两小儿辩日的翻译英文小故事MyForeverValentine

2021年1月11日发(作者：邢德海)
文档来源为:从网络收集整理.word版本可编辑.欢迎下载支持.
My Forever Valentine
编者按：
他最后一次送给我的这张贺卡如今仍保存在我的记事
牌上。它提醒我父亲是多么地不同寻常，以及这些年
来对我是多么地重要，我知道我有这样一位父亲，他
以慷慨的胸怀、朴素的理解和一生中向他的亲人表达
祝福的能力，来保持着爱的传统。
英语原文
The traditional holidays in our house when I was a child
were spent timing elaborate meals around football
games. My father tried to make pleasant chitchat and
eat as much as he could during halftime. At Christmas
he found time to have a cup or two of holiday cheer and
do his holly-shaped bow tie. But he didn't truly shine
until Valentine's Day.
I don't know whether it was because work at the
office slowed during February or because the football
season was over. But Valentine's Day was the time my
father chose to show his love for the special people in
his life. Over the years I fondly thought of him as my
Valentine Man.
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My first recollection of the magic he could bring to
Valentine's Day came when I was six. For several days I
had been cutting out valentines for my classmates. Each
of us was to decorate a
desk for others to give us cards. That box and its
contents ushered in a succession of bittersweet
memories of my entrance into a world of popularity
contests marked by the number of cards received, the
teasing about boyfriends/girlfriends and the tender care
I gave to the card from the cutest boy in class.
That morning at the breakfast table I found a card and a
gift-wrapped package at my chair. The card was signed
Love, Dad
red glass to represent my birthstone, a ruby. There is
little difference between red glass and rubies to a child
of six, and I remember wearing that ring with a pride
that all the cards in the world could not surpass.
As I grew older, the gifts gave way to heart-shaped
boxes filled with my favorite chocolates and always
included a special card signed
years my
cards seemed less important, and I took
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for granted the valentine that would always be there.
Long past the days of having a
had placed my hopes and dreams in receiving cards and
gifts from
didn't seem quite enough.
If my father knew then that he had been replaced, he
never let it show. If he sensed any disappointment over
valentines that didn't arrive for me, he just tried that
much harder to create a positive atmosphere, giving me
an extra hug and doing what he could to make my day a
little brighter.
My mailbox eventually had a rural address, and the job
of hand- delivering candy and cards was relegated to the
Service. Never in ten years was my father's package
late--nor was it on the Valentine's Day eight years ago
when I reached into the mailbox to find a card
addressed to me in my mother's handwriting.
It was the kind of card that comes in an inexpensive
assortment box sold by a child going door-to-door to try
to earn money for a school project. It was the kind of
card that you used to get from a grandmother or an
aging aunt or, in this case, a dying father. It was the kind
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