What can I hold you with?
我要用什么来留住你？
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the ragged suburbs.
我送给你单薄的街巷、绝望的落日和荒凉城郊的月光。
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon.
我送给你一个天荒地老地望着那轮孤寂明月的男人的悲怆。
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghost that living men have honoured in marble:
my father’s father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow;
my mother’s grandfather—just twenty- four—heading a charge of three hundred men in Perú, now ghosts on vanished horses.
在布宜诺斯艾利斯边境阵亡的我父亲的父亲,两颗子弹射穿了他的胸膛,蓄着胡子的他死去了,士兵们用牛皮裹起他的尸体;
我母亲的祖父——时年二十四岁——在秘鲁率领三百名士兵冲锋,如今都成了消失的马背上的幽灵。
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold, whatever manliness humour my life.
我送给你我的书卷里容纳的所有洞悉，送你滋养我人生的所有男子气。
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal.
我送给你一个从不忠诚之人的忠诚。
I offer her that kernel of myself that I have saved, somehow – the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
我送给她我无意间保存完好的核——那从未与文字过招，从未跟梦想交易，也从未被时间、欢欣，抑或艰难困苦触及过的内心。
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born.
我送给你一个有关落日余辉下黄玫瑰的记忆，那远在你出生的数年以前。
I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself.
我送给你有关你的诠释，有关你的原理，有关你的真切而惊人的讯息
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.
我送你我的孤寂、我的幽暗、我心底的饥馑；我妄图用将信将疑、危机四伏、穷途末路来贿赂你。
扩展资料：
《我用什么才能留住你》是阿根廷诗人豪尔赫·路易斯·博尔赫斯创作的一首现代诗歌。
豪尔赫·路易斯·博尔赫斯（1899-1986），阿根廷诗人、小说家、散文家，以隽永的文字和深刻的哲理见长。由于家族遗传，从小弱视、老来失明的他，却创作出许多想象力惊人的作品。
著有《恶棍列传》《小径分岔的花园》《沙之书》等。
英语版
What can I hold you with?
I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the
moon of the jagged suburbs.
I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked
long and long at the lonely moon.
I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts
that living men have honoured in bronze:
my father's father killed in the frontier of
Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs,
bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in
the hide of a cow; my mother's grandfather
--just twentyfour-- heading a charge of
three hundred men in Peru, now ghosts on
vanished horses.
I offer you whatever insight my books may hold,
whatever manliness or humour my life.
I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never
been loyal.
I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved,
somehow --the central heart that deals not
in words, traffics not with dreams, and is
untouched by time, by joy, by adversities.
I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at
sunset, years before you were born.
I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about
yourself, authentic and surprising news of
yourself.
I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the
hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you
with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat.
这个是中文翻译的最好的
我给你贫穷的街道、绝望的日落、破败郊区的月亮。
我给你一个久久地望着孤月的人的悲哀。
我给你我已死去的先辈,人们用大理石纪念他们的幽灵:
在布宜诺斯艾利斯边境阵亡的我父亲的父亲,两颗子弹射穿了他的胸膛,蓄着胡子的他死去了,士兵们用牛皮裹起他的尸体;我母亲的祖父——时年二十四岁——在秘鲁率领三百名士兵冲锋,如今都成了消失的马背上的幽灵。
我给你我写的书中所能包含的一切悟力、我生活中所能有的男子气概或幽默。
我给你一个从未有过信仰的人的忠诚。
我给你我设法保全的我自己的核心——不营字造句,不和 梦想交易,不被时间、欢乐和逆境触动的核心。
我给你,早在你出生前多年的一个傍晚看到的一朵黄玫瑰的记忆。
我给你你对自己的解释,关于你自己的理论,你自己的真实而惊人的消息。
我给你我的寂寞、我的黑暗、我心的饥渴;我试图用困惑、危险、失败来打动你。本回答被提问者采纳