文学翻译(英译汉).docVIP

When? the? Moon? Follows? Me ?????????????????????????????? Mary E. Potter ? Each of my sons made the discovery early. We would be riding in the car at night, and a little voice would call out from the back seat, “Hey, the moon is following us!” I would explain that the moon was not actually gliding along with our car. There would be another period of critical observation and the final verdict, delivered more quietly this time: “But it really is moving. I can see it.” I thought of that one evening as I was driving. The moon, one day short of fullness, rode with me, first gliding smoothly, then bouncing over the bumpy stretches, now on my right, then straight ahead, the silver light washing over dry grasses in open fields, streaking along through black branches, finally disappearing as the road wound its way through the hills. When I crested the hill in the village, there it was again 棗h grown suddenly immense, ripe, flooding the town with a sprawling light so magical I began to understand why it is said to inspire “looniness.” I could hardly wait to get back home to show the boys. Robert was in the bathtub, so I grabbed John. “ Close your eyes and come see what followed me home,” I said, hoping to increase the dramatic impact. I led him out into the night. “Okay. Open! Isn’t it beautiful?” John blinked a few times and looked at me as if I might, indeed, be loony. “Mom, it’s just the moon. Is this the surprise?” I suppose he was hoping for a puppy. I should have realized that, being only ten, he was probably too young to know how much we sometimes need the magic and romance of moonlight棗ga light that is nothing like the harsh glare of the sun that it reflects. Moonlight softens our faults; all shabbiness dissolves into shadow. It erases the myriad details that crowd and rush us in the sunlight, leaving only sharp outlines and highlights and broad brushstrokes棗 the fundamental shape of things. Often in the soothing, restorative glow we stare transfixed, bouncing our a