亲爱的艾斯特台词中 亲爱的艾斯特游戏小说版中英对照中篇

　　亲爱的艾斯特台词中篇是什么内容?该作是一部叙事性冒险类游戏，因为原作暂无汉化，下面小编为大家带来亲爱的艾斯特游戏小说版中英对照中篇，感兴趣的小伙伴一起了解一下吧。

亲爱的艾斯特台词中篇是什么内容

　　在黄昏, 我看到三只鸬鹚; 他们没有着陆. 这间由石头砌成的房子, 其建造者是一位逝世已久的牧羊人. 物件: 我的露营床, 一个炉子, 一张桌子, 椅子. 我的衣服, 我的书籍. 这个洞穴把小岛的腹部掏空了, 使它变得饥肠辘辘. 我的四肢和腹部, 同样饥饿. 我的皮肤, 我的三个器官, 我那退化的视力. 当电筒的电池耗尽后, 我会随着磷光的源头朝洞穴深处走去.

　　Three cormorants seen at dusk; they did not land. This house, built of stone, built by a long-dead shepherd. Contents: my camp-bed, a stove, a table, chairs. My clothes, my books. The caves that score out the belly of this island, leaving it famished. My limbs and belly, famished. This skin, these organs, this failing eyesight. When the battery runs out in my torch, I will descend into the caves and follow only the phosphorescence home.

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 我发现自己就如这片大海那般平凡, 就如这片海湾那般肤浅和空闲, 我是一处无名的, 冷漠的残骸. 我的岩石就有如这些骨头, 它是一道谨慎的屏障, 把峭壁阻隔在海湾. 穿过我的洞穴, 我的前额化为山脉, 天空会把信号传给我. 我的神经系统完全暴露, 在那里, 唐纳利和你还有我的靴子, 仍然在向前走着. 我可以为你带上一根火把; 我会把它放在自己墓碑的角落. 你在搬着我穿过那条往下的隧道中, 需要用上它.

　　Dear Esther. I have found myself to be as featureless as this ocean, as shallow and unoccupied as this bay, a listless wreck without identification. My rocks are these bones and a careful fence to keep the precipice at bay. Shot through me caves, my forehead a mount, this aerial will transmit into me so. All over exposed, the nervous system, where Donnelly’s boots and yours and mine still trample. I will carry a torch for you; I will leave it at the foot of my headstone. You will need it for the tunnels that carry me under.

　　在往山洞深处走时, 我跌伤了腿. 大腿骨大概断了. 伤口处显然受到了感染: 表面的皮肤变得非常光亮, 并透出粉红的色泽, 痛苦有如冬天的寒潮那样拍打着我的海岸, 填满了我的痛楚. 我挣扎回到茅屋休憩, 但显然的, 事情发展下去结局只有一个. 我在残骸处找到医疗用品忽然派上了用场: 它们会保住我的小命, 直至最后的升腾.

　　Climbing down to the caves I slipped and fell and have injured my leg. I think the femur is broken. It is clearly infected: the skin has turned a bright, tight pink and the pain is crashing in on waves, winter tides against my shoreline, drowning out the ache of my stones. I struggled back to the bothy to rest, but it has become clear that there is only one way this is likely to end. The medical supplies I looted from the trawler have suddenly found their purpose: they will keep me lucid for my final ascent.

　　在早春时分, 人们找到了雅各布森的尸体, 在那时, 冰雪才刚刚开始融化. 尽管他已经死了近七个月, 但他的尸体被严严实实地冻住, 甚至没半分腐烂的迹象. 他挣扎着, 踉跄走到悬崖道路的中间, 或许他正在找某头失踪的山羊, 又或许他那是精神错乱了, 最后, 他在冬月之下, 卷缩成一团. 即使是动物, 也对他的尸体敬而远之; 大陆人认为把他带回去不吉利. 唐纳利说, 人们把他的尸体拖到洞穴中, 任由其融化腐烂, 但话说回头, 唐纳利的记叙毕竟不太可靠.

