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送交者: 筋斗云 于 2005-12-31, 01:21:36:

用的一个代理被封了,两天上不来。

THE LOST DECADE
F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940)
Esquire (December 1939)
失去的十年
作者:菲茨杰拉尔德(费滋杰罗)
原作:一九三九,十二月
译者:筋斗云
二○○一年三月于美国
二○○五年十二月修改于成都

All sorts of people came into the offices of the news-weekly and
Orrison Brown had all sorts of relations with them. Outside of office
hours he was "one of the editors"--during work time he was simply a
curly-haired man who a year before had edited the Dartmouth
Jack-O-Lantern and was now only too glad to take the undesirable
assignments around the office, from straightening out illegible copy
to playing call boy without the title.

 到新闻周刊办公室来的人千变万化,而奥瑞森·布朗和他们的关系也就
千变万化。下班的时候他是“编辑之一”--上班的时候他只是个头发打
卷、一年前编辑过“达茅斯唬人鬼灯笼”、现在只要能在办公室打些无趣
工作的杂就很高兴了的人,平常做的事从辨别一下复印得不清楚的字母到
担任没有应门人职衔的应门人。

He had seen this visitor go into the editor’s office--a pale, tall
man of forty with blond statuesque hair and a manner that was neither
shy nor timid, nor otherworldly like a monk, but something of all three.
The name on his card, Louis Trimble, evoked some vague memory, but
having nothing to start on, Orrison did not puzzle over it--until a
buzzer sounded on his desk, and previous experience warned him
that Mr. Trimble was to be his first course at lunch.

  之前他看到这个人走进了主编的办公室:一个面色苍白的高个男人,
四十多岁、金色优雅的头发,举止看上去不是羞怯、温顺或者僧侣般与
世隔绝,而是三者皆是。他名片上的名字:路易斯·崔博,好像在记忆
深处引起点印象,不过却没有带起任何事件,奥瑞森没有努力去想它--
直到他桌面上的蜂鸣器响起,以前的经验告诉他大概要与崔博一
起吃顿午餐了。

"Mr. Trimble--Mr. Brown," said the Source of all luncheon money.
"Orrison--Mr. Trimble’s been away a long time. Or he feels it’s a
long time--almost twelve years. Some people would consider themselves
lucky to’ve missed the last decade."

  “这是崔博先生,这是布朗先生。”他所有饭钱的来源介绍到,“奥瑞森,
崔博先生曾经离开了很长段时间。或者说他感到离开了很长段时间--
有十二年了。有的人大概会说能跳过过去十年正是运气。”

"That’s so," said Orrison.

  “是啊,”奥瑞森说到。
(指从二九年之后的美国经济大衰退。筋斗云注)

"I can’t lunch today," continued his chief. "Take him to Voisin or
21 or anywhere he’d like. Mr. Trimble feels there’re lots of things
he hasn’t seen."

  “我今天没法去午餐了,”他老板继续到,“带他去味森或者二十一或者
任何他爱去的地方。崔博先生感到他错过了许多的东西。”

Trimble demurred politely.
"Oh, I can get around."

  崔博有礼貌地异议了一下:
  “奥,我还可以自己找个地方吃的。”

"I know it, old boy. Nobody knew this place like you did once--and if
Brown tries to explain the horseless carriage just send him back here
to me. And you’ll be back yourself by four, won’t you?"

  “我知道你可以,老夥计。你曾经是这里的万事通--如果布朗想给你讲
那没马拉的四轮马车的事,你就把他赶回来。你四点钟一定会回这儿来,行吧?”

Orrison got his hat.

  布朗已经帽子在手了。

"You’ve been away ten years?" he asked while they went down in
the elevator.

  “你离开十年了?”当他们坐电梯下去的时候布朗问到。

"They’d begun the Empire State Building," said Trimble.
"What does that add up to?"
  “他们正在建帝国大厦,”崔博说到,“那是什么时候?”

"About 1928. But as the chief said, you’ve been lucky to miss a lot."
As a feeler he added, "Probably had more interesting things to look at."

  “大约是一九二八。正如头儿说的,能跳过去真是幸运。”
试探着他又加了句,“是不是去了更有趣的地方?”

"Can’t say I have."

  “没有。”

They reached the street and the way Trimble’s face tightened at the roar
of traffic made Orrison take one more guess.

