我的女儿，我的老师

公共汽车

The bus

迈赫迈特住在伊斯坦布尔。他五十二岁。他在海边的一家小饭馆当厨师。

Mehmet lives in Istanbul. He is fifty-two. He is a cook in a small restaurant near the sea.

迈赫迈特什么菜都会做。他能给一百个人做鱼、米饭和汤。但是他不会开车。

Mehmet can cook everything. He can make fish, rice and soup for a hundred people. But he can’t drive.

在他家里，他的妻子开车。她开车去菜市场、去看医生、去饭馆。迈赫迈特坐在她身边说话。

In his family, his wife drives. She drives to the market, to the doctor and to the restaurant. Mehmet sits next to her and talks.

“在这里往左拐，”他说。“不，往右！小心那辆公共汽车！”

“Turn left here,” he says. “No, right! Watch the bus!”

“迈赫迈特，”他的妻子说。“谁在开这辆车？你还是我？”

“Mehmet,” says his wife. “Who drives this car? You or me?”

“当然是你。”

“You, of course.”

“那就别说话。”

“Then be quiet.”

一天晚上，他的妻子带着一封信回家。她很高兴，同时也有些难过。

One evening, his wife comes home with a letter. She is happy and sad at the same time.

“我有一份新工作了，”她说。“是一份好工作，在一家医院。但是它在布尔萨。”

“I have a new job,” she says. “A good job, in a hospital. But it is in Bursa.”

“布尔萨！那太远了。”

“Bursa! That is far.”

“是的。我星期一到星期五住在那里。我周末回家。”

“Yes. I live there from Monday to Friday. I come home at the weekend.”

迈赫迈特安静了一会儿。“那车呢？”

Mehmet is quiet for a moment. “And the car?”

“车跟我走。我在布尔萨需要它。”

“The car comes with me. I need it in Bursa.”