We didn't always live on Mango Street. Before that we lived on Loomis on the third floor, and before that we lived on Keeler. Before Keeler it was Paulina, and before that I can't remember. But what I remember most is moving a lot. Each time it seemed there'd be one more of us. By the time we got to Mango Street we were six —— Mama, Papa, Carlos, Kiki, my sister Nenny and me.
　　The house on Mango Street is ours, and we don't have to pay rent to anybody, or share the yard with the people down stairs, or be careful not to make too much noise, and there isn't a landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. But even so, it's not the house we'd thought we'd get.
　　We had to leave the flat on Loomis quick. The water pipes broke and the landlord wouldn't fix them because the house was too old. We had to leave fast. We were using the washroom next door and carrying water over in empty milk gallons. That's why Mama and Papa looked for a house, and that's why we moved into the house on Mango Street, far away, on the other side of town.

　　我们先前不住芒果街。先前我们住Loomis的三楼。再先前我们住Keeler.Keeler 再往前是Paulina，再前面，我就不记得了。我记得最清楚的是，搬了好多次家。似乎每搬一次，我们就多出一个人。搬到芒果街是，我们有了六个——妈妈、爸爸、卡洛斯、奇奇，妹妹蕾妮和我。
　　芒果街上的小屋是我们的，我们不用交房租给任何人，或者和楼下的人合用一个院子，或者小心翼翼别弄出太多的声响，这里也没有拿扫帚猛敲天花板的房东。可就算这样，它也不是我们原来以为自己可以得到的那样的房子。
　　我们得赶紧搬出Loomis的公寓。水管破了，房东不愿意修理，因为房子太老。我们得快快离开。我们借用着邻居的卫生间，用空的牛奶壶把水装过来。这就是为什么爸妈要找房子，这就是为什么我们搬进了芒果街上的小屋，远远的，从城市的那一边。

    They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real that would be ours for always so we wouldn't have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the house on T.V.And we'd have a basement and at least three washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldn't have to tell everybody. Our house would be white with trees around it, a great big yard and grass growing without a fence. This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.

　　他们一直对我们说，有一天，我们会搬进一所房子，一所真正的大屋，永远属于我们，那样我们就不用每年搬家了。我们的房子会有自来水和好用的水管。里面还有真正的楼梯，不是门厅台阶，而是像电视上的房子里那样的楼梯。我们会有一个地下室和至少三个卫生间，那样洗澡的时间就不用告诉每个人。我们的房子会是白色的，四周是树木，还有一个很大的原子，草儿生长着，没有篱笆吧他们圈起来。这是爸爸手握彩票时提到的房子，这是妈妈在给我们讲睡前故事里幻想着的房子。

　　But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling in places, and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard, only four little elms the city planted by the curb. Our back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they're ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom. Everybody has to share a bedroom—Mama and Papa, Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny.

　　可是芒果街上的小屋全然不是他們講的那樣。它很小，是紅色的，門前一方窄臺階，窗戶小得讓你覺得它們像是在屏著呼吸。幾處墻磚蝕成了粉。前門那么鼓，你要用力推才進得來。這里沒有前院，只有四棵市政栽在路邊的小榆樹。屋后有個小車庫，是用來裝我們還沒買的小汽車的，還有個小院子，夾在兩邊的樓中間，越發顯得小了。我們的房子里有樓梯，可那只是普通的門廳臺階，而且房子里只有一個衛生間.每個人都要和別人合用一間臥室——媽媽和爸爸、卡洛斯和奇奇、我和蕾妮。

　　Once when we were living on Loomis, a nun from my school passed by and saw me playing out front. The Laundromat downstairs had been boarded up because it had been robbed two days before and the owner had painted on the wood YES WE'RE OPEN so as not lose business.

　　Where do you live? She asked.　
　　There, I said pointing up to the third floor.　
　　You live there?

　　There. I had to look to where she pointed –—— the third floor, the paint peeling, wooden bars Papa had nailed on the windows so we wouldn't fall out. You live there? The way she said it made me feel like nothing. There. I lived there. I nodded.

　　I knew then I had to have to house. A real house. One I could point to .but this isn't it. The house on Mango Street isn't it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go.

　　我们住在Loomis时，有一回学校的嬷嬷经过那里，看到我在房前玩。楼下的自助洗衣店被用木板封了起来，因为两天前刚被洗劫过。为了不走掉生意，主人在木头上涂抹了几个字：“是的，我们在营业。”

　　“你住哪里呀？”她问。　
　　那里。我说，指了指三楼。　
　　你住在那里？

　　那里。我不得不朝他指的地方看去——三层楼上，那里墙皮斑驳，窗上横着几根木条，是爸爸钉上去的，那样我们就不会掉出来。你住在那里？她说话的样子让我觉得自己什么都不是。那里，我住在那里。我点头。

　　于是，我明白，我得有一所房子。一所真正的大屋。一所可以指给别人看的房子。可这里不是。芒果街上的小屋不是。目前就这样，妈妈说。这是暂时的，爸爸说。可我知道事情是怎样的。

      　　Everybody in our family has different hair. My Papa's hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me, my hair is lazy. It never obeys barrettes or bands. Carlos' hair is thick and straight. He doesn't need to comb it. Nenny's hair is slippery——slides out of your hand. And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair like fur.

　　But my mother's hair, my mother's hair, like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread.

　　我们家里每个人的头发都不一样。爸爸的头发像扫把，根根直立往上插。而我，我的头发挺懒惰。它从来不听发夹和发带的话。卡洛斯的头发又直又厚。他不用梳头。蕾妮的头发滑滑的——会从你手里溜走。还有奇奇，他最小，茸茸的头发像毛皮。

　　只有妈妈的头发，妈妈的头发，好像一朵朵小小的玫瑰花结，一枚枚小小的糖果圈儿，全都那么拳曲，那么漂亮，因为她成天给它们上发卷。把鼻子伸进去闻一闻吧，当她搂着你时。当她搂着你时，你觉得那么安全，闻到的气味又那么香甜。是那种待烤的面包暖暖的香味，是那种她给你让出一角被窝时，和着体温散发的芬芳。你睡在她身旁，外面下着雨，爸爸打着鼾。哦，鼾声、雨声，还有妈妈那闻起来像面包的头发。

      　The boys and the girls live in separate world. The boys in their universe and we in ours. My brothers for example. They've got plenty to say to me and Nenny inside the house. But outside they can't be seen talking to girls. Carlos and Kiki are each other's best friend…not ours.

