我的生命之光，我的欲念之火

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She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta

早晨，她是洛，平凡的洛，婷婷十四尺，只穿一只袜。松大的长裤下，她是洛丽。校园内，她是黛丽。签名栏里，她是杜洛丽。在我怀中，她是……永远的洛丽塔。我的生命之光，我的欲念之火。我的罪恶，我的魂灵。洛-丽-塔。

I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither - I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face我望着她，一望再望。我爱她，胜过世间所有的一切。我肯定这一点，正如我会死去一样地肯定。当日的她，如火妖冶，而今只剩枯叶归乡，苍白，混俗，腹中怀着别人的骨肉。但我爱她。她可以褪色，凋谢，怎样都可。我只需望她一眼，万般柔情，涌上心头。

What I heard then was the melody of children at play. Nothing but that. And I knew that the hopelessly poignant thing was not Lolita's absence from my side, but the absence of her voice from that chorus.那时，我耳边响起的是一片孩子们的欢笑声。我知道，让我心如枯木的不是身边少了洛丽塔，而是再也听不到她的欢笑。