Nobody really believed he still had these sympathies, but the whole question was, why didn't he fess up?
没有人真的相信他仍怀有这些同情,但问题是,他为什么不坦率地承认?
They look at you and they say,
他们同情地看着你说,
So that's very sad, that part of his art was very very sad. But I still, I feel pathetic as I say in the last pages or so, but I never lost admire of his fortitude in going on and doing as much as he did.
这太令人伤感了,他的艺术也是很伤感的,我在书里最后几页表示了对他的同情,但是我,从来没有停止崇敬他,坚持不懈地做了这么多的精神。
He is not a gentleman. But how magically his singing violin can conjure up a tendresse, a compassion for Lolita that makes us entranced with the book while abhorring its author.
他不是绅士,但神奇地他的小提琴声,能召唤出对Lolita的宠爱和同情,那让我们对这本书着迷,同时却在憎恨着作者。
Yeats looks at them with pity, with admiration, with scorn.
叶芝同情地看待他们,半带崇拜,半带蔑视。
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