The Old Man and the Sea

He was an old man fishing alone in a small boat in the Gulf Stream (1), and had been gone for eighty-four days and had not caught a single fish. For the first forty days, a boy was with him. However, after forty days, not a single fish had been caught, and the child's parents told him that the old man was now "pouring blood mold" completely, which meant that the bad luck had reached the extreme, so the child obeyed their instructions, got on another boat, and caught three good fish in the first week. The child was very uncomfortable to see that the old man came back every day when the boat was always empty, and he always went down to the shore to help the old man with the rolled-up fishing rope, or the hook and harpoon, and the sail around the mast. The sails were patched with flour bag pieces, which when folded up looked like a flag marking eternal failure. (1) Refers to the Warm Gulf Of Mexico Current, which flows eastward through the Florida Strait between the southern tip of Florida and Cuba in the United States, and flows northeast along the east coast of North America. This warm current is warmer than the sea on both sides, up to miles wide at its widest point, and is a deep blue color, which is very spectacular, and is a place for fish clusters. The protagonist of the book is a fisherman in a small harbor near Havana, the capital of Cuba, who often sails into the Gulfstream to fish.　　The old man was emaciated and gaunt, and there were some deep wrinkles on his neck. There are some brown spots on the cheeks, which are benign skin cancers caused by the light reflected by the sun on the tropical sea. Brown spots spread from the sides of his face, and his hands used ropes to pull the big fish, leaving deeply carved scars. But none of these scars are new. They are as old as eroded places in a desert where there are no fish to fight. Everything in him seemed ancient, except for those eyes, which were as blue as the sea, pleasant and unwilling to admit defeat.　　"Santiago," the child said to him as the two of them climbed ashore from where the boat was moored. "I'll be at sea with you again." My family earns a little bit of money. The old man taught the boy to fish, and the child loved him.　　"No," said the old man. "You've come across a ship of good luck. Stay with them. "But you should remember that you didn't catch a single fish for eighty-seven days, and for three weeks, we caught big fish every day."　　"I remember," said the old man. "I know you didn't leave me because you weren't sure."　　"It was Dad who told me to go. I am a child and cannot but obey him. "I understand," said the old man. That's the way it should be. "He didn't have much confidence."　　"Yes," said the old man. "But we have. But isn't it? "Yes," the child said. I invite you to the terrace restaurant for a beer and bring back the fishing treats together. "That dares to be kind," said the old man. They're all fishing people. They sat on the terrace of the hotel, and many fishermen joked about the old man, who was not angry. Some other elderly fishermen looked at him and felt uncomfortable. But they didn't show it, just Sven talked about the current, about how deep they had sent the fishing rope to the surface, how good the weather had always been, about what they had seen. The fishermen who had succeeded in fishing that day had returned and had cut the marlins in a row on two planks, one end of which was carried by two men and staggered to the fish collection station, where they were waiting for refrigerated trucks to transport them to the market in Havana. People who caught the sharks have sent them to shark processing plants on the other side of the bay, hoisted them on compound trolleys, removed the liver, cut off the fins, peeled off the outer skin, and cut the fish into strips for marinade.　　When the east wind blows, the shark processing plant sends a smell across the bay; but today there is only a faint hint, because the wind has turned to the north, and then gradually subsided, and the hotel terrace is pleasant and sunny.　　"Santiago," the child said.　　"Oh," said the old man. He was holding a glass, thinking about something that had happened many years ago.　　"Do you want me to get some sardines for you to use tomorrow?"　　"Nope. Go play baseball. I'm okay with rowing, and Rogelho will cast a net for me. "I'd love to go. Even if I can't fish with you, I'd love to do something for you. "You invited me to a beer," said the old man. You're already an adult. "The first time you took me on board, how old was I?"　　