第二部分：从汉语到英语从汉语到英语（2）
不过，Jerry 的信并没有让我感到欣慰，我觉得Jerry作为美国人也许还不能透彻地理解我的本意，他只是读懂了这个故事。怎样才能让外国人真正理解这个故事呢？我继续修改文章，还请另一位美国朋友Margaret帮我提意见。我想，Margaret是女性，她也许会从另一个角度理解这个故事。在和他们讨论这篇文章的时候，我觉得自己对汉译英有了更大的兴趣——汉语和英语毕竟是两种语言，怎么才能译得更好呢？
下面是Jerry 和Margaret帮我修改过的散文。我真希望有人能再将它译成中文，看看在别人的笔下它会变成一个什么样的故事：
In a small town； I lived in a very large courtyard。 The courtyard was so large that people in big cities could not have imagined the size。 It was as large as two football fields。 There was a row of single…story houses where our two families lived。 The courtyard was bathed in bright sunshine； so my neighbor grew various kinds of vegetables： cucumber； eggplant； haricot bean； tomatoes； and hot green peppers。 In the summer the open ground was colorful； the red； the green； the purple and the orange formed a beautiful pattern。 Our red roof houses with a sharp tower reflected the sun's brightness； and the big doors and windows were painted sky blue as if the houses were built of colorful toy bricks as in the fairy tales。
Usually the courtyard was quiet； and sometimes it was so quiet that you could feel that it was so spacious； yet empty。 I loved reading in the courtyard where the sunshine was mild and the air was fresh。 I sat under a big tree where the leaves breathed perfume of greenness and tenderness。
There was a black dog； he was a big watchdog。 To me he was friendly and when I was reading he would always lie beside my wheelchair。 Sometimes I felt the book was dull； so I would raise my head and wanted to talk to somebody。 But at those times no one was there talking to me。 In the evening when the sun was setting； the courtyard was bathed in golden red light。 People coming home from work brought life to the courtyard。 Men and women chattered when drawing water from the well。 After school children played catching games around the courtyard； as they were running and laughing the black dog ran after them joyfully barking。 Everyday the scene appeared as the same。
During the day there was not only the black dog and me in the courtyard； there was also a Granny who was over eighty…years old。 She was my neighbor and utterly blind。 Most of the time she stayed in her house； sitting in an old armchair。 Sometimes the armchair was moved to the front of the door and she sat there a whole afternoon in silence。 No sound was heard from her so I often forgot her existence and in my consciousness there was only the black dog and me in the courtyard； but in reality there was the black dog； me and Granny。
One day I again sat under the big tree； reading Die Weltraetsel （The Mystery of the Universe） by Ernst Haeckel； a German biologist。 The chapter I was reading related to the life processes of human beings。 Haeckel said； the processes of life in the nature were flowing like the loquacious stream； the blazing fire； the fitful breezes and the collapsing of rocks from mountains。。。 I couldn’t help thinking of Granny。 I turned my head and looked at her。 I saw that she was sitting in her armchair not far from me。 She held a dragon stick with both hands in front of her chest。 Her head drooped； and the skin on her face was flabby。 Her eyes were slightly closed and she made no sound as if she was asleep。 She was always so quiet and serene。 What was she thinking about？ Was the river of her consciousness still flowing？ I wanted very much to ask her if she felt lonely？ If there were any other feelings in her mind？
I turned my wheelchair to her side and asked her loudly； are you asleep Granny？
No； I don’t feel sleepy； Granny answered。
So； what are you thinking about？ I asked。
I was recalling the days when I was a young girl and I was made a match； she replied。
I was so surprised； I opened my eyes wide as if a rainbow suddenly appeared before me。
第二部分：从汉语到英语从汉语到英语（3）
With her eyes still slightly closed Granny said； when I was young matchmakers went to my home one after another。 My face was so fair； I always wore a flower patterned cotton…padded coat and my waist was only two spans。 My hair was beautiful； too； I always washed my hair with sesame flowers or egg whites。 My plait was so thick and black that when I walked the end swayed behind my back。 At the end of my plait I always tied a five…inch long bundle with a piece of red string。。。
What； a Granny of over eighty…years old was recalling her maiden years！ I was really surprised。 In fact； the old people still keep their mind young； which the youngsters cannot imagine。
Under the big green tree I went on reading The Mystery of the Universe。 During my reading the wings of dusk came quietly shading the setting sun。 In that moment； I almost forgot that in the courtyard there was Granny； the black dog； and me。
I continued to read my books in the courtyard as usual。 One day I went to a very dull page and my eyes stayed stubbornly on a line。 I raised my eyes and saw Granny sitting quietly in the sunlight with a gush of wind blowing her silver hair。 I turned my wheelchair to her side and held her hands； which were coolish； soft； flabby but gentle。 I asked her； do you feel bored all alone； Granny？ No； I don’t feel bored； she answered。 I sit here as if I sit on the roadside at the edge of my home village like when I was young。 Lively people are coming and going before my eyes。 The day when my husband married me was very lively。 My head was covered with a red head kerchief and I wore a red coat and a red skirt made of silk。 That day a big cart came decorated with red silk and was pulled by a mule and two horses。 It was the twelfth moon； the road was covered by thick snow。 The wheels pressed two deep grooves into the ground behind my cart。。。 Granny murmured very slowly with her harsh voice。 She raised her head a little and in her eyes I saw she had memories lingering from a year long ago。
It suddenly came to me the awareness of another meaning of life。 Once I had thought that Granny sitting in the solitude was waiting silently for her death to come and had no any expectation。 I had also considered how bored and bitter she would feel in her loneliness and darkness。 But； actually she was spending her days under the sunlight in so calm a mood。 Before her eyes the hands of the clock turned backward。 The lives of the past were coming back nearer and nearer。 She found the lost years and got from them new comfort and pleasure。 The real life is the life in one’s memory； and the life in the memory is more vivid than it is in reality。 Life lasts forever in the memory。
One day Granny fell ill and was sent to the hospital； I felt very sorry。 People said that perhaps she could not get over such an illness； and perhaps she would never be back to the courtyard。 When I was alone in the courtyard I always recalled the days when there had been Granny； the black dog and me。 I felt lonely and sad。 Everyday I asked the one who sent food to the hospi