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My Wonderful Lousy Poem
我那首既妙又糟的小詩
Budd Schulberg
巴德·舒爾伯格
When I was eight or nine years old, I wrote my first poem. My mother read the little poem and began to cry. "Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful, beautiful poem!" Shyly, proudbursting, I stammered （結結巴巴地說）that I did. My mother poured out her praise. Why, this poem was nothing short of genius!
我八九歲的時候，寫了第一首詩。我母親讀了那首詩激動得哭了。“巴迪，這一首優美的好詩，不真是你寫的吧?”我既難為情，又自豪之極，結結巴巴地說是我寫的。我母親贊不絕口。哇，這簡直是首天才之作。
I glowed. "What time will Father be home?" I asked. I could hardly wait to show him what I had accomplished. My mother said she hoped he would be home around 7.1 spent the best （大半的）part of that afternoon preparing for his arrival. First, I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish （花體字）. Then I used colored crayons （蠟筆） to draw an elaborate border around it. Then I waited. As 7 o'clock drew near, I confidently placed it right on my father's plate on the dining-room table.
我滿臉放光。“爸爸什么時候回家?”我問。我迫不及待地要讓他讀我的杰作。母親說希望他能在7點左右回來，那天下午，我大部分時間都在為他回來作準備。我先用最漂亮的一手花體字把詩抄寫出來，再用彩色蠟筆畫上一圈精致的花邊。接著我便開始等待。7點鐘就要到了，我自信地把詩放在餐桌上父親座位前的盤子里。
But my father did not return at 7. Seven-fifteen. Seven-thirty. I could hardly stand the suspense （懸念）. I admired my father. He was head of Paramount Studios （派拉蒙電影公司）in Hollywood but he had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. He would be able to appreciate this wonderful poem of mine even more than my mother.
然而到了7點，我父親并沒有回來。七點一刻。七點半。心這么懸著，簡直讓我受不了。我敬佩父親。他是好萊塢派拉蒙電影公司的頭頭，但他是以作家身份開始其影藝生涯的。他會比我母親更能欣賞我的這首絕妙好詩。
This evening it was almost 8 o'clock when my father burst in. He was an hour late for dinner. His mood seemed thunderous. He could not sit down but circled the long dining-room table with a drink in his hand, calling down terrible oaths （詛咒）on his employees.
這天晚上差不多8點了父親才匆匆回家來。他晚飯遲到了一個小時，他的心情很糟，似乎隨時都會發作。他坐不下來，只是手里拿著杯酒繞著長餐桌走動，一邊惡狠狠地咒罵著他的雇員們。