"When I was five years old, I dragged a fish that jumped alive on the boat that day, and it almost smashed the boat to pieces, and you almost died. Remember that? "I remember the fish's tails thumping, the ship's seat board broken, and the sound of sticks fishing. I remember you shoving me toward the bow of the boat, where there were wet fishing rope rolls, and I felt the whole boat trembling, heard the sound of you snapping fish with your stick, like you were cutting down a tree, and remembered the smell of sweet silk and blood all over my body. "Do you really remember that, or did I just tell you about it not too long ago?"　　"From the first time we went to sea together, I remember everything clearly."　　The old man looked at him with pity in his eyes, which were often sunburned and determined.　　"If you're my own kid, I'm going to take you out and break in," he said. "But you are your father and your mother's son, and you are on a boat that has made good luck."　　"Shall I go get sardines?" I also know where to go and get four baits. "I have the rest of myself today." I put them in the box and pickled them. "Let me get you four fresh ones."　　"One," said the old man. His hope and confidence never faded. Now it's as fresh as when the breeze first rises.　　"Two," the child said.　　"Just two," the old man agreed. "You didn't steal it, did you?"　　"I'm willing to steal," the child said. "But these were bought."　　"Thank you," said the old man. He was simple in heart, not trying to figure out when he had reached such a humble point. But he knew that he had reached this point at this point, and he knew that it was not humiliating, so it did not affect his true self-esteem.　　"Look at this current, Ming'er will be a good day," he said.　　"Where are you going?" The child asked.　　"Sail into the distance and wait for the wind to turn before coming back." I want to leave before dawn. "I'm going to think of the boat owner going far away," the child said. That way, if you do catch a big fish, we can rush to help you. "He wouldn't want to drive very far."　　"Yeah," the kid said. "But I'll see something he can't see, like a bird hovering in the air, and I'll tell him to chase the loach."　　"Is his eyes so bad?"　　"I'm blind."　　"That's weird," said the old man. "He never caught a turtle. This play hurts the eyes. "You've been fishing turtles off the coast of Moschito (1) for years, and your eyesight is pretty good." (1) Located in the eastern part of Nicaragua in Central America, it is a low-lying coastal zone bordering the Gulf of Mexico, covered with shrubland. It is the place where the Moschito people among the Indians live, hence the name.　　"I'm an unusual old man."　　"But do you still have the strength to deal with a really big fish?"　　"I think there is. There are a lot of tricks available. "Let's take the house and go home," the child said. That way I could take the net and catch the sardines. They picked up the fishing home from the boat. The old man carries the mast on his shoulder, and the child holds a wooden box with a tightly woven brown fishing rope roll, a fishing hook, and a harpoon with a pole. The bait box was hidden under the tip of the boat, where there was the stick that the big fish were used to collect them when they were towed to the side of the boat, and no one would come to steal the old man's things, but it was better to take the mast and the rough fishing ropes home, because the dew was not good for these things, and besides, although the old man was convinced that no one in the local area would steal his things, he thought that leaving a fishing hook and a harpoon on the boat was an unnecessary temptation.　　They walked along the main road together to the old man's shack and walked in through the open door. The old man leaned the mast around the sail against the wall, and the child placed the wooden box and other household goods next to it. The mast was about the length of a single room in this shack. The shacks are made of the tough bracts of large coconut trees called "sea bird droppings" and contain a bed, a table, a chair and a place on the mud floor where charcoal is cooked.　　On the brown wall flattened with a layer of fiber-strong "sea bird droppings", there is a colorful picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (1) and another picture of the Virgin of Cobrai (2). It was a relic of his wife. At one point there was a colored picture of his wife hanging on the wall, but he took it off because he felt so lonely when he looked at it, and it was now on the corner shelf, under one of his clean shirts. (1) The Initiative of the French Nun Margaret Marie Alacock of the Worship of the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ was widely spread in Catholic countries. (2) Cobray is a small town in southeastern Cuba, and there is the Shrine of Our Lady of Cobray on the hill south of the town, and the day of the month is the day of pilgrimage every year.　　