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the night of the accident； and perhaps he had made a story about it all his own。 I didn’t want to hear it and I avoided him when I got off the train。 我离开的时候，盖茨比的房子还是空着…他草坪上的草长得跟我的一样高了。镇上有一个出租汽车司机载了客人经过大门口没有一次不把车子停一下，用手向里面指指点点。也许出事的那天夜里开车送黛西和盖茨比到东卵的就是他，也许他已经编造了一个别出心裁的故事。我不要听他讲，因此我下火车时总躲开他。
I spent my Saturday nights in New York because those gleaming； dazzling parties of his were with me so vividly that I could still hear the music and the laughter； faint and incessant； from his garden； and the cars going up and down his drive。 One night I did hear a material car there； and saw its lights stop at his front steps。 But I didn’t investigate。 Probably it was some final guest who had been away at the ends of the earth and didn’t know that the party was over。 每星期六晚上我都在纽约度过，因为盖茨比那些灯火辉煌、光彩炫目的宴会我记忆犹新，我仍然可以听到微弱的百乐和欢笑的声音不断地从他园子里飘过来，还有一辆辆汽车在地的车道上开来开去。有一晚我确实听见那儿真有一辆汽车，看见车灯照在门口台阶上，但是我并没去调查。大概是最后的一位客人，刚从天涯海角归来，还不知道宴会早已收场了。
On the last night； with my trunk packed and my car sold to the grocer； I went over and looked at that huge incoherent failure of a house once more。 On the white steps an obscene word； scrawled by some boy with a piece of brick； stood out clearly in the moonlight； and I erased it； drawing my shoe raspingly along the stone。 Then I wandered down to the beach and sprawled out on the sand。 在最后那个晚上，箱子已经装好，车子也卖给了杂货店老板，我走过去再看一服那座庞大而杂乱的、意味着失败的房子。白色大理石台阶上有哪个男孩用砖头涂了一个脏字眼儿，映在月光里分外触目，于是我把它擦了，在五头上把鞋子刮得沙沙作响。后来我又溜达到海边，仰天躺在沙滩上。
Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were hardly any lights except the shadowy； moving glow of a ferryboat across the Sound。 And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes—a fresh； green breast of the new world。 Its vanished trees； the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house； had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams； for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent； pelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired； face to face for the last time in history with something mensurate to his capacity for wonder。 那些海滨大别墅现在大多已经关闭了，四周几乎没有灯火，除了海湾上一只渡船的幽暗、移动的灯光。当明月上升的时候，那些微不足道的房屋慢慢消逝，直到我逐渐意识到当年为荷兰水手的眼睛放出异彩的这个古岛…新世界的一片清新碧绿的地方。它那些消失了的树木，那些为盖茨比的别墅让路而被砍伐的树木，曾经一度迎风飘拂，低声响应人类最后的也是最伟大的梦想，在那昙花一现的神妙的瞬间，人面对这个新大陆一定屏息惊异，不由自主地堕入他既不理解也不企求的一种美学的观赏中，在历史上最后一次面对着和他感到惊奇的能力相称的奇观。
And as I sat there brooding on the old； unknown world； I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock。 He had e a long way to this blue lawn； and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it。 He did not know that it was already behind him； somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city； where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night。 当我坐在那里缅怀那个古老的、未知的世界时，我也想到了盖茨比第一次认出了黛西的码头尽头的那盏绿灯时所感到的惊奇。他经历了漫长的道路才来到这片蓝色的草坪上，他的梦一定就像是近在眼前，他几乎不可能抓不住的。他不知道那个梦已经丢在他背后了，丢在这个城市那边那一片无垠的混饨之中不知什么地方了，那里合众国的黑黝黝的田野在夜色中向前伸展。
Gatsby believed in the green light； the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us。 It eluded us then； but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster； stretch out our arms farther。 。 。 。 And one fine morning—— 盖茨比信奉这盏绿灯，这个一年年在我们眼前渐渐远去的极乐的未来。它从前逃脱了我们的追求，不过那没关系…明天我们跑得更快一点，把胳臂伸得更远一点。。。。。。总有一天。。。。。。
So we beat on； boats against the current； borne back ceaselessly into the past。 于是我们奋力向前划，逆流向上的小舟，不停地倒退，进入过去。
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