　　Nenny is too young to be my friend. She's just my sister and that was not my fault. You don't pick your sisters, you just get them and sometimes they come like Nenny.

　　男孩和女孩生活在不同的世界。男孩在他们的天地里，我们在我们的天地里。比如我的弟弟们。在家里，他们有很多话跟我和蕾妮说。可是到了外面，他们就不能被人家看见和女孩说话。卡洛斯和奇奇是彼此最要好的朋友…… 不是我们的。

　　蕾妮还很小，做不了我的朋友。她只是我的妹妹，这不是我的错。你不能挑选妹妹，你只是就那么得到了她们，某些时候他们就像蕾妮一样到来。

　　She can't play with those Vargas kids or she'll turn our just like them. And since she comes right after me, she is my responsibility.

　　Someday I will have a best friend all my own. One I can tell my secrets to. One who will understand my jokes without my having to explain them. Until then I am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor.

　　她不能去和法加斯家的孩子们玩，要不然，她会变得和他们一样。既然她跟在我后面来了，她就是我的责任。

　　有一天，我会有一个我自己的、最要好的朋友。一个我可以向她吐露秘密的朋友。一个不用我解释就能听懂我的笑话的朋友。在那之前，我将一直是一个红色气球，一个被泊住的气球。

  　　In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.

　　It was my great-grandmother's name and now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of horse—which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female—but I think this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their women strong.

　　My great-grandmother. I would've liked to have known her, a wild horse of a woman, so wild she wouldn't marry. Until my great-grandfather threw a sack over her head and carried her off. Just that, as if she were a fancy chandelier. That's the way he did it.

　　在英语里，我的名字的意思是希望。在西班牙语里，它意味着太多的字母。它意味着哀伤，意味着等待。它就像数字九。一种泥泞的色彩。它是没到星期天早晨，爸爸刮胡子是播放的墨西哥唱片，呜咽的歌。

　　它过去是我曾祖母的名字，现在是我的。她也是一个属马的女人，和我一样，生在中国的马年——如果你生为女人，这会被认为是霉运——可是我想，这是个中国谎，因为，中国人和墨西哥人一样，不喜欢他们的女人强大。

　　我的曾祖母。要是我见过她多好，女人中的野马，野得不想嫁人。直到我的曾祖父用麻袋套住她的头把她扛走。就那样扛着，好像她是一盏华贵的枝型吊灯。那就是他的办法。

　　And the story goes she never forgave him. She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she dory because she couldn`t be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window.

　　At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver, not quite as thick as sister`s name—Magdalena—— which is uglier than mine. Magdalena who at least can come home and become Nenny. But I am always Esperanza.

　　I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody see. Esperanza as Lasiandra or Maritza or Zeze the X.Yes. something like Zeze the X will do.

　　后来，她永远没有原谅他。她用一生向窗外凝望，像许多女人那样凝望，胳膊肘之前忧伤。我想知道她是否随遇而安；是否会为做不成她想做的人而伤怀。埃斯佩朗莎。我继承了她的名字，可我不想继承她在窗边的位置。

　　在学校里，他们说我的名字很滑稽，音节好像是铁皮做的，会碰痛嘴巴里的上颚。可是在西班牙语里，我的名字是更柔和的东西做的，像银子，没有的妹妹的名字那么浑厚。他叫玛格达蕾娜，这名字没我的美。玛格达蕾娜回到家里可以叫蕾妮。可我总是埃斯佩朗莎。

　　Cathy who is queen of cats has cats and cats and cats. Baby cats, big cats, skinny cats, sick cats. Cats asleep like little donuts. Cats on top of the refrigerator. Cats taking a walk on the dinner table. Her house is like cat heaven.

　　You want a friend, she says. Okay, I'll be your friend. But only till next Tuesday. That's when we move away. Got to. Then as if she forgot I just moved in, she says the neighborhood is getting bad.

　　Cathy's father will have to fly to France one day and find her great great distant grand cousin on her father's side and inherit the family house. How do I know this is so? She told me so. In the meantime they'll just have to move a little farther north from Mango Street, a little farther away every time people like us keep moving in.

　　她说，我是法兰西皇后的远远远房表亲。她住在楼上，那边，那个“捉小孩的人”乔的隔壁。离他远点，她告诉我说，他很危险。街角那家小店是宾尼和布兰卡的。他们还蛮好，可只是靠在糖果柜台上时才对你好。两个像老鼠一样邋遢的女孩住在街对面。你不会想去认识她们的。埃德娜是你家隔壁房子的主人。她过去有幢大得像鲸鱼的房子，可她弟弟把它卖了。他们的妈妈说，别，别呀，千万别卖。我不会的。可后来她一闭眼，他就卖了它。阿莉西娅自从上了大学就傲气起来了。她过去挺喜欢我，可现在不了。

　　猫皇后凯茜养了好多好多好多猫。猫宝宝、大个猫、瘦猫、病猫。睡姿像个面包圈的猫。爬到冰箱顶上的猫。在餐桌上散步的猫。她的房子就像个猫天堂。

　　你想要个朋友。她说，好的，我会做你的朋友，可只能做到下星期二，那时我们就得搬走了，不得不搬了。然后，她似乎忘了我才搬进来，说，这个社区的人越来越杂了。

　　凯茜的父亲有一天会要飞到法国去，找到远方的、她父亲那边的远远远房表亲，去继承家宅。我是怎么知道这些的呢？是她告诉我的。同时，他们要从芒果街向北面搬迁，离开这里一点路，在每次像我们这样的人家不断搬进来的时候。

　　If you give me five dollars I will be your friend forever. That's what the little one tells me.

　　Five dollars is cheap since I don't have any friends except Cathy who is only my friend till Tuesday.

　　Five dollars, five dollars.

　　She is trying to get some body to chip in so they can buy a bicycle form this kid named Tito. They already have ten dollars and all they need is five more.

