Sunday, August (Translation of N

        Outside the Cafe. The streetlights on the boulevard lit up one by one. At first it was only a dark brown trembling light, like a candle, as if a gust of wind would go out. After a while, the jumping spot turned into a milky white dazzling screen.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      In a building on the corner of the small square and Victor Hugo Street, a three-story window lit up, where Mrs. Everton Bay used to live. Is she still alive? I should ring her doorbell, or ask the janitor. I gazed at the window illuminated by the yellow light. By the time we came to the city, Mrs. Everton Bay was already dead. But I thought the city might still have a vague memory of her life. She was a lovely ghost, one of thousands of ghosts all over Nice. Sometimes, in the afternoon, she would come and sit on the bench in Alsace Lorraine Park, right next to us. Ghosts don't die. There are always lights in front of their windows, just like the windows of these buildings around me. The ochre and white appearance of these buildings is obscured by the canopy pine in the square. I stood up and walked along Victor Hugo Street, mechanically counting the sycamore trees.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      When  Sylvia came here to meet me, everything looked very different from tonight. Nice wasn't familiar with the city at the time. And now I always walk back to Majestic's lobby and my room where the heating doesn't work. Fortunately, the winter on the Blue Coast is warm, and I don't care if I sleep in a coat. I'm afraid of spring. The spring tide came like a wave, and every time I felt wobbly, as if I were about to fall out of the boat into the sea. 

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

    At that time, countless men and women floated past us in the backlight, and they looked so old in the eyes of Sylvia and me. Now, Vilcu has finally become one of these shadows. I was suddenly frightened, thinking that I might be one of them, too.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      When  we wake up in the morning, whenever we hear the sound of rain falling on the zinc roof of the garden hut, we know it will be like this all day, so we often lie in bed until dark. We'd rather wait until dark before we go out. During the day, the rain fell on the Avenue of the English, on the palm trees and on the top of the buildings, giving a desolate feeling. It soaked the walls and drenched the scenery of the little musical, and it would not be long before the beautiful scenery of the city was all drenched. The night erased the sentimental atmosphere with bright light and neon lights.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      Everything in my head is confused and blurred. The old pictures were twisted together in a thin, transparent paste, and gradually separated and expanded into the shape of rainbow balloons, which seemed to be on the verge of rupture. I woke up with a sudden shock and a heartbeat. The silence around me added to my uneasiness. The voice of the "distant" association speaker who came into the room through the microphone was gone. Just now, this monotonous sound and the documentary music that was shown later-probably about the Pacific movie, because of the groan of the Hawaiian guitar-hypnotized me, so I fell asleep.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      Everything happens in a calm, almost imperceptible way. It's like a carpet slowly woven, or like a crowd on the boulevard flowing slowly in front of us.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      Looking through the large glass windows of the cafe, the iron gates and palm trees in the garden of the Marsena Museum reflect the blue sky. The sky was sometimes clear blue and sometimes rose-colored in the evening. As dusk fell, the palm trees gradually turned into a vague shadow, and then were covered with a cold light by the streetlights at the corner of Seaside Boulevard and Livory Street. To this day, sometimes I go to this bar, and I walk in through the thick wooden door of Livory Street so as not to cross the front hall of the hotel. I always sat facing the big glass window facing the sea, just as I sat with Sylvia that night. We looked at the glass window, our eyes fixed, and the bright sky outside and the palm trees contrasted sharply with the half-dark bar inside. After a while, there was a sudden uneasiness that caught me, a feeling that was almost suffocating. I think we are like goldfish locked in a fish tank. we can only look at the sky and trees outside through the glass and can never breathe free air. It was only as night fell and the windows darkened that I relaxed. At this time the lights of the bar were all on, and under the strong light, the uneasiness gradually dissipated.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates

      This afternoon, the sky was clear, the palm trees were tall and tall, the building was so pink and white, and a ghost like Vilcu could not resist the colors of the summer at all. He is irresistible, and he will disappear in the air filled with the fragrance of acacia flowers.

Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates Sunday, August (Translation of Nobel Prize winners)Allen May translates