Morandi Postcard
The worst translation
翻译着玩一玩(只翻译了一部分)
莫兰迪明信片
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MORANDI POSTCARD
* Inspired by a postcard on my desk
* Magic Story
* Have fun reading
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"Later, I fell in love with the boy from different worlds, leaving behind a stack of morandi postcards full of love between each other."
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If you ask Majiachi what he means by beauty, he will only see three things in his mind: words, music and a stack of postcards. He dared to say that he was not a very rational man, at least not now. He would rely on dreams, and day after day. Sometimes even the reality and the unreal chaos reversed, his world is uneven.
When he woke up in the morning to find the dark green sheets covered with salty, wet mucus, he certainly knew what it was. When the sycamore bed became a pale blue quilt again, he would reconsider some of the sharp questions interrupted by his terrible body. He could think about what dreams were, and what made strange scenes reappear scene by scene, and he was generally not sure.
When the outline is drawn up, there is always Edith Piaf, hoping for a ton of thoughts, a ton of black and white. This is unrealistic. He puffed out hoar smoke rings, stared at the yellowing old European posters, and lay in a rocking chair, gradually melting into his chaotic vision.
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This boy again. His rosy lips and fluttering eyes were exquisite on his porcelain white face. The boy took Ma's hand and walked to the ice cream shop. The Pantheon, the fifth Arrondissement, the most artistic land in France.
Like a period of time before, talking about books, laughing freely. The boy asked Ma Jiachi to call him Cheng. That's all right, Thought Macarkie. Running his fingers over the jagged wall, he asked Cheng about his past. Ah Cheng laughed. "Ordinary. Very ordinary."
He said there was nothing to know about himself and he just wanted to enjoy an easy time. "Morandi is grey, but the painting on the wall is still a warm feeling. It's really funny."
They were sitting close together, and Marcus felt the boy's chestnut hair brush over his shoulder. Perhaps it is because for 20 years, Majiachi has been locked up in a closed private space with little understanding of human feelings. So this time, even though it was only the touch of his hair, he could clearly feel the trembling inside. I know it's a dream, but I seem more willing to believe it's a reality.
The dappled light that passes through the flowered Windows makes the whole dim ground come alive. Majiachi licked the raspberry-scented ice cream and holds the creamy cone with her slender fingers. The taste is very fresh. "Paris is a city of surprises all the time." Cheng said. Just like you, it's a surprise. Majiachi thought.
They put on windcoats and walk down ancient streets flanked by century-old khaki buildings. Passing by a van with hundreds of flowers hidden inside. The owner put a bouquet of irises in purple wrapping paper, and the smell of the plant was everywhere. "Can I have a bunch of lavender?" Cheng asked the man.
"Why not?" The owner smiled at them. "Flowers are the simplest form of love." Ma Jiachi knew that he misunderstood, and wanted to open his mouth to explain, but was stopped by Cheng. The boy holds a bouquet of flowers, then thanks, and then a scene that is no longer clear. The frolic of the crowd had begun to blur, and only that figure remained in Front of Majiachi's eyes.
"Merci"
On the bench next to the sculpture, quietly looking at the bouquet of lavender. Majiachi hands do not know when a blue velvet box, he quietly opened found inside are two hand ropes. One dark green, one light blue. He took out the dark green one, raised Cheng's hand, and tied it. On the wrist of two people go up more adorn article, ambiguous however romantic.
"Why did Mr. Ma give me the dark green one?"
"Dark green is a very elegant color, elegant bright, elegant has vitality. It suits you, elegant, quiet, mysterious."
They talked again of movies, wine and French food. As night fell, the deep blue horizon lit up the street with dazzling rusty streaks. Ma stood up, wiped his shoes and said goodbye to Cheng. His dreams always ended there.
"Good-bye, Cheng."
"Have a pleasant journey and enjoy your life."
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Majiachi woke from the early morning birdsong. He touched his face, wet with tears. Did he cry? He doesn't remember. He only remembered a little man in his dream wishing him a good life and a happy life.
He threw on a blanket and sat down at the table. Majiachi composed poems on several postcards belonging to them, his love. The front of the postcard was a famous Morandi painting, a little gray but very elegant. The white paper was instantly covered with black ink, all Parisians and boys.
Holding the postcard in his hand, He went to the post office for the first time. He took the attitude of trying to send the letter to the place in the dream. He felt absurd, but he was a man of two worlds, and if he did not deliberately go to see him, he would never see him again.
MaJiachi suddenly felt like going out is not very tired, he also bought a bottle of chestnut incense water. Sitting on a purple suede sofa, he clumsily smeared the perfume on his wrist and rubbed it against his neck. Although do not understand why so spray perfume, but it does put the most abundant fragrance on the body.
Majiachi became bright. He became fond of laughing. When the Courier delivers a bunch of pink roses ordered by himself, the boring world will be a more interesting and beautiful inspiration ideas. He wrote them all down on postcard after postcard, took them for love, and told everyone about them.
Instead of blowing smoke rings, He began to look for stories from books and movies from the last century. Every night he would tuck into his light quilt, longing to enter the garden of Eden where he belonged.
The idea of addiction slowly emerged.
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Cheng and he began to get intimate. They would hug each other in the crowd. All kinds of clothes, different shadows passing by them, they seem very noisy. In Majiachi's heart, there was only this man, the boy who changed himself from grey shadow to Morandi.
He handed it to Cheng, and the scent of chestnuts floated between them. Ma Jiachi was surprised to see Cheng carrying a stack of postcards in his pocket. He patted Cheng's pocket and smiled, "You have received it."
The young boy's face was flushed, and his delicate hair moved back and forth in a gesture of acquiescence.
They ate cheap cocoa bread and walked slowly through the city of Romance. The sound of taxis, accompanied by melodious songs from roadside restaurants, floats among the crowd, looking at one pair of lovers after another.
Finally, Majiachi summoned the courage to ask Cheng,
"Are you a dream?
"When two worlds are put together, you are forced to compare the two. This is your Garden of Eden, this is not a dream."
That day they sat under the Eiffel Tower, drinking thick red wine and eating greasy pastries. Cheng gave him a ring engraved with "DC", which was the first and only gift, souvenir that Cheng gave him. Ma jiachii licked Cheng's lip, like an ice cream ball overflows with fragrance, carefully carving its shape.
Wrapped around at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, but love floating on the top of Paris.
"Je t 'aime."
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