　　Don't talk to them, says Cathy. Can't you see they smell like a broom.

　　But I like them. Their clothes are crooked and old. They are wearing shiny Sunday shoes without socks. It makes their bald ankles all red, but I like them. Especially the big one who laughs with all her teeth. I like her even though she lets the little one do all the talking.

　　Five dollars, the little one says, only five.
　　　　　　　　　　　　
　　如果你给我五块钱，我会永远做你的朋友。那个小的这么对我说

　　五块钱很便宜，因为我没有任何朋友，除了凯茜，她是我星期二之前的朋友。

　　五块钱啊，五块钱。

　　她想找人凑钱，那样，他们可以从那个叫提陀的小孩哪里买一辆自行车。她们已经十块了，他们再添五块钱就够了。

　　只要五块。她说。

　　别喝他们说话。凯茜说，你难道看不出来他们闻起来像扫把？

　　可是我喜欢她们。她们的衣服又皱又旧。她们穿的锃亮的礼拜天的鞋子，却没穿短袜。鞋子把她们的光脚踝擦得红红的。我喜欢她们。尤其是那个大的，小的时候露出一口牙齿。我喜欢她，尽管她让小的出来说话。

　　五块，小的说，只要五块。

　　Cathy is tugging my arm and I know whatever I do next will make her mad forever.

　　Wait a minute, I say, and run inside to get the five dollars I have three dollars saved and I take two of Nenny's. She's not home, but I'm sure she'll be glad when she finds out we own a bike. When I get back, Cathy is gone like I knew she would be , but I don't care. I have two new friends and a bike too.

　　My name is Lucy, the big one says. This here is Rachel my sister.

　　I'm her sister, says Rachel. Who are you?

　　And I wish my name was Cassandra or Alexis or Maritza—anything but Esperanza—but when I tell them my name they don't laugh.

　　凯茜在拽我的胳膊，我知道，接下来我不管做什么，都会让她永远生我的气的。

　　等等。我说着跑到屋里拿了5块钱。我自己存有三块，又拿了蕾妮2块。她不在家，可我肯定，她发现我们有辆自行车会很高兴的。我回来的时候，凯茜走了，我知道她会这么做，可我不在乎。我有了两个新朋友和一辆自行车。

　　我叫露西，大的说。这是我妹妹瑞秋。

　　我是她妹妹。瑞秋说。你是谁？

　　我希望我的名字是卡桑德拉，或者阿勒克西斯，或者玛芮查——只要不是埃斯佩朗莎，什么名字都可以。可我告诉她们我的名字的时候，她们没有笑。

　　We come from Texas, Lucy says and grins. Her was born here, but me I'm Texas.

　　You mean she, I says.

　　No, I'm from Texas, and doesn't get it.

　　This bike is three ways ours, says Rachel who is thinking ahead already. Mine today, Lucy's tomorrow and yours day after.

　　But everybody wants to ride it today because the bike is new, so we decide to take turns after tomorrow. Today is belongs to all of us.

　　我从得克萨斯来，露西说着咧嘴一笑。她是在这里出生的，而我在得克萨斯。

　　你是说她吧。我说。

　　不，我是从得克萨斯来。她没听明白我的意思。

　　这辆车我们三个这么分配吧，拉切尔已经想在前面了。今天是我的，明天是露西的，后天是你的。

　But everybody wants to ride it today because the bike is new, so we decide to take turns after tomorrow. Today it belongs to all of us.

　　I don't tell them about Nenny just yet. It's too complicated. Especially since Rachel almost put out Lucy's eye about who was going to get to ride it first. But finally we agree to ride it together. Why not?

　　Because Lucy has long legs she pedals. I sit on the back seat and Rachel is skinny enough to get up on the handlebars which makes the bike all wobble as if the wheels are spaghetti, but after a bit you get used to it.

　　可每个人都想今天骑，因为车是新的。于是我们决定从明天开始轮流。今天它属于我们大家。

　　我还没有告诉他们蕾妮的事。事情太复杂了。尤其是，为了谁第一个骑的问题，瑞秋差点把露西的眼睛挖出来。最后我们同意一块骑，为什么不呢?

　　露西腿长，她来踩踏板。我坐在后座上，瑞秋足够苗条，她坐到了前杠上，弄得车子一个劲摇晃，好像轮子是实心意粉做的。不过一会儿我们就习惯了。

　　We ride fast and faster. Past my house, sad and red and crumbly in places, past Mr. Benny's grocery on the corner, and down the avenue which is dangerous. Laundoromat, junk store, drugstore, windows and cars and more cars , and around the block back to Mango.

　　People on the bus wave. A very fat lady crossing the street says. You sure got quite a load there.

　　Rachel shouts. You got quite a load there too. She is very sassy.

　　Down, down Mango Street we go. Rachel, Lucy, me. Our new bicycle. Laughing the crooked ride back.

　　我们越骑越快，骑过了我的家，那破落又悲哀、砖墙碎裂的红色小屋，骑过了街角宾尼显示的小卖铺，骑在了危险的大道上。自助洗衣店、旧货店、药店、一个个窗子、一辆辆汽车，越来越多的汽车，都经过了。我们围着街区绕一圈，骑回芒果街。

　　巴士上的人向我们挥手。一个很胖很胖的女人边过街边说，你们的装载量很大呀。

　　瑞秋喊道，你的装载量也很大呀。她说话好冒失。

　　我们沿着芒果街前行。瑞秋、露西、我，还有我们的新自行车。歪歪扭扭的回程，我们一直笑呀笑。

　　　Nenny and I don't look like sisters…not right away. Not the way you can tell with Rachel and Lucy who have the same fat popsicle lips everybody else in their family. But me and Nenny, we are more alike than you would know. Our laughter for example. Not the shy ice cream bells' giggle of Rachel and Lucy's' family, but all of a sudden and surprise like a pile of dishes breaking. And other things I can't explain.

　　One day we were passing a house that looked, in my mind, like house I had seen in Mexico. I don't know why. There was nothing about the house that looked exactly like the house I remembered. I'm not even sure why I thought it, but it seemed to feel right.

　　Look at the house, I said, it looks like Mexico.

