Early Autumn
By Langston Hughes
When Bill was very young, they had been in love. Many nights they had spent walking, talking together. Then something not very important had come between them, and they didn’t speak. Impulsively, she had married a man she thought she loved. Bill went away, bitter about women. Yesterday, walking across Washington Square, she saw him for the first time in years.
“Bill Walker,” she said.
He stopped. At first he did not recognize her, to him she looked so old.
“Mary! Where did you come from?”
Unconsciously, she lifted her face as though wanting a kiss, but he held out his hand. She took it.
“I live in New York now,” she said.
“Oh”——smiling politely. Then a little frown came quickly between his eyes.
“Always wondered what happened to you, Bill.”
“I’m a lawyer. Nice firm, way downtown.”
“Married yet?”
“Sure, two kids.”
“Oh,” she said.
A great many people went past them through the park. People they didn’t know. It was late afternoon. Nearly sunset. Cold.
“And your husband?” he asked her.
“We have three children. I work in the bursar’s office at Columbia.”
“You’ re looking very…”(he wanted to say old) “…well,” he said.
She understood. Under the trees in Washing Square, she found herself desperately reaching back into the past. She had been older than he then in Ohio. Now she was not young at all. Bill was still young.
“We live on Central Park West,” she said. “Come and see us sometime.”
“Sure,” he replied. “You and your husband must have dinner with my family some night. Any night. Lucille and I’d love to have you.”
The leaves fell slowly from the trees in the Square. Fell without wind. Autumn dusk. She felt a little sick.
“We’d love it,” she answered.
“You ought to see my kids.” He grinned.
Suddenly the lights came on up the whole length of Fifth Avenue, chains of misty brilliance in the blue air.
“There’s my bus,” she said.
He held out his hand. “Good-bye.”
“When…” she wanted to say, but the bus was ready to pull off. The lights on the avenue blurred, twinkled, blurred. And she was afraid to open her mouth as she entered the bus. Afraid it wound be impossible to utter a word.
Suddenly she shrieked very loudly, “Good-by!” But the bus door had closed.
The bus started. People came between them outside, people crossing the street, people they didn’t know. Space and people. She lost sight of Bill. Then she remembered she had forgotten to give him her address---or to ask him for his---or tell him that her youngest boy was named Bill too.
初秋
兰斯顿 休斯
他们曾经相爱过，虽然那时比尔还很年轻。他们共同度过无数个夜晚，一起漫步，一起畅谈。然后，他们之间发生了一些事，彼此就互不理睬了。一时冲动，她嫁给了自认为她爱的男人。比尔带着对女人的失望和痛苦离开了。就在昨天经过华盛顿广场时，这么多年后，她第一次见到了他。
“比尔 沃克，”她喊道。
他停住了。起初，他没能认出她来，因为在他看来她很老了。
“玛丽！你从哪儿来？”
不知不觉地，她仰起脸去，好像在等待一个吻礼，但是他却伸出手来。她握了握他的手。
“我现在住在纽约”她说道。
“哦，”他客套地笑着。随后他很快皱了一下眉。
“一直惦记着你过得怎么样，比尔。”
“我现在是个律师，在市中心一个很不错的公司。”
“结婚了吗？”
“当然。有两个孩子。”
“哦，”她应到。
很多他们不认识的人从他们身边经过，穿过公园。那是傍晚时分，将近日落，有些寒意。
“你丈夫呢？”他问道。
“我们有三个孩子，我在哥伦比亚的财务主管办公室工作。”
“你看上去很…”（他想说“老”）“…好，”他说。
其实她心里明白。在华盛顿广场的树荫下，她发现自己绝望地想到了过去。那时在俄亥俄州，她就比他大。现在她一点儿也不年轻了，而比尔还是那么年轻。
“我们住在西部中央公园，”她说，“有时间过来看看我们吧。”
“当然，”他答道。“你和你丈夫一定要和我们家共进晚餐，哪天都行。露西尔和我都很愿意再见到你。”
广场上，树叶慢慢地从树上飘落——在秋日的黄昏，无风而落。她感到一阵头晕。
“我们很乐意，”她回答道。
“你应该去看看我的孩子。”他咧嘴笑了。
突然，整个第五大街都亮起了灯，忧郁青色的气雾中弥漫着朦胧而又明亮的光辉。
“我等的公交车来了，”她说。
他伸出手来，说：“再见。”
“什么时候……”她想说，但公交已经靠站了。街上的灯光一会儿模糊一会儿闪烁。上车了，她不敢开口，害怕说不出一个字来。
突然，她高声喊道，“再见”，但车门已经关上了。
公车启动了。陌生的人们来来往往，穿过街道，在这个时间和空间里。
她看不见比尔了。就在这个时候，她记起来了她忘了给他地址，问他的地址，还有告诉他，她最小的儿子也叫比尔。
这是我的一个翻译作品，欢迎大家围观。
第一眼，这篇短小有趣而又隽永的文章就深深地吸引了我。读过之后回味悠长，于是立即拿起笔来仔细揣摩着该如何来翻译。翻译的过程是纠结而又畅快的，文章有好几处我都举棋不定，查阅过不少资料后还是不甚满意，与人讨论过后也是莫衷一是。这个时候心里面充满了种种情绪，对于文章的内容也对于自己的翻译。于是，我反复阅读和思考，每次都有不一样的体会、收获和感悟。我明白，我需要继续深入地挖掘译文的潜在空间，需要不断修正和较好处理译文与原文在题材、语言、艺术风格、表现手法以及内涵等方面所存在的种种差异。对于翻译，我希望我能真正的专业和兢兢业业，不仅是热爱，更是一种追求。
