介绍:
（下拉有中英配文）
从今天起，我们开始连载拉叔读的经典名著《英国病人》
SHE STANDS UP in the garden where she has been working and looks into the distance. She has sensed a shift in the weather. There is another gust of wind, a buckle of noise in the air, and the tall cypresses sway. She turns and moves uphill towards the house, climbing over a low wall, feeling the first drops of rain on her bare arms. She crosses the loggia and quickly enters the house.
她一直在花园里干活，这会儿则站直了身子，眺望远方。她感觉到天气有了变化。又刮起了一阵大风，空气中响起一阵闷雷的声音，那棵高大的丝柏也随之摇曳起来。她转身朝坡上的房子走去，爬过一道矮墙，感觉到雨点已打在自己裸露的臂上。她穿过凉亭，迅速走进屋内。
In the kitchen she doesn’t pause but goes through it and climbs the stairs which are in darkness and then continues along the long hall, at the end of which is a wedge of light from an open door.
She turns into the room which is another garden—this one made up of trees and bowers painted over its walls and ceiling. The man lies on the bed, his body exposed to the breeze, and he turns his head slowly towards her as she enters.
她没有在厨房逗留，直接登上隐没在黑暗中的楼梯，沿着长长的走廊继续前行。灯光从一道敞开的房门射出，洒在长廊的尽头。
她走进房间，这里是另一个花园——墙壁和天花板上绘有树木和凉亭。那个男人躺在床上，微风吹抚着他的身子。在她进屋时，他缓缓地转过头来。
Every four days she washes his black body, beginning at the destroyed feet. She wets a washcloth and holding it above his ankles squeezes the water onto him, looking up as he mur¬murs, seeing his smile. Above the shins the burns are worst. Beyond purple. Bone.
She has nursed him for months and she knows the body well, the penis sleeping like a sea horse, the thin tight hips. Hipbones of Christ, she thinks. He is her despairing saint. He lies flat on his back, no pillow, looking up at the foliage painted onto the ceiling, its canopy of branches, and above that, blue sky.
每隔四天，她便会擦洗一次他那黝黑的身体，先是从伤残的双脚开始。她沾湿一块毛巾，举到他的脚踝上方拧下水来。听到他发出喃喃的声音，她抬起头，看见了他的微笑。胫骨以
上是烧伤程度最严重的部分，深紫红色，连骨头也露出来了。
她照顾他已有好几个月了，因此对他的身体非常熟悉。耶稣的髋骨，她想。他就是她绝望的圣者。他没垫枕头，仰面平躺在床上，望着涂绘在天花板上的树叶、树冠和那片蓝天。
She pours calamine in stripes across his chest where he is less burned, where she can touch him. She loves the hollow below the lowest rib, its cliff of skin. Reaching his shoulders she blows cool air onto his neck, and he mutters.
What? She asks, coming out of her concentration.
He turns his dark face with its grey eyes towards her. She puts her hand into her pocket. She unskins the plum with her teeth, withdraws the stone and passes the flesh of the fruit into his mouth.
她往他的胸部涂上药水。这里的烧伤程度较轻，她可以触摸。她喜爱最下方一根肋骨下凹陷的肌肤。她靠向他的肩膀，朝着他的脖子吹气，他嘟哝了一句。
“什么?”她回过神来，问道。
他掉转黝黑的脸庞，一双灰色的眼睛直视着她。她把手伸进了口袋，取出李子。她用牙齿咬去李子皮，去掉内核，把果肉塞进他的嘴里。
He whispers again, dragging the listening heart of the young nurse beside him to wherever his mind is, into that well of memory he kept plunging into during those months before he died.
There are stories the man recites quietly into the room which slip from level to level like a hawk. He remembers picnics, a woman who kissed parts of his body that now are burned into the colour of aubergine.
他的低语，牵引着身旁这位年轻护土的心。与他一起进入临死前的这几个月里，他一直在挖掘回忆的深井。
那人缓缓地对着房间叙述一段段杂乱无章的往事。他在这个绘制而成的花园之中醒来，周围是蔓生的鲜花和参天大树的枝干。他想起了野餐时，曾有一个女人亲吻过他现在已经烧成紫红色的身体。
His eyes lock onto the young woman’s face. She leans forward. How were you burned?
I fell burning into the desert.
They found my body and made me a boat of sticks and dragged me across the desert. We were in the Sand Sea, now and then crossing dry riverbeds. Nomads, you see. Bedouin. I flew down and the sand itself caught fire.
They saw me stand up naked out of it. The leather helmet on my head in flames. They strapped me onto a cradle, a carcass boat, and feet thud¬ded along as they ran with me.
他的眼睛盯着年轻护士的脸。只要她动一下脑袋，他的目光就会顺着她移转。她倾身向前：“你怎么受的伤?”
已近傍晚。他用指背抚弄着床单。
“我感觉到自己燃烧着掉进了沙漠。
“他们发现了我，用木棍组合成一条小船，把我拖过沙漠。我们是在一片沙海里，有时则要穿过干涸的河床。那些游牧民族的贝都因人。我的飞机坠了下去，沙堆顿时起了火。他们看见我赤裸地从火中走了出来，我头上的帽子着了火。他们把我绑在一个摇篮里，然后带着我一溜烟往前跑，脚步声劈啪作响。
The Bedouin knew about fire. They knew about planes that since 1939 had been falling out of the sky. Some of their tools and utensik were made from the metal of crashed planes and tanks. It was the time of the war in heaven. I was perhaps the first one to stand up alive out of a burning machine. A man whose head was on fire. They didn’t know my name. I didn’t know their tribe.
“贝都因人知道火。同时，他们也知道从一九三九年起就开始从天上掉下来的飞机。他们的一些工具和用具都是用飞机和战车残骸的金属材料做成的。这时正在进行空战。他们可以听出受损飞机发出的嗡嗡声，他们也知道怎么在那些残骸之中穿行。驾驶舱的一个螺丝钉，也能成为他们灵活运用的零件。我也许是第一个从燃烧的飞机中活着钻出来的人——一个脑袋着火的人。他们并不知道我的名字。我也不了解他们的部落。”
----每周一/三/五晚更----
【文本翻译均为电台英伦好声音读给你听所有，转载请联系播主并注明】
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