雙語讀?。篊all me by ...（一）52:音樂是我們很容易聊起的主題

And yet, out of the blue, a tender moment would erupt so suddenly between us that the words I longed to tell him would almost slip out of my mouth. Green bathing suit moments, I called them—even after my color theory was entirely disproved and gave me no confidence to expect kindness on “blue” days or to watch out for “red” days.
 
偶爾，突如其來地，我們之間會(huì)有一些溫情時(shí)刻，我?guī)缀趺摽诙瞿切┪铱释嬖V他的話。那是我所謂的綠色泳褲時(shí)刻——即使我的色彩理論已經(jīng)完全被現(xiàn)實(shí)推翻，讓我沒信心在“藍(lán)色”日子里期待友善，或是在“紅色”日子里謹(jǐn)慎提防。
 
Music was an easy subject for us to discuss, especially when I was at the piano. Or when he’d want me to play something in the manner of so-and-so. He liked my combinations of two, three, even four composers chiming in on the same piece, and then transcribed by me. One day Chiara started to hum a hit-parade tune and suddenly, because it was a windy day and no one was heading for the beach or even staying outdoors, our friends gathered around the piano in the living room as I improvised a Brahms variation on a Mozart rendition of that very same song. “How do you do this?” he asked me one morning while he lay in heaven.
 
音樂是我們很容易聊起的主題，尤其是我坐在鋼琴前，或他希望我用某種風(fēng)格彈點(diǎn)什么的時(shí)候。他喜歡我在一首曲子里融合兩位、三位，甚至四位作曲家的風(fēng)格，再依我的方法改編。有一天，奇亞拉哼起一首流行歌的曲調(diào)。那天風(fēng)大，沒人去海邊，甚至也沒人在戶外逗留，我即興彈起一首由布拉姆斯改編的莫扎特所演奏過的一首曲子，我們的朋友突然都聚在客廳鋼琴的四周。“你是怎么做到的？”有一天早上他躺在“天堂”時(shí)問我。
 
“Sometimes the only way to understand an artist is to wear his shoes, to get inside him. Then everything else flows naturally.”
We talked about books again. I had seldom spoken to anyone about books except my father.
Or we talked about music, about the pre-Socratic philosophers, about college in the U.S.
Or there was Vimini.
 
“有時(shí)候，了解一位藝術(shù)家唯一的辦法，就是設(shè)身處地進(jìn)入他們的內(nèi)心，然后一切自然水到渠成。”
我們又再度談起書。除了父親之外，我很少跟任何人談書。
或者我們談音樂，談蘇格拉底之前的哲學(xué)家，談美國的大學(xué)。
或者還有薇米妮。
 
The first time she intruded on our mornings was precisely when I’d been playing a variation on Brahms’s last variations on Handel.
Her voice broke up the intense midmorning heat.
“What are you doing?”
“Working,” I replied.
Oliver, who was lying flat on his stomach on the edge of the pool, looked up with the sweat pouring down between his shoulder blades.
“Me too,” he said when she turned and asked him the same question.
“You were talking, not working.”
“Same thing.”
“I wish I could work. But no one gives me any work.”
Oliver, who had never seen Vimini before, looked up to me, totally helpless, as though he didn’t know the rules of this conversation.
 
那天早晨她第一次闖進(jìn)來時(shí)，我正在改編布拉姆斯以韓德爾主題做的最后幾個(gè)變奏。
她的聲音穿透上午十點(diǎn)前后強(qiáng)烈的熱氣。
“你在干什么？”
“工作。”我回答。
趴在泳池邊的奧利弗抬頭看，汗水從他的肩胛骨骨間傾瀉而下。
“我也是。”她轉(zhuǎn)向奧利弗問同一個(gè)問題時(shí)，他說。
“你們?cè)诹奶欤皇窃诠ぷ鳌?rdquo;
“一回事兒。”
“我希望我能工作?？墒菦]人肯給我工作。”
從來沒見過薇米妮的奧利弗抬頭看我，一副茫然無措的樣子，仿佛不明白這段對(duì)話到底是什么情況。