評論
打印
This evening when my father burst in, his mood seemed even more thunderous than usual.
可是那天晚上父親沖進門來時，似乎比往常還要憤怒。
An hour late for dinner, he could not sit down but circled the long dining-room table with a drink in his hand, calling down terrible oaths on his employees.
晚飯已經遲了一個鐘頭，然而他還是不肯坐下吃飯，卻拿著已被冰塊威士忌蘇打，兀自繞長長的餐桌打轉，大聲謾罵他的下屬人員。
He wheeled in his pacing, paused and glared at his plate.
他轉過身來，停步了，眼睛瞪著他的盤子。
There was a suspenseful silence. “What is this? ” He was reaching for my poem.
我急切的等他開口。“這是什么？”說著他就伸手去拿我那一首詩。
I kept my face lowered to my plate as he read that poem.
他讀著詩，我低著頭望著面前的桌子。
It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours.
那首詩一共只有十行，但父親好像讀了好幾個鐘頭還沒有讀完。
I remember wondering why it was taking so long. I could hear my father breathing.
記得我當時不怎么明白他怎么要讀那么久。我聽到父親的呼吸。
Then I could hear him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of decision.
隨后聽見他把詩扔回餐桌。評判的時刻到了。
“I think it's lousy, ” he said.
“我覺得糟透了”我的父親說。
I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting wet.
我眼淚盈眶，抬不起頭來。
“Ben, sometimes I don't understand you,”my mother was saying.
“伯恩，有時候我對你真是不理解”母親說，
“This is just a little boy.
“他只是一個孩子。
These are the first lines of poetry he's ever written.
他頭一次寫詩，
He needs encouragement.”
需要的是鼓勵。
“I don't know why. ”My father held his ground.
“為什么要鼓勵他？”父親堅持己見，
“Isn't there enough lousy poetry in the world already?
“世界上蹩腳的詩有的是。
No law says Buddy has to become a poet.”
又沒有法律強迫帕迪一定要做個詩人。”
They quarreled over it.
他們吵起來了。
