As the pub was closing, an old man in rags came in. The bartender looked at him in surprise. Wrinkles¹ crawled on the old man’s weathered² face, as if he had lived a stormy life. With a pair of glasses on his nose and a stick in his right hand which looked almost 20 years old, he hobbled along with difficulty.
　　 The old man sat down on the bench near the door, and signed the bartender to come. He asked in a trembling voice, “Did anyone here ever mention me?”
　　 The bartender was utterly bewil－dered³, “No!”
　　 The old man put up his right hand and wiped away the sweat on his face. He said in sorrow, “Well, please give me a glass of wine, Sir!”
　　 He was sipping his wine, with a sigh of sadness, staring out of the door with grief. After that, he staggered⁴ out of the pub with his stick, back stooped, as if he was looking for something. The bartender was gazing after him. He thought the old man was poor, but also strange.
　　 Several days passed, guests still came one after another, the bartender hardly re－membered that poor old man. But at one night, when the last guest left, the old man appeared again. He moved in the pub without any words, sitting on the bench as before, asked in grievance, “Did anyone ever mention me?”
　　 The bartender felt upset, “No!”
　　 The old man raised the right hand and wiped away the sweat. He murmured⁵ as if hurt badly, “Well, please give me two glasses of wine, Sir.”
　　 He took a few sips of the wine, looking out of the door dully. The glasses were empty, he stood up slowly, moved out of the pub.
　　 Months passed, the old man didn’t come until one night...
　　 “Did anyone ever mention me?”
　　 Years passing, the bartender’s an－swer was still the same one word, “No!”
　　 His voice was miserable⁶, “Well, please bring a bottle of wine, Sir.”
　　 The bartender felt pity for him and asked, “A bottle?”
　　 The old man nodded his head and lift up his eyes.
　　 The bartender brought the wine, and he began drinking. After a while, a whole bottle was finished. The bartender watched him all the way.
　　 He stood up with difficulty, moved his steps toward the door. Stumbling⁷, he fell on the floor with the stick slided away.
　　 The bartender ran to him with tears in his eyes, and cried, “Somebody’smentioned you recently, Dad.”
　　


　　酒店快关门的时候，一个衣衫褴褛的老汉迈进门来。酒保惊奇地望着这个陌生顾客。看上去，他是位饱经风霜的老人，满面皱纹，步履蹒跚，走起路来甚至跌跌撞撞，鼻梁上架着一副眼镜，右手拄着一根看上去已伴随他20多年的拐棍。
　　 老人一屁股坐在门口的凳子上，打了个手势，请酒保过来，声音颤抖地问：“有人问起过我吗？”
　　 酒保闹懵了，忙说：“没有啊！”
　　 老人抬起右手，用手指揩了一下脸上的汗水，伤感地说：“那么，请给我倒一杯酒来，先生！”
　　 老人喝着酒，叹着气，两只眼睛忧愁地望着门口，慢慢饮完酒。随后，用拐杖支着地，哈着腰，低着头，好像寻找什么似地步出酒店。酒保目送着他，觉得他既可怜又古怪。
　　 十多天过去了，顾客不断光临酒店，酒保几乎忘了那可怜的老人。但一天夜里，当酒店最后一个顾客走出门时，老人的面孔又出现在门口。他一声不吭地挪进屋内，又坐在门口的凳子上，悲伤地问：“有人问起过我吗？”
　　 酒保不安地答道：“没有！”
　　 老人抬起右手用手指揩了揩脸上的汗水，像受了伤似地喃喃地说：“那么，请给我倒两杯酒来，先生！”
　　 老人一口一口地抿着酒，两只眼睛呆呆地凝视着门口。酒杯空了，老人用拐棍支着地，慢慢站起身，缓缓地挪动着步子，磨蹭着出了酒店大门。
　　 几个月过去了，老人一直未再光临酒店。一天夜里……
　　 “有人问起过我吗？”
　　 几年过去了，酒保的答复仍是那几个字：“没有！”老人凄惨地说：“那么请给我拿一瓶酒来，先生！”
　　 酒保同情地问老人：“一瓶酒？”
　　 老人点点头，抬眼看了看他。
　　 酒拿来了，老人喝着，喝着，喝光了一瓶酒。酒保的眼睛始终注视着他的脸。
　　 老人用拐棍吃力地撑起身，向酒店大门挪动着步子，但一个趔趄，拐棍滑出手，他一下跌在地上。
　　 酒保赶忙奔过来，两眼涌着泪水，哭着说：“最近好像有人问起过您，爸爸！”
　　伊织摘译自Online Stories