书是译林出版社的。我在上初二，下学期要进行英语阅读考试。可我看不懂。求哪位好心的人可以告诉我它的翻译，这样，我可以考的更好。
The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up
- as requested; enjoy xx (written by sincerelybillie)
Harry refused the helping hand of his mother as he hopped up into his bed, preparing for the nightly reading of Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up. Anne chuckled as she watched the six-year-old assert his manhood by pulling up the Scooby-Doo blanket up to his chest and adjusting his own pillow before turning to her and nodding, as if to say, “You may begin reading now.” Anne smirked, before opening the worn spine of her son’s favourite bedtime storybook.
Each time she did, Harry grew more and more intrigued with the idea of never aging. He almost envied Peter Pan, who wouldn’t have to grow up or do homework and could fly and escape and hang out with his friends whenever he wanted to, or had friends to hang out with and adventures that never stopped. As Anne described Peter teasing Wendy or flying up to her bedroom window, Harry also wished he had a friend like that. Someone who could make him forget, let him escape. At six years old even, Harry understood his father wasn’t coming back and that Anne wasn’t always as happy as that smile tried to make it seem like it was.
He could tell Anne was becoming less and less enthusiastic about storytime each night. He’d even heard her crying down the hall a couple times. So he pretended to fall asleep a little earlier, so she wouldn’t have to pretend for him anymore. And he knew he couldn’t do much to help, but he hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear her cry anymore. He hoped more that she just wouldn’t cry at all. He felt Anne kiss the top of his head, and waited to hear the light switch off and door shut before crawling out of bed, and walking to the window sill. He knew it was childish, even for him, to do it, but he did anyways. He stared at the stars for a long while, sighing at the ones that twinkled just a little bit brighter, as if to ask the boy to notice them. He wanted the same in return. He wanted the stars to notice him too, grant him one small wish.
"Please just…find me someone who will take all the bad stuff away," he begged, looking up at the small glimmers of hope in the pitch black darkness. He knew someone like Peter Pan had to exist. J.M. Barrie couldn’t just completely make someone like that up because even imagination stems from reality— a need to escape from it or create a better one. "If you’re out there, I just need someone to talk to…a friend or…" He paused, hearing the sniffling from his mother’s bedroom window. He began tearing up, looking back up at the sky again. "Please," he whispered, wondering why he couldn’t just live in Neverland, or why his home life could just be okay.
___________________________________________________________________
-12 years later-
BRRRRRNNNNG! BRRRRRRNGGG! BRRRRRNG!
Harry slammed his palm onto the snooze button of his alarm clock, waking up, and rubbing his eyes before greeting the morning sun, blaring through his university dorm window. He got ready fairly quickly, having to make it to the cafe in time to secure himself a spot to study for his exam later on (and also mooch off wifi but that’s pretty much anyone’s reasoning for going to a coffee shop aside from actually purchasing coffee).
On his way there, he noticed a crowd gathering around one of the street performers. Usually, he’d disregard the commonality of musicians or cotortionists in big city public gatherings, but this time he didn’t, for some reason. Maybe it was because the crowd was unusually large this time. He lifted his sunglasses and tilted his head for a better view, and accidentally caught glimpse of a life changing pair of eyes.
"Can I get a volunteer from the audience? Too bad because I already choose you!" the young man dressed in a dark green quarter sleeve and tan trousers with a guitar slung in front of him by the strap quickly said, pointing to a little girl in the front. She smiled sheepishly as he lifted her into his arms. "What’s your name, love?"
"Samantha."
"Samantha, I’m going to call you Wendy. Is that okay?"
"No."
"You’re a little bit like Wendy’s daughter, Jane. Kind of sassy. I like that. Keep that attitude and never let a man tell you what’s okay."
"Okay."
The audience laughed. Harry narrowed his eyes at the familiar names the man had just mentioned.
"Samantha, I’m going to ask you to hold this, okay, sweetheart?" he said, handing her a small tamborine. "And every time I look and nod at you, I want you to shake it. Got it?" She nodded. The man smiled, and turned, briefly locking eyes with Harry, who smiled, unable to help himself. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, this next song is called ‘Sticks and Stones’. I am Louis Tomlinson on guitar and this is my tamborine player Samantha." The crowd clapped and cheered in enthusiasm, and Harry could tell they had already grown fond of the performer from earlier listening. "This song was originally written by an old friend of mine, Stefan, but I am going to perform it here for you lovely audience members in the hopes of achieving a lot of money and applause." The crowd laughed, appreciating his charm and honesty. "Gather ‘round, gather ‘round. Make room for Curly over there who’s been eyeing me for the past five minutes, yes, I see you." Harry blushed, as the audience shifted to the side, making room for him.
