我有朋友戴维又住进了医院。他住院的频率很高,而我呢,也几乎走熟了去医院的那条路。每当他给我电话告之他又住了院时,我总是停下我手中的一切,赶去看他。我几乎要以为他一直就住在病室。病室里空气沉闷,冰冷又潮湿,躺在病床上的戴维则苍白而了无生气。我的朋友几乎只是他过去的一个影子了,他十分羸弱,瘦得皮包骨似的。当他微笑时,我注意到他舌头上覆盖着一层厚的、灰白的舌苔。冷汗不时从他的额上滚下来,尽管床上有一堆被 I have a friend, David, who was admitted to the hospital. He was hospitalized at a high frequency, and I, too, have become familiar with the path to the hospital. Whenever he gave me a telephone call to announce that he had stayed in the hospital, I always stopped everything in my hands and rushed to see him. I almost thought he had been living in the sickroom. The air in the ward was dreary, cold and humid, and David lying in his bed was pale and lifeless. My friend is almost only a shadow of his past. He is very weak and skinny. When he smiled, I noticed that his tongue was covered with a thick grayish tongue. Cold sweat from time to time rolled off his forehead, even though there was a pile of bedding on the bed.