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【译】写给Bucky的第363封信

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原文来自 @禛 太太 【写给Bucky的第363封信


The 363rd letter to Bucky Barnes


 


———I know that you won't tell me how you walked through the darkness in the howling wind. Even if I do ask, you'd only whisper about the starry sky you gazed at while you were hiding deep in the woods.


————————————————


 


Bucky,


This is the 363rd letter to you.


You are taking a break on the bunk right beside me, eyes closed, while I'm writing this. It has been only 12 hours since I found you again. And another fight will come to us in any second.


I'm hoping for more time, to let you rest, and to let me finish this letter.


The first thing I got to tell you, is how glad I am to find you again. I'm fighting with the impulse of staring at you face every single second while fearing if I actually do so. Your sweater has been wearing for a long time and the hem was rough. Your hair grew longer and your face was covered with stubble.


I know that you won't tell me how you walked through the darkness in the howling wind. Even if I do ask, you'd only whisper about the starry sky you gazed at while you were hiding deep in the woods.


Because you remember me.


And you remember so much more than you thought you could remember.


That is probably how I felt, when I could easily figure out your intonation at the last word the moment you finished the first word. We knew each other too well. So I'm familiar with the way you smile and familiar with the unspoken words between lines. Those were rooted deep in our sub-consciousness and we don't need to prove to anyone.


That's why you held my hand—when I was taking care of the wounds on your back and warping the bandage around your chest—and told me you were fine.


You are fine.


Bucky, you are so fine.


In the days when I was wondering around looking for the trace of you, I always dreamt about you. About the time we spent together. You used to run with me, sit on the stairs teasing about my stubbornness, put your hand on my shoulder and tell me I can make it, grab mypaint and blab about exchanging presents with me. You used to say to me, in theheavy darkness inside the camp, “hey, Steve, you are the bravest man I've ever met.”


A teensy bit of light shone on your face, through the juncture of our tent. And your eyes were so bright.


But I don't think I deserve your words.


Because there are so many things deep inside that I fear.


The closer I get to you, the more frequent I dreamt about you falling from that train, missing my hand by one second.


I'm afraid someone might put you in prison before I find you. I'm afraid of the trials where nobody defends you. I'm afraid I'll be too late to tell the world, it's you who were always the bravest among us all.


Because, piecing together everything from the past, whether it's yours or not, was actually the most painful part.


I remember asking you about the content in that stolen backpack. You told me it was your everything.


See? You were such a great man, placidly accepting everything life threw towards you, no matter good or bad. Whatever it brings, you pack it all up and stand still as always.


You are a true warrior.


"They were stolen." You spoke with anger. You said you would take it all back.


All right. Let's do it.


I'll add every detail I remembered to the crevice of time, to fill it up with every old story of ours back in the 30s.


I'll walk through the past with you. I'll take your sadness and rage; take all the pain you've struggled in, all these years.


Together, we take it all back.


Bucky, it seems every time I try to write to you, I tend to get wordy.


I kept all the letters well. Because you won't be reading them in a while, even they were all addressed to you.


Maybe in some peaceful sunny afternoon, after a long time from now, I would talk about the letters I wrote after I lost you. At that time, days will be quiet and endless.


And you'll be by my side. Safe and sound.


I guess you'll still play jokes on me.


Just like what you did a moment ago, when I was holding your left hand. You squeezed your metal hand and said,“I remember we used to have hand wrestling match. Now I'm definitely gonna beat you.”


Bucky, you are always positive and optimistic, no matter when. You always give me consolation.


In fact, you are my consolation.


When we were crouching in the trench side by side during the war, waiting for the gunshot out of nowhere, you said,“Steve, we'll make it through.”


Right in this moment, you are staying by my side. It's noisy and crowded out there and a fight is to come. But as I always know, we'll make it through.


Bucky, I remembered the time when we had to cross a rapid river through blizzard.“It's cold,”you said. And I looked at you. Then you smiled,“let's get over it.”


Maybe there'll be a tough battle tomorrow. It'll be hard. But let's get over it.


I can do this all day.


I know so are you.


We'll fight, together, till the end of the line.


Bucky, I'm so glad I've found you.


 


-Steve.



