亲爱的艾斯特台词上 亲爱的艾斯特游戏小说版中英对照上篇

　　亲爱的艾斯特台词上篇是什么内容?因为游戏原作没有中文翻译，很多玩家看不懂剧情，下面小编为大家带来亲爱的艾斯特游戏小说版中英对照上篇，感兴趣的小伙伴一起了解一下吧。

亲爱的艾斯特台词上篇是什么内容

　　这部游戏我当它是一部小说去体验，文章的顺序是自己根据游戏里的语言包及个人感受整理的排序，不一定完全符合游戏背景。中文翻译来源猛犸汉化组的汉化包，感谢大神们的神仙译文，帮助理解了很多剧情。友情提醒，开始旅途前配上专辑音乐沉浸感加倍!

　　【以下正文】

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 有时我会觉得, 这座小岛其实是我自己所生. 在经纬的某个交点中, 裂开了一条缝, 它就在那里无缘无故地出现, 千里迢迢来到了这里. 无论我如何殚精竭虑思考, 对这座小岛, 我始终想不出个所以然, 它依旧是一个谜, 我的任何推测都不得要领. 每次回来, 我都会带着绝望的心情留下一些新记号, 我希望它们会带给我新的感觉.

　　Dear Esther. I sometimes feel as if I’ve given birth to this island. Somewhere, between the longitude and latitude a split opened up and it beached remotely here. No matter how hard I correlate, it remains a singularity, an alpha point in my life that refuses all hypothesis. I return each time leaving fresh markers that I hope, in the full glare of my hopelessness, will have blossomed into fresh insight in the interim.

　　从这里, 我可以看到自己的那些舰队. 如果我能返回大陆, 而非死于自己的背包底下, 我会来收回那些从没打算给你看的信件, 让它们洒落在这片失落的沙滩. 然后, 我会把它们捡起来, 折叠成小船. 我把你放在折痕中, 太阳初升时, 我会让舰队起航. 碎成二十一段的我, 委派你前往大西洋, 而我会坐在这里, 看着你们通通沉没

　　From here I can see my armada. I collected all the letters I’d ever meant to send to you, if I’d have ever made it to the mainland but had instead collected at the bottom of my rucksack, and I spread them out along the lost beach. Then I took each and every one and I folded them into boats. I folded you into the creases and then, as the sun was setting, I set the fleet to sail. Shattered into twenty-one pieces, I consigned you to the Atlantic, and I sat here until I’d watched all of you sink.

　　现在的我, 体验着死亡前的最后痛楚. 腿处的感染彷如一座钻井平台, 把漆黑的泥浆灌入我的骨髓. 为保持清醒, 我吞咽了一把安定片扑热息痛药. 痛楚就像地下海那样流遍全身.

　　I’m traversing my own death throes. The infection in my leg is an oilrig that dredges black muck up from deep inside my bones. I swallow fistfuls of diazepam and paracetamol to stay conscious. The pain flows through me like an underground sea.

　　你妈妈告诉我, 在你出生的那一刻, 产房顿时变得内鸦雀无声. 因为你的左边脸有一个巨大的红胎记. 那时候每个人都说不出话, 最后, 你的哭声填补了空虚. 我很欣赏你这点; 你的哭声总能把空虚化于无形. 我甚至开始故意制造空虚, 好让你能够一展所长. 那个胎记自你在六岁时就开始渐渐褪去, 到我们首次见面时已不复存在, 但你对空虚的热爱以及化解空虚的天赋, 却一直都在.

　　When you were born, you mother told me, a hush fell over the delivery room. A great red birthmark covered the left side of your face. No one knew what to say, so you cried to fill the vacuum. I always admired you for that; that you cried to fill whatever vacuum you found. I began to manufacture vacuums, just to enable you to deploy your talent. The birthmark faded by the time you were six, and had gone completely by the time we met, but your fascination with the empty, and its cure, remained.

　　“回来吧! ”

　　“Come back!”

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 虽然他们已经把损失记录清楚, 但我很害怕你忽然站起来, 伸伸懒腰, 便不认得我了, 我就像一颗闷闷不乐的彗星绕着你旋转, 我们身后的历史, 不过是荧光管所发出的太阳风. 你的头发还没梳洗, 你的脸还没上妆. 你就是我的世界, 你就如沙滩那样, 随时可供人调查, 你在诉说着一个故事, 但提示却隐藏在伤口后面.