Louis smirked, nodding at Harry to come closer, before he started playing guitar. Occasionally, he’d break eye contact but that was only to signal to Samantha to shake the tamborine. Harry couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this was the stars finally listening to him over a decade later. Louis happily played guitar, smiling over at the girl, and the crowd joined in as well, clapping to the beat of the song. Harry stood just mesmerized by the whole moment.
We’ve got no lines on our faces,
With eyes so wide, to new places,
We’ve got no lines on our faces,
With eyes so wide, to new places,
Stood side by side, reaching up,
At just five, we feel so old
I run around with sticks and stones
With hands drawn like a real gun
I’ve got scabs and broken bones
I know how to have real fun.
And it’s that time of the day
All my friends shoot and I run away
And it’s that time of the day
War time is over now we can play
We run around with sticks and stones
With hands drawn like a real gun
We may have scabs and broken bones…
But we’ve got no lines on our faces,
With eyes so wide, to new places,
Stood side by side, reaching up,
At just five, we feel so old
Harry didn’t even notice the song ending until the applause roared up after Samantha took her bow and received a hug from Louis.
"Thank you, thank you, feel free to prove to my parents that I am not a failure by tossing in a donation of your choice into that guitar case right there! It’s been a pleasure performing for you folks, now go enjoy your 9 to 5 jobs and all that thrilling nonsense!" he chirped, teasingly. Within minutes, his guitar case was weighed down in pound coins and bills of different kinds. The crowd slowly fell out of the trance Louis seemed to have had on them, but Harry’s lasted a bit longer, and Louis smiled at him as he approached, carrying his now heavier guitar case with him. "So where are we going?"
"Excuse me?" Harry asked, confused.
"You clearly are infatuated me, where are you taking me out for a date?" Louis asked. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth to speak, but Louis then added, "But first, do introduce yourself. For formality’s sake."
"My name is Harry, and I wasn’t going to ask you out," he stated, observing the freakish resemblance of the feathery hair and bright eyes. Where had he seen him before?
Louis just smirked. “Lighten up. The world’s dim and dark in enough places as it is.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, refraining from rolling them. “Some of us can’t afford to be that carefree.”
"You’re talking to a guy who makes pocket money for a living," Louis reminded.
"Well, surely that wasn’t what you told yourself your goal was for when you grow up."
Louis snorted. “Growing up is a catalyst for death. I’m just taking things day by day.”
"And that’s why you make pocket money for a living."
"How’s it making minimum wage and working for a degree that will mean absolutely nothing when you’re a graduate in debt from student loans with no high salary job? I’m happy at this very moment. Can you say that about yourself?"
Harry scoffed. “We can’t all live in Neverland,” he said, suddenly bitter about having been so naively hung up on the concepts and philosophies of Peter Pan and those like him, Louis included.
"You’ve set your own limitations, Harold. Which basically means you’ve dug your own grave, and I don’t want to be bummed out. I’ve been having a good day so far, I hope you do too," he said, pattering away, cheerfully, with his guitar and his street money and his smile. Harry didn’t understand, but he felt the familiar jealousy again.
"Wait!"
Louis twirled around, the smirk still there. Harry groaned. “Okay, so maybe we can get a cup of coffee and you can—”
"Teach you how to live?"
Harry frowned. “Who do you think I am?”
"An 18 year old who has his digits confused. You act 81. You probably have a daily routine, an endless list of worries, a—"
"Can we just get coffee please?" Harry interrupted, sick of acknowledging how right Louis was after just ten minutes of knowing each other. Louis nodded.
——————————-
"I ordered tea," Louis said, as he watched Harry peer at a page in his textbook.
"Good for you," Harry mumbled.
"It’s actually much better for you than coffee because the—"
Harry looked up. “I have to study.”
"Then why’re you distracting yourself with a date?"
"I didn’t think you’d sidetrack me with irrelevant stuff."
"So you want me to discuss molecular chemistry with you? You have me pegged so wrong, Harold."
"My name is Harry."
