今年我已经十一岁了
What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and fours, and threee, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your leeventh birthdays yu expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are --- underneath the year that makes you eleven.
人们不明白也不会告诉你，你的十一岁，同你的十岁、九岁、八岁、七岁、六岁、五岁、四岁、三岁、两岁、一岁一样没有差别。而当你在十一岁生日当天醒来并期望能感受十一岁的自己的时候，却发现根本不行。你睁开眼睛，而所有的一切都跟昨天差不多，只是日子走到了今天而已。你根本不知道十一岁是什么感觉。你觉得自己还是十岁。你——藏在了第十一个年头的后面。
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s say and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
你也许还会说一些傻话，那是还停留在十岁的你干的。或者你也许还会因为害怕而要坐在妈妈的腿上，那是五岁的你干的。也许当你有一天长大了，还可能会像你三岁时那样哭鼻子，那也没关系。妈妈需要大哭一场的时候我就这样告诉她。也许她感觉自己只有三岁。
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings insides a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That's how being eeven years old is.
成长就如同一层一层的洋葱，树干里一圈一圈的年轮，或是像一个套一个的木头套娃一样。正因为这样，你也是一岁裹着一岁长大的。那就是十一岁的样子。
You don’t feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don‘t feel smart eleven, not until you’re almost twelve. That’s the way it is.
你不觉得自己十一岁了。不会立马觉得。也许要花几天、几个星期，有时甚至十几个月的时间，当别人问起你岁数的时候，你才会说十一岁。而直到你快到十二岁了，才发觉自己已经十一岁很久了。就是这样。
Only today I wish I didn’t have only eleven years rattling inside me like pennies in a tin Band-Aid box. Today I wish I was one hndred and two instead of eleven because if I was one hundred and two I’d have known what to say when Mrs. Price put the red sweater on my desk. I would’ve known how to tell her it wasn’t mine instead of just sitting three with that look on my face and nothing coming out of my mouth.
只有今天，我希望自己不要像我创可贴盒子里叮当作响的可怜的几便士一样只有区区十一岁。今天我希望自己有102岁而不是11岁。要是我有102岁，当普莱斯太太把那件红毛衣放在我课桌上的时候，我就知道该怎么说了。我就知道该怎么告诉她那件衣服不是我的，而不是干坐在那儿一句话也说不出来。
人们不明白也不会告诉你，你的十一岁，同你的十岁、九岁、八岁、七岁、六岁、五岁、四岁、三岁、两岁、一岁一样没有差别。而当你在十一岁生日当天醒来并期望能感受十一岁的自己的时候，却发现根本不行。你睁开眼睛，而所有的一切都跟昨天差不多，只是日子走到了今天而已。你根本不知道十一岁是什么感觉。你觉得自己还是十岁。你——藏在了第十一个年头的后面。
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s say and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
你也许还会说一些傻话，那是还停留在十岁的你干的。或者你也许还会因为害怕而要坐在妈妈的腿上，那是五岁的你干的。也许当你有一天长大了，还可能会像你三岁时那样哭鼻子，那也没关系。妈妈需要大哭一场的时候我就这样告诉她。也许她感觉自己只有三岁。
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings insides a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That's how being eeven years old is.
成长就如同一层一层的洋葱，树干里一圈一圈的年轮，或是像一个套一个的木头套娃一样。正因为这样，你也是一岁裹着一岁长大的。那就是十一岁的样子。
You don’t feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don‘t feel smart eleven, not until you’re almost twelve. That’s the way it is.
你不觉得自己十一岁了。不会立马觉得。也许要花几天、几个星期，有时甚至十几个月的时间，当别人问起你岁数的时候，你才会说十一岁。而直到你快到十二岁了，才发觉自己已经十一岁很久了。就是这样。
Only today I wish I didn’t have only eleven years rattling inside me like pennies in a tin Band-Aid box. Today I wish I was one hndred and two instead of eleven because if I was one hundred and two I’d have known what to say when Mrs. Price put the red sweater on my desk. I would’ve known how to tell her it wasn’t mine instead of just sitting three with that look on my face and nothing coming out of my mouth.
只有今天，我希望自己不要像我创可贴盒子里叮当作响的可怜的几便士一样只有区区十一岁。今天我希望自己有102岁而不是11岁。要是我有102岁，当普莱斯太太把那件红毛衣放在我课桌上的时候，我就知道该怎么说了。我就知道该怎么告诉她那件衣服不是我的，而不是干坐在那儿一句话也说不出来。
人们不明白也不会告诉你，你的十一岁，同你的十岁、九岁、八岁、七岁、六岁、五岁、四岁、三岁、两岁、一岁一样没有差别。而当你在十一岁生日当天醒来并期望能感受十一岁的自己的时候，却发现根本不行。你睁开眼睛，而所有的一切都跟昨天差不多，只是日子走到了今天而已。你根本不知道十一岁是什么感觉。你觉得自己还是十岁。你——藏在了第十一个年头的后面。
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s say and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
你也许还会说一些傻话，那是还停留在十岁的你干的。或者你也许还会因为害怕而要坐在妈妈的腿上，那是五岁的你干的。也许当你有一天长大了，还可能会像你三岁时那样哭鼻子，那也没关系。妈妈需要大哭一场的时候我就这样告诉她。也许她感觉自己只有三岁。
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings insides a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That's how being eeven years old is.
成长就如同一层一层的洋葱，树干里一圈一圈的年轮，或是像一个套一个的木头套娃一样。正因为这样，你也是一岁裹着一岁长大的。那就是十一岁的样子。
You don’t feel eleven. Not right away. It takes a few days, weeks even, sometimes months before you say Eleven when they ask you. And you don‘t feel smart eleven, not until you’re almost twelve. That’s the way it is.
你不觉得自己十一岁了。不会立马觉得。也许要花几天、几个星期，有时甚至十几个月的时间，当别人问起你岁数的时候，你才会说十一岁。而直到你快到十二岁了，才发觉自己已经十一岁很久了。就是这样。
Only today I wish I didn’t have only eleven years rattling inside me like pennies in a tin Band-Aid box. Today I wish I was one hndred and two instead of eleven because if I was one hundred and two I’d have known what to say when Mrs. Price put the red sweater on my desk. I would’ve known how to tell her it wasn’t mine instead of just sitting three with that look on my face and nothing coming out of my mouth.
What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and fours, and threee, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your leeventh birthdays yu expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are --- underneath the year that makes you eleven.
只有今天，我希望自己不要像我创可贴盒子里叮当作响的可怜的几便士一样只有区区十一岁。今天我希望自己有102岁而不是11岁。要是我有102岁，当普莱斯太太把那件红毛衣放在我课桌上的时候，我就知道该怎么说了。我就知道该怎么告诉她那件衣服不是我的，而不是干坐在那儿一句话也说不出来。
只有今天，我希望自己不要像我创可贴盒子里叮当作响的可怜的几便士一样只有区区十一岁。今天我希望自己有102岁而不是11岁。要是我有102岁，当普莱斯太太把那件红毛衣放在我课桌上的时候，我就知道该怎么说了。我就知道该怎么告诉她那件衣服不是我的，而不是干坐在那儿一句话也说不出来。