promise you the moon空口许诺

I thought you were one woman with sense, but you're like all the rest of them. Fall for any man who'll promise you the moon and end by taking everything you have to give. Oh, don't trouble yourself, my dear. It's not your fault. I should have known it was on the chart. You've made your choice, the only choice you could make. You've chosen life, and that's as it should be, whatever the reckoning. And that's why I'm going away, my dear. I can't help you now. I can only confuse you more and destroy whatever chance you have left of happiness. You must make your own life amongst the living. And whether you'll meet fair winds or foul, find your own way to harbor in the end. Lucia, listen to me. Listen, my dear. You've been dreaming, dreaming of a sea captain that haunted this house, of talks you had with him, even a book you both wrote together, but, Lucia, you wrote the book, you and no one else. The book you imagined from his house, from his picture on the wall, from his gear lying around in every room. It's been a dream, Lucia. And in the morning and the years after, you'll only remember it as a dream, and it'll die, as all dreams must die at waking. How you'd have loved the North Cape and the fjords and the midnight sun, to sail across the reef at Barbados, where the blue water turns to green, to the Falklands where a southerly gale rips the whole sea white! What we've missed, Lucia! What we've both missed. Goodbye, my darling.

我本以为你是个明白事理的女人，可你跟其余那些女人一样。 谁给你许个天上的月亮，你就动心，最后把你能给的一切都掏出去。 哦，别费心了，亲爱的。 这不是你的错。 我早该知道，这事海图上早就标着了。 你已经做了选择，也是你唯一能做的选择。 你选了活着，本来就该这样，往后要算什么账，也随它去。 所以我要走了，亲爱的。 我现在帮不了你了。 我只会让你更糊涂，把你剩下那点得到幸福的机会也毁掉。 你得在活人中间，过你自己的日子。 不管往后遇上的是顺风还是逆风， 最后都得自己找到回港的路。 露西，听我说。 听我说，亲爱的。 你一直在做梦，梦见一个在这屋子里出没的船长， 梦见你跟他说过的话，甚至梦见你们一起写了本书。可露西，书是你写的， 是你一个人写的，没别人。 那本书是你凭这座房子、墙上他的画像、每个屋里散落的他的东西想出来的。 那都是梦，露西。 到了早晨，往后一年年过去，你只会把它当成一场梦记得， 它会死的，就像梦一醒就都得死一样。 你多会喜欢北角、峡湾和午夜的太阳啊， 驶过巴巴多斯的暗礁，那里的海水从蓝 变成绿；还有福克兰群岛，南来的大风把整片海撕成雪白！ 我们错过了多少啊，露西！ 我们俩都错过了多少。 再见，我的宝贝。