跪求重金悬赏A Valentine to One Who Cared Too Much翻译
Valentine day
情人节
You are supposed to buy a rose
in such pink atmosphere;
I wonder if roses bloom
only for us.
在如此浪漫的氛围里，
注定你要买一束玫瑰；
只是我怀疑它们
为我们还是为自己开放。
the store owner winks,
afterwards, you can return them.
With a little money,
I hold the rose’ destination;
when the day passes,
who else will care her petals paled
somewhere else?
花店老板冲我们眨眼，
过后，可以退货。
只用了一点点钱，
我握着一束玫瑰的命运。
情人节过后，
谁还会叹息她的花瓣
在哪里凋谢?
过了20年全职主妇的生活后，我下定决心：既然孩子们都长大了，我也需要做份兼职来打发时间。我决定去开校车。
查理开始坐我的车是在我兼职开车第四个年头的九月份。他当时8岁，金发，灰色的眼睛清澈透亮，他跟一群孩子上了车。他们都有暑假故事和我分享。而查理却对我视而不见。就连我问他名字时，他都没有回答。
从那天起，查理就成了惹麻烦的家伙。如果有人打架，我不用回头就知道是谁挑起的。如果有人扔唾沫纸团，我能猜出罪魁祸首的名字。要是有女孩子哭了，很可能是因为查理扯了她的头发。不管我怎样跟他说话，温和也好，严厉也罢，他就是一言不发，只是用他那双灰色的大眼睛盯着我。
后来我打听到，查理的父亲去世了，他也没和妈妈住在一起。我想，我应该对他耐心些。于是我便尽可能地拿出了所有的耐心。我愉快地跟他说“早上好”，回应我的却是沉默。当我祝他万圣节快乐时，他则报以冷笑。不知有多少次，我问自己怎样才能打动查理。我得说，“我已经束手无策了”。但我依然确信这个孩子需要从我这里感受到一些温暖。所以，每次他经过时，我都会揉乱他的头发，或是拍拍他的胳膊。
那年年末，校车上的孩子们送给我一个小纪念品，上面刻着“献给最棒的校车司机”几个字。我把它架在仪表板上。上面挂了一颗小锡心，是一个小女孩送给我的。她用红笔写道：“我爱波莉，波莉爱我。”
在学校放假的前两天，我跟校长谈话耽搁了几分钟。等上了校车，却发现小锡心不见了。“有谁知道挂在这上面的小锡心哪儿去了吗？”我问道。只有这一次，39个孩子全都沉默了。
一个男孩尖声说，“查理第一个上的校车。我敢说是他拿的。”其他孩子也齐声说道，“没错！是查理干的！搜他的身！”
我问查理：“你见过那颗小锡心吗？”“我不知道你在说什么，”他抗议道。说着他站起来，从兜里掏出几枚硬币和一个小球，“看吧，我身上没有那东西。”“我敢肯定就在他身上！”那个送我小锡心的女孩说，“检查他的口袋”。
我让查理走上前来，他怒目而视。他那凝视的目光深深地烙印在我的眼中。我把手伸到他的一只口袋里，什么也没有。然后我伸进另一只口袋，摸到了它——那颗小锡心的熟悉轮廓。查理盯着我看了很长时间。那双灰色的大眼睛里没有眼泪，也没有对怜悯的乞求。他似乎正在等待着一个早已料到的结果。就在我要把小锡心从查理的口袋里拿出来的时候，我停住了。让他留着吧，一个声音似乎在轻轻地说。
“一定是在我来这儿之前掉的，”我对孩子们说，“我或许能在车站把它找回来。”查理一言不发地回到了他的座位上。下车的时候，他甚至连看也没看我一眼。那年夏天，查理搬走了……
后来我退休了，当校车司机的故事也随之结束，直到后来又发生了一件事。退休12年后，在堪萨斯城的一家百货商店里，有人迟疑地叫我，“波莉？”我回过头，看到一个已近中年、有些谢顶的男人。“你是？”。他的脸看起来并不眼熟，直到我注意到他那双灰色的大眼睛。不用怀疑，他就是查理。
他告诉我，他现在住在蒙大拿州，过得很好。然后，让我吃惊的是，他拥抱了我。放开我后，他从口袋里拿出了一样东西，举起来让我看。那是一个很旧的钥匙链……已经弯曲变形，上边的字也模糊褪色了。你可能已经猜到它是什么了——就是那颗上面写着“我爱波莉，波莉爱我”的小锡心。
“你是唯一一个没有放弃我的人，”他解释道。我们再次拥抱对方，然后各自分别了。我很高兴自己做了这样一件好事。
After 20 years as a full-time wife and mother, I decided now that my kids were grown, I needed a part-time job to keep me busy. I decided to drive a school bus.