"You’re an awful date."
"I’m sorry," Harry finally said, shutting his textbook. "I’m sorry, I’ve just been really stressed and…I guess I asked you out because…I don’t know, it’s stupid."
"I’ve been making zoo animals out of napkins, don’t worry, I won’t judge you if it’s stupider than what I’m doing," Louis assured.
Harry sighed. “I used to think being like you meant I wouldn’t have to worry, but I don’t know..school and money hit me so hard, I could never really know what that was like. And seeing you not have a care in the world today with that little girl made me a little jealous and I guess…nostalgic.”
"Nostalgic for what?"
Harry paused and then chuckled. “Have you ever read Peter Pan?”
"It was my childhood Bible."
Harry chuckled again. “Yeah…yeah, I used to -it’s so pathetic- I used to—”
"Stop degrading yourself. It’s not stupid or pathetic, just talk regularly without insulting yourself. You used to what?"
Harry nodded, blushing a bit. “I used to wish Peter Pan would just fly to my bedroom window and take me somewhere far away from all my problems and responsibilities. Which is…not really an option anymore. The closest I could get to that is—”
"Coffee with a guy who reminds you of Peter Pan," Louis finished, smiling softly.
Harry nodded again, still blushing. “Yeah.” He returned to his textbook, while maintaining some small talk, and Louis fondly watched his eyes dart across each page. They said their goodbyes and nice to meet you’s and we should do this again sometime’s and exchanged numbers, and that actually excited Harry and made him happy but he quickly fell back into his default mode when he remembered the exam coming up.
It wasn’t until the night after that he was finally able to relax a bit, and call his mom and ask her how she and his step dad were doing. He lay in bed, exhausted, when he was startled by what sounded like a branch cracking outside his window. He cautiously walked over to find Louis gripping the awning.
"Good evenin’," Louis greeted, with a slight wave, before he gasped and dangled even more.
"What the fuck, Louis?!" Harry whispered harshly, before pulling him up and into his room window. Louis lay down on his back on the carpet, panting, as he looked up at Harry and smiled cheekily. "What the hell were you doing?"
"Attempting to be Peter Pan," he explained. Harry looked at him, confused. "For you." Louis sat up, and Harry helped him up. "How was the exam?"
"I think I did pretty good."
"Have you been crying?"
"What? No! I just-I got off the phone with my mom and she’s always emotional when she talks about missing me while I’m away..and..stop doing that."
"What?" Louis asked, smirking.
"Giving me that look when you know you’re right," Harry scolded. Louis chuckled.
"We sound so coupley," he said, before taking a seat on Harry’s bed. "I’m sorry I wasn’t a good Peter Pan. I’ve been working on the flying thing for years. Need to work on the aerial aspect of it."
"Maybe if I believe a little harder," Harry teased. Louis laughed, as Harry joined him on the bed. "You’re not a bad Peter Pan, though. You’re a really good one. And thanks for trying to cheer me up the past few days. Even if you are coming across borderline insane."
Louis smiled. “Thanks. Anytime.”
Harry nodded, looking away when he felt his face heat up again. It did that whenever he saw Louis, which was more often this week since Louis performed near the same cafe and university street Harry took.
"So when are you going to do it?" Louis asked, after a moment.
Harry turned to him. “Do what?”
"Kiss me."
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Um-“
Louis smirked, and Harry blushed harder, and Louis laughed because it was the look Harry hated. After a brief moment of bashfulness, Louis cupped Harry’s face and pulled him in for a soft kiss, which Harry finally took the initiative of deepening.
Post-making out for a bit, Louis asked, “So does this make you my Wendy?”
Harry twisted his face into an unwonted expression. “No.”
"Did I just make out with a Lost Boy then?"
Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God. Okay. You’re Louis, I’m Harry. This is us.”
Louis nodded. “Okay. That’s better anyways,” he said, before returning his lips to Harry’s. He heard Harry sigh, and his heart fluttered with happiness at knowing he was helping Harry not rush into adulthood and enjoy the little and goofy moments, and Harry’s heart fluttered at knowing the stars finally listened and he finally found his Neverland-anywhere Louis was.
