1. 对我来说，睡着的感觉是世上最令人愉悦的事情。
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2. 在人世间最美妙的旋律中，睡意来了。
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3. 我拥有过真实、彻底、没有遗憾的快乐。
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短语应用
1. At the edge of the divan...
at the edge of：在……的边缘
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2. ...but still good-looking and well-dressed — above all...
above all：首先；首要；尤其是；最重要的是
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向他倾诉
Telling Him
佚名 / Anonymous
Early morning and mist is wrapped around the tops of the mountains. Down here it is lifting slowly like a reluctant child leaving her warm sleep. I walk through fields of shiny wet grass and pick out diamonds in the dew. I have come early and parked the car further away than I needed to so that I have time to think and to find the right words.
Now that I’ m here I am not so sure and think about turning back and leaving. I could put it off for another time. Another day， another week ——what difference would it make？
I am out of the fields now and on the very edge of the village. And then just as I think about bolting like some scared rabbit he is there. He has seen me from the window and he’ s calling my name. I run to him. I like being in his arms. I love his love. He is the father I never had， the father I longed for as a child.
When Vincent first took me to meet him he opened his arms then. There was no formal handshake， none of the usual politeness or caution of strangers. Later I asked Vincent if his dad was like that with all his girlfriends.
“I’ ve never taken any of them home before. ” He said. And although he laughed his dark eyes locked with mine and in that moment he told me that he loved me and that I was special. I looked right back at him to let him know that I felt the same.
We went together just months later to tell his dad that we had plans to marry， that we wanted to be married in the village where Vincent and his brother had grown up. His dad brought them up on his own above a coffee shop. His sons left to live and work in the town but his dad stayed. He still has the shop and it is busy all year round. In the summer， tourists come and in the winter the locals come as much for his conversation as his good coffee.
Vincent pulled him away from his customers that day and told him we were getting married. He didn’ t say anything for a long moment， just kept his head down， then he looked up and nodded， but his dark eyes were shiny and I knew how happy we had made him.
As we go into the coffee shop now， that moment is with me again. It was a moment of pure joy， a floating moment. He brings me in now and sits me down in front of the fire and brings over two mugs full of steaming mocha coffee. He goes and gets some cream and swirls it on the top.
“So， it’ s been ages， how have you been？” He is looking at the flames in the fire and I know that there is no reproach in his words. He is not telling me off for not coming to see him. He is very straight， what you see is what you get. That’ s why I had to come and see him， to tell him what is happening and to hope he will understand.
He pulls on his coat and we go out for a walk. Slowly the mist is leaving the mountains although the tops are still shrouded in swirls. We talk about this and that but I’ m struggling. There’ s a tension in me that spills over into the conversation so it feels forced and unnatural.
All the way down here， I thought about what I would say and how I would say it but now words fail me. Silence falls between us. We are by the church now where Vincent and I had planned to marry. It is a tiny church just big enough for the village and late creamy roses are still in bloom around the entrance.
“Do you want to go in？” I ask him. He shakes his head and relief washes over me. He tells me that he doesn’ t go often， “I did at first， not now.”
We walk on past whitewashed cottages and ancient trees just holding on to the last of their leaves. We’re thinking about Vincent and remembering.
“I knew you were the one， I saw how Vincent looked at you and I was so happy for both of you. To love someone and be loved back， it’ s everything.”
I slip my hand in his and hold on tight. Vincent died riding his bike too fast， always in a hurry， too busy even to live. I miss him.
Now I say out loud， “I miss him. ” And this is the right time to tell the truth. To tell Vincent’ s father that I have found someone else.
The right words I had practised are all but gone and everything comes out in a rush， tumbling words with no sense. I am jumping and mixing up the time sequence I know， so I back-track to emphasise how it has happened suddenly， over weeks really， although the friendship was there for months， longer.
“I don’ t want you to think I am some sort of merry widow. Vincent hasn’ t been dead two years. I worry that people will think it’ s too soon.”
This is where he interrupts me， after saying nothing at all. His voice is quick and angry.
“You’ re not to worry about what people think. It’ s what’ s in your heart that’ s important. You cannot have your life ruled by what other people think. One year， two years ——who cares？ Love isn’ t something you order after five years of mourning. You love this man， he loves you. It’ s natural you should be together.” He lets his breath out and I do the same.
“There’ s more. ” I say. He is looking away from me when I tell him that it is his older son that I love. Vincent’ s brother， Joseph. He turns to me slowly and his face is just a smile， a huge smile. He holds out his arms and I move close. The wind whispers around us， a gentle wind that feels like a blessing.
清晨，山顶上笼罩着层层薄雾。晨雾缓慢散去，如同倔强的孩子不情愿从美梦中醒来一样。湿漉漉的草地闪闪发亮，我走过时，脚步抹去了钻石般晶莹的露珠。为了有充足的时间考虑并寻找合适的措辞，我很早就来了，并把车停在了比较远的地方。
现在我站在这儿，心里却是七上八下，真想转身离开，打算换个时间再来。可是就算另一天、另一周……又有什么区别呢？
此时，我已穿过草地，来到了村边。我正准备像一只受惊的兔子般逃开时，他出现了。透过窗口，他看到了我，并叫着我的名字。我跑到他身边，因为我喜欢他的拥抱和他的爱。他是我从小一直渴望，却从未拥有过的父亲。
文森特第一次带我拜访他时，他就向我张开了怀抱。我们之间没有正式的握手，也没有与陌生人相见时那种礼貌性的寒暄和小心翼翼。我后来问文森特，他父亲对他所有的女友是否都是这样。
他回答说：“我从未带她们来过家里。”虽然他在笑，可是深色的双眼一动不动地望着我，那一刻，他说他爱我，因为我很特别。我回头正对着他，让他明白我也有同样的感觉。