Charlie began riding my bus in September of my fourth year driving. Eight years old, with blond hair and crystalline gray eyes, he got on with a group of children. They all had stories to tell me about their summers. Charlie, though, ignored me. He didn’t even answer when I asked his name.
From that day on, Charlie was a trial. If a fight broke out I didn’t have to turn my head to know who had started it. If someone was throwing spitballs I could guess the culprit’s name. If a girl was crying, chances were Charlie had pulled her hair. No matter how I spoke to him, gently or firmly, he wouldn’t say a word. He’d just stare at me with those big gray eyes of his.
I asked around some, and found out Charlie’s father was dead and he didn’t live with his mother. He deserves my patience, I thought. So I practiced every bit of patience I could muster. To my cheery “Good morning,” he was silent. When I wished him a happy Halloween, he sneered. Many, many times I asked myself how I could reach Charlie. “I’m at my wit’s end,” I’d say. Still I was sure that this child needed to feel some warmth from me. So, when he’d pass by, I’d ruffle his hair or pat him on the arm.
Toward the end of that year, the kids on my bus gave me a small trophy inscribed “To the Best Bus Driver Ever”. I propped it up on the dashboard. On top I hung a small tin heart that a little girl had given me. In red paint she had written, “I love Polly and Polly loves me.”
On the next-to-last day of school I was delayed a few minutes talking to the principal. When I got on the bus I realized that the tin heart was gone. “Does anyone know what happened to the little heart that was up here?” I asked. For once with 39 children, there was silence.
One boy piped up, “Charlie was the first one on the bus. I bet he took it.” Other children joined the chorus, “Yeah! Charlie did it! Search him!”
I asked Charlie, “Have you seen the heart?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protested. Standing up, he took a few pennies and a small ball out of his pockets. “See, I don’t have it.” “I bet he does!” insisted the girl who had given me the heart. “Check his pockets.”
Charlie glowered when I asked him to come forward. His gaze burned into mine. I stuck my hand into one pocket. Nothing. I reached into the other pocket. Then I felt it—the familiar outline of the small tin heart. Charlie stared at me for a long time. There were no tears in those big gray eyes, no plea for mercy. He seemed to be waiting for what he’d come to expect from the world. I was about to pull the tin heart out of Charlie’s pocket when I stopped myself. Let him keep it, a voice seemed to whisper.
“It must have fallen off before I got here,” I said to the kids. “I’ll probably find it back at the bus depot.” Without a word, Charlie returned to his seat. When he got off at his stop, he didn’t so much as glance at me. That summer Charlie moved away...
Eventually I retired. And there my story as a school bus driver ends, except for one more incident. A dozen years after retirement I was in a department store in Kansas City, when someone said tentatively, “Polly?” I turned to see a balding man who was approaching middle age. “Yes?” His face didn’t look familiar until I noticed his big gray eyes. There was no doubt. It was Charlie.
He told me he was living in Montana and doing well. Then, to my surprise, he hugged me. After he let go, he pulled something from his pocket and held it up for me to see. An old key chain...bent out of shape, the lettering faded. You can probably guess what it was—the little tin heart that said, “I love Polly and Polly loves me.”
“You were the only one who kept trying,” he explained. We hugged again, and went our separate ways. I am so happy I’d done a good job.
A Valentine to One Who Cared -Too Much (2) by Nancy J. Rigg
给一个太在乎南希·J·瑞格的人的情人节礼物
Each day we make choices that affect our lives and, sometimes, lives of others. Last year, on a simple Sunday, three days after Valentine's Day, after many consecutive days of steady downpour, sun came out. Earl and I decided to walk our dog. Somehow our path took us toward the park across the footbridge high above the rolling waters of the Los Angeles River. It is like a dream to me now, floating through my mind in slow motion. Many children were playing close to the water, and we were stunned by their ignorance and daring. Two little boys in particular caught our attention. They were riding their bikes up and down the far bank of the river, taunting the water, obviously fascinated by its power and its draw. One little boy on a bright-yellow bike dipped his wheels into the edge of e water. Just the edge, mind you. But, oh, water is powerful. In an instant his bike was ripped from under him and he went sprawling on the river bank. Then he made a choice. He jumped into the water to get his bike and was carried rapidly downstream, a look of panic and horror registering on his young face. In an instant, we had a choice to make.
