I can’t really remember the days. The light of the sun blurred and annihilated all color. But the nights, I remember them. The blue was more distant than the sky, beyond all depths, covering the bounds of the world. The sky, for me, was the stretch of pure brilliance crossing the blue, that cold coalescence beyond all color. Sometimes, it was in Vinh Long, when my mother was sad she’d order the gig and we’d drive out into the country to see the night as it was in the dry season. I had that good fortune—those nights, that mother. The light fell from the sky in cataracts of pure transparency, in torrents of silence and immobility. The air was blue, you could hold it in your hand. Blue. The sky was the continual throbbing of the brilliance of the light. The night lit up everything, all the country on either bank of the river as far as the eye could reach. Every night was different, each one had a name as long as it lasted. Their sound was that of the dogs, the country dogs baying at mystery. They answered one another from village to village, until the time and space of the night were utterly consumed.
—Marguerite Duras, The Lover
我真的记不住那些日子。太阳的光芒模糊了，湮灭了所有的色彩。但那些夜晚，我记得他们。蓝色比天空更遥远，超越了所有的深度，覆盖了世界的边界。天空，对我来说，是一种纯粹的光彩穿过蓝色，那冰冷的聚结超越了所有的颜色。有时，是在永隆，当我的母亲很难过的时候，她会命令演出，我们会开车到乡间去看夜晚，因为那是在旱季。那些夜晚我得到了那份好运，那个母亲。光从透明的瀑布中落下，在寂静的洪流中，静止不动。空气是蓝色的，你可以把它握在手中。蓝色。天空是光的光辉不断的悸动。夜色照亮了一切，河岸上的所有国家都能望见。每个夜晚都是不同的，每个人都有名字，只要它持续。他们的声音是狗的叫声，乡下狗对神秘的吠叫。他们从村庄到村庄彼此回答，直到夜晚的时间和空间被完全消耗殆尽。
-玛格丽特·杜拉斯，《情人》（谷歌翻译仅供参考）