"What's there to eat?"　　"There is a pot of fish cooked yellow rice. Want to eat something? "Nope. I went home to eat. Do you want me to make you a fire? "Nope. After a while I'll be born on my own. Maybe just eat cold food. "Shall I take the fishing net?"　　"Of course it's good."　　There was no fishing net, and the child remembered when they sold it. Yet they have to pull a set of such lies every day. There is also no fish cooked yellow rice, which the child knows.　　"Eighty-five is an auspicious number," said the old man. "Would you like to see me catch a fish that weighs more than a thousand pounds off its feet?"　　"I took the net and went to catch the sardines. Can you sit in the doorway and bask in the sun? "All right. I had yesterday's newspaper and I came to see the baseball news. The child does not know whether yesterday's newspaper is also nothing. But the old man took it out from under the bed.　　"Perico gave it to me in the grocery store," he explained.　　"I got the sardines and came back. I'm going to ice your fish with mine, and I'll be able to use it tomorrow morning. When I get back, you tell me the baseball news. "The Yankees (1) won't lose."　　"But I'm afraid the Cleveland Indians will win."　　"Trust the Yankees, good boy. Don't forget that amazing Dimaggio. (2) (1) This New York City baseball team is the strongest team in the U.S. professional baseball world. (2) Joe Dimaggio entered the Yankees since then and is known for his ability to score goals. Say goodbye to the baseball season after the year.　　"I'm worried about the Detroit Tigers, and I'm worried about the Cleveland Indians."　　"Beware, or even the Cincinnati Reds and chicago white stocks, you'll have to worry."　　"Read the newspaper and tell me when I get back."　　"Do you think we should go buy a lottery ticket with eighty-five at the end?" Ming'er is the eighty-fifth day. "That's okay," the boy said. But the last time you set a record was eighty-seven days, what does that mean? "It's not going to happen again." Can you see a sheet with eight or five at the end? "I can go and order one."　　"Book one. That's two and a half pieces. To whom are we going to borrow this money? "This one is easy. I can always borrow two and a half dollars. "I think I might be able to borrow it too." But I don't want to borrow money. The first step is to borrow money. The next step is to beg for food. "Dress warmly, sir," the child said. Don't forget, we're in September. "It's the month when the big fish show up," the old man said. In May, everyone can be a good fisherman. "I'm going to catch the sardines now," the kid said.　　By the time the child returned, the old man was asleep in his chair, and the sun had gone down. The child picked up an old military blanket from the bed and spread it on the back of the chair, covering the old man's shoulders. These two shoulders are quite strange, the person is very old, but the shoulders are still very strong, the neck is still very strong, and when the old man is asleep and the head is pulled forward, the wrinkles are not very obvious. He had patched his shirt an unknown number of times, like his sails, and the patches had faded into many shades and shades of color by the sun. The old man's head was very old, his eyes were closed, and there was no anger on his face. Newspapers were spread out on his knees, in the evening wind, pressed against one of his arms, so that it was not blown away. He was barefoot.　　The child left the old man behind, and when he returned, the old man was still asleep.

[NextPage2]　　"Wake up, sir," said the child, putting one hand on the old man's knee. The old man opened his eyes, and his consciousness seemed for a moment as if he were returning from a distant place. Then he smiled.　　"What did you bring?" he asked.　　"Dinner," the child said. "Let's eat."　　"I'm not hungry."　　"Got it, eat it." You can't just fish and not eat. "I've done this," said the old man, standing up, picking up the newspaper, and folding it. Follow him to fold the blanket.　　"Put a blanket on your body," the child said. "As long as I live, you will never go fishing without eating."　　"So, I wish you a long life and take care of yourself," said the old man. "What do we eat?"　　"Black bean rice, fried bananas, and some pure vegetables." (1) (1) These are staple foods of the people of the Caribbean.　　The child brought these meals from the terrace restaurant in a double-layered dining box. He had two pairs of knives, forks and spoons in his pocket, each wrapped in a paper napkin.　　"Who gave it to you?"　　"Martin. That boss. "I have to thank him."　　"I've already thanked you," the child said. "You don't have to thank him."　　