　　Dear Esther. Whilst they catalogued the damage, I found myself afraid you’d suddenly sit up, stretch, and fail to recognise me, I orbited you like a sullen comet, our history trailing behind me in the solar wind from the fluorescent tubes. Your hair had not been brushed yet, your make-up not reapplied. You were all the world like a beach to me, laid out for investigation, your geography telling one story, but hinting at the geology hidden behind the cuts and bruises.

　　我患上了肾结石, 你到医院探望我. 手术后, 因为麻醉的关系我还处于半睡半醒之中, 你的身影, 你的声音都是那么的模糊混沌. 现在, 我的肾石逃了出来, 长成为这座小岛, 你也因为一部醉醺醺的车而现形了.

　　I had kidney stones, and you visited me in the hospital. After the operation, when I was still half submerged in anaesthetic, your outline and your speech both blurred. Now my stones have grown into an island and made their escape and you have been rendered opaque by the car of a drunk.

　　等候室墙上的海报印着化学图案. 这看上去很合时宜; 但在隔壁的房间中, 那个抽象的静态的化学反应已经开始腐蚀你的神经系统. 我就像化学考试前夕临急抱佛脚的学生那样, 拼命地吃安定. 我改变选择, 我已无法再幸福长寿地活下去了.

　　There were chemical diagrams on the posters on the walls on the waiting room. It seemed appropriate at the time; still-life abstractions of the processes which had already begun to break down your nerves and your muscles in the next room. I cram diazepam as I once crammed for chemistry examinations. I am revising my options for a long and happy life.

　　唐纳利曾经写过一位隐士的故事; 从前, 有个圣人, 他一直在寻找最纯粹的孤独. 有人说他乘着一条船, 一直从本土划到这里. 值得一提的是, 那是一条无底船, 因此大海中的所有动物都能在夜里出来, 和他交谈. 和那些动物的交谈一定令他觉得失望透顶吧. 现在, 那些在大海中飘荡的东西变成了人们倾倒的垃圾, 他或许能找到更多平静吧. 人们说, 他在南边的一处山谷张开双臂, 峭壁裂开了, 给他提供了一处容身之所; 人们说, 他在一百一十六年后, 因发烧而死去. 牧羊人会在洞口给他留下礼物, 但唐纳利在报告中说, 牧羊人从未亲眼见过他. 我参观过那个洞穴, 我也留下了自己的礼物. 但和其它牧羊人一样, 我对那位隐士要寻找的孤独而言, 都只是一名微不足道的过客罢了.

　　Donnelly reported the legend of the hermit; a holy man who sought solitude in its most pure form. Allegedly, he rowed here from the mainland in a boat without a bottom, so all the creatures of the sea could rise at night to converse with him. How disappointed he must have been with their chatter. Perhaps now, when all that haunts the ocean is the rubbish dumped from the tankers, he’d find more peace. They say he threw his arms wide in a valley on the south side and the cliff opened up to provide him shelter; they say he died of fever one hundred and sixteen years later. The shepherds left gifts for him at the mouth of the cave, but Donnelly records they never claimed to have seen him. I have visited the cave and I have left my gifts, but like them, I appear to be an unworthy subject of his solitude.

　　唐纳利在图书馆的书自在1974年以来就没有被外借过. 所以, 哪怕我把它藏在大衣内, 躲过图书管理员的视线, 偷偷带走, 也不会有人觉得可惜吧. 那本书题材晦涩, 文风怪诞, 跟一个可靠的记者所写出的文字相比, 大相径庭. 这本垂死之人所写的书籍, 倒是很适合成为我生命最后几天的唯一伴侣.

　　Donnelly’s book had not been taken out from the library since 1974. I decided it would never be missed as I slipped it under my coat and avoided the librarian’s gaze on the way out. If the subject matter is obscure, the writer’s literary style is even more so, it is not the text of a stable or trustworthy reporter. Perhaps it is fitting that my only companion in these last days should be a stolen book written by a dying man.