　　They found Jakobson in early spring, the thaw had only just come. Even though he’d been dead nearly seven months, his body had been frozen right down to the nerves and had not even begun to decompose. He’d struggled halfway down the cliff path, perhaps looking for some lost goat, or perhaps in a delirium and expired, curled into a claw, right under the winter moon. Even the animals shunned his corpse; the mainlanders thought to bring it home unlucky. Donnelly claims they dragged it to the caves to thaw out and rot, but he is proving an unreliable witness.

　　这里不可能是他们把山羊扔下去的山口. 这里不可能是你的生命能通过除燃烧外的其它方法终结的垃圾场. 这里不可能是让你飞到天空的烟囱. 这里不可能是再次下雨滋养泥土就能在岩石间开出小花的地方.

　　This cannot be the shaft they threw the goats into. It cannot be the landfill where the parts of your life that would not burn ended up. It cannot be the chimney that delivered you to the skies. It cannot be the place where you rained back down again to fertilise the soil and make small flowers in the rocks.

　　在早春时分, 人们找到了雅各布森的尸体, 在那时, 冰雪才刚刚开始融化. 尽管他已经死了近七个月, 但他的尸体被严严实实地冻住, 甚至没半分腐烂的迹象. 他身边开满了小花, 它们朝着微弱的太阳生长着, 那些失去牧羊人约束的山羊, 在山谷欢快自由地悠逛. 唐纳利写道, 那些人怀着恐惧厌恶的心情, 把他的尸体扔下了山口, 但我无法证实这个故事的真伪.

　　They found Jakobson in early spring, the thaw had only just come. Even though he’d been dead nearly seven months, his body had been frozen right down to the nerves and had not even begun to decompose. All around him, small flowers were reaching for the weak sun, the goats had adjusted happily to life without a shepherd and were grazing freely about the valley. Donnelly reports they hurled the body in fear and disgust down the shaft, but I cannot corroborate this story.

　　“位于深渊下的到底是怎么样的停尸间呢? 需要多少个牧羊人的尸体才能填补这个洞穴?”

　　“What charnel house lies at the foot of this abyss? How many dead shepherds could fill this hole?”

　　在早春时分, 人们找到了雅各布森的尸体, 在那时, 冰雪才刚刚开始融化. 尽管他已经死了近七个月, 但他的尸体被严严实实地冻住, 甚至没半分腐烂的迹象. 他的指甲被咬秃; 洞穴中, 人们在指甲下发现了那些磷光苔藓. 无论他当初在这座岛想做什么, 均已不可知晓. 或许是因为精神亢奋, 或许因为想感受茅屋的炉火, 他跌跌撞撞的爬上悬崖, 直至半路, 直至他在一块石头上卷曲身体, 默然逝世.

　　They found Jakobson in early spring, the thaw had only just come. Even though he’d been dead nearly seven months, his body had been frozen right down to the nerves and had not even begun to decompose. His fingernails were raw and bitten to the quick; they found the phosphorescent moss that grows in the caves deep under the nails. Whatever he’d been doing under the island when his strength began to fail is lost. He’d struggled halfway up the cliff again, perhaps in a delirium, perhaps trying to reach the bothy’s fire, before curling into a stone and expiring.

　　人们告诉唐纳利, 雅各布森的肋骨畸形, 或许是因为不正常发育或是儿童时期留下的创伤. 形状看上去又大又脆弱, 色泽光亮. 或许这就是他的死因, 或许它再也无法容纳那颗跳动的心脏. 在微光中, 他的头骨变成一件被抛弃的道具, 一只虚假的海鸟化石.

　　Jakobson’s ribcage, they told Donnelly, was deformed, the result of some birth defect or perhaps a traumatic injury as a child. Brittle and overblown it was, and desperately light. Perhaps it was this that finally did for him, unable to contain the shattering of his heart. In half-light, his skeleton a discarded prop, a false and calcified seabird.

　　如果那些洞穴是我的内脏, 那这里一定就是石头形成的地方. 那些细菌发出磷光, 一跃而起, 歌唱, 响彻隧道. 这里的一切都随退潮而起, 涨潮而没. 或许整座小岛其实都在水下.

