当然,只要有时间,我会忆起她的面容。我追忆着:那冷冰冰的小手,那流线型泻下的手感爽适的秀发,那圆圆的软软的耳垂及其紧靠底端的小小黑痔,那冬日里时常穿的格调高雅的驼绒大衣,那总是定定注视对方眼睛发问的惯常动作,那不时奇妙发出的微微颤抖的语声(就像在强风中的山岗上说话一样)—随着这些印象的叠涌,她的面庞突然自然地浮现出来。最先出现是她的侧脸,大概因为我总是同她并肩走路的缘故,最先想起来的每每是她的侧影。随之,她朝我转过脸,甜甜地一笑,微微地低头,轻轻地启齿,定定地看着我的双眼,仿佛在一混清澈的泉水里寻觅稍纵即逝的小鱼的行踪。

　　i do need that time, though for naoko's face to appear. and as the years have passed, the time has grown longer. the sad truth is that what i could recall in five seconds all too soon needed ten, then thirty, then a full minute——like shadows lengthening at dusk. someday, i suppose, the shadows will be swallowed up in darkness. there is no way around it: my memory is growing ever more distant from the spot where naoko used to stand-ever more distant from the spot where my old self used to stand. and nothing but scenery, that view of the meadow in october, returns again and again to me 1ike a symbolic scene in a movie. each time it appears, it delivers a kick to some part of my mind. "wale up," it says. "i’m still here! wake up and think about it. think about why i'm still here." the kicking never hurt me. there's no pain at all. just a hollow sound that echoes with each kick. and even that is bound to fade one day. at the hamburg airport, though, the kicks were longer and harder than usual which is why i am writing this book: to think. to understand! it just happens to be the way i'm made. i have to write things down to feel i fully comprehend them.

　　但是,让直子的面影在我脑海中浮现出来,我总是需要一点时间。而且,随着岁月的流逝,所需的时间愈来愈长。这固然令人悲哀,但事实就是如此。起初5秒即可想起,渐次变成10秒、30秒、1分钟。它延长得那样迅速,竟同夕阳下的阴影一般,并将很快消融在冥冥夜色之中。哦,原来我的记忆正在同直子原来站立的位置步步远离,甚至逐渐远离自己一度站过的位置。而惟独风景,惟独那片10月草地的风景,宛如电影中的象征性镜头,在我的脑际反复推出。并且那风景执着地连连踢我的脑袋,说着:"起来,我可还在这里哟!起来,起来想想,思考一下我为什么还在这里。"不过这种踢法一点也不痛,一脚踢来,只是发出空洞的声响。甚至这声响或迟或早也将杳然远逝。但是在这汉堡机场,它们踢得比往常更长久、更有力:起来,理解我!惟其如此,我才动笔写这篇文字。我必须形诸文字,才能弄得水落石出。