评论
打印
"Which will finish her off in a month or two," the doctor confided to Bernard.
“那会叫她在一两个月之内死去的。”医生对伯纳透露了真情。
One day the respiratory centre will be paralyzed.
有一天她的呼吸系统中心会瘫痪，
No more breathing Finished.
不能呼吸，于是就完了。
And a good thing too.
倒也是好事
If we could rejuvenate, of course it would be different. But we can't.
我们如果能够返老还童，那又是另外一回事了，可惜办不到。
Surprisingly, as every one thought (for on soma-holiday Linda was most conveniently out of the way),John raised objections.
出乎每个人意料之外（琳妲在度唆麻假，不会碍事），提出反对的倒是约翰。
But aren't you shortening her life by giving her so much?
咱们给她那么大的分量岂不是要缩短她的寿命吗？
"In one sense, yes," Dr. Shaw admitted.
“在某种意义上讲，是的，”萧大夫承认，
But in another we're actually lengthening it.
可是从另一种意义上讲我们实际上是在延长她的寿命。
The young man stared, uncomprehending.
小伙子莫名其妙地瞪大了眼睛。
"Soma may make you lose a few years in time," the doctor went on.
“唆麻让你失去了几年寿命，”大夫说下去，
But think of the enornous, immeasurable durations it can give you out of time.
但是，想一想它在时间以外给你的悠久岁月吧。
Every soma-holiday is a bit of what our ancestors used to call eternity.
那是长得难以计量的。每一次唆麻假在我们祖先的眼里都是永恒呢。
John began to understand. "Eternity was in our lips and eyes," he murmured.
约翰开始明白了。“原来永恒只在我们嘴上和眼睛里。”他喃喃地说。
Eh?
你说什么？
Nothing.
没有说什么。
"Of course," Dr. Shaw went on, you can't allow people to go popping off into eternity if they've got any serious work to do.
“当然，”萧大夫说下去，别人有正经工作要做你就不能打发他到永恒去，
But as she hasn't got any serious work …
可是她并没有什么正经工作要做……。
"All the same," John persisted, "I don't believe it's right."
“可我照样，”约翰坚持，“认为这不合适。”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Well, of course, if you prefer to have her screaming mad all the time …"
大夫耸了耸肩。“好了，如果你宁可让她发疯一样叫喊，喊个没完的话，你可以……。”
In the end John was forced to give in.
约翰最后只好让步了。
Linda got her soma. Thenceforward she remained in her little room on the thirty-seventh floor of Bernard's apartment house,
琳妲得到了竣麻。从此以后她便呆在三十七楼伯纳公寓的小房间里，
in bed, with the radio and television always on, and the patchouli tap just dripping,
躺在床上，永远开着收音机、电视机永远开着印度薄荷香水，让它滴着；
and the soma tablets within reach of her hand—there she remained;
唆麻片放在一伸手就够得着的地方——她呆在那儿，
and yet wasn't there at all, was all the time away, infinitely far away, on holiday; on holiday in some other world,
她永远在辽远处度假，在虚无缥缈的地方，在另一个世界。
where the music of the radio was a labyrinth of sonorous colours, a sliding, palpitating labyrinth, that led (by what beautifully inevitable windings) to a bright centre of absolute conviction;
那儿收音机的音乐是一个色彩绚烂的深渊，一个滑音演奏的悸动的深渊，通向一个光明灿烂的绝对信念的中心（其间经过了多少美妙的曲折）；
where the dancing images of the television box were the performers in some indescribably delicious all-singing feely; where the dripping patchouli was more than scent—was the sun, was a million saxophones, was Popé making love, only much more so, incomparably more, and without end.
在那儿，闪烁在电视机里的形象是某些在美妙得难以描述的，全是歌唱的感官片里的演员。在那儿滴下的印度薄荷不光是香水，也是阳光，也是一百万只色唆风，也是跟她做爱的波培，只是比那还要美妙得多，美妙得没法比，而且无穷无尽。