　　我坐在一条无底的纸船上开始自己的航程; 我会飞向月球. 我被沿着纸痕折叠, 这张生命之纸已经衰弱不堪. 现在, 你为我选择了纸张的反面; 穿过那些已经化成桨的植物纤维, 我能从那些墨水渍里追踪到你的踪迹. 当我们湿透后, 笼子消解, 我们就会混合到一块. 当这只纸飞机离开悬崖边缘, 把天际的平衡白线化为黑色时, 我们就会在一起.

　　I’ve begun my voyage in a paper boat without a bottom; I will fly to the moon in it. I have been folded along a crease in time, a weakness in the sheet of life. Now, you’ve settled on the opposite side of the paper to me; I can see your traces in the ink that soaks through the fibre, the pulped vegetation. When we become waterlogged, and the cage disintegrates, we will intermingle. When this paper aeroplane leaves the cliff edge, and carves parallel vapour trails in the dark, we will come together.

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 在被冲上海滩的那个早晨, 我耳朵里满是盐, 嘴巴里满是沙, 脚踝被波浪一下又一下地拍打着, 我仿佛觉得, 那场灾难是上天一心促成的. 除了水, 我什么都不记得, 腰际和鞋里的石头似乎要把我拖进深海中, 与那些死沉沉的生物永远永远呆在一块.

　　Dear Esther. The morning after I was washed ashore, salt in my ears, sand in my mouth and the waves always at my ankles, I felt as though everything had conspired to this one last shipwreck. I remembered nothing but water, stones in my belly and my shoes threatening to drag me under to where only the most listless of creatures swim.

　　我不知道海湾上的那片残骸叫什么名字; 它似乎在那里已经好几年, 但却一直没消失. 我也不知道有没有人因此而遇害; 如果有, 我和她们一定没见过面. 或许在直升机把她们载走时, 所发的噪音把附近的鸟儿都吓跑了. 我会沿着北岸走, 寻找鸟蛋, 我想证明生命再次在这里舒展. 或许是我们把它们留在了海湾.

　　I don’t know the name of the wreck in the bay; it seems to have been here for several years but has not yet subsided. I don’t know if anyone was killed; if so, I certainly haven’t seen them myself. Perhaps when the helicopter came to lift them home, their ascent scared the birds away. I shall search for eggs along the north shore, for any evidence that life is marking this place out as its own again. Perhaps it is us that keeps them at bay.

　　在失事船只内, 我找到了数以吨计的油漆. 或许它们是进口货物. 我会用它们来修饰这座小岛, 在这儿画上我们灾难的标志和符号.

　　In the hold of the wrecked trawler I have found what must amount to several tons of gloss paint. Perhaps they were importing it. Instead, I will put it to use, and decorate this island in the icons and symbols of our disaster.

　　我在一堆颜料罐里, 找到了这艘船的载货单, 它湿透了, 上面满是皱褶. 从载货单看, 除了眼下的货物, 还有大量的抗酸乳酪要运往欧洲市场. 它一定被海水冲走了, 天知道这里的海鸥或者山羊有没有误服了那些东西.

　　I have found the ship’s manifest, crumpled and waterlogged, under a stash of paint cans. It tells me that along with this present cargo, there was a large quantity of antacid yoghurt, bound for the European market. It must have washed out to sea, God knows there are no longer gulls or goats here to eat it.

　　我还记得当年在克罗默沙滩上奔跑的情形; 在那儿没有船的残骸. 我会把那些冲上岸的垃圾记录下来, 然后把它们收藏到最深最深处. 这该是一座多么奇怪的博物馆啊. 馆长的尸体该如何处置? 我是否要去找一个玻璃棺材, 把我们当成是白雪公主呢?

　　I remember running through the sands of Cromer; there was none of the shipwreck I find here. I have spent days cataloguing the garbage that washes ashore here and I have begun to assemble a collection in the deepest recess I could find. What a strange museum it would make. And what of the corpse of its curator? Shall I find a glass coffin and pretend to make snow white of us both?

　　我很肯定, 远处的那些岛只不过是另一个时空的遗址, 沉睡的巨人, 梦游的神祗躺下来的所做最后一梦而已. 我洗去嘴唇上的沙粒, 更用力地握住手腕, 那条颤抖不已的手臂已经无法再支撑那渐渐褪色的日记.

