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We were a very motley1 crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 33 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb, we sat drowsily2 with our collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn3 bunch4.
One of the passengers was a small gray man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop5 and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him.
Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent.
The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice, “And a very good morning to you all!” Some of us looked up, amazed, and murmured “Good morning” in reply.
The following weeks we were more alert. Our friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to us every day and we gradually began to nod and talk to each other.
One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling6 a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked, “Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie?” We never got to know if his name really was “Charlie”, but he nodded shyly and said yes.
The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat.
Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet, gently nudged him and said shyly, “Here.” Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about
it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper.
The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasn’t waiting at his usual stop. When he wasn’t there the next day and the day after that, we started wondering if he was sick or—hopefully—on holiday somewhere.
When we came nearer to the centre for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. We all held our breaths when she went to the door.
Yes, the staff said, they knew whom we were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadn’t been coming to the centre that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent we were the rest of the way to work.
The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more gray, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrunk7 again. Inside the bus was a silence akin8 to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands.
33年前的那个夏天，我们这些各行各业的人每天都乘坐那辆公共汽车。每天一大早，在这辆从郊区发往市里的车上，每个人都懒洋洋地坐在自己的座位上，把衣领高高地竖到耳朵下。大家沉默寡言，无精打采。
其中有位乘客是一个身材矮小、面色灰暗的老人。他每天早上乘坐这班车到老年人活动中心去。他的后背微驼，上车的时候，由于吃力，脸上露出痛苦的神色。他独自一人坐在司机后面的座位上。没有一个人对他稍加注意。
后来，在七月的一个清晨，在落座之前，他对司机说了声“早上好”，并且微笑着向车厢里飞快地扫了一眼。司机慎重地点了点头。我们其他人还是沉默着。
第二天，老人上车的时候精力焕发。他微笑着大声说：“大家早上好！”我们之中有些人吃惊地抬起头来，低声地回答道：“早上好。”
在接下来的几个星期里，我们都对这位老人特别注意。他身上穿着一套考究的旧式西装，还打着一条过时的宽领带。他的头发虽然稀少，但是已经被仔细地梳理过了。他每天早上都向我们问好。我们渐渐开始互相点头问候，并交谈起来。
一天早上，他手里拿着一束野花。由于天气炎热，花瓣稍稍有些下垂。司机微笑着转过身，问道：“查理，你交了一个女朋友，对吗？”我们不知道他是否真的叫做“查理”，不过，他羞涩地点头说：“是的。”
有些乘客吹起了口哨，并且拍着巴掌向他道贺。查理鞠了鞠躬，在坐下之前向大家挥了挥手中的花。
从那之后，查理每天早上都会拿着一束野花。一些常坐车的乘客开始给他带一些花添进他的花束中去，并且轻轻地碰一碰他，腼腆地说：“给你。”每一个人都微笑着。男乘客们开始戏谑着，相互交谈着，传看着彼此的报纸。
夏天过去了，秋天到了。一天早上，查理没有在他通常等车的那个车站候车。当第二天、第三天他也没在那儿候车的时候，我们开始疑心他是否生病了，或者——像我们希望的那样——到某处度假去了。
当我们的车驶到老年人活动中心的时候，一位乘客要求司机停下来等一会儿。当她向活动中心的门口走去的时候，我们全都屏息以待。
是的，那里的工作人员说，他们知道我们正在谈论的人是谁。那位老绅士很好，不过，他那个星期没有去老年人活动中心，因为他的一个非常亲密的朋友在那个周末去世了。他们估计他下个周一会来。在余下的路程中，我们全都那么沉默。
随后的星期一，查理又在车站等车了，他的后背佝偻得更厉害了，脸色也比以前更加灰暗。而且，他没有打领带。他似乎又回复到以前那种萎靡不振的样子了。车厢里的气氛像教堂里的一样肃穆、沉寂。虽然，没有人谈论这件事，但是，我们这些在那个夏天对他留有深刻印象的人都沉默地坐在自己的座位上，眼中含着泪，手里握着一束野花。
秋影摘译自Online Stories
One of the passengers was a small gray man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop5 and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him.
Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent.
The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice, “And a very good morning to you all!” Some of us looked up, amazed, and murmured “Good morning” in reply.
The following weeks we were more alert. Our friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to us every day and we gradually began to nod and talk to each other.
One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling6 a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked, “Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie?” We never got to know if his name really was “Charlie”, but he nodded shyly and said yes.
The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat.
Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet, gently nudged him and said shyly, “Here.” Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about
it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper.
The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasn’t waiting at his usual stop. When he wasn’t there the next day and the day after that, we started wondering if he was sick or—hopefully—on holiday somewhere.
When we came nearer to the centre for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. We all held our breaths when she went to the door.
Yes, the staff said, they knew whom we were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadn’t been coming to the centre that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent we were the rest of the way to work.
The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more gray, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrunk7 again. Inside the bus was a silence akin8 to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands.
33年前的那个夏天，我们这些各行各业的人每天都乘坐那辆公共汽车。每天一大早，在这辆从郊区发往市里的车上，每个人都懒洋洋地坐在自己的座位上，把衣领高高地竖到耳朵下。大家沉默寡言，无精打采。
其中有位乘客是一个身材矮小、面色灰暗的老人。他每天早上乘坐这班车到老年人活动中心去。他的后背微驼，上车的时候，由于吃力，脸上露出痛苦的神色。他独自一人坐在司机后面的座位上。没有一个人对他稍加注意。
后来，在七月的一个清晨，在落座之前，他对司机说了声“早上好”，并且微笑着向车厢里飞快地扫了一眼。司机慎重地点了点头。我们其他人还是沉默着。
第二天，老人上车的时候精力焕发。他微笑着大声说：“大家早上好！”我们之中有些人吃惊地抬起头来，低声地回答道：“早上好。”
在接下来的几个星期里，我们都对这位老人特别注意。他身上穿着一套考究的旧式西装，还打着一条过时的宽领带。他的头发虽然稀少，但是已经被仔细地梳理过了。他每天早上都向我们问好。我们渐渐开始互相点头问候，并交谈起来。
一天早上，他手里拿着一束野花。由于天气炎热，花瓣稍稍有些下垂。司机微笑着转过身，问道：“查理，你交了一个女朋友，对吗？”我们不知道他是否真的叫做“查理”，不过，他羞涩地点头说：“是的。”
有些乘客吹起了口哨，并且拍着巴掌向他道贺。查理鞠了鞠躬，在坐下之前向大家挥了挥手中的花。
从那之后，查理每天早上都会拿着一束野花。一些常坐车的乘客开始给他带一些花添进他的花束中去，并且轻轻地碰一碰他，腼腆地说：“给你。”每一个人都微笑着。男乘客们开始戏谑着，相互交谈着，传看着彼此的报纸。
夏天过去了，秋天到了。一天早上，查理没有在他通常等车的那个车站候车。当第二天、第三天他也没在那儿候车的时候，我们开始疑心他是否生病了，或者——像我们希望的那样——到某处度假去了。
当我们的车驶到老年人活动中心的时候，一位乘客要求司机停下来等一会儿。当她向活动中心的门口走去的时候，我们全都屏息以待。
是的，那里的工作人员说，他们知道我们正在谈论的人是谁。那位老绅士很好，不过，他那个星期没有去老年人活动中心，因为他的一个非常亲密的朋友在那个周末去世了。他们估计他下个周一会来。在余下的路程中，我们全都那么沉默。
随后的星期一，查理又在车站等车了，他的后背佝偻得更厉害了，脸色也比以前更加灰暗。而且，他没有打领带。他似乎又回复到以前那种萎靡不振的样子了。车厢里的气氛像教堂里的一样肃穆、沉寂。虽然，没有人谈论这件事，但是，我们这些在那个夏天对他留有深刻印象的人都沉默地坐在自己的座位上，眼中含着泪，手里握着一束野花。
秋影摘译自Online Stories