That said, I woke up at 2:00 AM with a heavy sigh and a physical hunger so deep I didn't have any idea of how to satisfy it. The lunatic cat who lives in my house was howling mournfully for some reason and I told him, "I know exactly how you feel." I had to do something about my longing, so I got up, went to the kitchen in my nightgown, peeled a pound of potatoes, boiled them up, sliced them, fried them in butter, salted them generously and ate every bite of them—asking my body the whole while if it would please accept the satisfaction of a pound of fried potatoes in lieu of the fulfillment of lovemaking.

说是这么说，但我在凌晨两点钟醒过来，重重叹了口气，生理十分饥渴，不知如何满足。住在我屋子里的疯猫出于某种原因高声哀号，我对它说："我懂你的感觉。"我必须想办法处理自己的渴望，于是我起身，穿着睡衣去厨房，削一磅马铃薯，水煮后切片，以奶油炸过，撒足量的盐，吃个精光——看看自己的身体能否接受一磅炸薯片的满足感，以取代做爱。

My body replied, only after eating every bite of the food: "No deal, babe."

我的身体吃掉每一口食物后，只是回答："没得讨价还价。"

So I climbed back into bed, sighed in boredom and commenced to . . .

于是我爬回床上，无聊地叹息，开始……

Well. A word about masturbation, if I may. Sometimes it can be a handy (forgive me) tool, but other times it can be so acutely unsatisfying that it only makes you feel worse in the end. After a year and half of celibacy, after a year and a half of calling my own name in my bed-built-for-one, I was getting a little sick of the sport. Still, tonight, in my restless state—what else could I do? The potatoes hadn't worked. So I had my way with myself yet again. As usu-al, my mind paged through its backlog of erotic files, looking for the right fantasy or memory that would help get the job done fastest. But nothing was really working tonight—not the fire-men, not the pirates, not that pervy old Bill Clinton standby scene that usually does the trick, not even the Victorian gentlemen crowding around me in their drawing room with their task force of nubile young maids. In the end, the only thing that would satisfy was when I reluct-antly admitted into my mind the idea of my good friend from Brazil climbing into this bed with me . . . on me . . .

嗯。请容我谈谈自慰吧。有时是蛮便利的工具（请原谅我），有时却令人无法满足，过后只让你觉得更糟。在一年半的单身生活后，在一年半躺在自己床上呼唤自己的名字之后，我已有些厌倦这项消遣。然而今晚，在我浮躁不安的状态中——我还能怎么做？马铃薯并未奏效。因此我又一次以自己的方式处理自己。一如往常，我的脑子翻阅储存的色情档案，寻找适合的幻想或记忆帮忙尽快完事。但是今晚没有任何东西奏效——消防队员不行、海盗不行……通常一举见效的那个以备不时之需的变态克林顿场景也不行，甚至在客厅里带着一群年轻女侍的维多利亚绅士围在我身边，亦无法奏效。最后，唯一令人满足的，是当我不太情愿地让我的巴西好友和我一起爬上床的场景进入我的脑海时……

Then I slept. I woke to a quiet blue sky and an even quieter bedroom. Still feeling un-settled and unbalanced, I took a long stretch of my morning and chanted the entire 182 Sanskrit verses of the Gurugita—the great, purifying fundamental hymn of my Ashram in India. Then I meditated for an hour of bone-tingling stillness until I finally felt it again—that specific, constant, clear-sky, unrelated-to-anything, never-shifting, nameless and changeless perfection of my own happiness. That happiness which is better, truly, than anything I have ever experienced anywhere else on this earth, and that includes salty, buttery kisses and even saltier and more buttery potatoes.

而后我睡了。醒来时看见寂静的蓝天，以及更加寂静的卧室。依然心绪不宁的我，花了一大段早晨时光，咏唱一百八十二节的古鲁梵歌——我在印度道场学会的伟大、净化人心的基本赞歌。然后我静坐一个小时，直到再次感受到自身那种具体、忠诚、清澈、与任何事毫无关联、永不更改、无以名之、永远完美的快乐。此种快乐果真比我在世间任何地方经历的任何事情更为美好，包括咸味、奶油味的亲吻以及更咸、更油的马铃薯。

I was so glad I had made the decision to stay alone. Eat, Pray, Love

我真高兴决定自己独自一人。