　　If the caves are my guts, this must be the place where the stones are first formed. The bacteria phosphoresce and rise, singing, through the tunnels. Everything here is bound by the rise and fall like a tide. Perhaps, the whole island is actually underwater.

　　“雅各布森真的爬了这么远? 我能不能在岩石中发现他的指甲痕迹? 我在亦步亦趋地跟着他? 为什么他要自暴自弃, 放弃升腾?”

　　“Did Jakobson crawl this far? Can I identify the scratches his nails ruined into the rocks? Am I following him cell for cell, inch for inch? Why did he turn back on himself and not carry through to the ascent?”

　　油灯耗尽后, 我没有捡起火把, 而是借助月光阅读. 当我把唐纳利的书逐字逐句读完后, 就会它扔下悬崖, 随之一起下去的, 或许还有我的身体. 或许, 它会被冲回洞穴里, 到了春雨连绵的季节, 它会开始腐烂, 最后会返回圣人的洞穴中. 或许我醒来的时候, 它会回到桌子上. 我记得自己已经把它扔掉好几次了.

　　When the oil lamps ran out I didn’t pick up a torch but used the moonlight to read by. When I have pulled the last shreds of sense from it, I will throw Donnelly’s book from the cliffs and perhaps myself with it. Maybe it will wash back up through the caves and erupt from the spring when the rain comes, making its return to the hermit's cave. Perhaps it will be back on the table when I wake. I think I may have thrown it into the sea several times before.

　　唐纳利的习瘾成为了我的一个真正常数. 即使我从虚幻中觉醒, 发现大地变了, 它在我的泪光中飘忽地流转着, 我知道, 他的脚步总是比我要远.

　　Donnelly’s addiction is my one true constant. Even though I wake in false dawns and find the landscape changed, flowing inconstantly through my tears, I know his reaching is always upon me.

　　编辑在注脚如此评论, 唐纳利要被梅毒逼疯了, 他的举止就像一个醉醺醺的司机. 大家都不相信他 – 虽然他说得绘声绘色, 但那些话都只是捕风捉影, 大部分的诳语都是因他的高烧而起. 但我和唐纳利一样, 都亲临其境, 这里总是有如梦境. 即便用肉眼直视, 那些岩石和洞穴也会变得模糊闪亮.

　　In a footnote, the editor comments that at this point, Donnelly was going insane as syphilis tore through his system like a drunk driver. He is not to be trusted – many of his claims are unsubstantiated and although he does paint a colourful picture, much of what he says may have been derived directly from his fever. But I have been here and I know, as Donnelly did, that this place is always half-imagined. Even the rocks and caves will shimmer and blur, with the right eyes.

　　他把自己的身体捐给了医学院, 在他死后二十一天, 一群学生就对他进行了解剖. 解剖记录包含在这版本书中. 他的五脏六腑有如餐盘中的鸡蛋, 被梅毒像醉酒的司机那般横冲直撞地肆虐. 但这次匆匆的检查所发现的证据已经足够, 如我所料, 他们找到了肾结石的确凿证据. 他人生的最后几年似乎非常痛苦: 或许此病源于他嗜爱鸦片酒. 虽然这使他变得浑浑噩噩, 但我发觉自己越来越像他了.

　　He left his body to the medical school and was duly opened out for a crowd of students twenty-one days after his passing. The report is included in my edition of his book. The syphilis had torn through his guts like a drunk driver, scrambling his organs like eggs on a plate. But enough definition remained for a cursory examination and, as I suspected, they found clear evidence of kidney stones. He is likely to have spent the last years of his life in considerable pain: perhaps this is the root of his laudanum habit. Although its use makes him an unreliable witness, I find myself increasingly drawn into his orbit.

　　唐纳利为何会落得如此田地? 鸦片酒? 梅毒? 这显然并非根源, 但是, 我也无从得知到底那些东西是否诱使, 或强迫他到这座小岛的原因. 因为患上梅毒, 他被一个醉酒的司机把五脏六腑撞得七零八落, 对此我也只能够报以同情. 我们同是时代的牺牲品. 而我的疾病就是内燃机和廉价的发酵粉.

