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It was a queer sort of place--a gable-ended old house, one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly.
這真可以說是個古怪的地方...一座山形頂的舊房子,有一邊象是患了半身不遂癥,沒精打采地歪靠著。
It stood on a sharp bleak corner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed.
房子座落在一個險峻的.無遮無攔的角落上,在那里,狂暴的猶羅克利頓不住地號嘯著,比對可憐的保羅那只顛簸的小船號嘯得還要兇狠.然而,對于任何一個待在屋里的。雙腳悠閑地擱在火爐架上。準備上床的人說來,猶羅克利頓卻是一陣其樂無窮的和風。
In judging of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon, says an old writer-of whose works I possess the only copy extant-it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier.
要判斷那種稱為猶羅克利頓的狂風的好壞,古代某一個作家說...我現在手頭恰有他這部作品的孤本...那會因你是從一扇冰凍全在外面的玻璃窗里面看它,還是從一個沒有窗框,里里外外都是冰凍的窗口去看它,而產生出截然不同的景致的,而唯一的玻璃裝配匠就是死神那家伙。
True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind-old black-letter, thou reasonest well.
完全正確,當這段話浮現到我的心頭上來的時候,我這么想...老黑體字呀,你想得真不錯。
Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house.
不錯,這對眼睛就是兩扇窗門,我這個身體就是那座房子。
