A lonely man is a lonesome thing, a stone, a bone, a stick, a receptacle for Gilbey’s gin, a stooped figure sitting at the edge of a hotel bed, heaving copious sighs like the autumn wind.
孤独的人是一种寂寞的东西，一块石头，一根骨头，一根棍子，一个装吉尔贝杜松子酒的容器，一个弯着腰坐在旅馆床边的人，像秋风一样，发出阵阵叹息。