  他们来到了街头,看到崔博的面孔因为车流隆隆而紧张起来,奥瑞森又猜测到:

"You’ve been out of civilization?"

  “你离开了文明社会?”

"In a sense." The words were spoken in such a measured way that Orrison
concluded this man wouldn’t talk unless he wanted to--and simultaneously
wondered if he could have possibly spent the thirties in a prison or
an insane asylum.

  “某个意义上说是的。”这些词一个字字地间隔地蹦出来,让奥瑞森感到这
个人如果不愿意就不会多说的,--他马上就想到这人整个三十年代可能是在监狱
或者疯人院度过的。

"This is the famous 21," he said. "Do you think you’d rather eat
somewhere else?"

  “这就是有名的二十一。”他说到,“或者你想到其它地方?”

Trimble paused, looking carefully at the brownstone house.


  崔博停了下来,很仔细地看着这褐色砂石墙的房子。

"I can remember when the name 21 got to be famous," he said, "about the
same year as Moriarity’s." Then he continued almost apologetically,
"I thought we might walk up Fifth Avenue about five minutes and eat
wherever we happened to be. Some place with young people to look at."


  “我还记得二十一刚红起来的时候,”他说到,“大致和摩里提是同一
年。”接下去他有些歉意地,“我想我们能不能再走五分钟到第五大道随便找
家吃吃,找个年轻人多点的地方。”

Orrison gave him a quick glance and once again thought of bars and
gray walls and bars; he wondered if his duties included introducing
Mr. Trimble to complaisant girls. But Mr. Trimble didn’t look as if
that was in his mind--the dominant expression was of absolute and
deep-seated curiosity and Orrison attempted to connect the name
with Admiral Byrd’s hideout at the South Pole or flyers lost in
Brazilian jungles. He was, or he had been, quite a fellow--that
was obvious. But the only definite clue to his environment--and
to Orrison the clue that led nowhere--was his countryman’s obedience
to the traffic lights and his predilection for walking on the side
next to the shops and not the street. Once he stopped and gazed
into a haberdasher’s window.

  奥瑞森快瞅了他一眼,又一次在脑海中想起了铁窗、灰墙;他甚至想到
他的职责是否还包括给崔博先生找街头女郎。不过崔博先生看起来并没有这
方面的意思----最大的神情还是与世隔绝和深深的好奇,奥瑞森的大脑已经
到了博德将军的南极避难所与巴西丛林的失事飞行者。这人曾经是个出色人
物----这很显然。但是他生活环境的唯一确定线索--这个线索对奥瑞森却
并没有什么用处,就是如乡巴佬一样遵守交通规则,在行人道上总是走靠店
面的一边而不是靠街的这边。一次他停下来观看一家男人衣饰用品的橱窗。

"Crêpe ties," he said. "I haven’t seen one since I left college."

  “皱纹绸丝领带,”他说到,“离开大学后我就再没见过了。”

"Where’d you go?"

  “你在什么地方上的大学?”

"Massachusetts Tech."

  “麻省理工。”

"Great place."

  “有名的地方。”

"I’m going to take a look at it next week. Let’s eat somewhere
along here--" They were in the upper Fifties "--you choose."

  “下个礼拜我再进店里面看看吧。我们就在这附近吃吃
吧,”他们已经到五十街北边了,“你选一家。”

There was a good restaurant with a little awning just around
the corner.

  转角处就是一家外支着布蓬的好餐馆。

"What do you want to see most?" Orrison asked, as they sat down.

  “你最想看什么?”他们坐下座位的时候,奥瑞森问到。

Trimble considered.

  崔博认真地考虑着。

"Well--the back of people’s heads," he suggested. "Their
necks--how their heads are joined to their bodies. I’d like
to hear what those two little girls are saying to their father.
Not exactly what they’re saying but whether the words float or
submerge, how their mouths shut when they’ve finished speaking.
Just a matter of rhythm--Cole Porter came back to the States in
1928 because he felt that there were new rhythms around."

  “这吗--人的后脑勺吧,”他调笑到。“他们的脖子----脑袋如何与
身体联接。我想听听那边那两个小女孩与她们父亲的谈话。并不是她们讲的
每个字词,而是那些词后面的联想或者暗示,当她们讲完时,嘴是怎样闭上
的。摸到一个节奏--科尔波特一九二八年回美国时就是因为他感到这里有
了些新的节奏。”

Orrison was sure he had his clue now, and with nice delicacy
did not pursue it by a millimeter--even suppressing a sudden
desire to say there was a fine concert in Carnegie Hall tonight.

