JohnBlanchard英语剧.docx

翻译:John Blanchard 从凳子上站起身来，整了整他的陆军服，便开始观察前往中央大车站的人群他在找寻一个女孩，一个他了解其内心、却素未谋面的戴着一朵玫瑰的女孩他对这女孩的兴趣是在十二个月前佛罗里达州的一所图书馆开始的当他从书架上拿起一本书，便立即被吸引住了，不是因为书本上的文字，而是被书页边缘一段用铅笔做的笔记所吸引着这些淡淡的文字折射出了一个深思熟虑的灵魂与真知灼见的智慧在书本的首页，他找到这本书先前主人的名字，Hollis Maynell 小姐他花了不少时间和精力，得知她就住在纽约并找到她的详细地址他给她写了封介绍自己的信，并请求她回信第二天他就乘着远洋的船前往二战助援了第二年间，双方通过邮件相互了解每一封信都是一颗撒向澎湃之心的种子，浪漫之牙在萌发着Blanchard 想要看看对方的照片，却遭到拒绝她解释说：“如果你对我的感觉是基于真实与诚实的基础上的，那么我的长相就无关紧要了假如我很漂亮，我会觉得你是因为我的美貌才跟我在一起的，我讨厌这种爱倘若我长得很普通（你必须承认这种可能性更大） ，我会觉得你仅仅是因为孤独无伴才给我写信的别跟我要照片你来纽约后，你会看到我，到时再做决定吧。

记住，在那之后我们都有权选择停止还是继续—无论我们选择哪个…”他从欧洲回来的那一天终于到来了他们早已安排好两人的第一次约会—晚上七点在纽约中央大车站 “你会认出我来的”她写道， “我会在我领子上别一朵玫瑰 ”因此，晚上七点时，他在车站寻找着那个在他生命过去的十二个月中占据独特地位的女孩，那个他素未谋面却用其文字一直陪伴、鼓舞着他的女孩请Blanchard 先生告诉你接下来发生了什么:一个年轻的女人正朝我走来，她的手又长又细，一头金色卷发垂在娇美的耳后；她的眼睛美的似蓝色花朵，丹唇粉颊更显轮廓分明、优雅柔美身着浅绿色衣裳的她给人春日明媚的感觉我开始走向她，完全没注意她并没佩戴玫瑰靠近她时，她丹唇微翘，露出一丝魅惑的笑容 “过来吗，水手？”她细语道在我情不自禁地向那美人儿迈进一步时，我看到了 Hollis Maynell她几乎站在美人儿的正后方，看起来足足超过四十岁，一头灰白的头发压在一个破旧的帽子下方她体态臃肿，肥硕的脚踝硬塞在那双低跟鞋中绿衣女孩匆匆走开了，此时的我仿佛被撕成两半，热切地想要跟随她的同时内心却深深希望认识这个曾用精神陪伴和鼓励我的女人她站在那儿，发白的圆脸和蔼而朴实她那暗淡的眼睛却闪着一丝温暖友善的光。

我没有犹豫我的手紧握着那本破旧的蓝色皮革书，那是为让她认出我而准备的这或许不是爱，但却是一种珍贵的，我曾感激过并必须感激的甚至可能胜过爱的友谊我挺直肩膀向她鞠了一躬，并把书递给她，甚至连我自己都感觉到说话时由于失望之苦的哽噎 “我就是中尉John Blanchard，你肯定是 Maynell 女士了我很高兴你能来见我；我可以请你吃饭吗？”这女人脸上绽放出灿烂的笑容 “我并不知道怎么回事，先生， ”她回答到， “刚经过的那位穿绿衣服的年轻女孩请求我在衣服上戴上这朵玫瑰，她说如果你开口请我吃饭的话，我再告诉你她在街对面那家大餐馆等你，她还说这是一种测试！”不难理解并赞叹 Maynell 女士的智慧面对无吸引力时反映将人心的本性暴露无遗 “告诉我你喜欢什么样的人， ”Houssaye 写道， “我会告诉你你是怎样的人A VALENTINE STORY ---Doug Bell1 John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. 2 He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun twelve months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he soon found himself absorbed, not by the words of the book, but by the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. 3 In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. 4 During the next year the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely). Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that — whichever we choose..." 5 When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting — 7:00 p.m. at Grand Central Station, New York. 6 "You'll recognize me," she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So, at 7:00 p.m. he was in the station looking for a girl who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 12 months, a girl he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly. 7 I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her golden hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. 8 I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. 9 As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair pinned up under a worn hat. 10 She was more than a little overweight, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. 11 The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. 12 And there she stood. Her pale, round face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly glow. I did not hesitate. 13 My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. 14 I square。