全文翻译,谢谢,必采纳。
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当我长得高到足以见到书桌面,看着母亲坐在这里写信,我就爱上了母亲的书桌。站在椅子傍边,看着墨水瓶、钢笔和白纸,我就决定写作是世界上最美妙的事。
多年以后,母亲病重垂危,她就把不同的东西留给我的弟妹。 “但桌子”,她说,“留给伊丽莎白”。
我从来没有见过她生气,也从未见过她哭。我知道她爱我,但她只以行动表现出来。作为一个少女,我多希望与母亲说些母女之间的贴心话。
但这从来都没有发生过,我们之间有一道鸿沟。我“太情绪化”,但她很实际。
随着岁月流逝,我有了自己的家庭。我爱我的母亲,感谢她给了我们幸福的家庭。我写信给她,小心用词,请她让我知道,她选择什么方式才会原谅我。
我把信寄出,等待她的回覆,但没有回信。
我的希望变成失望,再不大感兴趣,最后,平静 --- 似乎什么都没有发生。我不肯定母亲是否收到了信。我只知道我写了,我不再企图去改变她。
现在,她送我书桌告诉了我,因为她始终无法以写作为生,但她很高兴,我选择了以写作为职业。我仔细整理书桌,发现了一些文件在内---一帧父亲的照片和一页被折叠了多次的信。
给我一个答案,我在信中要求你选择你的方式,妈,你总是选择以行动来表示。
~~~~~纯人手翻译, 欢迎采纳~~~~~
多年以后,母亲病重垂危,她就把不同的东西留给我的弟妹。 “但桌子”,她说,“留给伊丽莎白”。
我从来没有见过她生气,也从未见过她哭。我知道她爱我,但她只以行动表现出来。作为一个少女,我多希望与母亲说些母女之间的贴心话。
但这从来都没有发生过,我们之间有一道鸿沟。我“太情绪化”,但她很实际。
随着岁月流逝,我有了自己的家庭。我爱我的母亲,感谢她给了我们幸福的家庭。我写信给她,小心用词,请她让我知道,她选择什么方式才会原谅我。
我把信寄出,等待她的回覆,但没有回信。
我的希望变成失望,再不大感兴趣,最后,平静 --- 似乎什么都没有发生。我不肯定母亲是否收到了信。我只知道我写了,我不再企图去改变她。
现在,她送我书桌告诉了我,因为她始终无法以写作为生,但她很高兴,我选择了以写作为职业。我仔细整理书桌,发现了一些文件在内---一帧父亲的照片和一页被折叠了多次的信。
给我一个答案,我在信中要求你选择你的方式,妈,你总是选择以行动来表示。
~~~~~纯人手翻译, 欢迎采纳~~~~~
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原文如下:
I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as Mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, Mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk”, she said, “is for Elizabeth”.
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me, she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter.
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional”. But she lived “on the surface”
As years passed and I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.
My hope turned to disappointment,then little interest, finally, peace---it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to Mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told me, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work, I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside---a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose, Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
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谢谢
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自从我长高以后能看见妈妈在书桌前写信的时候我就喜欢上了妈妈的书桌。站在她椅子旁边,看着桌上的墨水瓶、钢笔和白纸,我就觉得写信是这个世界上最美好的事情
追答
几年后,在她病危的时候,她给我的兄弟姐妹留下很多东西,但是她说那个书桌:是伊萨贝拉的。(我的)
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亲我看懂,可是我的中文不够好所以翻不好
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