January of 1996, perhaps—

1996年1月吧，大概——

Albus—

阿不思——

Fifty years. I have been here fifty **-scraping years. And in all that time, you—you of all people—never sent me sweets. Just the smell of them made me shake with joy. It was the most glorious thing I've tasted in my life.

五十年了。我已经在这狗屎一样的鬼地方待了五十年。这期间，你——你们所有人——从未给我寄过甜食。单单闻到它们的气味就令我愉悦到战栗。这是我一生中品尝过的最美味的东西。

Fifty years. My body is a skeleton pecked with sores, I can barely remember how I could have been beautiful once. I'm the only inmate alive. The guards have left. An ancient house elf shoves the food between the bars. Even the charms on my watch are fading. The hands waver, the calendar's nearly dead. I think an owl takes three days or so to get from Hogwarts to here? More, perhaps, these days? Is the world expanding beneath me? Is that why I've become so distant? So it must be sometimes in January, the sun's in about the right place.

五十年。我变成了一副披着溃烂皮肤的骷髅，甚至难以想起我曾经是那么的美。我是唯一还活着的囚犯了，守卫们都走了，一个苍老的家养小精灵从栅栏中把食物推进来。就连我手表上的魔法都渐渐失效了。它的指针发颤，日期已经难以辨认。我想一只猫头鹰从霍格沃茨到这里大概需要三天？或者，比这些天更多？我脚下的世界变得越来越广阔了吗？这就是为什么我变得如此远隔的原因吗？所以现在一定是一月中的某一天，我只能通过太阳的位置来判断。

But I am nothing to you anymore but an ear. Writing ancient lovers tearful letters in your Christmas sherry again, Albus? Back & forth we go, back & forth. Your hand hasn't even changed. I'm running out of parchment. Most of my correspondents are dead. I've read every book in this room a dozen times. I suppose Fawkes is still there? Everything as it always was?

但，我只是你一个的倾听者罢了。又是一边喝着圣诞雪莉酒，一边给你的老情人写下满含泪水的信，我猜得对吗，阿不思？我们来来回回写着信，来来回回。你的笔迹丝毫未变。而我的羊皮纸已经快要用完了。大多和我通信的人都已经死了。我将房间里的每本书都读了十二遍以上。我想，福克斯还在吧？一切是否如常？

I don't bother to sleep anymore. If I read Gertrude in delirium, she almost makes sense. Words of one, two syllables. Listen to me.

我不再苦恼入眠了。当我神志不清，昏昏欲睡地阅读格特鲁德时，她似乎言之有物。不过，也就是一两个单词的音节吧。听我说。

Poor Albus. I'm barely even angry with you anymore. Scheisse, I almost feel sorry for you. You never had children, did you? Never married, never settled down? You'll just die and take It and the Potter boy with you, leaving nothing but pretty bird song & a bag of candy.

可怜的阿不思。我再也不会对你生气了。他妈的，我几乎为你感到难过。你没有孩子，对吗？从未结婚，甚至没有安定下来？你将会握着它死去，和那个叫波特的男孩一起，除去一段凤凰的挽歌和一包糖果什么也不会留下。

But this means you have something in common with me. You and I—we fall in love with people better than us, and we do it badly. I let you win that duel because I thought you would save me, you betraying bastard, and you left me to rot instead. You don't care about anyone but the boy anymore, I know. But you will not break me. You will not break me.

但这意味着你与我有了一些共同之处。你和我——我们都爱上了比自己更好的人，最后却把一切都搞砸了。我让你赢得了那场决斗，因为我以为你可以拯救我，但你这混蛋背叛了我，把我一个人丢在这里慢慢腐烂。你关心的只有那个男孩，我知道的。但是你没法毁了我，你不会毁了我。

We're getting too old. We belong a century ago by the millstream, Albus, not rotting away in our towers caught on the horns of the world. We belong at the beginning, where our brilliance is not weighted by responsibility, our beauty not marred by age. Before the consequences start breaking us.

我们都太老了。我们属于一个世纪前的那个风车下的溪流，阿不思，而不是在世界边缘的高塔上渐渐腐烂。我们属于最初的时光，那时我们的才华还尚未被那么多的责任束缚，我们的美丽还尚未被岁月摧残。在那些注定的结局没有将我们毁掉之前。

I've stopped thinking of you, those times in the past. I've tried to stop thinking of anything, really. Just back & forth across my cell. Words over the door. Triangles and circles and lines.

我已经不再想你了，以及那段已经逝去的时光。我不愿再想起任何事，真的。就让这些信件穿过我的牢房。将那些话语留在门上。三角形，圆和直线。

You're right. One boy, at least, should walk away with a good life. Ours are long, long destroyed.

你是对的。至少，有一个男孩应该拥有美好的人生走下去。而我们的人生，在很早之前就已经被毁去了。