July 1, 2013
8:56 PM
42 notes
Posted by theseshipswontsink追问
- as requested; enjoy xx (written by sincerelybillie)
Harry refused the helping hand of his mother as he hopped up into his bed, preparing for the nightly reading of Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up. Anne chuckled as she watched the six-year-old assert his manhood by pulling up the Scooby-Doo blanket up to his chest and adjusting his own pillow before turning to her and nodding, as if to say, “You may begin reading now.” Anne smirked, before opening the worn spine of her son’s favourite bedtime storybook.
Each time she did, Harry grew more and more intrigued with the idea of never aging. He almost envied Peter Pan, who wouldn’t have to grow up or do homework and could fly and escape and hang out with his friends whenever he wanted to, or had friends to hang out with and adventures that never stopped. As Anne described Peter teasing Wendy or flying up to her bedroom window, Harry also wished he had a friend like that. Someone who could make him forget, let him escape. At six years old even, Harry understood his father wasn’t coming back and that Anne wasn’t always as happy as that smile tried to make it seem like it was.
He could tell Anne was becoming less and less enthusiastic about storytime each night. He’d even heard her crying down the hall a couple times. So he pretended to fall asleep a little earlier, so she wouldn’t have to pretend for him anymore. And he knew he couldn’t do much to help, but he hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear her cry anymore. He hoped more that she just wouldn’t cry at all. He felt Anne kiss the top of his head, and waited to hear the light switch off and door shut before crawling out of bed, and walking to the window sill. He knew it was childish, even for him, to do it, but he did anyways. He stared at the stars for a long while, sighing at the ones that twinkled just a little bit brighter, as if to ask the boy to notice them. He wanted the same in return. He wanted the stars to notice him too, grant him one small wish.
"Please just…find me someone who will take all the bad stuff away," he begged, looking up at the small glimmers of hope in the pitch black darkness. He knew someone like Peter Pan had to exist. J.M. Barrie couldn’t just completely make someone like that up because even imagination stems from reality— a need to escape from it or create a better one. "If you’re out there, I just need someone to talk to…a friend or…" He paused, hearing the sniffling from his mother’s bedroom window. He began tearing up, looking back up at the sky again. "Please," he whispered, wondering why he couldn’t just live in Neverland, or why his home life could just be okay.
___________________________________________________________________
-12 years later-
BRRRRRNNNNG! BRRRRRRNGGG! BRRRRRNG!
Harry slammed his palm onto the snooze button of his alarm clock, waking up, and rubbing his eyes before greeting the morning sun, blaring through his university dorm window. He got ready fairly quickly, having to make it to the cafe in time to secure himself a spot to study for his exam later on (and also mooch off wifi but that’s pretty much anyone’s reasoning for going to a coffee shop aside from actually purchasing coffee).
On his way there, he noticed a crowd gathering around one of the street performers. Usually, he’d disregard the commonality of musicians or cotortionists in big city public gatherings, but this time he didn’t, for some reason. Maybe it was because the crowd was unusually large this time. He lifted his sunglasses and tilted his head for a better view, and accidentally caught glimpse of a life changing pair of eyes.
"Can I get a volunteer from the audience? Too bad because I already choose you!" the young man dressed in a dark green quarter sleeve and tan trousers with a guitar slung in front of him by the strap quickly said, pointing to a little girl in the front. She smiled sheepishly as he lifted her into his arms. "What’s your name, love?"
"Samantha."
"Samantha, I’m going to call you Wendy. Is that okay?"
"No."
"You’re a little bit like Wendy’s daughter, Jane. Kind of sassy. I like that. Keep that attitude and never let a man tell you what’s okay."
"Okay."
The audience laughed. Harry narrowed his eyes at the familiar names the man had just mentioned.
"Samantha, I’m going to ask you to hold this, okay, sweetheart?" he said, handing her a small tamborine. "And every time I look and nod at you, I want you to shake it. Got it?" She nodded. The man smiled, and turned, briefly locking eyes with Harry, who smiled, unable to help himself. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, this next song is called ‘Sticks and Stones’. I am Louis Tomlinson on guitar and this is my tamborine player Samantha." The crowd clapped and cheered in enthusiasm, and Harry could tell they had already grown fond of the performer from earlier listening. "This song was originally written by an old friend of mine, Stefan, but I am going to perform it here for you lovely audience members in the hopes of achieving a lot of money and applause." The crowd laughed, appreciating his charm and honesty. "Gather ‘round, gather ‘round. Make room for Curly over there who’s been eyeing me for the past five minutes, yes, I see you." Harry blushed, as the audience shifted to the side, making room for him.
