这期的地道英文栏目选文题材具有一定的“敏感性”，可能会引发你的不适和担忧。你可以选择直接跳过整个栏目，也可以选择摒弃偏见，静下心来阅读完整个精彩选段。无论你是否看过或听过这个故事或据其改编而成的同名电影，请不要带着“有色眼镜”去看待这个“另类”却感人的爱情故事。对于“同性恋”这个时至今日在国内外仍颇具争议的话题，小编想说，也许你不认同，但你应该尝试去理解。
以下是这个故事的梗概：1963年的夏天，为同一个牧场主打工的健谈的年轻农夫杰克与少言寡语的牛仔恩尼斯在美国怀俄明州西部人迹罕至的断背山邂逅。在高山牧场的工作单调而艰苦的情况下，两人起初各自放牧，交流甚少，然而随着时间推移，他们逐渐产生了感情。在断背山上的日子里，两人度过了人生中最美好的时光。季节性放牧结束后，受制于世俗压力，杰克和恩尼斯依依不舍地分离，而后来两人也都组建了自己的家庭。四年后的某天，饱受相思之苦的杰克终于给恩尼斯寄去了贺卡，约定见面。重逢后，两人意识到了深藏心底的炽热情感，于是在接下来的十几年里，他们都定期约会。尽管他们忍受着巨大的社会压力，但仍然坚守真爱。最终，两人携手共度一生的愿望因杰克的意外离世而无法实现。后来，恩尼斯在杰克的房间里发现了两件印有“相依相守”字样的衬衣，他泪流满面......1994年普利策文学奖得主、美国作家Annie Proulx(1935- )凭借这部作品获得了1998年美国国家杂志奖以及欧・亨利小说奖。由华人导演李安执导的改编自此书的同名电影更是斩获了第78届奥斯卡最佳导演、最佳配乐、最佳改编剧本三项大奖。
Ennis and Jack stood in front of the fire, their bodies silhouetted against the rock. They had been there for a while now, watching as the flames danced and tossed ruby-red chunks of light across the room. Ennis had a round watch in his pocket, and the sticks they had gathered earlier were gradually transforming into coals. The stars twinkled through the shimmering heat above them.
Ennis's breathing was slow and steady, as he hummed to himself. Jack leaned against him, feeling the gentle rhythm of Ennis's heartbeat. The vibrations of Ennis's humming seemed to be like faint electricity, and as he stood there, he felt himself drift off into a drowsy and tranced state.
Suddenly, Ennis spoke up, dredged up a rusty but still useable phrase from his childhood before his mother died. "Time to hit the hay, cowboy. I got a go. Come on, you're sleepin' on your feet like a horse," he said, giving Jack a shake and a push before turning off into the darkness.
As Jack mounted the horse, he heard its hooves clattering against the stone as Ennis called out to him with a final shuddering snort before disappearing into the night.
Ennis held Jack tightly, and Jack did not struggle or push away. Instead, he nestled against Ennis's shoulder as they both stared out at the river. For a long time, neither of them spoke, but they were both content in each other's presence. This simple moment of happiness was all that mattered to them, and it stayed with Ennis even after Jack had left. It was a reminder that there was still joy to be found in life, even in the midst of darkness.
Later, this memory became a symbol of hope for Ennis during his difficult time. It was a moment of pure innocence and love, free from the pain and sorrow that plagued him. He knew that Jack would never embrace him face to face again, but he also knew that they would always have this moment in their hearts. And perhaps, Ennis thought, that was enough. Let it be, let it be.
Ennis looked back on this memory often during his darkest days, a beacon of light in the midst of the darkness. He remembered the warmth of Jack's skin against his own, the sound of the river rushing past them, and the knowledge that he was loved. Even now, years later, these memories brought tears to his eyes. They were a testament to the power of love and the enduring nature of hope.
Jack's old shirt from "Brokeback" days hung stiffly from a nail in the tiny jog-in closet. The wooden rod braced across the opening and a faded cretonne curtain on a string kept it separate from the rest of the room. Two pairs of jeans, crease-ironed and folded neatly over wire hangers, were also in the closet. On the floor, he thought he remembered a pair of worn packer boots. At the north end of the closet, there was a slight hiding place created by a small jog in the wall. A shirt hung from a nail here, stiff with long suspension from the nail. He lifted it off the nail and examined it closely. The dried blood on the sleeve was his own blood - a gushing nosebleed from the last afternoon on the mountain when Jack had slammed Ennis's nose hard with his knee during their contortionistic grappling and wrestling. He had staunched the bleeding with his shirtsleeve, which was now covered in blood, both his own and Ennis's.
