Am I young and beautiful?

我果真年轻又美丽？

I thought I was old and divorced.

我以为自己又老气又是离过婚的女人。

I can barely sleep at all this night, so unaccustomed to these odd hours, the dance music still thrumming in my head, my hair smelling of cigarettes, my stomach protesting the alcohol. I doze a bit, then wake as the sun comes up, just as I am accustomed to. Only this morning I am not rested and I am not at peace and I'm in no condition whatsoever for meditation. Why am I so agitated? I had a nice night, didn't I? I got to meet some interesting people, got to dress up and dance around, had flirted with some men . . . MEN.

当晚我几乎无法入睡，还不习惯这通宵达旦的时辰，舞曲仍在我脑袋里回响，我的头发有烟味，肠胃对酒精表示抗议。我打了个盹，在太阳升起时起身，如同平日的习惯。只不过今早并未得到休息，也不觉得平静，也没有资格禅坐。我为何如此焦躁？昨夜我过得很不错，不是吗？我认识有趣的人，盛装出门，跳舞，和一些男人调情……男人。

The agitation gets more jagged at the thought of that word, turning into a minor panic as-sailment. I don't know how to do this anymore. I used to be the biggest and boldest and most shameless of flirts when I was in my teens and twenties. I seem to remember that it was once fun, meeting some guy, spooling him in toward me, spooning out the veiled invitations and the provocations, casting all caution aside and letting the consequences spill how they will.

想到这词儿，使我愈发焦躁，变成一种惊惶失措的烦忧。我再也不知道该怎么做这件事了。我在十几、二十岁的时候曾经是最大胆无耻的调情者。我犹记得自己曾经觉得这件事很有趣：遇上某个家伙，钓住他，提出模棱两可的邀请与挑逗，无视于任何告诫，任凭后果自行发展。

But now I am feeling only panic and uncertainty. I start blowing the whole evening up into something much huger than it was, imagining myself getting involved with this Welsh guy who hadn't even given me an e-mail address. I can see all the way into our future already, includ-ing the arguments over his smoking habit. I wonder if giving myself to a man again will ruin my journey/writing/life, etc. On the other hand—some romance would be nice. It's been a long, dry time. (I remember Richard from Texas advising me at one point, vis-à-vis my love life, "You need a droughtbreaker, baby. Gotta go find yo'self a rainmaker.") Then I imagine Ian zooming over on his motorbike with his handsome bomb-squad torso to make love to me in my garden, and how nice that would be. This not-entirely-unpleasant thought somehow screeches me, however, into a horrible skid about how I just don't want to go through any heartache again. Then I start to miss David more than I have in months, thinking, Maybe I should call him and see if he wants to try getting together again . . . (Then I receive a very accurate channeling of my old friend Richard, saying, Oh, that's genius, Groceries—didja get a lobotomy last night, in addition to gettin' a little tipsy?) It's never a far leap from ruminating about David to obsessing about the circumstances of my divorce, and so soon I start brooding (just like old times) about my ex-husband, my divorce . . .

然而现在的我只觉得迟疑、恐慌。我开始检视这一整夜，想象自己和那个甚至没给我电子邮件地址的威尔士家伙扯上关系，我已一路看见我们的未来，包括争论他的抽烟习惯。我怀疑如果再把自己献给一名男人，将会摧毁我的旅行、写作、生活，等等。另一方面——其实偶尔谈情说爱也没什么不好。尤其在经过一段长时间的干旱时期之后（我记得德州理查有回对我的爱情生活提出告诫："你需要一位"纾解干旱者"，姑娘。你得为你自己找个"造雨人"。"）然后我想象身材英挺的伊恩骑着他的摩托车过来，和我在我的庭园里做爱，多么美好。这个不算讨厌的主意不知怎地让我紧踩煞车，我不想再走一遍心碎历程。然后我开始强烈思念起大卫，心想，"或许我该打电话给他，问他是否想再一次尝试重聚"……（而后我接收到老朋友查理的精确电波，说："喔，真天才啊，食品杂货——昨晚除了有点喝醉，是否还动了脑手术？"）思索过大卫之后，总逃不掉沉缅于离婚的种种，随即开始沉思（一如往昔）前夫、自己的离婚……

I thought we were done with this topic, Groceries.

"我以为这话题我们老早解决了，食品杂货。"

And then I start thinking about Felipe, for some reason—that handsome older Brazilian man. He's nice. Felipe. He says I am young and beautiful and that I will have a wonderful time here time in Bali. He's right, right? I should relax and have some fun, right? But this morning it doesn't feel fun.

而后，出于某种原因，我开始思索老巴西美男子斐利贝。他很不错。这个斐利贝，他说我年轻又美丽，说我会在巴厘岛度过愉快的时光。他说得没错，对吧？我会过得轻松而开心，对吧？但今早我可不觉得开心。

I don't know how to do this anymore. Eat, Pray, Love

我已不知如何过这种日子。