　　Those islands in the distance, I am sure, are nothing more than relics of another time, sleeping giants, somnambulist gods laid down for a final dreaming. I wash the sand from my lips and grip my wrist ever more tightly, my shaking arms will not support my fading diaries.

　　我多么希望自己能够在这里认识唐纳利 – 我们有太多太多的东西要讨论了. 给这些石头上色的人究竟是他, 还是我? 码头旁小屋里的花瓶是谁留下的? 水下的博物馆是谁建造的? 谁一声不响地沉进了冰冷的水中, 一命呜呼? 谁立起这片荒芜的天空? 谁把这座小岛升至我胃的表面, 强迫那些海鸥飞走?

　　I wish I could have known Donnelly in this place – we would have had so much to debate. Did he paint these stones, or did I? Who left the pots in the hut by the jetty? Who formed the museum under the sea? Who fell silently to his death, into the frozen waters? Who erected this godforsaken aerial in the first place? Did this whole island rise to the surface of my stomach, forcing the gulls to take flight?

　　在一个阳光残弱的下午, 我看到了唐纳利. 他在小岛南方登陆, 沿着通往海湾的路一直走, 爬上了山峰. 他并没有找到那个洞穴, 也没有给小岛的北方绘画地图. 我明白的, 他之所以这样做, 因为他很清楚这个小岛是残缺的, 不完整的. 他站在山峰之上, 一心只想着如何快点下来. 但接着, 他做出了一件令我意想不到的事.

　　Reading Donnelly by the weak afternoon sunlight. He landed on the south side of the island, followed the path to the bay and climbed the mount. He did not find the caves and he did not chart the north side. I think this is why his understanding of the island is flawed, incomplete. He stood on the mount and only wondered momentarily how to descend. But then, he didn’t have my reasons.

　　我开始怀疑, 唐纳利前往这里的航程是否真如表面上那么平凡. 很遗憾的是, 他没能找到那个圣人的尸骨! 无怪乎他会憎恨那些先他一步的原居民. 在他眼里, 那些人只不过是一群痴心妄想的藤壶. 为何它们要紧紧黏在岩石上? 因为这是唯一使自己不掉进那片大海 ---那片虚无的方法罢了.

　　I’ve begun to wonder if Donnelly’s voyage here was as prosaic as it was presented. How disappointed not to have found the bones of the holy man! No wonder he hated the inhabitants so. To him, they must have seemed like barnacles mindlessly clinging to a mercy seat. Why cling so hard to the rock? Because it is the only thing that stops us from sliding into the ocean. Into oblivion.

　　很明显, 那座山是这里的焦点所在; 它出现的位置是如此的恰到好处, 就好像有人故意放在那里一样. 由于这个原因, 我很容易会走神, 为那里的每样事物而胡思乱想一番. 这座岛是在撞击时形成的吗; 当我们在停泊处被撕开, 安全带把高速公路切到了我们的胸膛和肩膀时, 是不是表面先裂开呢?

　　The mount is clearly the focal point of this landscape; it almost appears so well placed as to be artificial. I find myself easily slipping into the delusional state of ascribing purpose, deliberate motive to everything here. Was this island formed during the moment of impact; when we were torn loose from our moorings and the seatbelts cut motorway lanes into our chests and shoulders, did it first break surface then?

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 我已经无法记起自己在这里待了多久, 自己一共拜访了多少地方. 当然, 这里的一切对我而言是那么的熟悉, 我必须时刻提醒自己, 才能明白到眼下一切并非脑海中的记忆. 我可以闭上眼, 跌跌撞撞的穿过这里的岩石和峭壁, 无需惧怕自己会踏错脚, 一头扎进海里. 而且我一直觉得, 如果一个人要往下掉时, 很有必要睁着眼睛.

　　Dear Esther. I have lost track of how long I have been here, and how many visits I have made overall. Certainly, the landmarks are now so familiar to me that I have to remind myself to actually see the forms and shapes in front of me. I could stumble blind across these rocks, the edges of these precipices, without fear of missing my step and plummeting down to sea. Besides, I have always considered that if one is to fall, it is critical to keep one’s eyes firmly open.