The shirt felt heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it. The sleeves were carefully worked down inside Jack’s own sleeves. He had thought of it as his own plaid shirt, lost a long time ago in some damn laundry. It was his dirty shirt with the pocket ripped and buttons missing, stolen by Jack, and hidden here inside his own shirt. The two pieces of fabric were like two skins, one inside the other, two in one. Pressing his face against the fabric and breathing slowly through his mouth and nose, he hoped for the faintest smoke and mountain sage and salty sweet stink of Jack. But there was no real scent, only the memory of him, and the imagined power of Brokeback Mountain that now consisted of nothing but what he held in his hands.
Bumping down the washboard road, Ennis passed a country cemetery fenced with sagging sheep wire. It was a tiny fenced square on the welling prairie, with a few graves bright with plastic flowers. Ennis didn’t want to know that Jack was going in there to be buried on the grieving plain.
few weeks later, on a Saturday, Ennis threw all Stoutamire’s dirty horse blankets into the back of his pickup truck and took them down to the Quik Stop Car Wash to turn on the high-pressure spray. When the wet clean blankets were stowed in the truck bed, he stepped into Higgins's gift shop and busied himself with the postcard rack.
“Ennis, what are you lookin’ for rootin’ through these postcards?” said Linda Higgins, throwing a sopping brown coffee filter into the garbage can.
“Scene a Brokeback Mountain,” Ennis replied.
“Over in Fremont County?” Linda asked, raising her eyebrows.
“No, north here,” Ennis said with a grin.
“I didn’t order none a them. Let me get the order list. (If) They got it, I can get you a hundred. I got an order some more cards anyway.” Linda said, reaching for the list on the counter.
“One’s enough,” Ennis said, holding up one card. He had been waiting to buy this postcard for months, and finally had enough money to do so. As he walked out of the store, he couldn’t help but smile to himself knowing that he now had one more piece of evidence that he was truly happy with his life.
When it came to thirty cents, he pinned it up in his trailer, with a brass-headed tack in each corner. Below it, he drove a nail and on the nail hung the wire hanger, along with two old shirts suspended from it. He stepped back and looked at the ensemble through a few stinging tears. “Jack, I swear―” he said, though Jack had never asked him to swear anything and he was not himself the swearing kind.
Around that time, Jack began to appear in his dreams. In these dreams, Jack was as he had first seen him: curly-headed, smiling, and bucktoothed, talking about getting up off his pockets and into the control zone. Sometimes he would wake in grief; sometimes with the old sense of joy and release; the pillow sometimes wet, sometimes the sheets.
There was some open space between what he knew and what he tried to believe, but nothing could be done about it. If you can’t fix it, you’ve got to stand it.
In those days, there were moments when he thought maybe he should just stop trying so hard. But then there were other times when he felt like he couldn’t go on without knowing. It was an endless cycle of wanting more and feeling trapped by what he already had.
