云中漫步-云漫 新浪个人认证
  • 博客等级:
  • 博客积分:0
  • 博客访问:175,591
  • 关注人气:258
  • 获赠金笔:0支
  • 赠出金笔:0支
  • 荣誉徽章:
正文 字体大小:

Dark Angle(翻译连载一)

(2009-08-11 08:57:57)





分类: UNCLE赵&他国际事务部的同事们

Dark Angle,一本据说是15年前的畅销小说,因为至今在国内没有看见其中文版,国际部的同事准备在这里用这种方式推荐给大家。


Dark Angle

The fortuneteller and my godmother


I went to a fortuneteller once. His name was Mr.Chatterjee; his premises were a small shop between a pastry maker and a silk dealer, in the middle of the bazaar in Delhi.


It was not my idea to consult Mr.Chatterjee; I didn’t believe in fortunetellers, horoscopes, Tarot cards, the I Ching—none of that tempting mumbo-jumbo. Neither, I think, did my friend Wexton, although it was he who made the suggestion to go.

Mr.Chatterjee had been recommended to Wexton. One of the Indians we had met on this visit gave him a glowing testimonial – it might have been Mr. Gopal from the university, or maybe the Maharani. The next day, on a visit to the bazaar, Wexton located his premises; the day after, he suggested I visit him.


Traveling with Wexton was always full of surprises. I thought, why not?


“Won’t you come too, Wexton?” I said. “He could read both our fortunes.”


Wexton smiled his benevolent smile.


“At my age,” he replied, “you don’t need a fortuneteller to predict your future, Victoria.”


A nod toward the graveyard,Wexton gave no sign of melancholy. I set off for my future the next afternoon.


On the way, pushing though the crowded alleyways of the bazaar, I considered the question of age. In a Victorian novel – the kind my father liked – a woman is old at twenty-five, over the hill by thirty. Now, in the 1980s, due partly to the influence of sudsy television, a woman is still judged young at fifty. But when I went to see Mr.Chatterjee it was 1968. People had begun to wear buttons that said don’t trust anyone over thirty.


Wexton, well into his seventies, found that very amusing. I was not sure I did.


When I went to visit my fortuneteller I was single, childless, a success—I suppose—at my chosen career. I was also almost thirty-eight years old.






我去算过一次命。算命师的名字是Chatterjee ;他的地点是一个位于糕点生产商和丝绸经销商之间的小商店,在德里集市的中央。
向Chatterjee咨询不是我的主意 ;我不相信算命,占星术,塔罗牌,易经,一点也不吸引我。我想我的朋友Wexton也不感兴趣,尽管是他建议我去算命的。

Mr.Chatterjee被推荐给Wexton 。是一个我们在此行中遇到的印度人热烈推荐,可能是大学的Gopal,或者是Maharain 。第二天,前往集市, Wexton找到了他的地点;之后的第二天,他建议我去拜访那位算命师。
“你不一起来吗,Wexton ? ”我说。 “他可以预知我们的命运 。 ”
Wexton和善的微笑 “在我的年龄,”他答道,“不需要算命师预测你的未来,Victoria。 ” 向墓地点了点头。 Wexton没有任何忧郁的迹象。第二天下午我就去确定我的未来。


Wexton 的70多岁非常有趣。我不敢确定我是否可以。





The visit to India had been Wexton’s idea. For the three months before we left I had been in England, at Winterscombe, helping my uncle Steenie to die—at least trying to ensure that when he did, he did so easily, without physic pain


Morphine cocktails work—indeed Steenie claimed they were nearly as good as champagne—but there were, inevitably, other pangs for which medicine was less effective. When Steenie finally died, I lost an uncle I loved, one of the last members of my family. Wexton lost his oldest friend, an iconoclast who had once, I suspected, been more than a friend— though neither Steenie nor Wexton ever spoke of this.


“Look at us,” Wexton said, when we were alone at Winterscombe. “As gloomy as two bookends. We should go away, Victoria. How about India?”


It was a surprising suggestion. Claiming pressures of work(in fact fearing introspection), I had not taken a vacation in eight years. Wexton, whose poetry had made him internationally famous, never took holidays at all. American by birth, but an expatriate for some fifty years, Wexton had made his den in an untidy, book-filled house in Church Row, Hampstead; he disliked being coaxed out of it. It was entirely unlike him to accept an invitation to be lionized in Delhi, of all places. However, he did. He would go, he said; what was more, I would go with him. I was anxious to escape grief and the responsibility of Winterscombe (a great white elephant of a house—I would probably have to sell it), so I agreed. I rearranged my work schedule. Three days later we landed in Delhi.


Once there, Wexton gave his lecture at the university, read some of his famous poems to a distinguished audience of Indians, Europeans, and Americans, and then gracefully but firmly, decamped.


Wexton has written lines that have stained my mind (as perhaps they have yours); as great poetry does, they have become an indissoluble part of my thinking. Many of his poems are about love, time and change. As I listened to him read I thought of lost opportunities, a broken love affair eight years before, and my own age; I felt unspeakably sad.






只有我们两个人一起时,Wexton说:“看看我俩,犹如两个遥不相及的书夹般忧伤。我们应该出去走走,Victoria. 我们去印度吧?”


这建议出乎意料。打着工作压力大的幌子,我已经8年没有度假(事实上我是害怕自我反省)。 Wexton是国际大有名气的诗人,从来都不度假,出生在美国,却做了50多年美国侨胞。Wexton住在Hampstead,Church Row,他的房间有点乱,堆满了书。他不喜欢别人哄他离开他的窝。接受德里的邀请去做讲座,绝对不是他的风格,但他真是接受了。他说他会去,而且,我将跟他一起去。我迫切逃离失去叔叔的伤痛,逃离Winterscombe的责任,于是我答应跟他去。我重新安排了工作日程,三天后,我们在德里降落。




Wexton 写的诗深深得烙在我脑海里(犹如他们掌控了你的大脑);如一般的伟大篇章,他们已经成为了我思索不可分离的一部分。他大部分的诗歌都是以爱情,时间和变化为主题。我听他朗读他的诗时,我脑海里浮现了自己错失的机会,8年前失去的一段感情,及自己的年龄。想到这些,心中冉起了一股无法言喻的滋味。





阅读 评论 收藏 转载 喜欢 打印举报/Report
  • 评论加载中,请稍候...




    新浪BLOG意见反馈留言板 电话:4000520066 提示音后按1键(按当地市话标准计费) 欢迎批评指正

    新浪简介 | About Sina | 广告服务 | 联系我们 | 招聘信息 | 网站律师 | SINA English | 会员注册 | 产品答疑

    新浪公司 版权所有