　　我在悬崖和沙滩之间, 你隐居的那个地点外留下了礼物. 我本想给你面包和鱼, 但现在鱼获已经枯涸, 面包也吃光了. 我本想用一条无底船, 把你送回大陆, 但我又怕我们会被海中动物的喋喋不休 折磨得烦恼不堪.

　　I would leave you presents, outside your retreat, in this interim space between cliff and beach. I would leave you loaves and fishes, but the fish stocks have been depleted and I have run out of bread. I would row you back to your homeland in a bottomless boat but I fear we would both be driven mad by the chatter of the sea creatures.

　　那条船底下一定有一个洞. 除此之外, 新的隐士还能用什么方法到这里呢?

　　There must be a hole in the bottom of the boat. How else could new hermits have arrived?

　　我的心有如垃圾场, 那些不切实际的寄望始终仅仅只是泡影. 在凌晨, 我而你而洒汗, 把毯子卷成一堆. 我总能听到海浪拍打在这个失落海滩的声音, 它们一直被海鸥所遗忘. 我可以把瓶子凑近耳朵, 耳中所听到的, 就只有赫布里底群岛的特有音乐.

　　My heart is landfill, these false dawns waking into whilst it is still never light. I sweat for you in the small hours and wrap my blankets into a mass. I have always heard the waves break on these lost shores, always the gulls forgotten. I can lift this bottle to my ear, and all there ever is for me is this Hebridean music.

　　夜里, 你偶尔还会看到油轮或渔船射来的灯光. 从悬崖上俯瞰, 你会觉得淡而无味. 但在下面远眺, 则慢慢变得耐人寻味. 一时间, 我难以辨清那些船究竟是在波涛之上, 还是在海浪之下. 其中的差异是如此明显; 为什么不一了百了呢! 我待在这里无所事事, 只能沉迷于矛盾之中, 等待生命的编织慢慢瓦解, 消陨.

　　At night you can see the lights sometimes from a passing tanker or trawler. From up on the cliffs they are mundane, but down here they fugue into ambiguity. For instance, I cannot readily tell if they belong above or below the waves. The distinction now seems banal; why not everything and all at once! There’s nothing better to do here than indulge in contradictions, whilst waiting for the fabric of life to unravel.

　　在夜里, 那些浮标使我保持着清醒. 我坐在那儿, 每当我绝望颓败的时候, 每当我觉得自己再也无法解开这座小岛的秘密的时候, 我就会坐在那儿, 看着那些在黑夜之中浮浮沉沉的蠢浮标. 它不会说话, 它不懂思考, 它没有任何思想, 它只会随波浮沉, 直到黎明把它的努力变得又聋又哑. 其实, 我们在很多地方都很相像.

　　All night the buoy has kept me lucid. I sat, when I was at the very edge of despair, when I thought I would never unlock the secret of the island, I sat at the edge and I watched the idiot buoy blink through the night. He is mute and he is retarded and he has no thought in his metal head but to blink each wave and each minute aside until the morning comes and renders him blind as well as deaf-mute. In many ways, we have much in common.

　　为何大海如此平静? 它就好像引诱你到海面行走似的; 但我很清楚, 我很清楚海底下的暗涌, 我很清楚它会扯着我的脚, 把我拉倒深海中去. 那些岩石在暴风雨的蹂躏下, 坚挺了多个世纪, 如今却被潮水抢掠, 变得又哑又残. 我终有一天会爬上去, 狩猎那些被海鸥遗弃了的鸟蛋, 鸟巢.

　　Why is the sea so becalmed? It beckons you to walk upon its surface; but I know all too well how it would shatter under my feet and drag me under. The rocks here have withstood centuries of storms and now, robbed of the tides, they stand muted and lame, temples without cause. One day, I will attempt to climb them, hunt among their peaks for the eggs, the nests, that the gulls have clearly abandoned.

　　我开始攀登, 我要远离大海, 往小岛的腹地迈进. 这是一条通往巅峰的直路, 黑夜缠绕天际, 把信号化为清晨的籁静. 茅屋为了避开天空的注视, 缩瑟在大山之下; 我和它一样, 像动物那样蹑手蹑脚地行走, 从北面的海岸一直走到那里.

