二十二、绍莱·麦克林(一九一一—— )我很难忘记同绍莱·麦克林在斯凯岛上的一夜长谈.虽是六月天,石屋的炉子里还烧着泥炭,它没有煤气而发幽香.大玻璃窗外夜晚的天色仍是十分明亮,在欧洲西北角的海岛上,夏天黑得很晚,十点钟还如白昼.我坐在软椅上,手里拿一杯金黄色透红的威士忌酒(也是苏格兰的名产),不时地喝两口,同白发而健壮的老诗人作着松散的 Twenty-two, Choral Macklin (1911-) It is hard to forget the long night’s conversation with Choi Leo Macklin on the Isle of Skye. Peat, it does not smell of gas and fragrance.Night glass window is still very bright at night, in the northwestern corner of the island in Europe, the summer is very dark, ten o’clock is still the day.I sat in a soft chair, hands Take a cup of golden rosy whiskey (also a Scottish specialty), from time to time to drink two, with the white-haired and robust old poet made loose