来自《耶鲁大学开放课程：1945年后的美国小说 第7集 第7集》

• 
  
  but it was all really too far
  但它们太远了
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  for the eye to distinguish any movement in the lightly etched streets.
  根本无法辨别出他们在那些模模糊糊的街道上的任何活动
• 
  
  I stood listening to that musical vibration from my lofty slope,
  我站在这高高的斜坡顶上倾听那悦耳的震颤
• 
  
  to those flashes of separate cries with a kind of demure murmur
  倾听那矜持的窃窃私语中间迸发出的不相连的喊叫
• 
  
  for background, and then I knew that the hopelessly
  随后我明白了那令人心酸 绝望的事
• 
  
  poignant thing was not Lolita's absence from my side,
  并不是洛丽塔不在我的身边
• 
  
  but the absence of her voice from that concord.
  而是她的声音不在那片和声里面
• 
  
  This then is my story.
  这就是我的故事
• 
  
  I have reread it.
  我重读了一遍
• 
  
  It has bits of marrow sticking to it.
  里面有粘在上面的些许骨髓
• 
  
  And blood.
  有血
• 
  
  And beautiful, bright-green flies.
  有魅力的绿得发亮的苍蝇