急!!A clean, well-lighted place
A clean, well-lighted place
- 匿名使用者2 0 年前最佳解答
is another of Hemingway's dense vignettes, filled with nuance but spare
in style. The anecdote revolves around the difference between a clean,
bright cafe and a dark, not-so-clean, bar as a place for lonely men to
spend the long, sleepless nights. Two waiters discuss a lingering
patron in a cafe who overstays his welcome as the night wears on. The
old man gets quietly drunk each night; just last week he tried to kill
himself, but was rescued. 這是個海明威另一個深刻單景小品文，劇情隱約但風格不花俏。故事關於孤獨老人度過一個漫長無眠夜晚的一個乾淨、有光的小餐館與一個陰暗、不太乾淨的酒吧的差別。兩個侍
Tonight he tries to pass the night in a clean, well-lighted place. The
young waiter, impatient, to get home to his wife, does not comprehend
the importance of this place to this old man's survival. The older
waiter, who does understand, walks into the night himself, unable to
find his own clean, well-lighted place in which to pass a lonely and
CommentaryThis is a story about lonely old
men who have no warm, welcoming place to be when darkness falls. The
cities and villages must be full of such men, who drink in search of
the sleep that will not come, and crowd into dirty bodegas as a way to
deny the quiet desperation which can lead them to an even more abrupt
self-destruction. The piece is beautifully crafted, with the story
within a story underscoring the ubiquity and commonality of the tales
of lonely old men. 這故事是關於一個在晚夜沒有一個溫暖、歡迎的地方可逗留的老人。城市與村莊有許多這樣的人，他們喝酒來得到睡眠，藉由擠在酒店來拒絕無人所知但會帶領他們到更突然的自我毀滅的絕望。這個作品寫的很好，故事中有小故事，說明這些老人的故事的普遍性。
- 匿名使用者2 0 年前
海明威小說裡所關切的主題，不僅是讀者所熟悉的愛情和死亡，他對人性的尊嚴也付出了關懷。短篇小說〈一個潔淨、明亮的地方〉（A Clean, Well-Lighted Place）寫一個關懷老人的故事：路邊咖啡館外燈光燃亮的樹蔭下，一個八十多歲的老人待到深夜不去，店內有侍者一老一少邊談論著他，邊注意老人的動靜。這個故事情節平淡，讀後卻令人掩卷沉思。
A Clean, Well-lighted Place
It was late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the daytime the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.
"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said.
"He was in despair."
"How do you know it was nothing?"
"He has plenty of money."
They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind.
The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.
"What do you want?"
The old man looked at him. "Another brandy," he said.
"You'll be drunk," the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.
"He'll stay all night," he said to his colleague. "I'm sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week."
The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.
"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"
"He stays up because he likes it."
"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."
"He had a wife once too."
"A wife would be no good to him now."
"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife."
"I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."
"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him."
"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work."
The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.
"Another brandy," he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.
"Finished," he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. "No more tonight. Close now."
"Another," said the old man.
"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.
The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip.
The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.
"Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the un hurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutter. "It is not half past two."
"I want to go home to bed."
"We are of two different kinds," the old waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be someone who needs the cafe."
"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."
"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves."
"Good night," said the younger waiter.
"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself. It is the light of course, but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was nothing too. It was only that the light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada.
He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.
"What yours?" asked the barman.
"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away.
"A little cup," said the waiter.
The barman poured it for him.
"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished," the waiter said.
The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.
"You want another copita?" the barman asked.
"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it was probably only insomnia. Many must have it.
[西班牙语]nada=nothing, y=and, pues=then
夜色已深，顾客们皆已离去，只有一位老人独自坐在由灯光映照着的树叶投下的阴影里。 白天，这条街上总是尘土飞扬；入夜后，露水让灰尘平息下来。 老人喜欢坐到很晚，他虽已耳聋，却能感觉到此刻万籁俱寂，与白昼不同。 咖啡店里的两个侍者看出老人已经微醉了。 尽管他是老主顾，但他们知道，一旦喝到酩酊大醉，他也会不付钱就走的，所以他俩注意着他。
“你会喝醉的。”年轻人说。 老人只是看着他。 年轻人就走开了。
“他会在这儿坐通宵的。”他对他的同事说。 “我困了。 我从来没有在三点以前上床睡觉。 他上周自杀真不该每死成。”
“但愿他快点回去。 我从来没在三点钟以前睡过觉。 想想看，那个时辰才睡觉是啥滋味？”
“你说的并不总对。 这个老头就挺干净。 他喝酒从不把酒洒出来。 你看，哪怕这会儿，他已醉了，也不。”
“我才不想看他哩。 我巴不得他快点走。 他完全不体谅我们这些靠干活儿挣饭吃的人。”
“你为什么不让他待着再喝点？”那个不急着回家的侍者问道。 他们边说话边打烊。 “还不到两点半呢。”
“咱们俩属两类人。”年岁大的侍者说。 这时他也穿好衣服准备回家了。 “你年轻，自信，这当然很好，但咱们的区别不在这儿。 每晚，我都迟迟不愿关门，总想着，也许还有人需要来坐坐。”
“你不明白。 我们这个咖啡店既干净又舒适，电灯照得亮堂堂的。 这灯光多好！ 还有树叶的影儿。”
“晚安。”年岁大一点的答道。 他一边关灯，一边在心里继续着刚才的对话。 是啊，灯光当然重要，地方也得清洁，爽心才行。 音乐嘛，倒不需要，是的，你不需要音乐。 你也不可能尊严端庄地站到酒吧间的柜台前，而这会儿，只有酒吧间还开着。 奇怪，他究竟怕什么？ 其实，也并不是害怕或恐惧，只是出于空虚。这种感觉他太熟悉了。 一切都是虚无的，就连人本身也是。 正是在这种心境里，人更需要光明，需要一个清洁，整齐的环境。 有些人生活在空虚之中，却浑然不觉。 但是他很明白，这是彻头彻尾的空虚，一切都毫无意义，除了空虚，还是空虚。
“不用了，谢谢。”咖啡店的侍者说完就走了出去。 他不喜欢酒吧或酒店。 如果是一家洁净、灯光明亮的咖啡店，那可大不一样了。 此刻他要回到自己那间斗室去，什么也不要再想了。 他将会躺在床上，直至天色破晓才入睡。 他自言自语地说，也许，这不过是失眠症吧。 一定有很多人都有失眠症。
資料來源 :參考資料： 網路資料