那个秋天,老先生没有到海滨去避暑。他坐在书室里,埋头浏览旧报刊,一支接一支地抽着香烟。他极力不要思索。他希望能视而不见,听而不闻。但他是在思索,他看见了,他也听到了。德国坦克正在辘辘地穿过巴黎。大地在坦克环带下震动着,中国式红桌上的酒杯发出尖锐的声音,正像鸟窝被捣毁时所听到的鸟鸣声。 在 That autumn, the old gentleman did not go to the beach to summer. He sat in his library, dug into old newspapers and juggled cigarettes one by one. He tried hard not to think. He hopes to turn a blind eye to it and hear it. But he was thinking, he saw, he also heard. German tanks are rolling through Paris. The earth shook under the tank ring, the glass on the Chinese-style red table made a sharp sound, just as the birdsong was heard when the nest was destroyed. in