Whenever he prepared a meal for himself, he would immediately and assiduously do the dishes—but rinse them only, never using soap, so that every cup, every saucer, every plate was coated with a film of dingy grease.
每次他為自己準(zhǔn)備好食物之后，他都會(huì)立即勤奮地把盤(pán)子洗掉——但僅僅是沖洗一下，從不用肥皂，所以每一個(gè)杯子，每一個(gè)茶托，每一張盤(pán)子都被覆蓋上了一層臟兮兮的油脂。

Throughout the house: the window shades, which were kept drawn at all times, had become so threadbare that the slightest tug would pull them apart. Leaks sprang and stained the furniture, the furnace never gave off enough heat, the shower did not work. The house became shabby, depressing to walk into. You felt as if you were entering the house of a blind man.
縱觀整個(gè)屋子，只見(jiàn)一直被拉上的窗簾已經(jīng)變得十分破舊，甚至力道最輕的一拉都可能會(huì)把它們扯落。漏雨落下，濺起，弄臟了家具，壁爐從未提供過(guò)足夠的熱度，淋浴頭也不起作用。這屋子變得殘破，壓抑的讓人不想走進(jìn)。你會(huì)感覺(jué)自己是走進(jìn)一間盲人住的屋子。
His friends and family, sensing the madness of the way he lived in that house, kept urging him to sell it and move somewhere else.
他的朋友和家庭，察覺(jué)到了他居住方式的瘋狂，一直敦促他把那房子賣(mài)了然后搬到別處去。
But he always managed to ward them off with a non-committal “I’m happy here,’’ or “The house suits me fine.’’
但他總能用一些含混不清的話語(yǔ)例如：“我在這兒很開(kāi)心”或者是“這房子很適合我”把他們搪塞過(guò)去。
In the end, however, he did decide to move. At the very end. In the last phone conversation we ever had, ten days before he died, he told me the house had been sold and that the closing was set for February first, about three weeks away.
最終，他還是決定搬走了。離他去世十天前，我們通了最后一次電話，他告訴我房子已經(jīng)賣(mài)出去了，在二月一號(hào)前還保有出入權(quán)，也就是大約還有三周左右的時(shí)間。

He wanted to know if there was anything in the house I could use, and I agreed to come down for a visit with my wife and Daniel on the first free day that opened up. He died before we had a chance to make it.
他想知道房子里是否還有些東西是我能用的，我也答應(yīng)了他帶著妻子和兒子在第一個(gè)空閑日就過(guò)來(lái)?？墒撬谖覀冞€沒(méi)能過(guò)來(lái)之前就去世了。

There is nothing more terrible, I learned, than having to face the objects of a dead man. Things are inert: they have meaning only in function of the life that makes use of them.
我意識(shí)到?jīng)]有什么事情能夠比面對(duì)一個(gè)逝者的遺物更糟糕了。物件本身是消極的：它們只有在被人使用時(shí)才有意義并發(fā)揮價(jià)值。
When that life ends, the things change, even though they remain the same. They are there and yet not there: tangible ghosts, condemned to survive in a world they no longer belong to.
而當(dāng)那生命終結(jié)之時(shí)，這物件也變了，即使它們外表上還保持著原樣。它們既存在于此，而又不存在于此：好似有形的幽魂，被詛咒著生存在一個(gè)再也不屬于它們的世界之中。
What is one to think, for example, of a closetful of clothes waiting silently to be worn again by a man who will not be coming back to open the door?
一個(gè)人該如何思考，比如說(shuō)一柜子的衣服
Or the stray packets of condoms strewn among brimming drawers of underwear and socks? Or an electric razor sitting in the bathroom, still clogged with the whisker dust of the last shave? Or a dozen empty tubes of hair coloring hidden away in a leather travelling case?—suddenly revealing things one has no desire to see, no desire to know.
或者是散落在塞滿(mǎn)內(nèi)衣和襪子抽屜里的條裝的安全套？放在衛(wèi)生間里還沾著上次掛完之后的胡須的電動(dòng)剃須刀？放在皮質(zhì)旅行箱里的用光了的幾管染發(fā)膏？——瞬間xxx令人絲毫不想看見(jiàn)，不想了解的事物。
There is a poignancy to it, and also a kind of horror.
這其中是充滿(mǎn)辛酸的，同樣也有一絲恐懼。
In themselves, the things mean nothing, like the cooking utensils of some vanished civilization.
物件本身并不意味著任何事情，就好像一些消失的文明里的炊具。
And yet they say something to us, standing there not as objects but as remnants of thought, of consciousness, emblems of the solitude in which a man comes to make decisions about himself: whether to color his hair, whether to wear this or that shirt, whether to live, whether to die. And the futility of it all once there is death.
然而它們卻又在向我們?cè)V說(shuō)著什么，不是以物件的形式而是以殘存的想法和意識(shí)，一個(gè)男人為他自己做出要不要染發(fā)，穿著件短袖還是那件短袖，是生，還是死的抉擇的，孤獨(dú)的象征。
Each time I opened a drawer or poked my head into a closet, I felt like an intruder, a burglar ransacking the secret places of a man’s mind. I kept expecting my father to walk in, to stare at me in disbelief, and ask me what the hell I thought I was doing. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t protest. I had no right to invade his privacy.
每次當(dāng)我打開(kāi)一張抽屜或是把頭伸進(jìn)一個(gè)衣柜里的時(shí)候，我就會(huì)感覺(jué)自己像是個(gè)搜刮一個(gè)人思維隱秘之處的入侵者，或是竊賊。我一直期待著我的父親能夠走進(jìn)來(lái)，用質(zhì)疑的眼光盯著我，然后問(wèn)我我究竟以為自己在做什么。他不能抗議這點(diǎn)看起來(lái)是不公平的，因?yàn)槲也](méi)有權(quán)利侵犯他的隱私。