He had no idea how much longer he would continue to carry this weight inside of him. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep doing things his way forever. He needed to find a way to let go of the things that were holding him back and move forward with his life
两人在营火前站了许久，红色的火焰摇曳着，他们的影子如一根柱子般映在岩石上。恩尼斯口袋里的圆形手表滴答作响，火堆里的树枝渐渐变成碳，时间一分一秒地流逝。星光穿透了营火上方的热流。恩尼斯的呼吸平静而缓慢，嘴里轻轻哼着什么。杰克靠在他身上感受着那稳定而有力的心跳，恩尼斯低哼带来的震动仿佛一道微弱的电流，令他似睡非睡，如痴如醉，直到恩尼斯道出童年时期，母亲在世时常对自己说的那句老套却在这场合仍适用的话：“该睡觉了，牛仔。我得走了。快，你都像马一样站着就睡着了。”说着，他摇了摇他，推开他，便消失在黑暗之中。
当他跳上马时，杰克听到他那马刺的颤抖声，他那句“明天见”，那马儿颤抖的鼻息，和那马蹄踏过石头的声音。后来，那个让杰克迷醉的拥抱在杰克的记忆中凝结成他们各自艰难生活中朴实无华而又魔幻般美好的唯一瞬间。那是完美无暇的一刻，即使他知道，恩尼斯当时不愿面对面地拥抱他，是不想看到或感觉到拥抱的对象是他。或许，他想，他们之间的关系永不会有更进一步的发展了。就这样吧，就这样吧。
杰克的卧房位于一段险陡的楼梯顶端。他的房间狭小闷热，下午的阳光从西边的窗倾泻进来，照在杰克那张靠墙的窄窄的床、沾有墨水的书桌以及木椅上。窗外，一条碎石路向南延伸。床边贴着一些从旧杂志上剪下来的照片，照片上某个黑发影星，其肤色泛红。衣柜不深，里面横支着一根木挂杆，一块褪色印花棉布由绳子串吊起来成了衣柜的帘子。衣柜里的铁衣架上挂着两条被熨出摺边，整齐折好的牛仔裤，柜底有一双破旧的牧人靴，他隐约有些印象。衣柜北端墙壁有个小小的凹陷处，可以藏些东西。那里挂着一件衬衫，因长久挂在一枚钉上而显得僵直。
他从钉上取下它，那是杰克在断背山的那段日子里穿的旧衬衫。衣袖上的血迹是恩尼斯的鼻血。在断背山的最后一个下午，两人扭打时，杰克用膝盖狠狠撞击恩尼斯的鼻子，弄得他鼻血四溅，溅得他俩全身都是。杰克用他的袖子止住恩尼斯的鼻血。
恩尼斯拿着那件衬衣，感觉很重。这时他才发现里面还套着另一件衬衫，袖子被仔细地塞在外面杰克的衬衣袖子里。那是恩尼斯自己的一件格子衬衣。脏衬衣口袋裂开了，扣子也不全，他很久以前就以为是在某个该死的洗衣店里弄丢了，却是被杰克偷了，藏在他自己这件衬衣里。两件衬衣宛如两层皮肤，一层裹住另一层，合为一体。他把脸埋进那两件衬衣里，用嘴和鼻子缓慢地呼吸，盼能嗅到微乎其微的烟味与高山鼠尾草，以及杰克咸咸的汗香味。然而气味早已消散，唯有记忆中的气息，来自凭空想象的断背山的一种力量。关于断背山的一切已消逝，剩下的仅有他手里的这两件衬衣。
回去的路上，恩尼斯开着车颠簸着经过村里的墓地。那只不过是连绵起伏的草原牧场里用松垮的铁丝网围成的一小块广场。有几座墓前搁着塑料假花，显得格外突出。恩尼斯不愿知道杰克就埋在那块伤心地上。
几周后的一个周六，他把斯图特埃米尔家那些鞍褥扔进卡车尾箱，拉到快捷洗车店用高压水枪冲洗。在工人们将洗干净的湿毯子往车尾箱里搬的那空当儿，他走进了希金斯礼品店，忙着挑选明信片。
“恩尼斯，你把明信片都翻了一通，你在找什么呢？”琳达・希金斯一边问，一边把一张湿透了的褐色咖啡过滤纸扔进垃圾桶里。
“断背山的风景明信片。”
“在弗里蒙特县的那座？”
“不是，北面那座。”
“我没进这种明信片，不过我可以把它列在进货单上。如果他们有，我可以给你进上一百张，反正我也得进点儿明信片。”
“一张就够了。”恩尼斯说。
明信片到了，三十美分。他把它钉在自己的拖车屋里，四个角用黄铜大头钉钉住，又在下面钉了枚钉子。他把那个挂着两件旧衬衣的铁衣架挂在钉子上。他后退几步，端详着两件套在一起的衬衣，炽热的泪水夺眶而出。
“杰克，我发誓......(编者注：恩尼斯发誓要一辈子守护杰克，守护他们之间的感情)”他说。尽管杰克从没要求过他发什么誓，杰克自己就不是那种会发誓的人。
从那时起，杰克开始出现在他的梦里。他还像恩尼斯初次见到时的那样，头发卷曲，微笑着露出虎牙来，说着他要起身，去放牧区干活。一觉醒来，他有时伤心，有时像往常一样喜悦舒心；有时枕头会湿，有时床单会湿。
他知道发生了什么事，却无法相信它。但已于事无补，如果你回天乏力，那么只好默默承受。