　　I have begun to climb, away from the sea and towards the centre. It is a straight line to the summit, where the evening begins to coil around the aerial and squeeze the signals into early silence. The bothy squats against the mount to avoid the gaze of the aerial; I too will creep under the island like an animal and approach it from the northern shore.

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 海鸥已经不再飞到岛上; 我注意到, 这一年它们似乎有意地避开这里. 或许, 是因为渔获枯竭. 也或许, 是因为我的存在. 当首次踏足这儿时, 唐纳利写到, 这儿的牲畜体弱多病, 这儿的牧羊人是赫布里底群岛中最低贱的职业. 三百年过去, 即便是这些人也离开了这里.

　　Dear Esther. The gulls do not land here anymore; I’ve noticed that this year, they seem to shun the place. Maybe it’s the depletion of the fishing stock driving them away. Perhaps it’s me. When he first landed here, Donnelly wrote that the herds were sickly and their shepherds the lowest of the miserable classes that populate these Hebridean islands. Three hundred years later, even they have departed.

　　每当有人死去, 或奄奄一息, 又或重病加身, 放弃求生的希望时, 他们就会在悬崖上画一组平衡线, 并将粉笔留在下方. 只要留意观察, 你就能够从大陆或者渔船上看到这些线条, 并派人去救援, 又或是筑起警戒线, 等上若干年, 直至那些蛰伏在悬崖的瘟疫随着它的宿主一块死去. 我的线条则是这个意思: 让那些救援者呆在海湾上吧. 被感染的可不仅仅只是人的肉体.

　　When someone had died or was dying or was so ill they gave up what little hope they could sacrifice, they cut parallel lines into the cliff, exposing the white chalk beneath. You could see them from the mainland or the fishing boats and know to send aid or impose a cordon of protection, and wait a generation until whatever pestilence stalked the cliff paths died along with its hosts. My lines are just for this: to keep any would-be rescuers at bay. The infection is not simply of the flesh.

　　那些牧羊人惧怕上帝. 他们之间没有爱可言. 唐纳利告诉我, 他们有一本圣经, 那本书会按照严格的顺序, 在每个人之间传递. 最后, 圣经被一名拜访的僧侣于 1776年偷走了, 那时距离这座小岛被抛弃还有两年. 在此期间, 不知道他们是不是把圣经写进了这里的一草一叶之中, 使这里变得举足轻重; 他们是活圣经吗, 他们是不是也继承了圣经中的矛盾呢?

　　They were godfearing people those shepherds. There was no love in the relationship. Donnelly tells me that they had one bible that was passed around in strict rotation. It was stolen by a visiting monk in 1776, two years before the island was abandoned altogether. In the interim, I wonder, did they assign chapter and verse to the stones and grasses, marking the geography with a superimposed significance; that they could actually walk the bible and inhabit its contradictions?

　　我直接引用他的原话吧: “即使是小丑也对他们不屑一顾. 我花了三天时间和他们一起生活, 虽然时间不长, 但恐怕这些时间已经足够让任何人 祈祷自己下辈子别生在这地方了. 撇开他们热爱胡乱引用圣经这点不谈, 这些人恐怕是这片群岛中被上帝遗弃得最彻底的居民. 确实, 被上帝遗弃 这个词用到这个例子里, 实在再适合不过.” 看来唐纳利和我一样, 都发现了那些在这片海滩漫步的人, 均已失去了救赎的机会. 我想知道的是, 唐纳利他是否也成为其中的一员呢?

　　I quote directly: “A motley lot with little to recommend them. I have now spent three days in their company that is, I fear, enough for any man not born amongst them. Despite their tedious inclination to quote scripture, they seem to me the most godforsaken of all the inhabitants of the outer isles. Indeed, in this case, the very gravity of that term – forsaken by god – seems to find its very apex.” It appears to me that Donnelly too found those who wander this shoreline to be adrift from any chance of redemption. Did he include himself in that, I wonder?

　　我开始走上西侧的草坡, 那儿没有一丝的风. 那一轮斜阳, 恰如一只被医生电筒照到而将要闭上的火红眼睛. 因为经常抬头瞭望天空的霞光, 我的颈子开始发疼. 我必须把头低下来, 跟着小岛的路走, 迈向新的开始.

