What can I hold you with?? 我用什么才能留駐你谨朝？
——Jorges Luis Borges? 博爾赫斯
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs.
我給你貧窮的街道茂蚓、絕望的日落妻怎、破敗郊區(qū)的月亮篓冲。
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
我給你一個久久地望著孤月的人的悲哀。
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in marble: my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow; my mother’s grandfather -just twentyfour- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold. whatever manliness or humour my life.
我給你我已死去的先輩泥张，人們用大理石紀念他們的幽靈：在布宜偌斯艾利斯邊境陣亡的我父親的父親疲陕，兩顆子彈穿了他的胸膛。蓄著胡子的他死去了矿辽，士兵們用牛皮裹起他的尸體丹允；我母親的祖父——時年二十四歲——在秘魯率領(lǐng)三百名士兵沖鋒，如今都成了消失的馬背上的幽靈袋倔。
我給你我寫的書中所能包含的一切悟力雕蔽、我生活中所能有的男子氣概或幽默。
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
我給你一個從未有過信仰人的忠誠奕污。
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved somehow -the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
我給你我設(shè)法保全的我自己的核心——不營字造句萎羔，不和夢想交易，不被時間碳默、歡樂和逆境觸動的核心贾陷。
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.
我給你缘眶，早在你出生前多年的一個傍晚看到的一朵黃玫瑰的記憶。
I offer you explanationsof yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.
我給你對自己的解釋髓废，關(guān)于你自己的理論巷懈，你自己的真實而驚人的消息。
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat
我給你我的寂寞慌洪、我的黑暗顶燕、我心的饑渴；我試圖用困惑冈爹、危險涌攻、失敗來打動你。