　　Rachel and Lucy look at me like I'm crazy, but before they can let out a laugh, Nenny says: Yes, that's Mexico all right. That's what I was thinking exactly.

　　蕾妮和我看起来不像姐妹……不是一眼就能看出来的那种。人们可以看出瑞秋和露西是，因为她们有一模一样的雪糕似的厚嘴唇，她们家所有人的嘴唇都是那样的。可我们不是那种像法。我和蕾妮，我们相像的地方比你能看到的多。比如我们的笑声。不是瑞秋和露西一家人那样羞涩的傻笑，像冰淇淋铃声一样，而是突然的、吃惊的笑，像一叠盘子打碎了的感觉。还有其他一些我没法说清楚的地方。

　　一天我们经过一座房子，我心想，它看起来像我过去在墨西哥见过的房子。我不知道为什么。这房子和我记忆中的房子没什么地方是一模一样的。我甚至不知道为什么我这么想。他它就是给我那种感觉。

　　看那房子，我说，它看着像是墨西哥的。

　　瑞秋和露西看中我，好像我在发傻一样。可还没等她们笑出来，蕾妮就说：没错，那就是墨西哥式的。而那恰恰是我当时的想法。

　　There is a junk store. An old man owns it. We bought a used refrigerator form him once, and Carlos sold a box of magazines for a dollar. The store is small with just dirty window for light. He doesn't turn the lights on unless you got money to buy things with , so in the dark we look and see all kinds of things, me and Nenny. Tables with their feet upsidedown and rows and rows of refrigerators with round corners and couches that spin dust in theair when you punch them and a hundred T.V.'s that don't work probably. Everything is on top of everything so the whole store has skinny aisles to walk through. You can get lost easy.

　　那里有家旧货店。一个老人开的。我们有次从他那里买过一台旧冰箱。卡洛斯的一箱子杂志卖了一块钱。那铺面很小，只有一格脏兮兮的窗户透光。他从来不开灯，除非你带了买东西的钱。于是我们，我和蕾妮，在昏暗中张望，看见各种各样的物什。几张脚朝天的桌子，一排排的圆角冰箱、你一锤它就会向空中喷吐灰尘的沙发和一百台看不大起来的电视。一样的东西摞在另一样上面，形成了店里一条条细长的甬道。你很容易就迷失了方向。

　　Around the back is a yard, mostly dirt,and a greasy bunch of boards that used to be a garage. but what you families of squirrels in the higher branches. All around, the nighborhood of roofs, black-tarred and A-framed, and in their gutters, the balls that never came back down to earth. Down at the base of the tree, the dog with two names barks into the empty air, and there at the end of the block, looking smaller still, our house with its feet tucked under like a cat.

　　This is the tree we chose for the First Annual Tarzan Jumping Contest. Meme won. And borke both arms.

　　屋后面是个院子，大部分地方是泥土地面，还有一扎油腻腻的模板，是过去的车库。不过，你记得最清的应该是那棵树，巨大，枝干肥硕，高高的枝桠上栖息着繁盛的松鼠家族。从上面张望，周围都是邻里的屋顶，A字形，浇了黑色的沥青。上面的天沟里，躺着一些永远不再着地的皮球。树底下，那条有两个名字的狗在冲着空气狂吠。街区的尽头是我的家，看上去更小了，像只猫儿缩起脚爪窝在那里。

　　这棵树被我们挑来举行第一届年度人猿泰山跳跃比赛。么么赢了。可是2条胳膊都摔破了。

　　Louie's girl cousin is older than us. She lives with Louie's family because her own family is in Puerto Rico. Her name is Marin or Maris or something like that, and she wears dark nylons all the time and lots of makeup she gets free from selling Avon. She can't come out _gotta baby-sit with Louie's sisters- but she stands in the doorway a lot, all the time singing, clicking her fingers, the same song:

　　Apples, peaches, pumpkin pah-ay

　　You're in love and so am ah-ay

　　Louie's has another cousin. We only saw him once, but it was important. We were playing volleyball in the alley when he drove up in this great big yellow Cadillac whitewalls and a yellow scarf tied around the mirror. Louie's cousin has his arm out the window. He honked a couple of times and a lot of faces looked out from Louie's back window and then a lot of people came out—Louie, Marin and all the little sisters.

　　路易加的小表姐比我们大。她住在路易家里，因为她自己家在波多黎各。她好像是叫玛琳或者玛芮斯，或者跟这差不多的名字。她总是穿暗色的尼龙丝袜，化很多妆，那是她推销雅芳的时候不花钱得来的。她没法出门——得照看路易的小姐妹们，可她常常站在门道里，一直唱着歌，打着响指。她只唱一首歌：

　　苹果桃儿南瓜派哟，

　　你在恋爱我也在哟。

　　路易还有一个表兄。我们只见过他一次，可那次很轰动。我们在巷子里玩排球，他开着一辆又大又气派的黄色卡迪拉克过来了，白璧轮胎，镜子上系着一条黄绶带。路易的表兄把胳膊伸在车窗外面。他摁了几下喇叭，许多张脸从路易加的后窗出来，接着，出来很多人——路易、玛琳和所有的小妹妹们。

　　We never see Marin until her aunt comes home from work, and even then she can only stay out in front. She is there every night with the radio. When the light in her aunt's room goes out, Marin lights a cigarette and it doesn't matter if it's cold out or if the radio doesn't work or if we've got nothing to say to each other. What matters, Marin says, is for the boys to see us and for us to see them. And since Marin's skirts are shorter and since her eyes are pretty, and since Marin is already older than us in many ways, the boys who do pass by say stupid things like I am in love with those two green apples you call eyes, give them to me why don't you. And Marin just looks at them without even blinking and is no afraid.

　　Marin, under the streetlight, dancing by herself, is singing the same song somewhere. I know. Is waiting for a car to stop, a star to fall, someone to change her life.

