It was a queer sort of place--a gable-ended old house, one side palsied as it were, and leaning over sadly.
这真可以说是个古怪的地方...一座山形顶的旧房子,有一边象是患了半身不遂症,没精打采地歪靠着。
It stood on a sharp bleak corner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed.
房子座落在一个险峻的.无遮无拦的角落上,在那里,狂暴的犹罗克利顿不住地号啸着,比对可怜的保罗那只颠簸的小船号啸得还要凶狠.然而,对于任何一个待在屋里的。双脚悠闲地搁在火炉架上。准备上床的人说来,犹罗克利顿却是一阵其乐无穷的和风。
In judging of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon, says an old writer-of whose works I possess the only copy extant-it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier.
要判断那种称为犹罗克利顿的狂风的好坏,古代某一个作家说...我现在手头恰有他这部作品的孤本...那会因你是从一扇冰冻全在外面的玻璃窗里面看它,还是从一个没有窗框,里里外外都是冰冻的窗口去看它,而产生出截然不同的景致的,而唯一的玻璃装配匠就是死神那家伙。
True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind-old black-letter, thou reasonest well.
完全正确,当这段话浮现到我的心头上来的时候,我这么想...老黑体字呀,你想得真不错。
Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house.
不错,这对眼睛就是两扇窗门,我这个身体就是那座房子。
