評論
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Imagine, we would have finished the picture tonight, my father was shouting. "Instead that moron suddenly gets it into her beautiful empty, little head that she can't play the last scene. So the whole company has to stand there at $1,000 a minute while this silly little blank walks off the set! And now I have to beg her to come back!"
“你想，影片今晚本來可以拍完的，”父親嚷道。“可那蠢婆娘的漂亮的空腦瓜里突然冒出個鬼念頭，說是最后一場戲她演不了啦。這個傻乎乎的木頭美人拍拍屁股一走了之，整個公司只得干守在那兒，每分鐘公司要損失1000美元！到頭來我還得求她回來!”
He wheeled in his pacing （踱步）,paused and glared at his plate. There was a suspenseful silence. "What is this?" He was reaching for my poem.
他踱著步，一轉身，在自己的盤子前停下來，張大眼睛瞧著，一陣令人心懸的沉默。“這是什么玩意兒?”他伸手去拿我的詩。
Ben, a wonderful thing has happened, my mother began. "Buddy has written his first poem! And it's beautiful, absolutely amaz —"
“本，發生了件了不起的事，”母親開口了。“巴德寫了他的第一首詩。一首好詩，絕對精……”
If you don't mind, I'd like to decide for myself, Father said.
“如果你不介意的話，我自己會判斷的，”父親說。
I kept my face lowered to my plate as he read that poem. It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours. I could hear him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of decision.
他讀那首詩的時候，我一直低著頭，臉對著盤子。總共才10行詩，可似乎延續了好幾個小時。只聽見他把詩丟回桌上。決定性的時刻到了。
I think it's lousy, he said.
“我想這詩寫得糟透了，”他說。
I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting wet.
我頭都抬不起來。兩眼頓時模糊了。
Ben, sometimes I don't understand you, my mother was saying. "This is just a little boy. You're not in your studio now. These are the first lines of poetry he's ever written. He needs encouragement."
“本，有時我真沒法理解你，”是母親在說話。“他還只是個孩子。現在你可不是在你的攝影棚里。這是他破天荒寫的第一首詩啊。他需要鼓勵。”
I don't know why, my father held his ground. "Isn't there enough lousy poetry in the world already? No law says Buddy has to become a poet."
“我真不明白，”父親毫不讓步。“這世上歪詩還不夠多嗎？沒有哪條法律規定巴迪非得當詩人不可。”
I couldn't stand it another second. I ran from the dining-room up to my room, threw myself on the bed and sobbed. When I had cried the worst of the disappointment out of me, I could hear my parents still quarreling over my first poem at the dinner table.
我一刻也呆不下去了。我沖出餐廳，跑回自己房間，撲倒在床上抽泣著。等我哭著把我失望之極的痛苦都發泄出來以后，我聽見父母還在餐桌旁為我的第一首詩爭吵不休。