　　I have begun my ascent on the windless slope of the western side. The setting sun was an inflamed eye squeezing shut against the light shone in by the doctors. My neck is aching through constantly craning my head up to track the light of the aerial. I must look downwards, follow the path under the island to a new beginning.

　　人们曾经提到这里的一个风力农场, 它远离尘嚣, 超凡俗世. 人们说, 大海太粗野了, 根本容不下涡轮机: 他们显然没体会过这儿的平静大海. 但个人而言, 我支持这个观点; 涡轮很适合我们这个时代的隐士: 毕竟它能不停地转动

　　There was once talk of a wind farm out here, away from the rage and the intolerance of the masses. The sea, they said, is too rough for the turbines to stand: they clearly never came here to experience the becalming for themselves. Personally, I would have supported it; turbines would be a fitting contemporary refuge for a hermit: the revolution and the permanence.

　　当他们在这里放牧时, 唐纳利写道, 天上总是下着雨. 没迹象显示, 最近有过任何雨水. 植物都静止不动, 恍如从其它星星那里折射回来的无线电信号.

　　When they graze their animals here, Donnelly writes, it is always raining. There’s no evidence of that rain has been here recently. The foliage is all static, like a radio signal returning from another star.

　　克罗默在下雨; 那是一次学校组织的旅游. 我们一起在巴士站避雨, 像畜生般的聚集起来, 教师就像是牧羊人. 我口袋里的沙子渐渐变湿了.

　　Cromer in the rain; a school trip. We took shelter en masse in a bus stop, herded in like cattle, the teachers dull shepherds. The sand in my pocket becoming damper by the second.

　　那些植被从根至叶均已经变为化石. 从那些动物残骸可以看出, 那些植物曾经哺育了这儿的生命. 现在, 一切都因重疾死亡: 水已经污染得无法让鱼儿畅泳, 天空已经矮得无法让小鸟翱翔, 土壤亦被隐士的骨头和牧羊人一再阉割. 我听说, 人类的灰烬是极好的肥料, 我们可以用臀部和胸膛的养分生成一片茂密的森林, 剩余的部分还可以让空气变得充裕, 使海湾恢复生气.

　　The vegetation here has fossilized from the roots up. To think they once grazed animals here, the remnants of occupation being evidence to that. It is all sick to death: the water is too polluted for the fish, the sky is too thin for the birds and the soil is cut with the bones of hermits and shepherds. I have heard it said that human ashes make great fertilizer, that we could sow a great forest from all that is left of your hips and ribcage, with enough left over to thicken the air and repopulate the bay.

　　那间茅屋始建于十七世纪. 自那开始, 牧羊便正式成为一种谋生职业. 第一位牧羊人名叫雅各布森, 他是斯堪的纳维亚人的后裔, 他从别处迁移到这里. 人们都把他看成是外人. 他每一年的夏天都会前来这儿, 他建造了那间茅屋, 一心希望它能成为养妻活儿的安乐居所. 唐纳利的记载中说, 最后这个人还是没能如愿: 他从那些心生不满的羊只身上感染了一种病, 并在完成茅屋的两年后去世了. 同样的, 没有人愿意为他在悬崖画上白线.

　　The bothy was constructed originally in the early 1700s. By then, shepherding had formalised into a career. The first habitual shepherd was a man called Jakobson, from a lineage of migratory Scandinavians. He was not considered a man of breeding by the mainlanders. He came here every summer whilst building the bothy, hoping, eventually, that becoming a man of property would secure him a wife and a lineage. Donnelly records that it did not work: he caught some disease from his malcontented goats and died two years after completing it. There was no one to carve white lines into the cliff for him either.

　　我张开了双臂, 悬崖裂开, 给了我一个简陋的家. 我把山顶茅屋的物品搬到了这里, 打算以后在这里生活. 这里夜里很冷, 涨潮时, 海水还会不住地拍打洞口. 为了爬到顶峰, 我必须冒险前往小岛的血管里, 那儿音讯隔绝. 只有这样, 我才会明白它们, 当我站在顶峰时, 它们就会吹进我那未曾腐烂的身体之中.

