老人躺着,躺在那张绷紧的红色胶垫上,像是被制作的、钉在那儿晾干的什么标本。他的管家、寡妇哈克丝太太在门口停了停,然后重重地走到床边的窗户前,猛地一下解开百叶窗,往上一掀,发出稀里哗啦的声响。她打量着天空。东边远处,在街道两旁翠绿绽放的榆树上方,阴沉的黑云无力地翻 The old man lay, lying on the tense red pad, like the specimen being made and pegged there. His housekeeper, widow Mrs. Hussein stopped at the door and walked heavily to the window beside the bed, suddenly jerking off the blinds, lifting it up and making a splinter noise. She looked at the sky. Far east, in the street above the verdant elm trees bloom above the gloomy dark clouds inability to turn