"I'm going to give him a piece of meat from the belly of a big fish," said the old man. "He's helped us like this more than once?"　　"I guess so."　　"In this case, I should send him something in addition to the belly meat of the fish." He really cared about us. "He also gave away two bottles of beer."　　"I love canned beer."　　"I know. But it's bottled, Arturier, and I have to send the bottle back. "You're so thoughtful," said the old man. Shall we eat well? "I've already asked you," the child said softly to him. I don't want to open the lunch box until you're ready. "I'm ready," said the old man. All I have to do is wash my face. Where do you go to wash it? The child thinks. The village tap is on the corner of the second cross road on the main road. I should bring water here for him to use, the child thought, and bring a bar of soap and a clean towel. Why am I so careless? I should get another shirt and a jacket for him to spend the winter, a pair of shoes, and a blanket for him.　　"This pure vegetable croaks," said the old man.　　"Tell me about the baseball game," the child begged him.　　"In the American League (1), it's always the Yankees, and I told you," the old man said cheerfully.　　"They lost today," the child told him.　　"It's nothing, the great Dimaggio has regained his true colors."　　"There are other good players in their team."　　"It still needs to be said. But with him it was different. In another league (2), take Brooklyn and Ferra del Fia, I believe brooklyn. But then again, I haven't forgotten Dick Sisler and the good balls he played in that old park (3). (1) The U.S. professional baseball community is divided into two organizations, the big league and the minor league according to the level, the American League is one of the two major leagues, and the Yankees are the best of them. (2) refers to another major league, the National League. Each year, the two leagues select a winning team through a competition, and in the first half of October, they take turns in the venues of both sides to compete against each other, called the "World Series". (3) Refers to Shibe Park in Feladelphia, which is the main venue for the city's baseball team to play. Dick Sisler played there in 2008.　　"These good balls have never been played by anyone else. Of all the shots I've ever seen, he hit the farthest. "Do you remember that he used to come to the Terrace Hotel?" I wanted to accompany him out to sea to fish, but I didn't dare to talk to him. So I asked you to say it, but you didn't dare. "I remember. We miscalculated so much. He was full of possibilities to go out to sea with us. In this way, we can reminisce about this for the rest of our lives. "I want to go fishing with that amazing Dimaggio," the old man said. They said his father was also a fisherman. Maybe he was as poor as we were, and he would have understood our hearts. "That great Sisler dad didn't live a poor life, his dad played in the league when he was my age." (1) "At your age, I was a regular sailor on a sailing ship to Africa, and I have seen lions come to the beach in the evening."　　"I know. You talked to me about it. "Are we going to talk about Africa or about baseball?"　　"I'll talk about baseball," the kid said. "Tell me about the remarkable John J. McGraw (2)." He pronounced this J as "Hota" (3). (1) Refers to George Harold Sisler, who began to participate in major leagues and was awarded the title of "Most Valuable Player in the American League" for the first time in 2008. (2) McGraw began to be a professional baseball player, joined the New York Giants in the year, and served as the manager of the team until the year, making the team a famous strong team. He stopped playing years later. (3) J is the initial letter of Joseph, pronounced "Hota" in Spanish.　　In the old days, he sometimes came to the terrace restaurant. But as soon as he drank the wine, he had a rough attitude, hurt people, and had an awkward temperament. He had baseball in his mind and horse racing in his mind. At least he always carried the list of horses in his pocket and often mentioned some of the horse's names on the phone. "He's a great manager," the kid said. My dad thought he was the greatest. "It's because he's here the most times," the old man said. If Dorocher (1) continues to come here every year, your dad will think he's the greatest manager. "Seriously, who's the top great manager, Luke (2) or Mike Gonzalez?" (3) (1) Leo Dorocher was a famous baseball star in the 1930s, and he became the manager of the New York Giants, making him a first-class team. (2) Born in Havana, Adolfo Luke played for the Giants in Boston, Cincinnati, Brooklyn and New York, and later as manager. (3) In the late 1940s, he twice served as the manager of the St. Louis Red Baseball Team.　　