評論
打印
Don't you know me, Linda?
你不認識我了嗎，琳妲？
He felt the faint answering pressure of her hand.
他隱約感覺到了她的手在捏緊，作為回答。
The tears started into his eyes. He bent over her and kissed her. Her lips moved.
淚水涌進了他的眼睛，他彎過她的身子親了親她。
"Popé!" she whispered again, and it was as though he had had a pailful of ordure thrown in his face.
她的嘴唇動了動，“波培！”她低聲說道。他像是被劈頭蓋臉潑了一桶大糞。
Anger suddenly boiled up in him. Balked for the second time,
怒火突然在他心里沸騰。他第二次受到挫折，
the passion of his grief had found another outlet, was transformed into a passion of agonized rage.
他憂傷的情緒找到了另一個出路，轉化成了激動的悲憤。
"But I'm John!" he shouted. "I'm John!" And in his furious misery he actually caught her by the shouder and shook her.
“可我是約翰！”他叫了起來。“我是約翰！”他因為激怒的痛苦實際上抓住她的肩膀搖晃起來。
Linda's eyes fluttered open; she saw him, knew him–"John!"–but situated the real face, the real and violent hands, in an imaginary world.
琳妲的眼睛瞬動了一下，睜開了，認出了他。“約翰！——可又把他那張現實的面孔，現實的粗暴的手放進了一個想象的世界。
among the inward and private equivalents of patchouli and the Super-Wurlitzer,
把他跟隱藏在她心里的薄荷香、超級伍麗策一樣看待，
among the transfigured memories and the strangely transposed sensations that constituted the universe of her dream.
跟變了形的回憶，跟構成她那夢幻世界的離奇的錯了位的種種感受一樣看待。
She knew him for John, her son, but fancied him an intruder into that paradisal Malpais where she had been spending her soma-holiday with Popé.
她認得他是她的兒子約翰，可又把他幻想成闖進她馬爾佩斯樂園的人，而她正在那兒跟波培一起度著唆麻假日。
He was angry because she liked Popé, he was shaking her because Popé was there in the bed–as though there were something wrong, as though all civilized people didn't do the same.
約翰生氣了，因為她喜歡波培，約翰在搖晃她，因為波培在她床上——好像那是什么錯誤，好像文明人都不那么干似的。
"Every one belongs to every …" Her voice suddenly died into an almost inaudible breathless croaking.
“每個人都彼此相屬……”她的聲音突然消失了，轉化成了一種喘不過氣的，幾乎聽不見的咯咯聲。
Her mouth fell open: she made a desperate effort to fill her lungs with air.
她的嘴唇耷拉了下來，做了極大的努力要讓肺里充滿空氣，
But it was as though she had forgotten how to breathe.
可卻像忘掉了怎么樣呼吸。
