介绍:
（下拉有中英配文）
The night desert surrounds them, traversed by a loose order of storms and caravans. There are always secrets and dangers around him, as when blind he moved his hand and cut himself on a double-edged razor in the sand. At times he doesn’t know if these are dreams, the cut so clean it leaves no pain, and he must wipe the blood on his skull (his face still untouchable) to signal the wound to his captors. This village of no women he has been brought into in complete silence, or the whole month when he did not see the moon. Was this invented? Dreamed by him while wrapped in oil and felt and darkness?
夜晚的沙漠包围了他们，偶尔会有沙暴和商队经过。他的周围充满了神秘和危险，要是在被蒙住眼睛的时候，动了一下手，他就会被沙子中的一把双层刮胡刀片给割伤。有时他不知道这些是不是梦，伤口那么干净，没有一点痛楚，他必须擦去头上的血(他的脸仍然碰不得)，向俘获他的人示意他受了伤。他被带进了这个没有女人的村子，村里鸦雀无声，有时整整—个月见不到月亮。这是杜撰的吗?抑或是他在被裹进油膏、毛毡和黑暗中时的梦境?
THE MAN WITH BANDAGED HANDS had been in the military hospital in Rome for more than four months when by accident he heard about the burned patient and the nurse, heard her name. He turned from the doorway and walked back into the clutch of doctors he had just passed, to discover where she was. He had been recuperating there for a long time, and they knew him as an evasive man. But now he spoke to them, asking about the name, and startled them. During all that time he had never spoken, communicating by signals and grimaces, now and then a grin. He had revealed nothing, not even his name, just wrote out his serial number, which showed he was with the Allies.
卡拉瓦焦手上缠着绷带，已在罗马的军队医院里住了四个多月。他偶然听到了那个烧伤的病人和护士，知道了她的名字。他从门口转过身，走到刚刚经过的那群医生跟前，打听她在什么地方。他在那里修养了很长一段时间，他们知道他是一个不爱说话的人。但是现在他先对他们开了口，询问那名护士。他们着实吓了一跳。这么长的时间，他从不说话，只用手势和脸上表情与人沟通，不时还咧嘴一笑。他不发一言，甚至连他的名字都不告诉别人，只是写下了他的军号，表示他是盟军的成员。
His status had been double-checked, and confirmed in messages from London. There was the cluster of known scars on him. So the doctors had come back to him, nodded at the bandages on him. A celebrity, after all, wanting silence. A war hero.
他们对他进行调查，而伦敦发来的函件证实了他的身份，他满身都是伤疤，医生们回到他的眼前，冲着他身上的绷带点点头，原来他是个名人，难怪想图个安静。一个战斗英雄。
That was how he felt safest. Revealing nothing. He was a large animal in their presence, in near ruins when he was brought in and given regular doses of morphine for the pain in his hands.
But now, walking past the group of doctors in the hall, he heard the woman’s name, and he slowed his pace and turned and came up to them and asked specifically which hospital she was working in. They told him that it was in an old nunnery, taken over by the Germans, then converted into a hospital after the Allies had laid siege to it. In the hills north of Florence. Most of it torn apart by bombing. Unsafe. But the nurse and the patient had refused to leave.
他觉得这样最安全，一言不发——不管他们是带着柔情、借口或是刀子来到他的跟前，四个多月以来，他没有说过一个字。在他们面前，他是一个巨兽，刚被送进来时几乎快要没命了，为了止住手上的疼痛不得不定时注射吗啡。他会坐在一个安乐椅中，在黑暗中望着川流不息的伤员和进出病房及贮藏室的护士。
但是现在，他在走廊上经过那群医生的身旁时，听到了那个女人的名字，于是他放慢了脚步，转过身来，只为了询问她在哪家医院工作。他们告诉他是在一个昔日的女修道院，那里曾被德军占领，盟军围困了那个地方，把它当成了一个医院。是在佛罗伦萨北部的山区。那里曾是一个临时的野战医院，几乎被炸毁了，很不安全，但是那个护士和伤员拒绝离开。
Why didn’t you force the two of them down?
She claimed he was too ill to be moved. We could have brought him out safely, of course, but nowadays there is no time to argue. She was in rough shape herself.
Is she injured?
No. Partial shell shock probably. She should have been sent home. The trouble is, the war here is over. You cannot make anyone do anything anymore. Patients are walking out of hos¬pitals. Troops are going AWOL before they get sent back home.
Which villa? he asked.
It’s one they say has a ghost in the garden. San Girolamo. Well, she’s got her own ghost, a burned patient. There is a face, but it is unrecognizable. The nerves all gone. You can pass a match across his face and there is no expression. The face is asleep.
“你们为什么不强迫他俩撤走呢?”
“她说他的伤势太重，不能转移。我们当然可以平安地把他运出来，但是目前不是争辩这个问题的时候。她本人的身体状态很差。”
“她受了伤吗?”