　　在玛琳在婶婶下班回家前，我们从来都看不到玛琳。在那以后，她也只能出到房子前面。她每晚都拿个收音机在那里。等她婶婶房间里的灯熄灭后，玛琳就会点一支烟，如果那会儿外面冷，或者收音机不响，或者我们互相没话说，这些都不要紧；要紧的是，玛琳说，要让男孩子看到我们，我们看到男孩子。因为玛琳的裙子更短，因为她的眼睛很漂亮，因为她在很多方面已经比我们成熟，男孩子跑过来说一些蠢话，比如我爱上你说是眼睛的那两个青苹果，把它们给我吧为什么不？玛琳只是看着它们，眼睛都不眨一下，也不害怕。

　　玛琳，街灯下独自起舞的人，在某个地方唱着同一首歌，我知道。她在等一辆小汽车停下来，等着一颗星星坠落，等一个人改变她的生活。

　　Those who don't know any better come into our neighborhood scared. They think we're dangerous, They think we will attack them with shiny knives. They are stupid people who are lost and got here bu mistake.　　But we aren't afarid. We know the guy with the crooked eye is Davey the Baby brother, and the tall one next to him in yhe straw brim, that's Rosa's Eddie V.,and the big one that looks like a dumb grow man,he's Fat Boy, though he's not fat anymore nor a boy.　　All brown all around,we are safe. But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and our knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled uptight and our eyes look straight.Yeah,That's is how it goes and goes.

　　那些人不明白我们的人进到我们的社区会害怕。他们以为我们很危险。他们以为我们会用亮闪闪的刀子袭击他们。他们是些笨人，不小心迷了路走到了这里。　　可是我们不害怕。我们知道那个斜眼的是戴夫小宝的弟弟，站在他旁边戴着草帽的高个儿是罗莎家的埃迪'V',而那个大个，看上去像个沉默的大人的，他是胖孩，虽然他不再胖了也不再是小孩。　　到处都是棕色的人，我们是安全的。可是看看我们开进另一个肤色的街区时，我们的膝盖就抖啊抖，我们紧紧的摇上车窗，眼睛直直地看着前面，是的，情形一直一直是这样的。

　　The kids bend trees and bounce between cars and dangle upside down from knees and almost break like fancy museum vases you can't replace. They think it's funny. They are without respect for all things living, including themselves.

　　But after a wile you get tired of being worried about kids who aren't even yours. One day they are playing chicken on Mr. Benny's roof . Mr. Benny says, Hey ain't you kids know better than to be swinging up there? Come down, you come down right now, and then they just spit.
       See. That's what I mean. No wonder everybody gave up. Just stopped looking out when little Efren chipped his buck tooth on a parking meter and didn't even stop Refugia from getting her head stuck between two slats in the back gate and nobody looked up not once the day Angel Vargas learned to fly and dropped from the sky like a sugar donut, just like a falling star, and exploded down to earth without even an "Oh."

　　那些孩子们弄折树木，在汽车中间蹦跳穿梭，膝盖一勾把身体倒挂起来，差点就像博物馆李华美的花瓶一样摔破了，碎了你就放不回去。他们觉得那很好玩。他们不尊重任何有生命的事物，包括他们自己。

　　可是不就你就懒得担心了，他们又不是你的孩子。有一天他们在宾尼先生的房顶上玩小鸡。宾尼先生说，嘿你们这些小孩不知道在那里晃悠很危险吗？下来，马上下来。可他们只是啐他。

    明白了吧。我说的就是这个。怪不得大家都不管了。小爱佛伦用他的虎牙咬停车计时器的时候，你只要不住往外看就可以了；雷福佳把头伸进后门上两块板条中间的时候，没人阻止她。那天安琪·法加斯学飞的时候，也没人抬头看一眼，她像甜麦圈一样从天上掉下来，就像一颗坠落的流星，砸在地上哦都没哦出一声来。

　　Alicia, whose mama died, is sorry there is no one older to rise and make the lunchbox tortillas. Alicia, who inherited her mama's rolling pin and sleepiness, is young and smart and studies for the first time at the university. Two trains and a bus, because she doesn't want to spend her whole life in factory or behind a rolling pin. Is a good girl, my friend, studies all night and sees the mice, the ones her father says do not exist. Is afraid of nothing except four-legged fur. And fathers.

　　阿莉西娅，没了妈妈的她，很难过家里没有一个打过她的人爬起来做午餐盒的玉米饼。阿莉西娅，继承妈妈的擀面杖和渴睡的她，年轻聪明，头一次去大学上学，两趟火车和一趟巴士，因为她不想在工厂里，在一根擀面杖后过她的一生。她是个好姑娘，我的朋友，整夜的学习，瞧见老鼠，那些她父亲说不存在的老鼠。她什么都不怕，除了四条腿毛茸茸的东西，还有父亲们。

　　*据作者自述，她的父亲和六个兄弟都想限制她，企望她成为一个传统的家庭妇女。她说有时候感觉自己好像有7个父亲。因此，这里的“父亲们”应该也是指家中的男性。

　　You can never have too much sky. You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful. Still, we take what we can get and make the best of it.

　　Darius, who doesn't like school, who is sometimes stupid and mostly a fool, said something wise today, though most days he says nothing. Darius, who chases girls with firecrackers or a stick that touched a rat and thinks he's tough, today pointed up because the world was full of clouds, the kind like pillows.

　　You all see that cloud, that fat one there? Darius said, See that? Where? That one next to the one that look like popcorn. That one there. See that. That's God, Darius said.God? somebody little asked. God, he said, and made it simple.

　　你永远不能拥有太多的天空。你可以在天空下睡去，醒来又沉醉。在你忧伤的时候，天空会给你安慰。可是忧伤太多，天空不够。蝴蝶也不够，花儿也不够。大多数美的东西都不够。于是，我们取我们所能取，好好地享用。

　　大流士 ，不喜欢上学的他，有时很傻，几乎是个笨人，今天却说了一句聪明的话，虽然大多数日子他什么都不说。大流士，喜欢用爆竹，用碰过老鼠的小棍子去追逐女孩，还以为自己很了不起的他，今天却指着天空，因为那里有满天的云朵，像枕头样的云朵。

　　你们都看到那朵云了，那朵胖乎乎的云了？大流士说，看到了？哪里？那朵看起来像爆米花的旁边的那朵。那边那朵。看，那是上帝。大流士说。上帝？有个小点的问道。上帝。他说，简洁地说。

