It would almost be true to say that there existed for jean Valjean neither sun, nor fine summer days, nor radiant sky, nor fresh April dawns.
我们几乎可以说,对冉阿让,无所谓太阳,无所谓春秋佳日,无所谓晴空,无所谓四月天的清凉晓色。
2
Such are the thoughts which assail me since one fine Bysakh morning I awoke amidst fresh breeze and light, new leaf and flower, to find that I had stepped into my twenty-seventh year.