Louis smirked, nodding at Harry to come closer, before he started playing guitar. Occasionally, he’d break eye contact but that was only to signal to Samantha to shake the tamborine. Harry couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this was the stars finally listening to him over a decade later. Louis happily played guitar, smiling over at the girl, and the crowd joined in as well, clapping to the beat of the song. Harry stood just mesmerized by the whole moment.
We’ve got no lines on our faces,
With eyes so wide, to new places,
We’ve got no lines on our faces,
With eyes so wide, to new places,
Stood side by side, reaching up,
At just five, we feel so old
I run around with sticks and stones
With hands drawn like a real gun
I’ve got scabs and broken bones
I know how to have real fun.
And it’s that time of the day
All my friends shoot and I run away
And it’s that time of the day
War time is over now we can play
We run around with sticks and stones
With hands drawn like a real gun
We may have scabs and broken bones…
But we’ve got no lines on our faces,
With eyes so wide, to new places,
Stood side by side, reaching up,
At just five, we feel so old
Harry didn’t even notice the song ending until the applause roared up after Samantha took her bow and received a hug from Louis.
"Thank you, thank you, feel free to prove to my parents that I am not a failure by tossing in a donation of your choice into that guitar case right there! It’s been a pleasure performing for you folks, now go enjoy your 9 to 5 jobs and all that thrilling nonsense!" he chirped, teasingly. Within minutes, his guitar case was weighed down in pound coins and bills of different kinds. The crowd slowly fell out of the trance Louis seemed to have had on them, but Harry’s lasted a bit longer, and Louis smiled at him as he approached, carrying his now heavier guitar case with him. "So where are we going?"
"Excuse me?" Harry asked, confused.
"You clearly are infatuated me, where are you taking me out for a date?" Louis asked. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth to speak, but Louis then added, "But first, do introduce yourself. For formality’s sake."
"My name is Harry, and I wasn’t going to ask you out," he stated, observing the freakish resemblance of the feathery hair and bright eyes. Where had he seen him before?
Louis just smirked. “Lighten up. The world’s dim and dark in enough places as it is.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, refraining from rolling them. “Some of us can’t afford to be that carefree.”
"You’re talking to a guy who makes pocket money for a living," Louis reminded.
"Well, surely that wasn’t what you told yourself your goal was for when you grow up."
Louis snorted. “Growing up is a catalyst for death. I’m just taking things day by day.”
"And that’s why you make pocket money for a living."
"How’s it making minimum wage and working for a degree that will mean absolutely nothing when you’re a graduate in debt from student loans with no high salary job? I’m happy at this very moment. Can you say that about yourself?"
Harry scoffed. “We can’t all live in Neverland,” he said, suddenly bitter about having been so naively hung up on the concepts and philosophies of Peter Pan and those like him, Louis included.
"You’ve set your own limitations, Harold. Which basically means you’ve dug your own grave, and I don’t want to be bummed out. I’ve been having a good day so far, I hope you do too," he said, pattering away, cheerfully, with his guitar and his street money and his smile. Harry didn’t understand, but he felt the familiar jealousy again.
"Wait!"
Louis twirled around, the smirk still there. Harry groaned. “Okay, so maybe we can get a cup of coffee and you can—”
"Teach you how to live?"
Harry frowned. “Who do you think I am?”
"An 18 year old who has his digits confused. You act 81. You probably have a daily routine, an endless list of worries, a—"
"Can we just get coffee please?" Harry interrupted, sick of acknowledging how right Louis was after just ten minutes of knowing each other. Louis nodded.
——————————-
"I ordered tea," Louis said, as he watched Harry peer at a page in his textbook.
"Good for you," Harry mumbled.
"It’s actually much better for you than coffee because the—"
Harry looked up. “I have to study.”
"Then why’re you distracting yourself with a date?"
"I didn’t think you’d sidetrack me with irrelevant stuff."
"So you want me to discuss molecular chemistry with you? You have me pegged so wrong, Harold."
"My name is Harry."
"You’re an awful date."
"I’m sorry," Harry finally said, shutting his textbook. "I’m sorry, I’ve just been really stressed and…I guess I asked you out because…I don’t know, it’s stupid."
"I’ve been making zoo animals out of napkins, don’t worry, I won’t judge you if it’s stupider than what I’m doing," Louis assured.
