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My love, it is thinking of you that keeps me sane. When I get a moment I open my memories of you as if I were reading. Your long dark hair—I always imagine you wearing the blouse with the tiny roses, the white one that opened down the back—your eyes that said so much without words, the way you lowered your head when I said anything that embarrassed you, and the clean nape of your neck.
我的愛人，只有想著你，我才能保持清醒，一有時間我便像讀書般在回憶中溫習你的樣子。你長長的黑發——我時常想象著你穿著帶有小玫瑰花的襯衫，那件白色的，后面底下開著口——你那會說話的眼晴，當我說任何讓你尷尬的話時你低頭的樣子，還有你光潔的后頸：
The day I think about most was the day we climbed the head at Ballycastle. In a hollow, out of the wind, the air full of pollen and the sound of insects, the grass warm and dry and you lying beside me your hair undone, between me and the sun. You remember that that was where I first kissed you and the look of disbelief in your eyes that made me laugh afterwards.
我想的最多的是我們爬上巴里卡斯爾山頂的那一天。在山洞里，沒有風，空氣里滿是花粉，還有昆蟲的聲音，草地溫暖而干燥，你躺在我的身邊，頭發散著，散在我和陽光之間。你是否記得那是我笫一次親吻你的地方，你眼中流露出難以置信的神情，以后每每回想起來，我就禁不住開懷大笑。
It makes me laugh now to see myself savouring these memories standing alone up to my thighs in muck. It is everywhere, two, three feet in the clay and my head in the clouds. I love you, John.
如今我獨自站在深及大腿的淤泥中，回味著這些記憶，這讓我發笑。到處都是這樣，有兩三英尺深的泥土，我的大腦充滿幻想。我愛你。約翰。
He did not bother to put the letter into the envelope but opened another.
他并未把那封信裝入信封，而是打開了另一封。
