文戈坐在那儿望着橡树惊呆了.树上挂满了黄手绢——二十条,三十条,或许有几百条,一棵树立在那儿就像欢迎的旗帜在迎风招展. 　　这是这个文章的全文和翻译你可以看看很美 　　GoingHome 　　IfirstheardthisstoryafewyearsagofromagirlIhadmetinNewYork'sGreenwichVillage.Probablythestoryisoneofthosemysteriousbitsoffolklorethatreappeareveryfewyears,tobetoldanewinoneformoranother.However,Istillliketothinkthatitreallydidhappen,somewhere,sometime. 　　我是在几年前,从在纽约格林威治村碰到的一个女孩子那里第一次听到这个故事的.这故事很可能是那些每隔几年就会重新出现,以一种新的说法再被讲述一遍的神秘的民间传说中的一个.然而,我依然愿意相信这故事确实曾在某个地方、某个时间发生过. 　　TheyweregoingtoFortLauderdale-threeboysandthreegirlsandwhentheyboardedthebus,theywerecarryingsandwichesandwineinpaperbags,dreamingofgoldenbeachesandseatidesasthegray,coldspringofNewYorkvanishedbehindthem.AsthebuspassedthroughNewJersey,theybegantonoticeVingo.Hesatinfrontofthem,dressedinaplain,ill-fittingsuit,nevermoving,hisdustyfacemaskinghisage.Hekeptchewingtheinsideofhislipalot,frozenintocompletesilence. 　　他们要去洛德代尔堡——三个男孩子和三个女孩子.他们用纸袋带着夹心面包和葡萄酒上了公共汽车.当纽约灰暗寒冷的春天在他们身后消失时,他们正梦想着金色的海滩和大海的潮水.公共汽车驶过新泽西时,他们开始注意到了文戈.他坐在他们前面,穿着一套不合身的便服,一动也不动.他风尘满面,让人看不出他有多大岁数.他不停地咬着嘴唇内侧,表情冷淡,默默无言. 　　Deepintothenight,outsideWashington,thebuspulledintoHowardJohnson's,andeverybodygotoffexceptVingo.Hesatrootedinhisseat,andtheyoungpeoplebegantowonderabouthim,tryingtoimaginehislife:perhapshewasaseacaptain,arunawayfromhiswife,anoldsoldiergoinghome.Whentheywentbacktothebus,oneofthegirlssatbesidehimandintroducedherself. 　　深夜,公共汽车驶抵华盛顿郊外,停进了霍华德•约翰逊餐馆.所有人都下了车,只有文戈除外.他像生了根似地坐在座位上,几个年轻人开始诧异起来,试图想象出他的身世：他或许是位商船船长,或是一个抛下妻子离家出走的人,再不就是一个解甲归田的老兵.当他们回到车上时,一个女孩子便坐到他身边,作了自我介绍. 　　"We'regoingtoFlorida,"shesaidbrightly."Ihearit'sreallybeautiful"Itis,"hesaidquietly,asifrememberingsomethinghehadtriedtoforget. 　　“我们要到佛罗里达去,”她兴高采烈地说.“听说那儿的确很美.”“是的,”他轻声说道,仿佛想起了他一直想忘却的什么东西. 　　"Wantsomewine?"shesaid.Hesmiledandtookaswigfromthebottle.Hethankedherandretreatedagainintohissilence.Afterawhile,shewentbacktotheothers,andVingonoddedinsleep. 　　“想喝点酒吗?”她问.他微微一笑,就着瓶子喝了一大口.他谢了谢她,又缩回去一声不响了.过了一会儿,她回到自己一伙人身边,而文戈则打着盹睡着了. 　　Inthemorning,theyawokeoutsideanotherHowardJohnson's,andthistimeVingowentin.Thegirlinsistedthathejointhem.Heseemedveryshy,andorderedblackcoffeeandsmokednervouslyastheyoungpeoplechatteredaboutsleepingonbeaches.Whentheyreturnedtothebus,thegirlsatwithVingoagain,andafterawhile,slowlyandpainfully,hebegantotellhisstory.HehadbeeninjailinNewYorkforthepastfouryears,andnowhewasgoinghome. 　　第二天早上,他们醒来,车已停在另一家霍华德•约翰逊餐馆外面.这一次文戈进去了.那女孩一定要他跟他们坐在一起.他好像很害羞,要了杯不加牛奶的清咖啡,在年轻人喋喋不休地谈论着露宿沙滩的乐趣时,他却紧张不安地在抽烟.回到车上以后,那女孩又跟文戈坐在了一起.过了一会儿,他慢吞吞地、不胜辛酸地讲起了他的身世.他在纽约坐了四年牢,现在要回家了. 　　"Areyoumarried?""Idon'tknow.""Youdon'tknow?"shesaid. 　　“你有太太吗?”“不知道.”“你不知道?”她问. 　　"Well,whenIwasinjailIwrotetomywife,"hesaid."ItoldherthatIwasgoingtobeawayalongtime,andthatifshecouldn'tstandit,ifthekidskeptaskin'questions,ifithurthertoomuch,well,shecouldjustforgetme.I'dunderstand.Getanewguy,Isaid-she'sawonderfulwoman,reallysomething-andforgetaboutme.Itoldhershedidn't