i was thirty-svn thn, strappd in my sat as th hug 747 plungd through dns cloud covr on approach to th hamburg airport. cold novmbr rains drnchd th arth and lnt vrything th gloomy air of a flmish landscap: th ground crw ran gar, a flag atop a squat airport building, a bmw billboard. so grmany again.37岁的我端坐在波音747客机上，庞大的机体穿过厚重的夹雨云层,俯身向汉堡机场降落。11月砭人肌肤的冷雨将大地涂得一片阴沉,使得身披雨衣的地勤工、呆然垂向地面的候机楼上的旗,以及bmw广告板等的一切的一切,看上去竟同佛兰德派抑郁画幅的背景一般。罢了罢了,又是德国,我想。onc th plan was on th ground soft music bgan to flow from th ciling spakrs: a swt orchstral covr vrsion of th batls' " norwgian wood". th mlody nvr faild to snd a shuddr through m, but this tim it hit m hardr than vr.飞机刚一着陆,天花板扩音器中低声传出轻柔的背景音乐,那是一个管弦乐队演奏的甲壳虫乐队的《挪威的森林》。那旋律一如往日地使我难以自已。这一次,比往日还要强烈地摇撼着我的身心。i bnt forward in my sat, fac in hands to kp my skull from splitting opn. bfor long on of th grman stwardsss approachd and askd in nglish if i was sick. "no," i said, just dizzy"为了不使头脑胀裂,我弯下腰,双手捂脸。很快,一位德国空中小姐走来,用英语问我是不是不大舒服。我答说:"不要紧,只是有点晕。"ar you sur?""ys, i'm sur. thanks.""真的不要紧?""不要紧的,谢谢。"我说。sh smild and lft, and th music changd to a billy jol tun. i straightnd up and lookd out th plan window at th dark clouds hanging ovr th north sa, thinking of what i had lost in th cours of my lif: tims gon forvr, frinds who had did or disappard, flings i would nvr know again.她于是莞尔一笑,转身走开。音乐变成彼利·乔的曲子。我直起了腰,望着北海上空阴沉沉的云层,浮想联翩。我想起自己在过去人生旅途中失去的许多东西——蹉跎的岁月，死去或离去的人们无可追回的懊悔。th plan rachd th gat. popl bgan unlatching thir satblts and pulling baggag from th storag bins, and all th whil i was in th madow. i could smll th grass, fl th wind on my fac, har th cris of th birds. autumn 1969,and soon i wou1d b twnty.机身停稳后,旅客解开安全带,从行李架中取出皮包和上衣等物。而我,仿佛依然置身于那片草地之中,呼吸着草的芬芳,感受着风的轻柔,谛听着鸟的鸣啭。那还是1969年的秋天,我快满20岁的时候。&hllip;tru, givn tim nough, i can bring back hr fac. i start joining imag-hr tiny, cold hand; hr straight, black hair so smooth and cool to th touch; a soft, roundd arlob and th microscopic mol just bnath it; th camls hair coat sh wor in th wintr; hr habit of looking straight into your ys whn asking a qustion; th slight trmbling that would com to hr voic now and thn (as if sh wr spaking on a windy hilltop)-and suddnly hr fac is thr, always in profil at first, bcaus naoko and i wr always out waking togthr, sid by sid. thn sh turns to m, and smils, and tilts hr had just a bit, and bgins to spak, and sh looks into my ys as if trying to catch th imag of a minnow that has dartd across th pool of a m1impid spring.当然,只要有时间,我会忆起她的面容。我追忆着:那冷冰冰的小手,那流线型泻下的手感爽适的秀发,那圆圆的软软的耳垂及其紧靠底端的小小黑痔,那冬日里时常穿的格调高雅的驼绒大衣,那总是定定注视对方眼睛发问的惯常动作,那不时奇妙发出的微微颤抖的语声(就像在强风中的山岗上说话一样)—随着这些印象的叠涌,她的面庞突然自然地浮现出来。最先出现是她的侧脸,大概因为我总是同她并肩走路的缘故,最先想起来的每每是她的侧影。随之,她朝我转过脸,甜甜地一笑,微微地低头,轻轻地启齿,定定地看着我的双眼,仿佛在一混清澈的泉水里寻觅稍纵即逝的小鱼的行踪。i do nd that tim, though for naoko's fac to appar. and as th yars hav passd, th tim has grown longr. th sad truth is that what i could rcall in fiv sconds all too soon ndd tn, thn thirty, thn a full minut——lik shadows lngthning at dusk. somday, i suppos, th shadows will b swallowd up in darknss. thr is no way around it: my mmory is growing vr mor distant from th spot whr naoko usd to stand-vr mor distant from th spot whr my old slf usd to stand. and nothing but scnry, that viw of th madow in octobr, rturns again and again to m 1ik a symbolic scn in a movi. ach tim it appars, it dlivrs a kick to som part of my mind. "wal up," it says. "i’m still hr! wak up and think about it. think about why i'm still hr." th kicking nvr hurt m. thr's no pain at all. just a hollow sound that chos with ach kick. and vn that is bound to fad on day. at th hamburg airport, though, th kicks wr longr and hardr than usual which is why i am writing this book: to think. to undrstand! it just happns to b th way i'm mad. i hav to writ things down to fl i fully comprhnd thm.但是,让直子的面影在我脑海中浮现出来,我总是需要一点时间。而且,随着岁月的流逝,所需的时间愈来愈长。这固然令人悲哀,但事实就是如此。起初5秒即可想起,渐次变成10秒、30秒、1分钟。它延长得那样迅速,竟同夕阳下的阴影一般,并将很快消融在冥冥夜色之中。哦,原来我的记忆正在同直子原来站立的位置步步远离,甚至逐渐远离自己一度站过的位置。而惟独风景,惟独那片10月草地的风景,宛如电影中的象征性镜头,在我的脑际反复推出。并且那风景执着地连连踢我的脑袋,说着:"起来,我可还在这里哟!起来,起来想想,思考一下我为什么还在这里。"不过这种踢法一点也不痛,一脚踢来,只是发出空洞的声响。甚至这声响或迟或早也将杳然远逝。但是在这汉堡机场,它们踢得比往常更长久、更有力:起来,理解我!惟其如此,我才动笔写这篇文字。我必须形诸文字,才能弄得水落石出。