The House on Lygon Street

Sunday lunch

周日午餐

Nick was thirty-four. He made apps for phones. He worked in an office in the centre of Melbourne. He looked at a screen all day.

尼克三十四岁。他做手机软件。他在墨尔本市中心的一间办公室工作。他整天看着屏幕。

Every Sunday, he had lunch with his grandfather, Stavros. Nick called him Pappou. It was the Greek word for grandfather.

每个星期天，他都和他的爷爷斯塔夫罗斯一起吃午饭。尼克叫他Pappou。这是希腊语里“爷爷”的意思。

Pappou was eighty-six. He lived alone in a small house in Brunswick. He cooked chicken with potatoes every Sunday. It was always the same lunch, and it was always good.

Pappou八十六岁了。他一个人住在不伦瑞克的一座小房子里。他每个星期天都做土豆烧鸡。午饭总是这道菜，而且总是很好吃。

This Sunday, Pappou didn’t eat much. He had an old photo in his hand.

这个星期天，Pappou没怎么吃。他手里拿着一张老照片。

“Look,” he said. “This is me in 1965.”

“你看，”他说。“这是1965年的我。”

In the photo, a young man stood in front of a house. It had a green door. There was a small lemon tree next to the door. The young man had black hair and a big smile.

照片里，一个年轻人站一座房子前面。房子有一扇绿色的门。门旁边有一棵小柠檬树。那个年轻人有黑色的头发和大大的笑容。

“Where is this?” asked Nick.

“这是哪里？”尼克问。

“Lygon Street. It’s the house where I lived in my first year in Australia.”

“莱贡街。这是我来澳大利亚第一年住的房子。”

“You’ve never told me about that house.”

“你从来没跟我说过那座房子。”

“You’ve never asked.” Pappou smiled.

“你从来没问过。”Pappou笑了。

Nick put his phone on the table. “OK. I’m asking now.”

尼克把手机放在桌子上。“好吧。我现在问了。”

“I came from Greece on a ship,” said Pappou. “Thirty-one days on the sea. I was twenty-five, and I didn’t speak a word of English. I had one bag and the address of a cousin.”

“我坐船从希腊来，”Pappou说。“在海上走了三十一天。我那时二十五岁，一句英语也不会说。我只有一个包和一个表哥的地址。”

“And your cousin lived on Lygon Street?”

“你表哥住在莱贡街吗？”