　　What to make of Donnelly? The laudanum and the syphilis? It is clearly not how he began, but I have been unable to discover if the former was a result of his visiting the island or the force that drove him here. For the syphilis, a drunk driver smashing his insides into a pulp as he stumbled these paths, I can only offer my empathy. We are all victims of our age. My disease is the internal combustion engine and the cheap fermentation of yeast.

　　唐纳利并没有穿过这些洞穴. 从这里开始, 他那不可靠的引导也消失了. 我明白了, 这是我们之间的事, 任何一切的关联都能够在那些湿滑的石头中找到.

　　Donnelly did not pass through the caves. From here on in, his guidance, unreliable as it is, is gone from me. I understand now that it is between the two of us, and whatever correspondence can be drawn from the wet rocks.

　　我已经变得越来越消极, 要深入这段旅程, 但又不能打破限制. 自从我烧毁了自己的船只, 缩短了自己的疾病以后, 事情变得轻松了一点. 我需要多番探索, 才能横贯这片小陆块; 我需要耗费一百万个神经细胞, 大量的素数, 经过无数的服务站, 才能到达那个最后离别的地方.

　　To explore here is to become passive, to internalise the journey and not to attempt to break the confines. Since I burnt my boats and contracted my sickness, this has become easier for me. It will take a number of expeditions to traverse this microcontinent; it will take the death of a million neurons, a cornucopia of prime numbers, countless service stations and bypasses to arrive at the point of final departure.

　　那情形就好像有人拿起一辆车, 把它像鸡尾酒那样摇晃. 和烟灰缸和车后箱一样, 手套箱也打开了, 里面的物件通通掉了出来; 它变成了一座倒塌的博物馆, 一个粉碎的展览会.

　　It was as if someone had taken the car and shaken it like a cocktail. The glove compartment had been opened and emptied with the ashtrays and the boot; it made for a crumpled museum, a shattered exhibition.

　　第一次见面时, 他正坐在路边. 那时我正等着你从残骸中出来. 那辆车看上去像是在很高的地方掉了下来. 引擎的内脏有如泉水, 散布在泊油路上.

　　I first saw him sat by the side of the road. I was waiting for you to be cut out of the wreckage. The car looked like it had been dropped from a great height. The guts of the engine spilled over the tarmac. Like water underground.

　　泊油路上还残留着化学痕迹: 空凋漏出液, 制动液和汽油. 他坐在路边, 等着, 不停地嗅着自己的手指, 仿佛他无法认出那些味道似的. 他说, 他刚从一个在埃克塞特举行的销售会议回来; 离去之前, 他参加了告别宴会, 但他一直有控制自己的酒精摄入量. 在停顿的交通上方, 你可以听到飘扬的警笛声.

　　There were chemical stains on the tarmac: the leak of air conditioning, brake fluid and petrol. He kept sniffing at his fingers as he sat by the roadside waiting as if he couldn’t quite understand or recognise their smell. He said he’d been travelling back from a sales conference in Exeter; he’d stopped for farewell drinks earlier, but had kept a careful eye on his intake. You could hear the sirens above the idling traffic.

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 我驾驶车子, 沿着M5公路在埃克塞特和布里斯托尔之间已经来往了 21次之多. 但是, 哪怕我参考了所有的报告和证供, 动用军用地图交叉核对每一毫米地方, 都无法找到那个地点. 我以为那儿会打上标记, 以作某种证据之用. 它大概就位于转到桑福德的岔路与休息站之间. 虽然我能够在后视镜看到它, 但却始终找不着真正的位置.

　　Dear Esther. I have now driven the stretch of the M5 between Exeter and Bristol over twenty-one times, but although I have all the reports and all the witnesses and have cross-referenced them within a millimetre using my ordnance survey maps, I simply cannot find the location. You’d think there would be marks, to serve as some evidence. It's somewhere between the turn off for Sandford and the Welcome Break services. But although I can always see it in my rear view mirror, I have as yet been unable to pull ashore.

