城市记忆 | 我要用什么来留住你？

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my mother's grandfather -just twenty four- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.

我给你我先逝的祖辈，后人们用大理石祭奠的先魂：

我父亲的父亲死于布宜诺斯艾利斯的前线，两颗子弹穿过他的胸口，他死时蓄着胡子，被同胞裹于兽皮之内；

我母亲的祖父——才二十四岁——曾在秘鲁率领三百将士冲锋，如今已成消失在马背上的亡魂。

I offer you whatever insight my books may hold. whatever manliness or humour my life.

我给你我书中所蕴含的一切悟力，给你我生命中所有的男子气概和幽默。

I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.

我给你一个从未有过信仰的人的忠诚。

I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved somehow -

the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.

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