每天我们都要作出一些抉择，抉择做的对不对，会影响到我们自己的生活，但有时也会影响到他人的生活。去年情人节后的第三天，是个普普通通的星期天，在接连不断下了好多天瓢泼大雨后，太阳终于露了头儿，我跟艾勒决定去遛遛狗。不知怎的，我们就沿着小径，越过一座小桥，朝公园走去。这座步行桥横跨洛杉矶河上，桥下水流湍急。至今这一切仍像一场梦，缓缓地浮现在我的脑海中。那天，有许多孩子在靠近水边的地方玩耍，他们那样大胆，不知道危险就在眼前，使我们非常震惊。其中有两个小男孩尤其引起了我们的注意。他俩很显然是被河水的汹涌澎湃和魔力所吸引，骑着自行车，在对岸河堤上串上串下，与河水嬉戏着。其中一个骑亮黄色自行车的小男孩，把车轮骑到水边点了一点。注意，只是水边！可是，噢！汹涌的河水是那样威力巨大！一下子就把自行车从他胯下给卷走了，他仰面朝天摔倒在河堤上。他想了一下，作出了选择，跳进河里去捞车，可急流一下子就把他给冲走了。他稚嫩的脸上顿时一片惊恐。刹那之间，我们就面临一个抉择。
Why did Earl run to rescue that little boy? Why did I support his decision, instead of stopping him? The greatest instinct, I believe, is to help a child in need. The little boy's face, his look of fear and desperation, his cries for help - the choice was made in our intrinsic love for children.
为什么艾勒要跑去救那个小男孩？为什么我支持他那么做，而没有制止他？我想，是本能驱使我们去救助一个危难中的孩子。看着那小男孩的脸庞和他脸上那恐惧与绝望的神情，听着那一声声“救命”的呼号…… 我们对孩子本能的爱使我们做出了这个抉择。
In an instant Earl ran across the bridge, vaulted the fence and ran to the water's edge. Unable to reach the boy safely from the shore, Earl stepped into the water. Then the shock registered on Earl's face as the water grabbed him, too, and prevented him from completing his mission immediately. In Earl's expression, I could see that he had confronted much more than he could handle, even being as strong and athletic as he was. The little boy was just slightly ahead of Earl, always just out of reach, like a tiny beacon lighting the w ay to death's door.
艾勒立即冲过桥去，越过栏杆，奔向水边。艾勒在岸上无法安全地把小孩救上来，于是他就步入河中。急流把他也卷了进去，使他设法迅速完成救援行动。我看到艾勒的脸上也露出惊愕的表情。从他的表情中，我知道，尽管他身强力壮，当时也是力不从心。小男孩就在艾勒前面仅咫尺之遥，却总也够不着，就像一座小小的灯塔，照亮了通向死亡之路。
“People disappear in that river every year,” one of the policemen said to me that afternoon, half in dismay, half in frustration. He did not seem very sympathetic when he took his report. But the whole city was falling apart. He implied that we had been wrong in attempting such a rescue in the first place. Was he really being critical, or was I projecting my own tremendous feelings of guilt onto him? Or was he simply stating the facts? And does that mean that this year, too, lives will be lost as a matter of course in the Los Angeles River and in other channels? Did any parents hear my pleas last year to warn their children of these dangers? Do we ever learn anything from the tragic experience of others?
“这条河里每年都有人淹死，”那天下午，一位警察无可奈何神情沮丧地对我说道。他做记录时就显得不那么太富同情心了。但全城都陷入一片悲伤之中。警官的言下之意是我们在那种情况下企图首先施救，是一个错误。究竟是他太吹毛求疵，还是我自己内心极度内疚的心情影响了他？抑或他只是在陈述一个事实，别无他意？他的话是否意味着今年在洛杉矾河，或是其他什么河里再淹死几个人也是理所当然的？我去年就呼吁父母们提醒孩子们防范类似危险，有人听到了吗？我们有没有从他人的悲惨遭遇中吸取些什么教训?
I asked the policeman what we should have done. “Nothing. Call the police. Why lose two lives? That little kid was lucky to get out. There is no way to beat water like that no way to survive it.” Oh, but all the rules of self-preservation were broken when we saw that little face, filled with the terror of death, being sucked downstream. In an instant, both child and Earl were gone. The boy went home that night, but Earl never came back. And now, it's raining, again.
我请问那位警察，在当时那种情况下，我们应该做什么?“什么也别做，打电话叫警察。干嘛要赔上两条命？那孩子能活命，真是命大．那样汹涌的水流，不可能斗得过的——掉进去就没命了。”噢，是啊！但是当我们看到那张小脸，充满着对死亡的恐惧，被急流吞没，一切明哲保身的想法全部土崩瓦解了。转眼间，艾勒和孩子都不见了。晚上男孩回家了，艾勒却一去不复还。 此刻，雨，又淅淅沥沥地下了起来。
valentine 是情人节礼物的意思 句中的Who Cared Too Much做One的定语从句 one 在这个句子中指代一个人 所以这个句子的意思是 送给我很在意的人的一个情人节礼物 ------自 Nancy J. Rigg
最好的礼物献给最心疼的你
情人节是属于那些在乎太多的人
衷肠曲。
周亮盐酸： A Valentine to One Who Cared -Too Much (2) by Nancy J. Rigg给一个太在乎南希·J·瑞格的人的情人节礼物1. Each day we make choices that affect our lives and, sometimes, lives of others. Last year, on a simple Sunday, three days after ...
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