gellert
grindelwald
january
of
1996,
perhaps—
1996年1月吧，大概——
albus—
阿不思——
fifty
years.
have
been
here
fifty
shit-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
skeleton
pecked
with
sores,
can
barely
remember
how
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.
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
be
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裏大概需要三天？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
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
dozen
times.
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。我将房间裏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？
don't
bother
to
sleep
anymore.
if
read
gertrude
in
delirium,
she
almost
makes
sense.