Harry sighed. “I used to think being like you meant I wouldn’t have to worry, but I don’t know..school and money hit me so hard, I could never really know what that was like. And seeing you not have a care in the world today with that little girl made me a little jealous and I guess…nostalgic.”
"Nostalgic for what?"
Harry paused and then chuckled. “Have you ever read Peter Pan?”
"It was my childhood Bible."
Harry chuckled again. “Yeah…yeah, I used to -it’s so pathetic- I used to—”
"Stop degrading yourself. It’s not stupid or pathetic, just talk regularly without insulting yourself. You used to what?"
Harry nodded, blushing a bit. “I used to wish Peter Pan would just fly to my bedroom window and take me somewhere far away from all my problems and responsibilities. Which is…not really an option anymore. The closest I could get to that is—”
"Coffee with a guy who reminds you of Peter Pan," Louis finished, smiling softly.
Harry nodded again, still blushing. “Yeah.” He returned to his textbook, while maintaining some small talk, and Louis fondly watched his eyes dart across each page. They said their goodbyes and nice to meet you’s and we should do this again sometime’s and exchanged numbers, and that actually excited Harry and made him happy but he quickly fell back into his default mode when he remembered the exam coming up.
It wasn’t until the night after that he was finally able to relax a bit, and call his mom and ask her how she and his step dad were doing. He lay in bed, exhausted, when he was startled by what sounded like a branch cracking outside his window. He cautiously walked over to find Louis gripping the awning.
"Good evenin’," Louis greeted, with a slight wave, before he gasped and dangled even more.
"What the fuck, Louis?!" Harry whispered harshly, before pulling him up and into his room window. Louis lay down on his back on the carpet, panting, as he looked up at Harry and smiled cheekily. "What the hell were you doing?"
"Attempting to be Peter Pan," he explained. Harry looked at him, confused. "For you." Louis sat up, and Harry helped him up. "How was the exam?"
"I think I did pretty good."
"Have you been crying?"
"What? No! I just-I got off the phone with my mom and she’s always emotional when she talks about missing me while I’m away..and..stop doing that."
"What?" Louis asked, smirking.
"Giving me that look when you know you’re right," Harry scolded. Louis chuckled.
"We sound so coupley," he said, before taking a seat on Harry’s bed. "I’m sorry I wasn’t a good Peter Pan. I’ve been working on the flying thing for years. Need to work on the aerial aspect of it."
"Maybe if I believe a little harder," Harry teased. Louis laughed, as Harry joined him on the bed. "You’re not a bad Peter Pan, though. You’re a really good one. And thanks for trying to cheer me up the past few days. Even if you are coming across borderline insane."
Louis smiled. “Thanks. Anytime.”
Harry nodded, looking away when he felt his face heat up again. It did that whenever he saw Louis, which was more often this week since Louis performed near the same cafe and university street Harry took.
"So when are you going to do it?" Louis asked, after a moment.
Harry turned to him. “Do what?”
"Kiss me."
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Um-“
Louis smirked, and Harry blushed harder, and Louis laughed because it was the look Harry hated. After a brief moment of bashfulness, Louis cupped Harry’s face and pulled him in for a soft kiss, which Harry finally took the initiative of deepening.
Post-making out for a bit, Louis asked, “So does this make you my Wendy?”
Harry twisted his face into an unwonted expression. “No.”
"Did I just make out with a Lost Boy then?"
Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, my God. Okay. You’re Louis, I’m Harry. This is us.”
Louis nodded. “Okay. That’s better anyways,” he said, before returning his lips to Harry’s. He heard Harry sigh, and his heart fluttered with happiness at knowing he was helping Harry not rush into adulthood and enjoy the little and goofy moments, and Harry’s heart fluttered at knowing the stars finally listened and he finally found his Neverland-anywhere Louis was.
