He is not a gentleman. But how magically his singing violin can conjure up a tendresse, a compassion for Lolita that makes us entranced with the book while abhorring its author.
他不是绅士,但神奇地他的小提琴声,能召唤出对Lolita的宠爱和同情,那让我们对这本书着迷,同时却在憎恨着作者。
He went out and saw his mum in the trees, in the clouds, or when the birds were singing.
他走出去,看到自己的母亲,在树上,在云里,在鸟儿的歌声中。
There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet Societies That sing, and singing in their glory move And wipe the tears forever from his eyes.
圣人们款待他,温文尔雅,亲切和蔼,他们歌唱,伴着壮丽的舞姿,将他的泪水永远的拭去。
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