"I think they're on par."　　"The best fisherman is you."　　"Nope. I know there are a lot of people who are better than me. "Where!" The child said. "There are a lot of good fishermen, and some are very remarkable. But you're the only one at the top. "Thank you. You said it made me happy. I hope that there is no big fish that I can't deal with, so that we are wrong. "There is no such fish, as long as you are still as strong as you say."　　"I may not be as strong as I thought I am," said the old man. "But I know a lot of tricks and I have determination."　　"You should go to bed so that Ming'er will be full of energy in the morning." I'm going to send these things back to the Terrace Hotel. "Then good night to you." I'll go wake you up in the morning. "You're my alarm clock," the kid said.　　"Age is my alarm clock," said the old man. "Why did the old man wake up so early?" Is it to make the day longer? "I can't say," the child said. All I know is that teenagers sleep deeply and get up late. "I take it to heart," said the old man. It's time to wake you up. "I don't want the owner of the boat to wake me up." It seems like I'm worse than him. "I understand."　　"Sleep peacefully, sir."　　The child went out of the house. When they had just eaten, there was no light on the table, so the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the dark. He rolled up his trousers as a pillow and tucked the newspaper into it. Wrapped in a blanket, he slept on other old newspapers that were spread over spring pads.　　It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, dreaming of the Africa he had seen as a child, long golden beaches and white beaches, dazzlingly white, and towering headlands and brown mountains. Now he returned to the shore every night, and in his dream he heard the rumbling of the waves crashing on the shore, and saw the natives driving through the waves. As he slept, he smelled the tar and crutch on the deck, as well as the African scent of the morning wind blowing on land.　　Usually as soon as he smelled the wind blowing on the land, he would wake up, put on his clothes and wake up the child. But tonight the smell of the wind blowing on the land came early, and he knew in his dream that the time was still early, so he continued to dream, seeing the white peak of the archipelago rising from the sea, and then dreaming of the various harbors and anchorages of the Canary Islands (1). (1) A volcanic archipelago in the eastern north Atlantic, located in the southwest of Morocco, which was not yet independent at that time and belonged to Spain.　　He no longer dreamed of storms, no longer dreamed of women, no longer dreamed of great events, no longer dreamed of big fish, no longer dreamed of fights, no longer dreamed of wrestling, no longer dreamed of his wife. He now only dreams of lions in some places and on the beach. They frolicked like kittens in the twilight, and he loved them as much as the child. He had never dreamed of the child. He woke up, looked at the moon outside the open door, and spread out his trousers to put them on. He peed outside the shack and then walked down the road to wake up the child. He was overwhelmed by the cold of the morning. But he knew he would feel warm after a while, and it wouldn't be long before he was going to row.　　The door of the house where the child lived was not bunked, and he pushed open the door and quietly walked in barefoot. The child was asleep on a canvas bed outside, and the old man saw him clearly by the light of the remnant moon shooting in from outside. He gently held one of the child's feet until the child woke up and turned his face to look at him. The old man nodded, and the child took his trousers from the chair next to the bed and sat on the edge of the bed to put on his pants. The old man walked out the door, and the child followed behind him. He was still drowsy, and the old man put his arm around his shoulder and said, "I'm sorry." "Where!" The child said. "That's what a man should do."　　They walked down the main road toward the old man's shack, and along the way some barefoot men were walking around in the darkness, carrying the masts of their ships.　　They walked into the shack of the old man, and the child picked up the fishing rope rolls in the basket, as well as the harpoon and the hook, and the old man carried the mast around the sail on his shoulder.　　"Want to have coffee?" The child asked.　　"Let's put the housework in the boat and drink a little."　　They drank coffee served in condensed milk in an early morning snack bar for fishermen.　　"How are you sleeping, sir?" The child asked. He was awake now, though it would not be easy for him to get rid of the Sleeping Devil completely.　　