Question

求高手翻译，杜绝工具翻译

When the boys were settled and the train clattered along toward Tahrir Square, I noticed that my head scarf had begun to slip. I reached up to unpin it. As the layers of cotton gauze fell away, I felt air on my neck. The mother of the boys, noticing, perhaps, my comparatively light-colored hair, asked me where I was from. The United States, I told her.
''And you are a Muslim?'' she asked.
''Yes,'' I answered.
She praised God, and I dutifully repeated her words, smiling; I understood that a convert in a head scarf was unusual.
As I rewrapped my scarf, however, I heard a chorus of hisses. I looked up in alarm. A boy of 16 or 17 was making his way through the car, selling boxes of tissues. I blushed, feeling certain that the other women were reprimanding me for taking off my scarf in the presence of a man. After two years in Egypt, I had developed a sense of humor about my inevitable social gaffes, but they were still embarrassing. Looking around, however, I realized that the scolding wasn't for me after all. The tissue seller was the target of the women's censure.
''What are you thinking? Don't you have shame?''
''You're too old to be in the women's car, Son.''
''Look away, for God's sake.''
The tissue seller went red, muttered something in response and turned into the doorway, trying to appear casual. I hastily repinned my scarf. The boy was probably just trying to do better business: he would get more sympathy in the women's compartment than in the mixed cars. Nevertheless, he retreated down the train at the next stop.
At that moment, I was grateful to be part of the floating world of the women's car. In that small corner of a culture so different from my own, culture itself ceased to matter. For a few station stops I carried no baggage -- no problematic nationality, no suspect political agenda. I was simply a woman among other women and worth defending because we shared that much. Regardless of the many factors that might separate us on the street, in the women's car my fellow passengers felt I had the same right to privacy as they did. I left the metro feeling secure in much more than the arrangement of my head scarf.

Answer 1

当男孩子吵杂作响地跑了,火车沿向Tahrir广场,我注意到头巾已经开始滑跌。我达到它。为层的棉质纱布已消失,我觉得空气对我的脖子上。男孩的母亲,注意,也许,我的较为浅色的头发,问我我是哪里人。美国,我对她说。
“你是一个穆斯林吗?”她问。
“是的,”我回答。
她称赞神,我一字不漏地重复她的话,微笑,我明白了:在转换的头巾,很不寻常。
当我拉起我的围巾,然而,我听说异口同声的嘘声。我抬头看报警。一个十六岁的孩子或17使他在汽车、销售盒组织。我的脸都红了,感觉知道其他妇女在谴责我我的围巾起飞的存在的人。两年后我所开发在埃及,有幽默感,时代犯对我的不可避免的,但他们仍然很尴尬的。环顾四周,然而,我意识到这些骂不属于我。组织卖家很目标的妇女的批评。
你:你在想什麽?你不蒙羞吗?”
“你太老了妇女的车!”
“看，走吧,因为神的害羞.”
卖方脸都红了组织的反应,喃喃自语,成为不同的门口,试图出现随便。我匆忙把我的围巾系上了。这个男孩大概是尝试做更好的商业:他将获得更多的同情妇女隔间比混合车。不过,他撤下火车,在下一站下车。
那一刻,我非常感激,流动世界的一部分的妇女的汽车。在那个小角落里一种文化如此不同于我一个人的,文化本身停止的事。几站停止我没有携带行李——没有问题的民族,没有怀疑政治议事日程。我只是一个女人在其他妇女和值得防守,因为我们共享那么多。不管许多因素可能会使我们在街上,在女子车乘客感到我有相同的隐私权,像他们那样贪恋的。我离开了地铁感觉安全,在远高于安排我的头的围巾。