July 1, 2013
8:56 PM
42 notes
Posted by theseshipswontsink追问
我要翻译成中文的啊 不然我会有点看不懂 虽说我的英语也不差 但是 整本书的英文我也有点愁啊！
温馨提示：答案为网友推荐，仅供参考
第1个回答 2023-08-15
《彼得·潘》的中文翻译版本有很多，以下是其中一个翻译版本：
第一章 彼得·潘闯了进来
所有的孩子们都要长大，只有一个孩子例外，那就是彼得·潘。
彼得·潘总是穿着树叶和自学尿布。他的牙齿是尖尖的，因为长着尖牙齿的就是这样，要不它们为什么那么尖呢？他当然在飞行时从高处掉了下来才会落在门上，所以才会把胳膊肘碰得这样厉害。
真的，他不愿长大，他永不长大。
他经常哭，因为他对疼痛非常敏感。
在温迪做孩子的那个年代，孩子们可以在幻想里随便玩多久。在床上的五分钟，他们可以经历一次又一次的冒险。温迪就是这样。
每晚温迪上床睡觉时，她都要从窗户飞进睡梦里，使她惊讶的是，月亮竟然对她嘟起了嘴巴，然后满屋子飘荡着仙尘。
在睡梦里，温迪有幸遇见彼得·潘。他一直在飞呀飞，永不疲倦。他曾经率领她见过美人鱼的水域，也见过他用树枝和薄荷敏捷地建造他在地下的家。
彼得告诉温迪，他经常一人出去冒险。可温迪知道，如果母亲看见他，一定又会像小时候那样叫：“哎呀！一个小男孩！”
在温迪的大宅子里，除了妈妈和达林太太，还有约翰和迈克尔。杜里太太白天给他们做伴，九点就寝。宅子里还住着Nana狗，娜娜讲着她的语言，但没人能理解。她和孩子们睡在一个屋子里。床是一个移动岛，由一个穿白裤子的仙使守卫。这个岛只有夜里才出现，这就是为什么我们会在它出现之前听到幽灵的声音。
娜娜整天看管着岛，只有在幻想里才能看见彼得·潘。如果他朝她眨眼，她就会说：“脏兮兮的小男孩！我从不喜欢你！”但如果没人在场，她就会悄悄地飞到窗边，忧伤地看着那个星星。
一天彼得·潘告诉温迪：“你知道我为何在你梦里不吹笛子吗？因为我想让那梦境永存。”
“我原以为笛子是你唯一的宝贝。”温迪惊讶地说。
“我把它丢在了美人鱼泻湖了。”彼得伤心地回答，“而且它开始腐烂了。”
“那么，请我帮你找回它吧。”
“不，因为现在我有了新的宝贝。”他突然在温迪耳边小声说，“我有了温迪的影子。”
“哦！你怎么拿到的？”她大吃一惊。
“当你在屋里我在窗外飞过时我从你身上撕下的。”他得意地说。
温迪生气了，她都快要哭了。但彼得迅速地飞出了窗口，那朵被遗忘了的梦的云恰好从他身边飘过，把该死的影子从他身上抖落了。
第二章 影子被遗忘了
在达林家的育儿室里还发生了一件大事：娜娜病了。据查是因为丢了一个宝贝东西，它叫影子。若想娜娜健康就必须找回它。达林太太翻遍了所有的屋子也没找到它。“你们怎能让我如此失望呢？”她对孩子们说，“你们为何不替我想想？我从没这么烦恼过。”于是他们都哭了，因为他们最不想让妈妈烦恼。狗也悲伤地哀悼着它的影子。“我们一定要找到那个影子！”约翰·杜里说。“是的！我们必须找到那个影子！”迈克尔·杜里跟着说。在他们那屋子里有一个通向地下的秘密通道，他们每晚都通过它去幻想国玩耍。他们把所有的出口都打开后，发现了一个很大的大厅，它比整个育儿室还要大。但那里黑洞洞的什么也看不见。于是他们就点亮了新买的蜡烛头，顿时看见了脏兮兮的地板、满是灰尘的蜘蛛网、黑暗角落里的蜘蛛、以及很久以前就被遗忘的物品。大厅中央就有一个影子，娜娜的。“快看！这就是娜娜的影子！”迈克尔兴奋地说。他们立刻把它抱到了楼上。当娜娜看到自己的影子时又恢复了健康。“谢谢你！孩子们！”她感激地说。“也谢谢你！亲爱的影子！”每个孩子都亲吻了影子，而影子也似乎对他们微笑了。从那天起影子就再也没离开过娜娜身边。约翰和迈克尔再也不用上床睡觉了；他们一整晚都在幻想国和仙子们玩游戏；温迪也不再从窗户飞进睡梦里了；但彼得永远拥有那些冒险的经历和快乐的回忆。
