“What can I hold you with?”
“我用什么才能留住你？”
“I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs.”
“我给你瘦落的街道、绝望的落日、荒郊的月亮。”
“I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.”
“我给你一个久久地望着孤月的人的悲哀。”
“I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in marble: …”
“my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow;”
“my mother’s grandfather -just twentyfour- heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.”
“I offer you whatever insight my books may hold. whatever manliness or humour my life.”
“我给你我已死去的先辈，人们用大理石纪念他们的幽灵：在布宜偌斯艾利斯边境阵亡的我父亲的父亲，两颗子弹穿了他的胸膛。”
“蓄着胡子的他死去了，士兵们用牛皮裹起他的尸体；我母亲的祖父——时年二十四岁——在秘鲁率领三百名士兵冲锋，如今都成了消失的马背上的幽灵。”
“我给你我写的书中所能包含的一切悟力、我生活中所能有的男子气概或幽默。”
“I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.”
“我给你一个从未有过信仰人的忠诚。”
“I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved somehow -the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.”
“我给你我设法保全的我自己的核心——不营字造句，不和梦想交易，不被时间、欢乐和逆境触动的核心。”
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