我们闲谈一些都经历过的平常琐事，白人会安静地坐着，兴味盎然地听我讲。
At certain times I have no race, I am me.
有时候我不属于任何人种，我就是我自己。
But in the main, I feel like a brown bag of mixed items propped up against a wall —against a wall in company with other bags, white, red and yellow 但我大体上还是感觉自己像一只靠墙立着的装满各种杂物的棕色袋子。
靠墙立着的还有其他颜色的袋子，白色的，红色的，黄色的。
Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a pile of small things both valuable and worthless.
倒出袋中的物品，可以发现一堆或有用或无用的小杂物：
Bits of broken glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since decayed away, a rusty knife-blade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, a dried flower or two still with a little fragrance.
碎玻璃块，小线头儿，一扇早已朽坏的门上的钥匙，一把锈蚀的刀，一双为某条从来没有、
将来也不会有的路而准备的旧鞋， 一根弯曲的钉子 （它所承受过的重量足以弄折任何钉子） ，一两支仍散发出几许花香的干花。
In your hand is the brown bag.
你手中拿的是棕色的袋子，
On the ground before you is the pile it held —so much like the piles in the other bags, could they be emptied, that all might
be combined and mixed in a single heap and the bags refilled without altering the content of any greatly.
面前的地上则是袋中所装的那堆东西──与其他袋子中所倒出的东西几乎一模一样，它们混成一大堆，再分装到各自的袋中，也不会有多大的不同。
如果把
A bit of colored glass more or less would not matter.
多少有点有色玻璃片也没有什么关系。
Perhaps that is how the Great Stuffer of Bags filled them in the first place —who knows?
也许当初上帝这个装袋者往我们各自的袋中填塞时正是这么做的，谁知道呢？
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