  奥瑞森几乎肯定自己明白了这话的暗示,有礼貌地没有进一步
去追问一毫米--甚至压住了告诉他今晚在卡耐基大厅有一场优秀
音乐会的突然冲动。

"The weight of spoons," said Trimble, "so light. A little bowl
with a stick attached. The cast in that waiter’s eye. I knew
him once but he wouldn’t remember me."

  “这些调匙,”崔博说到,“真轻。一个小勺连着一根小棍。那个
服务生眼中的气质。我曾经记得他,不过他不会记得我了。”

But as they left the restaurant the same waiter looked at
Trimble rather puzzled as if he almost knew him. When they
were outside Orrison laughed:

  但当他们离开的时候,那个服务生看着崔博,脸上有些疑惑的
表情,就如同快要记起他了。他们到了外面的时候,奥瑞森笑到:

"After ten years people will forget."

  “十年了,人总是会忘记的。”

"Oh, I had dinner there last May--" He broke off in an abrupt manner.

  “奥,我去年五月才在这里晚宴--”他突然间断了话语。

It was all kind of nutsy, Orrison decided--and changed himself suddenly
into a guide.

  越说越有些疯了,奥瑞森决定--于是他把自己突然转变成了一个向导。

"From here you get a good candid focus on Rockefeller Center," he
pointed out with spirit "--and the Chrysler Building and the Armistead
Building, the daddy of all the new ones."

  “从这里,你可以很好的角度看到洛克菲勒中心,”他兴奋地指过去,
“--这边是克莱斯勒大厦与阿姆斯帝德大厦,新摩天大楼的父辈。”


"The Armistead Building," Trimble rubber-necked obediently. "Yes--
I designed it."

  “阿姆斯帝德大厦,”崔博机械地点头,“是啊--我设计的。”

Orrison shook his head cheerfully--he was used to going out with all
kinds of people. But that stuff about having been in the restaurant
last May . . .

  奥瑞森笑着摇了摇头--他和各种各样人交往过。不过去年五月晚宴这
事也太邪虎。。。

He paused by the brass entablature in the cornerstone of the
building. "Erected 1928," it said.

  他停了下来,在大厦转角的金属铭牌上面刻着:建于一九二八年。

Trimble nodded.

  崔博点头。

"But I was taken drunk that year--every-which-way drunk. So I
never saw it before now."

 “我就是在那一年酒醉住院的----醉得完完全全地醉在其中。
所以这才是我第一次真眼见到这大厦。”

"Oh." Orrison hesitated. "Like to go in now?"

  “奥”奥瑞森犹豫着,“是不是想进去?”

"I’ve been in it--lots of times. But I’ve never seen it. And now
it isn’t what I want to see. I wouldn’t ever be able to see it now.
I simply want to see how people walk and what their clothes and
shoes and hats are made of. And their eyes and hands. Would you
mind shaking hands with me?"

  “我进来这里----很多次了。不过我从来没看过它。但是这还不是我
现在特别想见的东西。我现在还无法看明白这个。我只想看看人们是怎样
走路的,衣服是什么做的,鞋子的材料,帽子的样式。他们的眼睛与手。
你不会反对我们握握手吧?”

"Not at all, sir."

  “当然不会,先生。”

"Thanks. Thanks. That’s very kind. I suppose it looks strange--but
people will think we’re saying good-by. I’m going to walk up the
avenue for awhile, so we will say good-by. Tell your office I’ll be
in at four."

  “多谢,多谢。非常感谢你。这看起来很奇怪--旁人会认为我们是
在握手告别。我想再沿着街上走走,所以我们确实是要握手告别。我会在
四点到报社办公室的。”

Orrison looked after him when he started out, half expecting him to
turn into a bar. But there was nothing about him that suggested or
ever had suggested drink.

  奥瑞森看着他走开,半等着他会走进旁边的一个酒吧。不过这人看上去
没有半点是醉汉的样子。

"Jesus," he said to himself. "Drunk for ten years."

  “上帝,”他对自己说到。“醉了十年。”

He felt suddenly of the texture of his own coat and then he reached
out and pressed his thumb against the granite of the building by his
side.

  突然间他抓紧了自己外衣衣料,手伸出去拇指按在他身边大厦的花岗石上。




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