For Lucy, who called them "ghost houses"
Someone was always leaving Scenic Route and never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wives along this road; they are everywhere, abandoned, leaning, turning gray.
有人总是离开， 且不再回来。 一栋栋木屋像年老的妻子， 等候在这路边；它们随处可见， 被荒弃，倾斜，渐显灰朽。
Someone always traded the lonely beauty of hemlock and stony lakeshore for survival, packed up his life and drove off to the city. In the yards, the apple trees keep hanging on, but the fruit grows smaller year by year.
有人总是为了生计 放弃铁杉和石砌的湖岸 那孤独的美， 打点好人生的行李包 驱车前往城市。 院子里的苹果树 一直都有结果，只是果子 一年比一年小。
When we come this way again, the trees will have gone wild, the houses collapsed, not even worth the human act of breaking in. Fields will have taken over.
当我们再次踏上这条路， 树木早已疯长， 房子坍塌了，甚至不值得 人们破门而入。 田野会取而代之。
What we will recognize is the wind, the same fierce wind, which has no history.
我们将认出的 是风，同样狂野的风， 它没有过去。
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