苦難歲月中的溫暖與悲傷

一直對電影的結尾印象深刻，整個畫面被一片朦朧的光暈所籠罩。男主角獨自站在人群湧動的廣場一角，他要回家了，他朝思慕想的家和深愛著的母親。金色而溫暖的陽光安靜地灑在這片土地上，將他包圍。委婉動聽的音樂輕輕地在畫面中流淌，男主角的畫外音悄然響起：Even now, even here I recognized it—my favorite hour in the camp. And I was filled with a sharp, painful and helpless feeling. I felt homesick. Yes, in a certain sense life there was cleaner and simpler. Those who saved me came back to me. For the first time I thought of them with mild resentment, a kind of affectionate grudge. But let's not exaggerate. I accept every argument for the price of being able to live. I looked around in that gentle, dusky square, at that storm-tossed street which nonetheless held so much promise, I felt the readiness gather within me. I would continue this uncontinuable life of mine. I remembered my mother had plans for me to become an engineer, or a doctor. And that's what will happen: there's nothing too unmaginable to endure. And in my own way I already know that, lying in wait for me like some unavoidable trap, is happiness. Even beside the chimneys in the pause between torments there was something similar to happiness. People only ask about the horrors in the camp, whereas I should talk about the happiness of the camps next time if they ask. If they ask at all. And if I don't forget myself.