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。

 

　　once the plane was on the ground soft music began to flow from the ceiling speakers: a sweet orchestral cover version of the beatles' " norwegian wood". the melody never failed to send a shudder through me, but this time it hit me harder than ever.

 

　　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 bent forward in my seat, face in hands to keep my skull from splitting open. before long one of the german stewardesses approached and asked in english 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。

 

　　"are you sure?"

 

　　"yes, i'm sure. thanks."

 

　　"真的不要紧？"

 

　　"不要紧的，谢谢。"我说。

 

　　she smiled and left, and the music changed to a billy joel tune. i straightened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the north sea, thinking of what i had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings i would never 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。

 

　　the plane reached the gate. people began unlatching their seatbelts and pulling baggage from the storage bins, and all the while i was in the meadow. i could smell the grass, feel the wind on my face, hear the cries of the birds. autumn 1969,and soon i wou1d be twenty.

 

　　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。

 

　　…

 

　　true, given time enough, i can bring back her face. i start joining image-her tiny, cold hand; her straight, black hair so smooth and cool to the touch; a soft, rounded earlobe and the microscopic mole just beneath it; the camels hair coat she wore in the winter; her habit of looking straight into your eyes when asking a question; the slight trembling that would come to her voice now and then （as if she were speaking on a windy hilltop）-and suddenly her face is there, always in profile at first, because naoko and i were always out waking together, side by side. then she turns to me, and smiles, and tilts her head just a bit, and begins to speak, and she looks into my eyes as if trying to catch the image of a minnow that has darted across the 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。