老人与海4（英文版）

"The great Sisler's father was never poor and he, the father, was playing in the big leagues when he was my age. " 
"When I was your age I was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to Africa and I have seen lions on the beaches in the evening. " 
"I know. You told me. " 
"Should we talk about Africa or about baseball?" 
"Baseball I think, ” 
the boy said. "Tell me about the great John J. McGraw. "He said Jota for J.(the great John J. McGraw: manager of the New York Giants from the early 1900 ’s to 1932.) 
"He used to come to the Terrace sometimes too in the older days. But he wasrough and harsh-spoken and difficult when he was drinking. His mind was on horses as well as baseball. At least he carried lists of horses at all times in his pocket and frequently spoke the names of horses on the telephone. " 
" He was a great manager, " the boy said. " My father thinks he was the greatest. " 
"Because he came here the most times, ” 
the old man said." If Durocher had continued to come here each year your father would think him the greatest manager."(Durocher: manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1940’s and of the New York Giants from 1948 to 1955.) 
"Who is the greatest manager, really, Luque or Mike Gonzalez?"(Luque: Adolfo Luque, born in Havana in 1890, played until 1935 with Boston, Cincinnati, Brooklyn, and the New York Giants. Mike Gonzalez: manager of the St. Louis Cardinals, 1938, 1940.) 
"I think they are equal. " 
"And the best fisherman is you. " 
"No. I know others better. " 
"Que va," the boy said. "There are many good fishermen and some great ones. But there is only you. "(Que va: A Spanish exclamation difficult to translate----“What does it matter?”“What of it?”) 
"Thank you. You make me happy. I hope no fish will come along so great that he will prove us wrong. " 
"There is no such fish if you are still strong as you say. " 
"I may not be as strong as I think, "the old man said. "But I know many tricks and 
I have resolution. " 
"You ought to go to bed now so that you will be fresh in the morning. I will take 
the things back to the Terrace. " 
"Good night then. I will wake you in the morning. " 
"You're my alarm clock, ” the boy said. 
"Age is my alarm clock, ” 
the old man said. "Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?" 
"I don't know,” the boy said. "All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard. " 
"I can remember it, "the old man said. "I'll waken you in time. " 
"I do not like for him to waken me. It is as though I were inferior. " 
"I know. " 
"Sleep well old man. " 
The boy went out. They had eaten with no light on the table and the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the dark. He rolled his trousers up to make a pillow, putting the newspaper inside them. He rolled himself in the blanket and slept on the other old newspapers that covered the springs of the bed. 
He was asleep in a short time and he dreamed of Africa when he was a boy and the long golden beaches and the white beaches, so white they hurt your eyes, and the high capes and the great brown mountains. He lived along that coast now every night and in his dreams he heard the surf roar and saw the native boats come riding through it. He smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept and he smelled the smell of Africa that the land breeze brought at morning. 
Usually when he smelled the land breeze he woke up and dressed to go and wake the boy. But tonight the smell of the land breeze came very early and he knew it was too early in his dream and went on dreaming to see the white peaks of the Islands rising from the sea and then he dreamed of the different harbors and roadsteads of the Canary Islands. 
He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on. He urinated outside the shack and then went up the road to wake the boy. He was shivering with the morning cold. But he knew he would shiver himself warm and that soon he would be rowing. 
The door of the house where the boy lived was unlocked and he opened it and walked in quietly with his bare feet. The boy was asleep on a cot in the first room and the old man could see him clearly with the light that came in from the dying moon. He took hold of one foot gently and held it until the boy woke and turned and looked at him. The old man nodded and the boy took his trousers from the chair by the bed and, sitting on the bed, pulled them on.