TeacherGwen 我们一起神翻译|12.27

That day, too, I had come not knowing my destination. It was Eights Week. Oxford - submerged now and obliterated, irrecoverable as Lyonnesse, so quickly have the waters come flooding -in - Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious and quiet streets men walked and spoke as they had done in Newman’s day; her autumnal mists, her grey springtime, and the rare glory of her summer days - such as that day - when the chestnut was in flower and the bells rang out high and clear over her gables and cupolas exhaled the soft airs of centuries of youth. It was this cloistral hush which gave our laughter its resonance, and carried it still, joyously, -over the intervening clamour. 那天，我还是在不知道目的地的情况下来了。那是第八周，洪水以迅雷不及掩耳之势袭来，牛津沉入水中被彻底破坏，和Lyonnesse一样无可挽救。那段日子里，牛津仍旧是一座精雕细刻的城市。牛津宽阔安静的街道上人们来往交谈同在Newman时一样。牛津秋季的薄雾，灰暗乏味的春季，以及珍贵的夏日荣光——譬如那天，栗子树正值花季，钟声嘹亮清晰地回荡在牛津的山墙之上，炮塔呼出几个世纪以来的柔软的青春气息。正是这避世的寂静使我们笑声回荡，并在喧闹声中承载我们快活的笑声。