　　我越来越难找到那个点了, 那个隐士终结点, 那个我和保罗开始的点. 我们被织成了湿毯子, 然后被塞在船底的洞上, 以防止海水涌入. 由于一直抬头朝天看, 我的脖子开始疼痛; 它折射出我那震动的内脏, 那里一定又开始结石了. 在梦境中, 它完美的化成了罗特的妻子 她正抬头, 以一副命中注定的空虚表情, 平静地看着那条车来车往的公路.

　　I find myself increasingly unable to find that point where the hermit ends and Paul and I begin. We are woven into a sodden blanket, stuffed into the bottom of a boat to stop the leak and hold back the ocean. My neck aches from staring up at the aerial; it mirrors the dull throb in my gut where I am sure I have begun to form another stone. In my dreams, it forms into a perfect representation of Lot’s wife, head over her shoulder, staring along the motorway at the approaching traffic, in a vacuum of fatalistic calm.

　　他仍然坚持自己只是疲劳, 而非喝醉. 对于他的话, 我不置可否, 也没能力判断. 在登陆到这儿时, 我醉了, 我还很疲劳. 我在几近一片漆黑之中沿着悬崖的道路一直走, 在那个横躺着渔船的海湾扎营露宿. 直至黎明, 我才看到那间茅屋, 那时我决定搬进去暂住. 我本希望山上的某处有一个防水盒, 盒里放着天空和发射器. 和这里的其它建筑一样, 这里弥漫着一股凝重的气氛; 腐蚀似乎也对它完全躲得远远的.

　　He still maintains he wasn’t drunk but tired. I can’t make the judgement or the distinction anymore. I was drunk when I landed here, and tired too. I walked up the cliff path in near darkness and camped in the bay where the trawler lies beached. It was only at dawn that I saw the bothy and decided to make my temporary lodgings there. I was expecting just the aerial and a transmitter stashed in a weatherproof box somewhere on the mount. It had an air of uneasy permanence to it, like all the other buildings here; erosion seems to have evaded it completely.

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 我与保罗见面了. 我完成了自己的小小朝圣之旅. 而我的大马士革则位于伍尔弗汉普顿郊外的一间小别墅. 我们在厨房喝咖啡, 了解对方. 虽然他知道我不是来寻求道歉, 理由或者补偿的, 但他仍然因为自己那个凹陷的引擎盖而慌张失色, 显得有点不知所措. 责任使他苍老了很多; 和我们一样, 他早于穿越生命的边界之前已经去世了.

　　Dear Esther. I met Paul. I made my own little pilgrimage. My Damascus a small semi-detached on the outskirts of Wolverhampton. We drank coffee in his kitchen and tried to connect to one another. Although he knew I hadn’t come in search of an apology, reason or retribution, he still spiralled in panic, thrown high and lucid by his own dented bonnet. Responsibility had made him old; like us, he had already passed beyond any conceivable boundary of life.

　　他给我的那杯咖啡上印着化学图案; 他手碰过的杯子把手位置, 黏黏的. 他就职于一间制药公司, 其总部位于伍尔弗汉普顿的郊外. 他刚从一个在埃克塞特举行的销售会议那里回来: 会议上, 他构建了抗酸乳酪在欧洲市场的销售策略. 你可以用手指追踪联系, 把点连接起来, 那全部的新物质就能堂皇登场.

　　There were chemical diagrams on the mug he gave me coffee in; sticky at the handle where his hands shook. He worked for a pharmaceutical company with an office based on the outskirts of Wolverhampton. He’d been travelling back from a sales conference in Exeter: forming a strategic vision for the peddling of antacid yoghurt to the European market. You could trace the connections with your finger, join the dots and whole new compounds would be summoned into activity.

　　我驱动着自己的身体旅行, 沿着感染的道路, 从那粉碎的大腿骨一直走到心脏. 为保持清醒, 我咽了一把止痛药. 在迷迷糊糊的幻觉中, 我看到那对双胞胎点亮了月亮和天际, 它通过闪亮的岩石, 朝我散发光芒.

　　I am travelling through my own body, following the line of infection from the shattered femur towards the heart. I swallow fistfuls of painkillers to stay lucid. In my delirium, I see the twin lights of the moon and the aerial, shining to me through the rocks.