　　 The Eskimos got thirty different names for snow, I say. I read it in a book.
      I got a cousin, Rachel says, she got three different names.
      There ain't thirty different kinds of snow, Lucy says. There are two kinds. The clean kind and the dirty kind, clean and dirty. Only two.
      There are a million zillion kinds, says Nenny. No two exactly alike. Only how do you remember which one is which?
      She got three last names and, let me see, two first names. One in English and one in Spanish . . .
      And clouds got at least ten different names, I say.
      Names for clouds? Nenny asks. Names just like you and me?
      That up there, that's cumulus, and everybody looks up.
      Cumulus are cute, Rachel says. She would say something like that.
      What's that one there? Nenny asks, pointing a finger.
      That's cumulus too. They're all cumulus today. Cumulus, cumulus, cumulus.
     No, she says. That there is Nancy, otherwise known as Pig-eye. And over there her cousin Mildred, and little Joey, Marco, Nereida and Sue.
      There are all different kinds of clouds. How many different kinds of clouds can you think of?
      Well, there's these already that look like shaving cream . . .
      And what about the kind that looks like you combed its hair? Yes, those are clouds too.
      Phyllis, Ted, Alfredo and Julie . . .
      There are clouds that look like big fields of sheep, Rachel says. Them are my favorite.
      And don't forget nimbus the rain cloud, I add, that's something.
      Jose and Dagoberto, Alicia, Raul, Edna, Alma and Rickey. . .
      There's that wide puffy cloud that looks like your face when you wake up after falling asleep with all your clothes on.
      Reynaldo, Angelo, Albert, Armando, Mario . . .
      Not my face. Looks like your fat face.
      Rita, Margie, Ernie . . .
      Whose fat face?
      Esperanza's fat face, that's who. Looks like Esperanza's ugly face when she comes to school in the morning.
      Anita, Stella, Dennis, and Lolo . . .
      Who you calling ugly, ugly?
      Richie, Yolanda, Hector, Stevie, Vincent...
      Not you. Your mama, that's who.
      My mama? You better not be saying that, Lucy Guerrero. You better not be talking like that. . . else you can say goodbye to being my friend forever.
      I'm saying your mama's ugly like . . . ummm . . .
      ... like bare feet in September!
      That does it! Both of yous better get out of my yard before I call my brothers.
      Oh, we're only playing.
      I can think of thirty Eskimo words for you, Rachel. Thirty words that say what you are.
      Oh yeah, well I can think of some more.
      Uh-oh, Nenny. Better get the broom. Too much trash in our yard today.
      Frankie, Licha, Maria, Pee Wee . . .
      Nenny, you better tell your sister she is really crazy because Lucy and me are never coming back here again. Forever.
      Reggie, Elizabeth, Lisa, Louie ...
      You can do what you want to do, Nenny, but you better not talk to Lucy or Rachel if you want to be my sister.
      You know what you are, Esperanza? You are like the Cream of Wheat cereal. You're like the lumps.
      Yeah, and you're foot fleas, that's you.
      Chicken lips.
      Rosemary, Dalia, Lily. . .
      Cockroach jelly.
      Jean, Geranium and Joe . . .
      Cold frijoles.
      Mimi, Michael, Moe . . .
      Your mama's frijoles.
      Your ugly mama's toes.
      That's stupid.
      Bebe, Blanca, Benny. . .
      Who's stupid?
      Rachel, Lucy, Esperanza and Nenny.
　　　　　　　　　　　　
　　爱斯基摩人给雪取了三十个不同的名字。我说。我在一本书里读到的。
    我有个表妹，拉切尔说，她有三个不同的名字。
    世界上没有三十种不同的雪，露西说，只有两种。干净的和脏的，净雪和脏雪。只有两种。
    世界上有亿万种雪，蕾妮说，没有两种看上去一模一样。可你怎么记得哪种是哪种？
　　她有三个名字，让我想想，还有两个姓。一个英语的，一个西班牙语的……
　　云至少有十个不同的名字。我说。
　　云的名字？蕾妮问。像你我一样的名字？
    那上面那朵云，那是积云。每个人都仰起头来看。
    积云好可爱呀。拉切尔说。她只会说些这样的话。
    那边那朵云叫什么？蕾妮问，一个手指指着。
    那也是积云。今天全都是积云。积云。积云。积云。
    不。她说。那边那朵是南希，或者叫猪眼。在那边是她的表弟米尔玉德，还有小乔伊、马克、倪雷达和淑儿。
    世界上有这种各样的云。你能想起来多少种？
    嗯，那边就有一些看上去像剃须泡沫的·····
       那些看上去像是你用梳子梳过它的毛的呢？是的，那些也是云。
    菲利斯、特德、阿尔弗雷德和茉莉······
        那边的云看上去像是大片的羊群。拉切尔说，它们我最爱。
    别忘了雨云，下雨的云。我说。那也是很重要的云。
    何塞、达戈贝尔托、阿西利亚、劳尔、艾德娜、阿尔玛和里奇······
       那边有那种宽宽的胖乎乎的云，有点像你没脱衣服就睡着以后醒来的脸。
    雷纳尔多、安杰洛、阿尔伯特、阿曼多、马里奥·······
        不是我的脸。是像你的胖脸。
    瑞塔、玛吉、艾妮·····
        是谁的胖脸？
    埃斯佩浪莎的胖脸，是她的。像埃斯佩浪莎早上上学去时难看的脸。
    艾尼塔、斯坦拉、丹尼斯和罗罗······
        你在说谁难看？难看吗？
    瑞奇、约兰达、赫克托、史蒂夫、文森特······
        不是你。是你妈妈。是说她。
    我妈妈？你最好别这么说，露西·格莱罗。你最好别这么说····否则你就永远做不成我的朋友了。
    我是说你妈妈难看，就像·····嗯······
        ······像九月的光脚丫！
    好吧！你们啷个最好滚出我家的院子，别等我叫我弟弟出来。
    哦，我们只是说着玩的。
    我可以想起三十个爱斯基摩词来说你，拉切尔。三十个骂你的名字。
    哦，好，我能想起更多。
    嘿，蕾妮。去拿扫帚来。今天我们家院子里垃圾真多。
    弗兰奇、理查、玛利亚、皮威·····
        蕾妮，你最好告诉你姐姐，她真是疯掉了，露西和我我不会来这里了。永远。
    若基、伊丽莎白、莉莎、路易······
        蕾妮，随你做什么，可是如果想做我妹妹的话，最好别和露西或拉切尔讲话。
    你知道你是什么吗，埃斯佩朗莎？你就像麦片上的奶油。你就像是那些奶泡。
    哦，那你就是脚虱，你就是。
    小鸡嘴唇。
    罗斯玛丽、达莉亚、莉莉······
        蟑螂肉。
    吉斯、天竺葵和乔······
        冰菜豆。
    咪咪、迈克尔、末儿········
        你妈妈的菜豆。
    你的丑妈妈的脚趾头。
    蠢呀。
    贝贝、布兰卡、宾尼······
        谁蠢？
    拉切尔、露西、埃斯佩朗莎和蕾妮。    

