需要《love under the nazis》 这篇英语文章原文

需要《love under the nazis》 这篇英语文章原文

Love Under the Nazis It is cold on this winter day in 1942. But it is no different from any other day in this Nazi concentration camp. I am almost dead, surviving from day to day, from hour to hour, ever since I was taken from my home and brought here with tens of thousands of other Jews. We suffer under the whips of the terrible Nazis. Will I still be alive tomorrow? Will I be taken to the gas chamber tonight? Or will a security guard simply shoot me with his rifle? Back and forth I walk next to the wire fence. I am not thinking about my steps; I am moving mechanically across the landscape, kneeling on occasion when I think I see a bit of timber or other item that I can use to start a fire. Suddenly, I notice a young girl walking past on the other side of the wire. She has the light, gravity-free steps of a fairy. She stops and looks at me with sad eyes. The camp has taken its toll on me. I want to look away, as I feel oddly ashamed for this stranger to see me like this, sickly thin and in torn, stained clothing, but I cannot take my eyes from hers. Then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a red apple. Oh, how long has it been since I have seen one! And how this one shines—greater than any crystal! She looks cautiously around, and then quickly throws the apple over the fence. I pick it up and hold it in my frozen fingers. In my world of death, this apple is an expression of life, and her act is the product of love. I glance up in time to see the girl disappearing into the distance. The next day, I am drawn to that spot near the fence, as if pulled by a magnetic force. Am I crazy for hoping she will come again? Of course. But in here, I cling to any tiny trace of hope. Again, she comes. And again, she brings me an apple, flinging it over the fence with greater precision than before so that the apple flies over the fence and drops directly above me. I catch it as it is descending. I hold it up for her to see. Her eyes shine. For seven months, we meet like this, andI am becoming accustomed to this apple diet, but it soon comes to an end. One day I hear frightening news: I am being shipped to another camp. The next day when I greet her, my heart is breaking, and I can hardly speak as I say what must be said: "Do not bring me an apple tomorrow," I tell her. "I am being sent to another camp. We will never see each other again." Turning before I lose all control, I run away from the fence. I cannot bear to look back. If I do, I know she would see the tears streaming down my face. Years pass. It is 1957. I am living in New York City, a far cry from the awful scenery of Nazi Germany. And I have achieved a modest amount of prosperity, having gone into the business of aluminum fence installation and recycling. A friend, who is in the insurance business, convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of his. Reluctantly, I agree. But she is nice, this woman named Roma. And like me, she is a foreigner, so we have at least that in common. "Were you exiled during the war?" Roma asks me gently, in that careful way people with experience ask one another questions about those years.
"No. I was in a concentration camp in Germany," I reply. I don't specify which camp, or give any other details right then. Telling the story has become tedious, as I have done it so many times. Roma gets a faraway look in her eyes, as if she is remembering something painful yet sweet. "What is it?" I ask. "You see, when I was a young girl, I lived near a concentration camp. There was a boy there, a prisoner, and for a long while, I used to visit him every day. I remember I used to purchase apples and throw them to him. I would throw the apple over the fence, and he would be so happy." With my heart pounding loudly, I look directly at Roma and ask, "And did that boy say to you one day, 'Do not bring me an apple tomorrow. I am being sent to another camp'?" "Why, yes," Roma says, her voice trembling. "But how on earth could you possibly know that?" I get up from the table, embrace her, and answer, "Because I was that young boy, Roma."追问你还没找完整这篇文章，，，，你复制的时候 可能 没有复制完整，可以再去找找吗 ？我急需这文章 刚才百度找不到文章追答没有了吧 没有少吖追问少了
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