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So,if I asked you about art,you'd probably give me the skinny on Every art book ever written.Michelangelo.You know a lot about him:life's work,political aspirations,him and the Pope,sexual orientation,the whole works,right? 所以问你艺术，你可能会提出艺术书籍中的粗浅论调，有关米开朗基罗，你知道很多，他的政治抱负、他和教皇…性向，所有作品，对吗？ But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel.You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling…seen that. 但你不知道西斯汀教堂的气味，你从没站在那儿观赏过天花板，我看过。 If I ask you about women,you'll probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites.You may have even been laid a few times.But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. 如果我问关于女人的事，你八成会说出个人偏好的谬论，你可能上过几次床，但你说不出在女人身旁醒来很幸福的滋味。 You're a tough kid. 你是个很倔的孩子。 And I ask you about war,you'd probably,uh,throw Shakespeare at me,right?'Once more unto the breach,dear friends…'But you've never been near one.You've never held your best friend's head in your lap…and watched him gasp his last breath,lookin'to you for help. 问战争，你会说莎士比亚的话'共赴战场，亲爱的朋友'，但你从没接近过战争，从没有把好友的头抱在膝盖上，看着他吐出最后一口气。 I ask you about love,you'll probably quote me a sonnet.But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable……known someone that could level you with her eyes……feelin'like God put an angel on earth just for you……who could rescue you from the depths of hell……and you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel……to have that love for her,be there forever…through anything…through cancer. 问爱情，你会引述十四行诗，但你没看过女人的脆弱，她能以双眼击倒你，感觉上帝让天使为你下凡，她能从地狱救出你，你不解当她的天使的滋味，拥有对她的爱，直到永远。经历这一切，经历癌症。 And you wouldn't know about sleeping sittin'up in a hospital room for two months,holding her hand,because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms'visiting hours'don't apply to you. 你无法体会在医院睡两个月，因为医生一看到你就知道，会客时间的规定对你无效。你不了解真正的失去，唯有爱别人胜于自己才能体会。 You don't know about real loss……'cause that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself.I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.I look at you.I don't see an intelligent,confident man.I see a cocky,scared-shitless kid.But you're a genius,Will.No one denies that.No one could possibly understand the depths of you.But you presume to know everything about me,because you saw a painting of mine.You ripped my fuckin'life apart. 我怀疑你敢那样爱人，看着你，我没看到聪明自信，我看到被吓坏的狂妄孩子，但你是天才，没人能否认，没人能了解你的深度，但你看我的画就认定了我，你把我的人生撕裂了。 You're an orphan,right?Do you think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been?How you feel?Who you are?Because I read Oliver Twist?Does that encapsulate you? 你是孤儿，对吧？你想我会知道你日子有多苦、你的感受、你是谁，是因为我看过孤离泪吗？那简化你了吗？ Personally,I don't give a shit about all that.Because you know what?I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some fuckin'book.Unless,you wanna talk about you…who you are.Then I'm fasci ated.I'm in.But you don't want to do that,do you,sport?You're terrified of what you might say. 我不在乎，因为你知道吗？我不能靠任何书籍认识你，除非你谈自己，谈你是谁，那我就着迷了，我愿意加入，但你不想那么做，对吗？你怕你会被说出来的话吓到。 from《心灵捕手》 |
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