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And it was a pity he was blind, and couldn't touch me, for black men don't touch white men any more; only by accident, when they make something like Mother and Child.
他看不到我所能看到的，他无法与我进行心灵的沟通，这令人遗憾，因为黑人再也不能与白人沟通。只有当黑人创作了《非洲母子》之类的东西时，他们才能偶尔与白人有所交流。
He said to me, "What are you thinking?"
他问我，“你在想什么？”
I said, "Many things," and my inarticulateness distressed me, for I knew he wanted something from me. I felt him fall back, angry, hurt, desiring, I didn't know. He stopped at the main entrance to the station, but I didn't tell him I couldn't go in there. I got out and said to him, "Thank you for the sociable evening."
我说在想许多事情。”我为自己不能用语言表达此时的心情感到非常苦恼，因为我知道他想从我这里得到某些东西。我感觉到他退却了，气恼了，受到伤害了，并且在期待什么。我说不清楚。他在火车站的大门前停了下来，但我没有告诉他我不能从那里进去。我下了车，对他说谢谢你让我度过了一个大家能一起交流的夜晚。”
They liked having you, he said. "Did you see that?"
“他们喜欢和你在一起他说，“你看出来了吗？”
I said, "Yes, I saw that."
我说是的，我看出来了。”
He sat slumped in his seat, like a man with a burden of incomprehensible, insoluble grief. I wanted to touch him, but I was thinking about the train. He said Good night and I said it too. We each saluted the other. What he was thinking, God knows, but I was thinking he was like a man trying to run a race in iron shoes, and not understanding why he cannot move.
他弯着身子坐在座位上，像一个承受着无法理解又无法消除的痛楚的人。我想要与他沟通，但又怕误了火车。我们各自道了声晚安，互相致意。他在想什么，上帝才知道。但是我在想，他就像一个穿着铁鞋要参加赛跑的人一样，却不明白自己为什么迈不开脚步。
When I got back to Orlando, I told my wife the story, and she wept.
回到奥兰多后，我把这个故事讲给妻子听，她哭了。
