评论
打印
But even so, very little of what we watched helped us make sense of this moment. We're bored, we're anxious, we're overworked or, worse, unemployed: We've had lots of time to get to know ourselves better, which often leaves us more bewildered and less trusting of our judgment. We're drained. We give up and watch The Office again, though there are worse things. This isn't the time to be hard on ourselves for not knowing exactly what we want, except to continue to remain healthy and alive, and to do what we can to make sure the same goes for our neighbors and loved ones. Amid the pandemic's worst days of New York's first wave—those days in April when the number of cases and deaths continued to climb, when refrigerated trucks lined up to keep corpses from rotting, when we had no idea how, or if, this horror could be stemmed—one of my neighbors stepped out onto his fire escape during the evening cheer and recreated Jimi Hendrix's "The Star Spangled Banner" on his guitar. The notes wailed and withered, swelled and crested, a story we'd heard a million times yet somehow needed to hear right then. Those of us listening from our windows—perhaps, out of laziness or depression, still in our pj's at 7 p.m.—clung to its ragged majesty. Why didn't our forebears choose a more singable national anthem? Because they were waiting for the invention of the electric guitar.
但即便如此，我们所看到的很难能帮助我们理解这一刻。我们感到无聊、焦虑、劳累过度，或者更糟糕的是，我们失业了：我们有很多时间来更好地了解自己，这往往让我们更加困惑，更不相信对自己的判断。我们精疲力尽了，我们无力挣扎了，虽然糟糕的事情一大堆，但我们只能再看一次《办公室》。现在不是因为自己不知道究竟想要什么而对自己苛刻的时候，现在我们要做的是健康地活着，同时尽自己所能确保邻居和所爱之人也能健康地活着。在纽约第一波疫情最严重的日子里——4月份的那些日子里，病例和死亡人数持续攀升，当冷藏卡车排着队防止尸体腐烂时，当我们不知道如何或者是否可以阻止这种恐惧时——在晚上的欢呼声中，我的一个邻居走到自家的消防梯上，用他的吉他重现了吉米·亨德里克斯的《星条旗闪烁》。音符悲鸣，时而枯萎，时而高涨，那是一个我们已经听过无数遍的故事，但不知怎的，此刻的我们需要再听一听。我们这些在窗户边倾听的人——或许是出于懒惰或沮丧，晚上7点还穿着睡衣——紧紧依附着它那破败的威严。为什么我们的祖先没有选一首更动听的国歌呢？因为他们在等待电吉他的发明。
We're tired with good reason, but our flag is still there. This virus attacks the weakest and most vulnerable and has thus disproportionately affected certain portions of the population. All the rules and restrictions have made us weary, yet it's more important than ever to be vigilant. When the U.S. COVID-19 death toll reached 200,000, the magnitude of that number seemed unimaginable. Now it pushes toward 300,000, though the promise of several vaccines at least offers hope. For now, members of our families, friends whom we love dearly, people we've never met but whose work has touched us continue to die. The virus is a blanket problem that hits all of us in painfully personal, targeted ways.
我们厌倦了充分的理由，但我们的旗帜还在那里。这种病毒攻击最脆弱的群体，因此对特定人群造成了不成比例的影响。所有的规则和限制都让我们厌烦，但我们却需要比以往任何时候更加警惕。当美国新冠死亡人数达到20万时，这一数字之大令人难以想象。虽说有几种疫苗的前景至少带来了希望，但现在这一数字已经逼近30万。现在，我们的家人，我们亲爱的朋友，还有那些我们素未谋面但工作令我们感动的人相继死去。这种病毒包罗万象，以一种令个人痛苦的、有针对性的方式袭击着我们所有人。
Meanwhile, our President himself contracted the virus and, just days after being pumped through with steroids and experimental treatments, emerged in public—still, almost beyond doubt, contagious—to crow that if he could kick the disease, we could too. Shortly thereafter, he lost an election and insisted he hadn't—more gaslighting, but at least we're having some success stopping up the valve that's emitting the fumes. Democracy isn't dead yet. Somehow we patched it up with a scrap of duct tape, just in time.
同时我们的总统也感染了病毒，在接受类固醇注射和实验性治疗的几天之后他出现在了公众面前——毫无疑问他还具有传染性——他得意洋洋地说如果自己能够战胜病毒，那么我们也能。不久之后他输掉了选举，但他坚称自己没有输——反而说出更多蛊惑言论，但至少我们已经成功地堵住了排放烟雾的阀门。民主还没有倒下，我们用一小块胶带及时把它修好了。
Will it hold? Americans are inherently optimistic. It's why our allies like us, even if they secretly mock us behind our backs—but we don't care! We're a nation with our thumbs perpetually stuck in our suspenders. Our optimism is our most ridiculous trait, and our greatest. It can't always be morning in America. Sometimes we have to get through the darkest hour just before. The aurora bides its time.
能坚持下去吗？这就是为什么我们的盟友喜欢我们，即使他们在我们背后偷偷嘲笑我们——但我们不在乎！我们是一个拇指永远卡在背带里的国家，乐观是我们最可笑的品质，也是我们最伟大的品质。美国不可能永远都是早上，有时我们必须熬过刚刚过去的最黑暗的时刻，极光在等待时机。
译文由可可原创，仅供学习交流使用，未经许可请勿转载。
