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The first evening passed well enough. The mother unpacked the presents—a chicken, bread, eggs, a tapestry of a church spire which she'd done all winter, stitching at it until she was almost blind, a holy water font, ashtrays made from shells, and lamps converted from bottles.
第一個晚上過得還不錯。母親從箱子里取出了禮物——一只雞、面包、雞蛋、一幅繡著教堂尖頂的掛毯，那是她一針針縫的，整整花了一個冬天，縫到眼睛幾乎什么也看不見了才完成。禮物中還有一個圣水盂、用貝殼制作的煙灰缸和玻璃瓶改裝的臺燈。
Claire laid them along the mantelshelf, and stood back, not so much to admire them as to see how incongruous they looked.
克萊爾把禮品一一擺在壁爐臺上，往后退了幾步，不過與其說是在欣賞，倒不如說是在看看這些玩意兒擺在那兒是多么不協調。
"Thank you," she said to her mother, as tenderly as she might have when she was a child. These gifts touched her, especially the tapestry, although it was ugly. She thought of the winter nights and the Aladdin lamp smoking, and her mother hunched over her work, not even using a thimble to ease the needle through, because she believed in sacrifice. She could picture her and her father at the fire night after night, the turf flames green and fitful, the hens locked up, foxes prowling around in the wind, outside.
“謝謝，”她對母親說，盡量像她小時候那樣溫情。這些禮物打動了她，尤其是那幅掛毯，盡管它很難看。她能想象到那一個個冬夜的情景，在舊式油燈的煙霧中，她母親彎著腰，縫制那幅掛毯，連能幫她將針穿過布料的頂針都不戴，因為她信仰犧牲精神。她能想象她母親和父親每天晚上坐在爐火邊的情形，泥炭燃燒時的綠色火苗時斷時續，母雞鎖在雞籠里， 屋外狐貍在風中四處覓食。
