空是柔和的蓝色，根本不是黑的。一阵小风吹动了草丛。
'That is an owl,' his mother said. 'She is waking up.' Momo saw two green lights in the branches. They were not watching him. They were simply going about their night. Near his feet, a beetle rolled a seed home.
“那是一只猫头鹰，”妈妈说，“她刚醒来。”莫莫看见树枝上有两点绿光。那不是盯着他的眼睛，只是两只过着夜晚生活的眼睛。在他的脚边，一只甲虫正把一粒种子滚回家。
Back in the burrow, Momo looked at the dark corner. It was only a corner. He told his mother a story about an owl who lost her spectacles. She laughed, and the sound filled the room.
回到洞里，莫莫看了看那个黑角落。它只是一个角落。他给妈妈讲了一个猫头鹰弄丢眼镜的故事。妈妈笑了，笑声装满了小房间。
In the morning, the lantern stood cold on the shelf. Momo did not ask for oil. He filled it with three white pebbles. 'For company,' he said. That night, the pebbles held the day's small warmth, and he slept well.
早晨，小灯冷冷地立在架子上。莫莫没有要油。他在灯里放了三颗白色的小石子。“做个伴，”他说。那天夜里，小石子留着白天的余温，他睡得很香。