This poor man! His face went through the most remmeakable series of changes.He tried his best to smile, though it didn’t come out well because he couldn't get the look off his face.
"yoroido?" he said "you can't mean it."
I loong ago developed a very practiced smile,which Icall my "Noh smile", because it resembles a Noh mask features are frozen. Its advant age is that men can interpret it however they want; you can imagine how often I've relied in it. Idecided I'd better use it just then, and of course it worked. He let out all his breath and tossed down the cup of sake I'd poured for him before giving an enormous laugh I'm sure was prompted more by relief than anything else
"The very idea!" he said,with another big laugh. "You, growing up in a dump like Yoroido. Thar's like making tea in a bucket!" And when he'd laughed again, he said to me,"thar's why you're so much fun, sayuri-san. Sometimes you almost make me believe your little jokes are real."
I don't much like thing of myself as a cup of tea made in a bucket, but i suppose in a way it must be true.After all,Idid grow up in yoroido, and no one would suggest it's a glamorous spot. Hardly anyone ever visits it.As for the people who live there, they never have occasion to leave. You're probably wondering how Icame to leave it to leave it myself. That's where my story begins.
In our little fishing village of Yoroido, I lived in whar I called a ”tipsy house." It stood near a cliff where the wind off the ocean had caught a terrible cold, because is was always wheezing ans=d there would be sells when it let out a huge sneeze-which is to say there was a burst of wind with a tremendous spray,I decuded our tiny house must have been of wind with a tremendous spra. I decided our tiny house must have been offended by the ocean sneezing in its face from time to time, and took to leaning back because it wanted to get out of the way. Probably it would have collapsed if my fatheer hadn't cut a timber from a wrecked foshing boat to prop up the eaves, awhich made the house look like a tipsy old man leaning on his crutch.
这个可怜的男人！他的脸色发生了一系列的变化，他尽力想挤出一个笑容，但未能成功，因为他无法掩饰自己吃惊的神色。
“养老町？”他说，“你不会是说真的吧？”
长期以来我已经练出一种非常实用的微笑，我称为“能剧的笑脸”，因为它就像能剧里所用的面具，表情是僵硬的。 它的好处是男人们可以将它解释为任何他们想要的的表情。你可以想见我会多么经常地用到它。当时我认为自己最好亮出这样的笑容，当然它也即刻见效了。他长长地吐了一口气，将我为他斟的清酒一饮而尽，然后哈哈大笑，我确信他笑是放松的缘故而非其他。
“那种念头！”他说着又大笑起来，“即你是生长一个像养老町那样的垃圾堆，就像使用水桶泡茶一样荒谬！”接着他再次大笑着对我说：“这就是你如何有趣的原因，小百合小姐。有时候0你几乎让我相信你的那些小玩笑是真的呢。”
我不太喜欢把自己想成一杯用水桶泡出来的茶，但我觉得从某些方面来说这个比方倒是很恰当，毕竟，我确实是在养老町长大的，谁也不会说那是个吸引人的地方。几乎没有人会去哪里观光。至于当地的居民，他们测试从来都没有机会离开，你大概会奇怪我自己是如何得以离开那儿的。我的故事就要从这一点讲起。
在养老町这个小渔村，我住在一个我称之为“醉屋”的地方。房子靠近一片峭壁，从海上来的大风整日刮个不停。孩提时代的我觉得大海好像得了重感冒，因为他总在呼哧呼哧地喘气，打个喷嚏就会掀起阵阵巨浪——就是或狂风总是伴随着大浪，我认为我们的小房子一定非常厌恶大海时不时正对着它的脸打喷嚏，为了避让，它决定朝后倾斜，要不是我父亲从一艘破渔船上砍下一根大木头撑住屋檐，房子大概早就坍塌了。可是这么一来，房子看上去就像一个喝醉酒的老头依靠着他的拐杖上。