“没有。很可能受到点炮弹的惊吓，应该把她送回家。问题是战争已经结束了，你再也不能命令人家做这做那了。伤员们自己离开了医院。军人在被遣送回家之前就擅离了职守。”
“哪个别墅”?他问。
“据说是花园里闹鬼的别墅。圣吉洛拉莫。哎，她自己眼前就有一个鬼，一个烧伤的病人。他的脸还在，却已辨认不出模样。神经系统都烧坏了。即使你划亮一根火柴照着他的脸，也看不到他脸上的任何表情。那张脸已经沉睡了。”
Who is he? he asked.
We don’t know his name.
He won’t talk?
The clutch of doctors laughed. No, he talks, he talks all the time, he just doesn’t know who he is.
Where did he come from?
The Bedouin brought him into Siwa Oasis. Then he was in Pisa for a while, then... One of the Arabs is probably wearing his name tag. All pilots who fall into the desert—none of them come back with identification. Now he’s holed up in a Tuscan villa and the girl won’t leave him. We can probably get someone to drive you up. It is still terrible out there. Dead
cattle. Horses shot dead, half eaten. People hanging upside down from bridges. The last vices of war. Completely unsafe. The sappers haven’t gone in there yet to clear it. The Germans retreated burying and installing mines as they went. A terrible place for a hospital. The smell of the dead is the worst. We need a good snowfall to clean up this country. We need ravens.
“他是谁?”他问。
“我们不知道他的名字。”
“他不说话吗?”
那群医生大笑起来：“不，他倒是说话，他说个没完，他只是不知道自己是谁。”
“他是从哪里来的?”
“贝都因人把他送进了锡瓦绿洲。接着他在比萨待了一段时间，然后……很可能有一个阿拉伯人拿了他的名片。他很可能会卖了它，有一天我们会买到它，也许他们永远都不会卖。
那些玩意儿可是很好的护身符。坠落在沙漠里的所有飞行员——生还者都没有可以证明身分的物品。现在他被困在托斯卡纳地区的一幢别墅里，那个女孩不愿离开他，一口拒绝我们的
建议。盟军曾在那里安置了一百多名伤病员。在此之前，德军派了一小支军队守在那里，那是他们最后一个据点。别墅里有些房间绘有图画，每个房间绘有不同季节的风景。别墅外是一个峡谷。这个地方离佛罗伦萨约二十英里，是在山区。你当然需要一张通行证，我们大概可以找个人开车送你去。那里的情况仍然相当恶劣，到处是死牛和被枪杀的马匹，尸体被吃掉了大牛，人的尸体悬挂在桥上——战争最后的罪恶。到处都不安全，因为工兵并没有前往那里扫雷。撤退的时候，德军一路埋了地雷。医院设在那里实在不妥，死尸的气味最让人受不了要下一场大雪才能把这个国家清理干净。如果这时出现鸦群就好了。”
Thank you.
He walked out of the hospital into the sun, into open air for the first time in months, out of the green-lit rooms that lay like glass in his mind. He stood there breathing everything in, the hurry of everyone. First, he thought, I need shoes with rubber on the bottom. I need gelato.
He found it difficult to fall asleep on the train, shaking from side to side. The others in the compartment smoking. His temple banging against the window frame. Everyone was in dark clothes, and the carriage seemed to be on fire with all the lit cigarettes. He noticed that whenever the train passed a cemetery the travellers around him crossed themselves. She’s in rough shape herself.
Gelato for tonsils, he remembered. Accompanying a girl and her father to have her tonsils out. She had taken one look at the ward full of other children and simply refused. This, the most adaptable and genial of children, suddenly turned into a stone of refusal, adamant. No one was ripping anything out of her throat though the wisdom of the day advised it. She would live with it in, whatever “it” looked like. He still had no idea what a tonsil was.
“谢谢。”
卡拉瓦焦走出医院，来到阳光底下。几个月来，他还是第一次走出户外，走出了亮着绿光的房间，那些房间在他的心中像是玻璃。他站在那里，感受一切新鲜的事物，打量忙碌的人们。他想：“我首先需要橡胶底的鞋，我需要胶鞋。”
卡拉瓦焦发现在摇摇晃晃的火车上很难入睡。车厢里有人抽着烟。他的太阳穴撞击着窗框。人人都穿着深色的衣服。这么多人在抽烟，使得聿厢好像着了火。他注意到每当火车经过墓地时，周围的旅客就划着十字。
割扁桃腺要穿胶鞋去才行，他想了起来，以前他曾陪着一个女孩和她的父亲割除她的扁桃腺。女孩看了一眼病房，里面挤满了孩子。女孩一个劲儿拒绝。这个最听话、最乖巧的孩子突然变得不听话，怎么说都不听。没有人从她的喉咙里取出什么来，尽管那天应该那么做。她要留着它，不管“它”长得什么样子。他仍不清楚扁桃腺到底是什么东西。
----每周一/三/五晚更----
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