 


写给Bucky的第363封信

------我知道你不会告诉我你是怎样在黑暗的寒冷中独自前行的,如果我问起来,你只会告诉我某个夜晚你藏在树林深处仰头看到的星星。 


-------------------------
Bucky,这是写给你的第363封信。


写这封信的时候,你正在旁边的简易床板上短暂的闭眼休息。此刻距离我再次找到你不到12个小时,下一场战斗不知道多久后就会开始。


我希望你可以多休息一会儿,也希望我可以将这封信写完。


我首先想要告诉你的是,Bucky,找到你太好了。好到我想一直盯着你看,却又不敢一直盯着你看。你的衣服很旧,边缘起了毛边,头发有些长,下巴上都已经冒出了胡渣。


我知道你不会告诉我你是怎样在黑暗的寒冷中独自前行的,如果我问起来,你只会告诉我某个夜晚你藏在树林深处仰头看到的星星。


因为你记得我。


而且你比你以为的记得的多得多。


这种感觉大概就是,你对我说出第一个单词,我就能想到你句尾的语气。我们熟知彼此,我了解你笑起来的样子,我知道你每一句话下面的意思。很多东西是藏在身体深处的潜意识,而我们不需要向其他人证明。


所以当我给你清理背后的伤口,绕过你的胸前缠上绷带的时候,你才会握住我的手,回头对我说:“我很好。”


你很好。


Bucky,你那么好。


在漫无目的寻找你的时候,我总是梦到曾经和你在一起的时光,你陪着我跑步,坐在台阶上调侃我的固执,拍着我的肩膀告诉我我会成功,抢走我的画说要和我交换礼物,在兵营中沉重的黑夜里对我说,Hey,Steve,你是我见过最勇敢的人。


帐篷搭边的缝隙里透过一点儿光落在你脸上,你的眼睛很亮。


可我想我是配不起这句话的。


因为我害怕的事情太多。


越是靠近找你的时候,我越是不断地梦到你掉下去,而我每次都还差1秒就抓到你。


我怕你被人先一步抓走关押,我怕你遭受无法辩明的审判,我怕来不及告诉所有人你才是那个最勇敢的人。


因为最痛苦的事,就是将过去一件件属于你的,和不该属于你的回忆一点点拼凑起。


还记得我问你,被抢走的那个背包,里面是什么,你说那是你所有的财富。


你瞧,你是这样棒的人,不管好的还是坏的,你全然接受。不管这个过程会心酸,会恍然,会挣扎,会欣慰,还是会折磨,你都将它们收好,然后挺直脊背。


你是真正的战士。


它们被抢走了。你说这句话的时候是压着愤怒的,你说要抢回来。


好的,我们去把它们拿回来。


我会帮你补充所有我记得的细节,填满时间的缝隙,将那些70年前的老故事一一讲遍。


我也会陪你回忆所有我没经历的过去,守着你的悲怒,将那些70年中的伤痛一起接受。


我们一起,把它们拿回来。


Bucky,似乎每次给你写信的时候,我都会变得啰嗦。这些信一直被我放的很好,不过虽然是写给你的,却是一时之间不会给你读的信件。


我想大概是要等到很久很久以后,时光平静而漫长,某一个午后,晒着太阳,我会笑着对你说起在失去你的日子里写过的信。


而彼时你已经安好的在我身边。


我猜你还是会调侃我的。


就像刚才,我握着你的左手,你用冰冷的金属手回握我,对我说,“我记得我们以前经常掰手腕,现在我绝对不会输了。”


Bcuky,不管什么时候,你都这样乐观正面。你总能给我最大的安慰。


其实你就是我的安慰。


当初我们一起去打仗,我们肩抵着肩半蹲在战壕里,等待不知何时就会爆发的枪火,你说Steve,我们会赢的。


此时你在我身边,外面隐隐杂杂,不知道什么时候就会引发交战,可我知道,我们会赢的。


Bucky,我想起我们曾要迎着风雪跨越河流,你说,很冷。我看着你,你对我笑着说,我们过去吧。


或许明天就是一场恶战,很艰难。那么,我们打赢吧。


我可以一整天地战下去。


我知道你也会。


我们一起战到最后。


Bucky,很高兴找到你。


                                                                                      


                                                              ----Steve



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实际上是看到这篇才起了翻译的念头,所有细腻的想法都太美太感人了。实在感谢太太的文。


失眠的夜里终于付诸行动。


恍恍惚惚 翻译水平非常有限,见谅。


欢迎捉虫、讨论,比心~


R.

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