　　I threw my arms wide and the cliff opened out before me, making this rough home. I transferred my belongings from the bothy on the mount and tried to live here instead. It was cold at night and the sea lapped at the entrance at high tide. To climb the peak, I must first venture even deeper into the veins of the island, where the signals are blocked altogether. Only then will I understand them, when I stand on the summit and they flow into me, uncorrupted.

　　我第一次看到那个口子时, 我真的感到自己胃里的石头变得清晰.

　　When I first looked into the shaft, I swear I felt the stones in my stomach shift in recognition.

　　这位隐士, 这位先知, 这些年代久远的骨头和古老的面包, 究竟消失到什么地方呢? 为什么要问那些农夫, 为什么要问雅各布森, 为何要麻烦你的幻想呢, 其实, 你只要朝着悬崖张开双臂, 把它打开, 走进去, 再关上它, 把自己封死在小岛的腰际, 把自己封死在一间只对最虔诚的人开放的博物馆里.

　　This hermit, this seer, this distant historian of bones and old bread, where did he vanish to? Why, asked the farmers, why asked Jakobson, why bother with your visions at all, if you are just to throw your arms up at the cliff and let it close in behind you, seal you into the belly of the island, a museum shut to all but the most devoted.

　　物品: 一张搁板桌, 我们在自己的第一个家时, 曾经使用它来铺墙纸. 一张折凳; 到露营湖间时, 你把它带上了, 我因此而好好嘲笑了一番. 接着, 我有点儿不舒服, 这次轮到你嘲笑我了. 这本日记; 弹簧坏了的床 – 你一旦入睡了, 就最好别做梦. 一套供替换衣服. 唐纳利的书, 顺道从爱丁堡图书馆偷来的. 我会在最后的早晨把它们烧毁, 投到天空的怀抱.

　　Inventory: a trestle table we spread wallpaper on in our first home. A folding chair; I laughed at you for bringing camping in the lakes. I was uncomfortable later and you laughed then. This diary; the bed with the broken springs – once asleep, you have to remember not to dream. A change of clothes. Donnelly’s book, stolen from Edinburgh library on the way here. I will burn them all on the last morning and make an aerial of my own.

　　我曾梦到自己站在太阳的中央, 辐射把我的心从内到外煮熟. 我的牙齿会变得卷曲, 我的指甲会像零钱般的纷纷掉进口袋. 如果我受得住, 我还能进食, 但我唯一能够做的事就是喝盐水. 假如那些牲畜仍然活着, 我会变成禽兽, 饕餮一番. 现在的我就如标本那么消瘦, 已经是那些提前死亡的人中的一员. 我乘着一颗无底的心, 一直划船划到这个小岛; 体内所有细菌都站起来为我歌唱.

　　I dreamt I stood in the centre of the sun and the solar radiation cooked my heart from the inside. My teeth will curl and my fingernails fall off into my pockets like loose change. If I could stomach, I’d eat, but all I seem capable of is saltwater. Were the livestock still here, I could turn feral and gorge. I’m as emaciated as a body on a slab, opened up for a premature source of death. I’ve rowed to this island in a heart without a bottom; all the bacteria of my gut rising up to sing to me.

　　我回到家, 口袋里满是偷回来的灰烬. 其中一半从我的大衣漏了出来, 消失在车内的陈设之中. 我用床边抽屉里的那个盒子, 把剩余的小心地盛起来. 我的这个举动, 意义不大. 但这么多年来, 它在某程度上已成为了我的幸运符. 我静静坐着, 数小时内一动不动, 我用手感受着灰烬的柔滑, 让它从掌心慢慢消逝. 在将来的某个时候, 我们最后都会化为细粒, 冲进海里, 失散飘荡.

　　I returned home with a pocket full of stolen ash. Half of it fell out of my coat and vanished into the car’s upholstery. But the rest I carefully stowed away in a box I kept in a drawer by the side of my bed. It was never intended as a meaningful act but over the years it became a kind of talisman. I’d sit still, quite still, for hours just holding the diminishing powder in my palm and noting its smoothness. In time, we will all be worn down into granules, washed into the sea and dispersed.

　　亲爱的艾斯特游戏小说版中英对照上篇已经分享在上面，转自B站大佬墨冰茶，希望能为各位玩家们带来帮助，想要了解更多游戏攻略及资讯请持续关注多特手游。