"Slept well, Manolin," said the old man. "I feel confident today."　　"So do I," the child said. "Now it's time for me to go get the sardines you and I used, and the fresh bait for you." The houseware on that boat was always his own. He never asked anyone to help him get something. "We're different," the old man said. When you were only five years old, I asked you to help you with things. "I remember," the child said. I'll be right back. Let's have another cup of coffee. We can hang up the account here. He walked, barefoot on the coral stone paved walkway, toward the cold storage where the fish erbium was kept.　　The old man drank his coffee slowly. It was his meal for the whole day today, and he knew he should drink it. For a long time, eating bored him, so he never brought food with him. He had a bottle of water on the bow of the boat, and all he needed for the whole day was enough.　　The children returned with sardines and two baits wrapped in newspapers, and as they walked down the path to the boat, they felt pebbles embedded in the sand beneath their feet, and they lifted the boat and let it slip into the water.　　"Good luck, sir."　　"Good luck," said the old man. He put the rope snare on the oar's seat and rushed forward to counteract the resistance that the paddle encountered in the water, and rowed out of the harbor in the dark. There were other boats on the other beaches going out to sea, and the old man heard the sound of their oars falling and paddling, even though the moon had fallen behind the mountain at the moment, and he couldn't see them clearly.　　Occasionally there was someone talking in a boat. But apart from the sound of paddles, most of the boats were silent. As soon as they left the harbor, they scattered, each heading for the surface of the sea where they were hoping to find fish. The old man knew he was going to sail away, so he left the breath of the land behind and paddled into the fresh breath of the early morning ocean. He paddled through a certain part of the water in the sea and saw the phosphorescence of the fruit sac sargassum, which the fishermen called "the big well", because the depth of the water suddenly reached seven hundred (1), and the current hit the cliffs of the abyss on the seabed, stirring up a whirlpool, where all kinds of fish gathered. There are concentrated shrimp and small fish for bait, and in those unfathomable underwater caves, there are sometimes schools of soft fish, which float close to the sea at night, and all the fish that swim there use them as food. (1) The unit in which water depth is measured, and each inch is equal to a foot.　　The old man felt the morning coming in the darkness, and as he paddled, he heard the trembling of the flying fish as they came out of the water, and the sizzling of their upright wings as they flew in the darkness. He was very fond of flying fish and used them as his main friends on the ocean. He grieves for the birds, especially the weak little black terns, who are always flying and looking for food, but have hardly ever found them, so he thinks that Ul's life is even more difficult than ours, except for the birds of prey and the powerful birds. If the ocean is so brutal, why are birds like these petrels born so weak and delicate? The ocean is merciful and very beautiful. Yet she could become so brutal, and so suddenly, and these flying birds, falling from the air to feed and make subtle cries, were born too weak to live at sea.　　Whenever he thought of the ocean, he always called her Lamar, which is what people call her in Spanish when they have a good feeling for the ocean. Sometimes, people who have a crush on the ocean say bad things about her, but they always treat her as a woman. (1) Some younger fishermen, who use buoys as floats on fishing ropes, and who have set up motorboats after selling shark livers for a lot of money, call the ocean elmar, which means male. When they mention her, they use her as a competitor or a place to go, or even as an enemy. But this old man always regards the ocean as a woman, and she gives or does not want to give great favors, and if she does something willful or immoral, it is because she cannot help herself. The moon had an effect on her, as it had on a woman, he thought. (1) The Spanish word for "mar" can be used as a feminine noun or a masculine noun, distinguished by whether the preceding definite article is feminine (la) or masculine (el).　　He paddled calmly, not struggling for him, for he kept within his maximum speed, and the sea was flat and waveless except for the occasional whirlwind of the current. He was asking the current to do a third of his work, when it was getting dark and he found himself paddling farther than he had expected at this moment.