Piano lesson at the neighbors’, Mr. and Mrs. J.

在鄰居家上鋼琴課，跟J先生和J太太。

I’m in their apartment for the first time,

我第一次去他家公寓，

which smells different from ours (ours has no smell,

那味道與我家裏不同（我們家沒有味道，

or so I think). Everywhere carpets,

起碼我這樣認為）。到處鋪著地毯，

thick Persian carpets. I know that they’re Armenians,

厚厚的波斯地毯。我知道他們是亞美尼亞人，

but don’t know what that means. Armenians have carpets,

但並不懂其中含義。亞美尼亞人擁有地毯，

dust wanders through the air, imported

空氣中灰塵彌漫，那是從利沃夫

from Lvov, medieval dust.

進口來的，中世紀的灰塵。

We don’t have carpets or Middle Ages.

我們沒有地毯，沒有中世紀。

We don’t know who we are—maybe wanderers.

我們不知道自己是誰——也許是漫遊者。

Sometimes I think we don’t exist. Only others are.

有時我想，我們並不存在。只有他人存在。

The acoustics are great in our neighbors’ apartment.

鄰居家的音效好極了。

It’s quiet in this apartment. A piano stands in the room

公寓裏十分安靜。鋼琴立在屋中

like a lazy, tamed predator—and in it,

像一隻懶洋洋被馴服的野獸——在它的內裏，

at its very heart, dwells music’s black ball.

最中心的地方，棲居著音樂的黑球。

Mrs. J told me right after the first

剛上過一兩堂課，J太太就告訴我

or second lesson that I should take up languages

我還是去學語言為好

since I showed no talent for music.

因為我沒有音樂天賦。

I show no talent for music.

我沒有音樂天賦。

I should take up languages instead.

我應當去學語言。

Music will always be elsewhere,

音樂將永遠在別處，

inacessible, in someone else’s apartment.

望塵莫及，在別人家裏。

The black ball will be hidden elsewhere,

黑球將永遠藏在別處，

but there may be other meetings, revelations.

但可能有另外的相遇和啟發。

I went home, hanging my head,

我回到家中，垂著腦袋，

a little saddened, a little glad—home,

有點難過，有點高興——家，

where there was no smell of Persia, only amateur paintings,

這裏沒有波斯味道，惟有業餘的油畫，

watercolors, and I thought with bitterness and pleasure

水彩畫，我心懷苦澀和愉悅

that I had only language, only words, images,

想到我擁有的惟有語言，詞語，意象，

only the world.

惟有這世界。