黃飛飛
秋葉翻飛,飄落一地,雨水扼殺著所剩無(wú)幾的夏日。本期我們?yōu)榇蠹疫x編了一篇英國(guó)著名散文,作者記敘了一段失落的浪漫。請(qǐng)細(xì)細(xì)品味,并將譯文發(fā)給我們。
優(yōu)秀者名單將在雜志上刊登,并有機(jī)會(huì)獲取獎(jiǎng)品。
I remember quite clearly now when the story happened.
The autumn leaves were floating in measure down to the ground,
recovering the lake, where we used to like children,
under the sun was there to shine.
That time we used to be happy.
Well, I thought we were.
But the truth was that you had been longing to leave me,
not daring to tell me.
On that precious night,
watching the lake,
vaguely conscious,
you said, “our story is ending.”
The rain was killing the last days of summer.
You had been killing my last breath of love, since a long time ago.
I still dont think Im gonna make it through another love story.
You took it all away from me.
And there I stand,
I knew I was going to be the one left behind.
But still Im watching the lake,
vaguely conscious,
and I know my life is ending.