当年,那个褐色的脸上有一道刀疤的老船长就在我们店里下榻。现在回想起这个人来,简直像是昨天发生的事情。我记得他步履维艰地来到旅店门口,他的一只水手衣物箱让人用小车推着跟在后面。他身材高大,结实而笨重,皮肤晒成栗壳色,涂了柏油的辫子垂在脏兮兮的蓝外套肩上;一双手疙疙瘩瘩、伤痕累累,黑色的指甲缺损断裂;一侧脸颊上有挨过弯刀留下的伤疤,颜色白里泛青,不干不净。 That year, the brown captain had a scar on the old captain in our shop. It is almost like what happened yesterday, recalling this man now. I remember him struggling to come to the hotel door, one of his sailor clothes boxes make a car pushed behind. He was tall, strong and bulky, skin tanned in chestnut color, tarred braid hanging down on the dirty blue jacket shoulders; a pair of pimples, bruises, black nails missing and broken; one cheek on the other Scimitar scab left behind, the color of white green, quit.