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I used to think that having such dreams was a thing to be ashamed of.
我过去认为，做这些梦我感到惭愧，
For what had I suffered in comparison with others?
因为与其他人比起来，我受的罪又算得了什么呢？
When I thought of them, the dead, and those who were in wheel-chairs, or blinded, or insane, had I really known war at all?
当我想起他们，那些阵亡的、坐在轮椅上的、战争中失明的或精神失常的人们时，我就想，我真的了解战争吗？
What have we to complain of who have only known "soldier's heart"?
我们这些仅受到“士兵心理症”困扰的人有什么可抱怨的呢？
Nothing, sir, nothing at all.
没有，先生，根本没有。
Why write about such things?
为什么要写这些事情呢？
Are they not better forgotten?
忘掉它们不更好吗？
After a war, the millions who have been through it want to forget.
一场战争过后，数百万经历战争的人都想忘掉这一切。
It was terrible, and sordid, and boring.
战争是恐怖的、肮脏的、乏味的。
Besides, everyone knows the things you do.
除此之外，大家都知道你做了什么。
But time passes and the number of those who remember is suddenly diminished.
可随着时光的流逝，能记得这场战争的人数骤然减少。
Who remembers the Great War?
有谁还记得“伟大战争”呢？
When I was a teacher and the subject of war came up, I would write a name on the blackboard: Somme.
我在教学时谈到战争的话题，在黑板上写了一个名字：索姆河。
Who, I would ask, had heard of it?
我问学生，谁听说过这个名字？
None of the students would answer.
没有人回答，
Only one or two knew anything at all about the Great War.
竟然只有一两个学生知道“伟大战争”。
I would tell them that The Somme was a battle in that war, a terrible battle in which thousands were killed or wounded—
我告诉他们，那次战争中，在索姆河有过一次战役，这是一场惨烈的战役，成千上万人伤亡——
sixty thousand casualties in the British army on the first morning alone.
仅第一天上午英国军队就伤亡6万人。
It was hell on earth, but the men who went through it consoled themselves with a thought: Generations will remember what we did here, it will never be forgotten.
那真是人间地狱，但经历过这场战争的人们怀着这样一种想法来宽慰自己：后人将会铭记我们在这里做出的牺牲，永远不会忘却。
Yet not one of the young people in front of me had ever heard of it.
然而我面前的年轻人竟然没有一个听说过这个名字。
