EN: Like, in second grade, my teacher told me...butterflies don't live a long time. They live, like, a month. And I was so upset, and I went home, and I told my mother, and she said: Yeah, but, you know, they have a nice life. They have a really beautiful life." So now it always makes me think about my mother's life, and my sister's life. And to a certain extent, you know, my own.
CN: 我上二年级时，我老师告诉我，蝴蝶的生命很短暂，大概只有一个月，我当时很难过，我回到家告诉我妈妈，她说"我知道，但是即便如此 ，它们也拥有灿烂的一生，拥有美好的一生"。如今这总是让我想起我母亲还有我姐姐的一生，在某种程度上，也想起我自己的生活。
EN: It's not gonna happen if I don't believe in myself.
CN: 如果我不相信自己的话 就永远实现不了。
EN: There will come a time when we all will know why...for what purpose there is all of this suffering...and there will be no mystery. But now we must live. We must work, just work. Tomorrow I'll go off on my own and I'll teach. I'll give everything I have to those who might, perhaps, need it. It's autumn now. Soon it will be winter. The snow will cover everything. And I'll be working. Just working.
CN: 也许有那么一天我们会明白，我们所受的这些苦难是为了什么，然后再也没有疑惑，但现在我们必须生存下去，我们必须工作，一直工作，明天我会自立更生，我会去教书，我会竭尽全力教育那些需要的人，现在是秋天了，很快冬天就会到来，大雪会掩盖一切，而我会去工作，一直工作。
EN: The poet Elizabeth Bishop once wrote: 'The art of losing isn't hard to master. So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost... that their loss is no disaster.' I am not a poet. I am a person living with early onset Alzheimer's. And as that person, I find myself learning the art of losing every day. Losing my bearings, losing objects, losing sleep...but mostly, losing memories."
CN: 诗人伊丽莎白·毕晓普曾经写到“失去的艺术并非难以精通，很多东西失去后仿佛充满了含义，其实也并非是什么不幸”。我不是诗人，只是个阿兹海默症早期患者，作为这样一个人，我发现我自己每天都在学习失去的艺术，失去了我的风度，目标，睡眠，但最主要的还是失去记忆。
EN: And please, do not think that I am suffering. I am not suffering. I am struggling. Struggling to be a part of things...to stay connected to who I once was. 'So live in the moment, ' I tell myself. It's really all I can do. Live in the moment. And not beat myself up too much...And not beat myself up too much...for mastering the art of losing.
CN: 请你不要觉得我很痛苦，我并不痛苦，我在奋斗，为与曾经的自己保持，一丝联系而努力奋斗，活在当下，我告诉自己，我真正能做的只有这个，活在当下。不要太虐待自己，不要太虐待自己，为了精通这失去的艺术。
EN:
When we hit 35,000 feet, we'll have reached the tropopause...
the great belt of calm air.
As close to the ozone as I'll get, I...I dreamed we were there.
The plane leapt the tropopause...
the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn...
patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was...frightening.
But I saw something only I could see...
because of my astonishing ability to see such things.
Souls were rising...
from the earth far below, souls of the dead...
of people who'd perished...
from famine, from war, from the plague...
and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse...
limbs all akimbo, wheeling, spinning.
The souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles...
and formed a web, a great net of souls.
And the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone...
and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired.
Because nothing is lost forever.
In this world, there's a kind of painful progress.
A longing for what we've left behind...and dreaming ahead.
At least I think that's so.
CN:
飞到三万五千英尺 到达对流层
平静的大气圈
我所能到达离臭氧层最近的地方
我曾经梦到过我们在那儿
飞机跃过的对流层
安全的大气到达外围破碎不堪的臭氧层
一个个碎片像用旧的粗滤布一样破烂
恐怖极了
但是我看到了只有拥有惊人能力的我才能看到的东西
灵魂正扶摇直上
来自下方距离遥远的地球
是死者的灵魂
那些因饥荒因战争因瘟疫而被毁灭的逝者的灵魂
飘升上来 像轨迹相反的跳伞选手
两手叉腰 绕圈旋转
这些已逝之人的灵魂 手牵着手 脚勾着脚
形成一张灵魂织成的大网
灵魂们组成了臭氧
大气的外围将它们吸收从而修复
因为没有什么东西会永远失去
活在世上是一段痛苦的过程
眷恋着留在身后的东西
却又在梦想着未来
至少我这么认为