10/07/21 03:32:45
どうしても和訳する時間ができないのでどなたかお願いします…。
長いので３つに分けます。
①There is a tiny slice of the Gulf of Mexico that belongs to me.
Looking across the water, or down the shoreline, I see the past 20
years play over and over, like an old Super 8 movie.
I'm 16, writing poetry while sitting on a bench at sunset. I'm
floating atop the salty sea on my yellow raft.
I'm sitting at the water'sedge,
gathering a rainbow of shells. I'm in college, burgundy hair
glistening. I'm a working woman, thinking about my career, paying
the bills. I'm heavy, I'm thin. My hair is long, short, long again.
I'mhappy, sad. Growing older, growing up.
My parents and I moved from North Carolina to St. Petersburg,
Florida, when I was just about to start my senior year of high school.
It was a difficult time to be uprooted; I had lived in North Carolina all
my life. But I loved the water, so Florida seemed an okay place to live.
I can't remember how I first chose my special beach at the end of
Eighth Avenue. But once I chose my spot, I never switched beaches.
Almost daily, I swam and sunned there. I watched the sun set.
It hought about life. On weekend nights in college, I hung out at the
beach with friends, playing music or just listening to the waves.