　　 There was a family. All were little. Their arms were little, and their hands were little, and their height was not tall, and their feet very small.
      The grandpa slept on the living room couch and snored through his teeth. His feet were fat and doughy like thick tamales, and these he powdered and stuffed into white socks and brown leather shoes.
      The grandma's feet were lovely as pink pearls and dressed in velvety high heels that made her walk with a wobble, but she wore them anyway because they were pretty.
      The baby's feet had ten tiny toes, pale and see-through like a salamanders, and these he popped into his mouth whenever he was hungry.
      The mother's feet, plump and polite, descended like white pigeons from the sea of pillow, across the linoleum roses, down down the wooden stairs, over the chalk hopscotch squares, 5, 6, 7, blue sky.
      Do you want this? And gave us a paper bag with one pair of lemon shoes and one red and one pair of dancing shoes that used to be white but were now pale blue. Here, and we said thank you and waited until she went upstairs.
      Hurray! Today we are Cinderella because our feet fit exactly, and we laugh at Rachel's one foot with a girl's gray sock and a lady's high heel. Do you like these shoes? But the truth is it is scary to look down at your foot that is no longer yours and see attached a long long leg.
      Everybody wants to trade. The lemon shoes for the red shoes, the red for the pair that were once white but are now pale blue, the pale blue for the lemon, and take them off and put them back on and keep on like this a long time until we are tired.
      Then Lucy screams to take our socks off and yes, it's true. We have legs. Skinny and spotted with satin scars where scabs were picked, but legs, all our own, good to look at, and long.
      It's Rachel who learns to walk the best all strutted in those magic high heels. She teaches us to cross and uncross our legs, and to run like a double-dutch rope, and how to walk down to the corner so that the shoes talk back to you with every step. Lucy, Rachel, me tee-tottering like so. Down to the corner where the men can't take their eyes off us. We must be Christmas.
      Mr. Benny at the corner grocery puts down his important cigar: Your mother know you got shoes like that? Who give you those?
      Nobody.
      Them are dangerous, he says. You girls too young to be wearing shoes like that. Take them shoes off before I call the cops, but we just run.
      On the avenue a boy on a homemade bicycle calls out: Ladies, lead me to heaven.
      But there is nobody around but us.
      Do you like these shoes? Rachel says yes, and Lucy says yes, and yes I say, these are the best shoes. We will never go back to wearing the other kind again. Do you like these shoes?
      In front of the laundromat six girls with the same fat face pretend we are invisible. They are the cousins, Lucy says, and always jealous. We just keep strutting.
      Across the street in front of the tavern a bum man on the stoop.
      Do you like these shoes?
      Bum man says, Yes, little girl. Your little lemon shoes are so beautiful. But come closer. I can't see very well. Come closer. Please.
      You are a pretty girl, bum man continues. What's your name, pretty girl?
      And Rachel says Rachel, just like that.
      Now you know to talk to drunks is crazy and to tell them your name is worse, but who can blame her. She is young and dizzy to hear so many sweet things in one day, even if it is a bum man's whiskey words saying them.
      Rachel, you are prettier than a yellow taxicab. You know that?
      But we don't like it. We got to go, Lucy says.
      If I give you a dollar will you kiss me? How about a dollar. I give you a dollar, and he looks in his pocket for wrinkled money.
      We have to go right now, Lucy says taking Rachel's hand because she looks like she's thinking about that dollar.
      Bum man is yelling something to the air but by now we are running fast and far away, our high heel shoes taking us all the way down the avenue and around the block, past the ugly cousins, past Mr. Benny's, up Mango Street, the back way, just in case.
      We are tired of being beautiful. Lucy hides the lemon shoes and the red shoes and the shoes that used to be white but are now pale blue under a powerful bushel basket on the back porch, until one Tuesday her mother, who is very clean, throws them away. But no one complains.