第一章 彼得·潘闯了进来
所有的孩子们都要长大，只有一个孩子例外，那就是彼得·潘。
彼得·潘总是穿着树叶和自学尿布。他的牙齿是尖尖的，因为长着尖牙齿的就是这样，要不它们为什么那么尖呢？他当然在飞行时从高处掉了下来才会落在门上，所以才会把胳膊肘碰得这样厉害。
真的，他不愿长大，他永不长大。
他经常哭，因为他对疼痛非常敏感。
在温迪做孩子的那个年代，孩子们可以在幻想里随便玩多久。在床上的五分钟，他们可以经历一次又一次的冒险。温迪就是这样。
每晚温迪上床睡觉时，她都要从窗户飞进睡梦里，使她惊讶的是，月亮竟然对她嘟起了嘴巴，然后满屋子飘荡着仙尘。
在睡梦里，温迪有幸遇见彼得·潘。他一直在飞呀飞，永不疲倦。他曾经率领她见过美人鱼的水域，也见过他用树枝和薄荷敏捷地建造他在地下的家。
彼得告诉温迪，他经常一人出去冒险。可温迪知道，如果母亲看见他，一定又会像小时候那样叫：“哎呀！一个小男孩！”
在温迪的大宅子里，除了妈妈和达林太太，还有约翰和迈克尔。杜里太太白天给他们做伴，九点就寝。宅子里还住着Nana狗，娜娜讲着她的语言，但没人能理解。她和孩子们睡在一个屋子里。床是一个移动岛，由一个穿白裤子的仙使守卫。这个岛只有夜里才出现，这就是为什么我们会在它出现之前听到幽灵的声音。
娜娜整天看管着岛，只有在幻想里才能看见彼得·潘。如果他朝她眨眼，她就会说：“脏兮兮的小男孩！我从不喜欢你！”但如果没人在场，她就会悄悄地飞到窗边，忧伤地看着那个星星。
一天彼得·潘告诉温迪：“你知道我为何在你梦里不吹笛子吗？因为我想让那梦境永存。”
“我原以为笛子是你唯一的宝贝。”温迪惊讶地说。
“我把它丢在了美人鱼泻湖了。”彼得伤心地回答，“而且它开始腐烂了。”
“那么，请我帮你找回它吧。”
“不，因为现在我有了新的宝贝。”他突然在温迪耳边小声说，“我有了温迪的影子。”
“哦！你怎么拿到的？”她大吃一惊。
“当你在屋里我在窗外飞过时我从你身上撕下的。”他得意地说。
温迪生气了，她都快要哭了。但彼得迅速地飞出了窗口，那朵被遗忘了的梦的云恰好从他身边飘过，把该死的影子从他身上抖落了。
第二章 影子被遗忘了
在达林家的育儿室里还发生了一件大事：娜娜病了。据查是因为丢了一个宝贝东西，它叫影子。若想娜娜健康就必须找回它。达林太太翻遍了所有的屋子也没找到它。“你们怎能让我如此失望呢？”她对孩子们说，“你们为何不替我想想？我从没这么烦恼过。”于是他们都哭了，因为他们最不想让妈妈烦恼。狗也悲伤地哀悼着它的影子。“我们一定要找到那个影子！”约翰·杜里说。“是的！我们必须找到那个影子！”迈克尔·杜里跟着说。在他们那屋子里有一个通向地下的秘密通道，他们每晚都通过它去幻想国玩耍。他们把所有的出口都打开后，发现了一个很大的大厅，它比整个育儿室还要大。但那里黑洞洞的什么也看不见。于是他们就点亮了新买的蜡烛头，顿时看见了脏兮兮的地板、满是灰尘的蜘蛛网、黑暗角落里的蜘蛛、以及很久以前就被遗忘的物品。大厅中央就有一个影子，娜娜的。“快看！这就是娜娜的影子！”迈克尔兴奋地说。他们立刻把它抱到了楼上。当娜娜看到自己的影子时又恢复了健康。“谢谢你！孩子们！”她感激地说。“也谢谢你！亲爱的影子！”每个孩子都亲吻了影子，而影子也似乎对他们微笑了。从那天起影子就再也没离开过娜娜身边。约翰和迈克尔再也不用上床睡觉了；他们一整晚都在幻想国和仙子们玩游戏；温迪也不再从窗户飞进睡梦里了；但彼得永远拥有那些冒险的经历和快乐的回忆。