　　他们就像从另一颗星星发出的无线信号那样在路沿石出现, 他们封闭了直到桑德福交汇处一带的交通. 从开始到他们出现, 时间一共是二十一分钟. 我是看着保罗的手表, 一秒, 一秒地数下来的.

　　They had stopped the traffic back as far as the Sandford junction and come up the hard shoulder like radio signals from another star. It took twenty-one minutes for them to arrive. I watched Paul time it, to the second, on his watch.

　　在这条高速公路中, 没有其它行车方向, 没有其它出口. 我高速驶过这个交汇点, 看到在路边等待的你, 那颤抖的手中拿着最后一瓶酒.

　　There is no other direction, no other exit from this motorway. Speeding past this junction, I saw you waiting at the roadside, a one last drink in your trembled hands.

　　你和我, 跟罗特的妻子不同; 我们无需回头, 我们身后没有值得看的东西. 一个疲劳的老者, 无法用手臂掰开悬崖; 圣经或礼物, 也不会出现在沙滩上可供白拿. 不会有潮涨与潮落, 头顶上的海鸥也不会鸣叫. 那位隐士的骨头亦不会被其他人取走: 我早已把骨头偷走, 带到了,小岛的核心处, 那是一处漆黑的地方 那是一个凭借冷光, 看到我们彼此脸孔的地方.

　　We are not like Lot’s wife, you and I; we feel no particular need to turn back. There’s nothing to be seen if we did. No tired old man parting the cliffs with his arms; no gifts or bibles laid out on the sand for the taking. No tides turning or the shrieking gulls overhead. The bones of the hermit are no longer laid out for the taking: I have stolen them away to the guts of this island where the passages all run to black and there we can light each others faces by their strange luminescence.

　　我会握着你朝我伸出的手; 从山顶到这水井, 到那块黑暗的水域, 那儿的小花正躲避太阳的光芒. 你眼睛反射出车头灯的光线, 月光投进了火葬场烟囱的阴影中.

　　I will hold the hand you offer to me; from the summit down to this well, into the dark waters where the small flowers creep for the sun. Headlights are reflected in your retinas, moonlit in the shadow of the crematorium chimney.

　　这些视网膜中反射着车头灯的光芒, 我岛屿的这条隧道也太长了, 它仿佛深邃无底. 海中生物都出现在海面, 但是却没有海鸥来把它们带回巢穴. 我已经痊愈了: 张开, 盯着, 一只眼睛自己转动着. 我变成了一条受感染的腿, 它的表面成为了一张完美的高速公路交汇点地图. 我会在大腿中部的出口处离开, 然后下降到我的艾斯特那儿.

　　There are headlights reflected in these retinas, too long in the tunnels of my island without a bottom. The sea creatures have risen to the surface, but the gulls are not here to carry them back to their nests. I have become fixed: open and staring, an eye turned on itself. I have become an infected leg, whose tracking lines form a perfect map of the junctions of the M5. I will take the exit at mid-thigh and plummet to my Esther.

　　在火和泥土之间, 我会选择火. 貌似现代的选项越多, 其结果也越洁净. 我实在不忍去想重建遗迹这个念头. 在我的肩膀与胳膊之间, 大腿骨与臀部之间, 缝上一条犹如高速公路的马路线. 那些老泪纵横的姨母和大受打击的叔父, 也就默认接受这个事实了. 化为灰尘, 与水混合, 便能够制成磷光油漆, 涂到这些岩石和细胞上.

　　Of fire and soil, I chose fire. It seemed the more contemporary of the options, the more sanitary. I could not bear the thought of the reassembly of such a ruins. Stitching arm to shoulder and femur to hip, charting a line of thread like traffic stilled on a motorway. Making it all acceptable for tearful aunts and traumatised uncles flown in specially for the occasion. Reduce to ash, mix with water, make a phosphorescent paint for these rocks and ceilings.