　　有一家人。都是小个。他们的胳膊很小，他们的手也很小，他们的个头也不高，他们的叫非常非常小。
　　爷爷睡在客厅的沙发上，牙缝里漏出鼾声。他的脚又白又胖，像厚厚的玉米肉粽，他把它们扑上粉，套上白袜子，塞进棕色皮靴里。
　　奶奶的脚像粉红珍珠一样好看，穿着天鹅绒的高跟鞋，走起路来一歪一扭。可她还是穿着它们，因为鞋子漂亮。
    宝宝的脚有十个细细的脚趾，苍白又透明，像蝾螈的脚趾。他只要一饿就会把它们塞进嘴里。
    妈妈的脚，丰盈文雅，像白色鸽子从云天，那枕头的海洋飞落，走过油麻毯上的玫瑰，走下木楼梯，走在粉笔画的跳房的格子上，5、6、7，蓝色天空。
    你们想要这个吗？给你们个纸袋，里面有一双柠檬黄的鞋子、一双红色的鞋子和一双舞鞋，原先是白色的，现在是淡蓝色的，拿去吧。我们说谢谢你，等到她上楼去。
    好哇！今天我们是仙度瑞拉，因为我们的脚正合适。我对着拉切尔一只套着学生灰短袜又穿着女士高跟鞋的脚大笑。你喜欢这些鞋子吗？可说实话，低头看看你的脚，却觉得有点吓人，他好像不再是你的脚了，上面的腿好长好长。
    每个人都想换着穿。柠檬黄的换红的红的换那双曾是白的现在是淡蓝色的。脱下又穿上，穿上又脱下，忙乎了好一阵，直到我们都累了。
    然后露西尖声叫起来，我们把袜子脱掉吧。对呀。是真的。我们有腿呀。细瘦的腿，上面缀着脱痂后形成的缎面疤。可这是我们自己的腿，好看，又长。
    拉切尔学会了穿着这些奇妙的高跟鞋，驾驶十足的走来走去。她教我们把腿交叉又分开，想跳花式绳一样的走；她教我们怎么一步一响的走到街角，好像鞋子在和你对答。
    露西、拉切尔和我就这样踮着脚走着。走到街角，男人的眼镜没法从我们身上移开。我们像是带来了圣诞节。
    街角杂货店的宾尼先生放下他的大雪茄，问，你们的妈妈知道你们这鞋子哪来的吗？谁给你们的？
    没人。
    这鞋不安全。他说。你们这些小女孩还太小，不适合穿这样的鞋子。趁我还没叫警察赶快脱掉吧。可我们只是跑开。
    大道上一个骑着拼装自行车的男孩喊道，女士们，带我上天堂啊。
    那里除了我们没别人。
    你喜欢这些鞋子吗？拉切尔说的是，露西说的是，是的，我说，这些是最好的鞋子。我们再也不要穿别的鞋子了。你喜欢这样的鞋子吗？
    在自助洗衣店的前面，有六个长着一样的胖脸的女孩，它们装作看不到我们。拉切尔说，他们是表姐妹，喜欢嫉妒。我们有模有样的走着。
    街对过的一家小酒馆的门前，一个流浪汉坐在长凳上。
    你喜欢这样的鞋子吗？
    流浪汉说，喜欢，小姑娘。你的小黄鞋好漂亮。走检点，我看不太清。再近点，来。
    你是漂亮的小姑娘，那个人接着说，你叫什么名字？美女？
    拉切尔说叫拉切尔。就那么答了一句。
    现在你知道和醉鬼说话有多不好了吧。告诉他你的名字就更糟糕，可谁能怪她呢。她那么小，一天里听到的那么多好听的话让她有点晕头了，即便那是一个流浪汉的醉话。
    拉切尔，你比一辆黄色出租车还漂亮。你知道吗？
    可我们不喜欢。我们得走了。露西说。
    如果我给你一元钱你会吻我吗？一元钱怎么样？我给你一元钱，他低头在口袋里找起皱皱巴巴的票子来。
    我们得马上走，露西说着拉过拉切尔的手，因为她好像在考虑那一元钱呢。
    流浪汉冲着空气在叫喊着什么，可我们已经很快跑远了，我们的高跟鞋带着我们一路跑过大街，转过街区，经过那一群难看的表姐妹，经过宾尼先生的店，跑到了芒果街上，回来了，以防万一。
    我们厌倦了扮靓。露西把柠檬黄的、红的和先是白色的后来是淡蓝色的鞋子藏在后廊上一个很大的篮子里，直到星期二，她妈妈面非常爱干净的她，把它们扔了。没有人抗议。
      

　　 The special kids, the ones who wear keys around their necks, get to eat in the canteen. The canteen! Even the name sounds important. And these kids at lunch time go there because their mothers aren't home or home is too far away to get to.
      My home isn't far but it's not close either, and somehow I got it in my head one day to ask my mother to make me a sandwich and write a note to the principal so I could eat in the canteen too.
      Oh no, she says pointing the butter knife at me as if I'm starting trouble, no sir. Next thing you know everybody will be wanting a bag lunch—I'll be up all night cutting bread into little triangles, this one with mayonnaise, this one with mustard, no pickles on mine, but mustard on one side please. You kids just like to invent more work for me.
      But Nenny says she doesn't want to eat at school—ever—because she likes to go home with her best friend Gloria who lives across the schoolyard. Gloria's mama has a big color TV and all they do is watch cartoons. Kiki and Carlos, on the other hand, are patrol boys. They don't want to eat at school either. They like to stand out in the cold especially if it's raining. They think suffering is good for you ever since they saw that movie 300 Spartans.
      I'm no Spartan and hold up an anemic wrist to prove it. I can't even blow up a balloon without getting dizzy. And besides, I know how to make my own lunch. If I ate at school there'd be less dishes to wash. You would see me less and less and like me better. Everyday at noon my chair would be empty. Where is my favorite daughter you would cry, and when I came home finally at three p.m. you would appreciate me.
      Okay, okay, my mother says after three days of this. And the following morning I get to go to school with my mother's letter and a rice sandwich because we don't have lunch meat.
      Mondays or Fridays, it doesn't matter, mornings always go by slow and this day especially. But lunchtime came finally and I got to get in line with the stay-at-school kids. Everything is fine until the nun who knows all the canteen kids by heart looks at me and says: You, who sent you here? And since I am shy, I don't say anything, just hold out my hand with the letter. This is no good, she says, till Sister Superior gives the okay. Go upstairs and see her. And so I went.
      I had to wait for two kids in front of me to get hollered at, one because he did something in class, the other because he didn't. My turn came and I stood in front of the big desk with holy pictures under the glass while the Sister Superior read my letter. It went like this:
      
Dear Sister Superior,
      
      Please let Esperanza eat in the lunchroom because she lives too far away and she gets tired. As you can see she is very skinny. I hope to God she does not faint.
      
      Thanking you,
      Mrs. E. Cordero
      
You don't live far, she says. You live across the boulevard. That's only four blocks. Not even. Three maybe. Three long blocks away from here. I bet I can see your house from my window. Which one? Come here. Which one is your house?
      And then she made me stand up on a box of books and point. That one? she said, pointing to a row of ugly three-flats, the ones even the raggedy men are ashamed to go into. Yes, I nodded even though I knew that wasn't my house and started to cry. I always cry when nuns yell at me, even if they're not yelling.
      Then she was sorry and said I could stay—just for today, not tomorrow or the day after—you go home. And I said yes and could I please have a Kleenex—I had to blow my nose.
      In the canteen, which was nothing special, lots of boys and girls watched while I cried and ate my sandwich, the bread already greasy and the rice cold.