她真是一個美人——個子高高的，膚若凝脂，帶著浴后的清新。長而有亮澤的頭發(fā)在她的肩上起舞。她有一雙大而有神的褐色眼睛，分明的輪廓在晨曦里更加清晰可見。

　　Sunrise on the eastern coast is a special event. I stood at Dolphin’s Nose, a spur jutting out into the Bay of Bengal, to behold the breaking of the sun’s upper limb over the horizon of the sea. As the eastern sky started unfolding like the crimson petals of a gigantic flower, I was overcome by a wave of romantic feelings and nostalgia—vivid memorie not diminished by the fact that almost ten years had passed.

　　東海岸的日出是一道特別的景觀。我站在海豚鼻——一塊向外延伸至孟加拉海灣的地方——觀看太陽的上半邊緣冉冉升起在海平面上。當(dāng)東邊的天空開始如一朵巨大的花展開深紅色的花瓣般逐漸紅透時，我被一股浪漫的感覺和懷舊之情征服了——如此清晰的記憶，并沒有因為近乎十年的光陰已經(jīng)逝去這個事實而褪去。

　　I was a young bachelor then, and Visakhapatnam did not have much to offer. Every Sunday morning, I used to rise before dawn and head for Dolphin’s Nose, to enjoy the dazzling spectacle of the sun majestically rising out of the sea. The fresh, salty sea breeze was a panacea for all the effects of hangovers caused by Saturday night excesses.

　　那時，我還是一個年輕的單身漢，維薩卡帕特南市對我來說并沒有太多好玩的東西。每個周日早晨，我習(xí)慣天不亮就起床，前往海豚鼻，享受太陽從海面上莊嚴升起的壯麗景觀。清新又有一絲咸味的海風(fēng)不啻是一種萬能藥，能夠緩解周六晚上因盡情玩樂而引發(fā)的宿醉后的不適感。

　　After viewing the metamorphosis at sunrise, I would walk downhill along the steep mountain-path, towards the rocky beach, for a brief swim. Each time, I noticed a flurry of activity in a distant compound with a single decrepit building. I used to ignore it, but curiously, one day I decided to take a closer look. It was a fish market. Most customers were housewives from the nearby residential complexes. They were at their “Sunday-worst”—sans make-up, slovenly dressed, faces unwashed, and unkempt hair—in stark contrast with their carefully made-up appearances at the club the previous evening.