　　为了你, 我会化成一把火炬, 一片天空. 我会像有缺憾的远古无线电波那样陨落. 尽管有地下泉水, 尽管地下河结冰了. 尽管我的肠子和心脏满是细菌. 尽管那条无底船, 尽管那处没有牺牲者的残骸. 我和那个圣人和罗特的妻子一样, 会变成化石, 在岩石上打开一个可容我通过的洞.

　　I will become a torch for you, an aerial. I will fall from the sky like ancient radio waves of flawed concrete. Through underground springs and freezing subterranean rivers. Through the bacteria of my gut and heart. Through the bottomless boat and forgotten trawlers where nobody has died. Like the hermit and Lot’s wife, I will fossilise and open a hole in the rock to admit me through.

　　一只海鸥在坏掉的引擎盖上栖息, 在一旁, 警报传到了不远处, 金属悲痛地为我们呻吟. 我会在这个晚上夜行, 古老的面包和海鸥骨头, 老唐纳利在酒吧喝酒, 老艾斯特和我们的孩子一块散步, 老保罗, 和以前一样, 老保罗打着冷颤, 独自关上了灯.

　　A gull perched on a spent bonnet, sideways, whilst the sirens fell through the middle distance and the metal moaned in grief about us. I am about this night in walking, old bread and gull bones, old Donnelly at the bar gripping his drink, old Esther walking with our children, old Paul, as ever, old Paul he shakes and he shivers and he turns off his lights alone.

　　亲爱的艾斯特. 我的脚步渐渐变得沉重, 变得困难了. 我背着唐纳利的尸体, 穿过岩石带, 耳中所听, 只有他悔罪的细语, 他的回忆, 他那些烧掉的信, 他那些整齐折叠的衣服. 他说, 其实我根本没醉.

　　Dear Esther. I find each step harder and heavier. I drag Donnelly’s corpse on my back across these rocks, and all I hear are his whispers of guilt, his reminders, his burnt letters, his neatly folded clothes. He tells me I was not drunk at all.

　　他不是喝醉了的艾斯特, 他根本没醉. 他没有和海里的唐纳利或是雅各布森一起沉醉; 无论在这个初生群岛的失落海岸和海滩中, 都没有属于他的职业. 他并不准备让自己的引擎盖如用过的纸巾般皱褶. 他的挡风玻璃没有像天堂的地图般繁星点点. 他用油漆涂出一组组电路图, 古怪的鱼把海鸥叫走. 轮胎划痕散发出的磷光照亮了从埃克塞特通往大马士革的高速公路.

　　He was not drunk Esther, he was not drunk at all. He had not drunk with Donnelly or spat Jakobson back at the sea; he had not careered across the lost shores and terminal beaches of this nascent archipelago. He did not intend his bonnet to be crumpled like a spent tissue by the impact. His windscreen was not star-studded all over like a map of the heavens. His paintwork etched with circuit diagrams, strange fish to call the gulls away. The phosphorescence of the skid marks lighting the M5 all the way from Exeter to Damascus.

　　我拖着身后的腿; 我会像一扇被压扁的车后门那样拖着它, 轮胎泄气, 火花在我那模糊的视线前四散溅射. 在跟随一闪一闪的月亮回家时, 我的止痛药快吃完了. 但保罗在通往大马士革的道路上昏迷不醒时, 人们从那个被压扁的车后箱拿出电线, 让他的心脏苏复过来; 足足用了二十一种方法才让他苏醒.

　　I will drag my leg behind me; I will drag it like a crumpled hatchback, tyres blown and sparking across the dimming lights of my vision. I am running out of painkillers and am following the flicker of the moon home. When Paul keeled over dead on the road to Damascus, they restarted his heart with the jump leads from a crumpled hatchback; it took twenty-one attempts to convince it to wake up.

　　在手术后, 我还记得他们为了测试瞳孔收缩情况, 而射来的那道光芒. 那就好像在井底下仰视月光照耀的天空. 人们都走到顶部, 但我不肯定你是否其中之一.

　　When I was coming round from the operation, I remember the light they shone in my eyes to check for pupil contraction. It was like staring up at a moonlit sky from the bottom of a well. People moved at the summit but I could not tell if you were one of them.

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