English Original
I handed Bill his specs, and he peered at the dog, tutting to himself as he did so.
"Aye, Old Bram, lying out in the yard. Waiting for his life to start up again." He shook his head, wistfully.
"Lay out yonder, just outside the door there. If you could see to the sides of the picture you'd see the yard hasn't changed all that much. Well, my mother kept the flower beds better than me ..."
I was surprised, I had always thought Bill's family had lived in Clare Street, a street up from this one.
"Oh, we did, but we moved when I was a baby. I can't remember ever living there."
I looked out of the window into Bill's back yard. I could see the back door. Bram had lain in this yard, just near to the door. Just a couple of feet from the door.
On my way home, stepping carefully through the ice and snow, I turned thoughts this way and that.
Ross and his patch of dry path in the rain.
Cats rarely went into Bill's yard.
Bingo's sudden halt in mid attack, and refusal to enter Bill's gate.
I thought of all of us.
Bill, living in his bubble in time, powered by old steam radio and Woodbines.
Bingo - wanting to attack the present, and curl up in his past.
I thought of myself, waiting for my life to start.
One day, I thought, one day, things will be different for me. But only if I make it so. I was no longer a boy, but I still thought like one. I still thought of myself as one. I took myself terribly seriously, but knew deep within, that no one else did. I kept trying to re-invent myself, but I never created a me that could last more than a few months, then it was back to this ... boy.
How far was I willing to let go and move on?
Perhaps I might find myself a comfortable place, and lie there, and forever wait for the footfalls of my destiny to come and find me. But it could, I thought, take a long time - a lifetime of waiting. Did I want to wait like Bram still did?
Because he still did.
Through winters, through summers - fifty odd of them.
Bram still waited out there.
中文翻译
我把眼镜递给比尔，他仔细端详着那条狗，一边看一边啧啧自语。
“唉，老布拉姆，躺在院子里。等着他的生活重新开始。”他摇了摇头，神情惆怅。
“就躺在那儿，门外边。要是你能看到照片的两边，就会发现院子其实没怎么变样。嗯，我母亲把花圃打理得比我好多了……”
我很惊讶，我一直以为比尔一家住在克莱尔街，离这条街不远。
“哦，我们确实住过，但我还是婴儿时就搬走了。我根本不记得在那里住过。”
我望向窗外比尔的院子。我能看见后门。布拉姆就曾躺在这个院子里，就在门边。离门只有几英尺远。
回家的路上，我小心翼翼地踏冰踩雪，思绪纷飞。
罗斯和他在雨中那块干燥的小路。
猫很少进比尔的院子。
宾果在攻击中途突然停下，拒绝进入比尔的大门。
我想到了我们所有人。
比尔，活在他时间的气泡里，由老式蒸汽收音机和伍德拜恩香烟驱动。
宾果——既想攻击现在，又想蜷缩在过去。
我想到了自己，等待着我的生活开始。
我想，总有一天，总有一天，一切会为我而改变。但前提是我要让它改变。我不再是个男孩了，但我的想法却还像个孩子。我仍然把自己当作一个孩子。我把自己看得极其重要，但内心深处知道，别人并不这么看。我不断试图重塑自我，却从未创造出一个能持续数月以上的“我”，然后又变回这个……男孩。
我愿意放手并继续前进多远？
也许我可以找个舒适的地方，躺在那里，永远等待命运的脚步前来寻我。但我想，那可能需要很长时间——一生的等待。我想像布拉姆那样一直等待吗？
因为他确实还在等待。
历经寒冬，历经酷暑——五十多个春秋。
布拉姆依然在那里等待着。