評論
打印
And as they sang, the lights began slowly to fade–to fade and at the same time to grow warmer, richer, redder, until at last they were dancing in the crimson twilight of an Embryo Store.
唱著唱著燈光慢慢暗轉(zhuǎn)了——暗轉(zhuǎn)了，同時溫暖起來，甜美起來，更紅了，最后他們已是在胚胎庫的紅色朦朧中舞蹈。
"Orgy-porgy …" In their blood-coloured and foetal darkness the dancers continued for a while to circulate, to beat and beat out the indefatigable rhythm.
“歡快呀淋漓。”舞蹈者在他們那胚胎的血紅的昏暗中繼續(xù)轉(zhuǎn)了幾圈，敲打著不知疲倦的節(jié)奏。
"Orgy-porgy …" Then the circle wavered, broke, fell in partial disintegration on the ring of couches which surrounded–circle enclosing circle–the table and its planetary chairs.
“歡快呀淋漓……”終于，那圓圈動搖了，分散了，捉對兒躺到了周圍的睡榻上——那些睡榻繞著桌子和它周圍的椅子圍成了一圈又一圈。
"Orgy-porgy …" Tenderly the deep Voice crooned and cooed; in the red twilight it was as though some enormous negro dove were hovering benevolently over the now prone or supine dancers.
“歡快呀淋漓……”那深沉的聲音溫柔地低吟著，細(xì)語著；昏暗的紅色中仿佛有一只碩大無朋的黑鴿愛意殷勤地懸浮在此刻俯仰顛倒的跳舞的人上空。
They were standing on the roof; Big Henry had just sung eleven. The night was calm and warm.
他們倆站在屋頂上。大亨利剛唱過十一點。夜平靜而溫暖。
"Wasn't it wonderful?" said Fifi Bradlaugh. "Wasn't it simply wonderful?"
“真美妙，是嗎？”菲菲·布拉勞芙說“確實美妙極了是嗎？”
She looked at Bernard with an expression of rapture, but of rapture in which there was no trace of agitation or excitement–for to be excited is still to be unsatisfied. Hers was the calm ecstasy of achieved consummation, the peace, not of mere vacant satiety and nothingness, but of balanced life, of energies at rest and in equilibrium.
她一臉興奮淋漓的表情望著伯納，那歡樂里再沒有絲毫激動或興奮的跡象——因為興奮意味著沒有饜足，而她所得到的卻是完成之后的狂歡，心滿意足的平靜。那平靜不是空洞的滿足與無聊，而是勻稱的生命和獲得休息與平衡的精力，
A rich and living peace. For the Solidarity Service had given as well as taken, drawn off only to replenish.
是一種豐富而生動的平靜。因為團(tuán)結(jié)祈禱式既是索取也是給予，索取原是為了補(bǔ)償。
She was full, she was made perfect, she was still more than merely herself.
菲菲充實了，菲菲完美了，她仍然感情洋溢，喜不自勝。
"Didn't you think it was wonderful?" she insisted, looking into Bernard's face with those supernaturally shining eyes.
“你不覺得美妙嗎？”她用她閃耀著超自然光芒的眼睛望著伯納的臉，盯著他問。
"Yes, I thought it was wonderful," he lied and looked away;
“美妙，我覺得很美妙，”他望著一邊，撒了個謊。
the sight of her transfigured face was at once an accusation and an ironical reminder of his own separateness.
他那張不自然的臉對他那分裂的性格既是指斥，也是諷刺性的暴露。
He was as miserably isolated now as he had been when the service began–more isolated by reason of his unreplenished emptiness, his dead satiety.
他現(xiàn)在仍孤獨得痛苦，跟開始祈禱時一樣——由于沒有得到救贖的空虛和死板的饜足，他反倒覺得更加孤獨了。
Separate and unatoned, while the others were being fused into the Greater Being; alone even in Morgana's embrace–much more alone, indeed, more hopelessly himself than he had ever been in his life before.
在別人融匯成更偉大的存在時，他卻處于局外，沒有得到救贖；即使在摩爾根娜的懷抱里他也孤獨——實際上更為孤獨，比平生任何時候都更加絕望的孤獨。
He had emerged from that crimson twilight into the common electric glare with a self-consciousness intensified to the pitch of agony.
他是帶著強(qiáng)化到痛苦程度的自我意識從猩紅的昏暗中進(jìn)入普通的電燈光里的。
He was utterly miserable, and perhaps (her shining eyes accused him), perhaps it was his own fault.
他透體悲涼。也許那得怪他自己（她那閃亮的眼睛指責(zé)著他）。
"Quite wonderful," he repeated; but the only thing he could think of was Morgana's eyebrow.
“很美妙。”他重復(fù)道。可是他唯一能夠想起的卻是摩爾根娜那一道眉毛。
