Every Friday evening, Freya paints the football lines. She is fifty-five. She works for the town club. Nobody sees her work. By Saturday morning, the white lines shine in the grass. The players run onto the field. Nobody says thank you.
每个星期五傍晚，弗蕾娅都会去画足球场的线。她五十五岁，在镇上的俱乐部工作。没有人看见她的工作。到了星期六早上，白线在草地上闪闪发亮。球员们跑上球场。没有人说一声谢谢。
Freya does not mind. She likes the quiet. First, she pulls a string from one corner to another. Then she walks slowly behind her little paint machine. The line comes out straight and white. The sun goes down. The air smells of cut grass.
弗蕾娅并不介意。她喜欢这份安静。她先把一根绳子从一个角拉到另一个角，然后慢慢走在她的小画线机后面。线条画出来，笔直而洁白。太阳落山了。空气里有一股青草的味道。
One Friday, a boy sits on the fence. He is about ten years old. He has a big football under his arm. He watches her for a long time. "Why do you do this?" he asks.
一个星期五，一个男孩坐在围栏上。他大约十岁，胳膊下夹着一个大足球。他看了她很久。“你为什么做这个？”他问。
"Do what?"
“做什么？”
"Paint lines. Nobody looks at them."
“画线。没有人看它们。”
Freya stops her machine. She thinks for a moment. "Players look at them," she says.
弗蕾娅停下机器，想了一会儿。“球员们会看的。”她说。
"They just do not know it."
“只是他们自己不知道。”
"I do not look at them," the boy says.
“我就不看。”男孩说。
"You do. When you play, you know where the goal is. You know when the ball is out. The lines tell you."
“你看的。你踢球的时候，知道球门在哪里，知道球什么时候出界。是这些线告诉你的。”
The boy shrugs. "My name is Cyrus. I play on Saturdays."
男孩耸耸肩。“我叫赛勒斯。我星期六踢球。”
"I know," says Freya.
“我知道。”弗蕾娅说。
"You are the small one who never passes the ball." Cyrus goes red.
“你就是那个个子小、从来不传球的孩子。”赛勒斯的脸红了。
"I pass sometimes."
“我有时候也传的。”
"Not often," she says. She smiles.
“不常传。”她说着笑了笑。
"But you run fast."
“不过你跑得很快。”
The next Friday, Cyrus is on the fence again. He brings a bottle of water for her. Freya drinks half of it and gives the rest back. She shows him how to hold the string. Cyrus holds one end at the corner. She walks to the other end and pulls it tight.
下一个星期五，赛勒斯又坐在围栏上。他带来一瓶水给她。弗蕾娅喝了一半，把剩下的还给他。她教他怎么拿绳子。赛勒斯在角上握住绳子的一头，她走到另一头，把绳子拉紧。
"Do not move," she says.
“别动。”她说。
"I will not."
“我不动。”
"Not even if a bee lands on your nose." He tries hard. A bee does land near his hand. He does not move. The line is done. He looks at the field and says, "Wow."
“就算有只蜜蜂落在你鼻子上也不能动。”他努力忍着。一只蜜蜂真的落在他手边，他一动不动。线画好了。他看着球场，说：“哇。”
"What?"
“怎么了？”
"It looks different when it is straight."
“线拉直了，看起来不一样了。”
On the third Friday, it rains all afternoon. Freya has a bad cold, so she stays home. The field is wet, and the paint cannot go on. She feels sad. The game is tomorrow, and the field has no lines.
第三个星期五，雨下了一整个下午。弗蕾娅得了重感冒，只好待在家里。场地湿透了，颜料涂不上去。她很难过。明天就有比赛，可球场上没有线。
On Saturday morning, she goes to the field anyway. She wears a thick coat. She stands behind the fence and looks. The lines are there.
星期六早上，她还是去了球场。她穿着一件厚外套，站在围栏后面往里看。线在那里。
They are not white. They are made of yellow sand and pieces of rope. Someone put them down in the wet grass. They are crooked, and some are too short. The goal box is almost round. At the center, a small circle looks like an egg.
那不是白线，而是用黄沙和几段绳子摆成的。有人把它们铺在湿草地上。线弯弯曲曲，有的还太短。球门区几乎是圆的。在中圈的位置，有个小圆圈，看起来像一个鸡蛋。
Cyrus stands in the middle of the field. He holds a bucket of sand. His shoes are dirty and his hair is wet. "I could not use the machine," he says. "It is too heavy. So I used what I have."
赛勒斯站在球场中间，提着一桶沙子。他的鞋子很脏，头发是湿的。“我没法用那台机器，”他说，“它太重了。所以我就用我有的东西。”
Freya walks onto the field. She follows the center line with her eyes. It leans to the left. She looks at the egg circle. She looks at the long, crooked side line. She likes it more than a hundred straight lines.
弗蕾娅走进球场。她用目光顺着中线看过去，它向左歪着。她看看那个蛋形的圆圈，又看看那条又长又弯的边线。她喜欢这些线，胜过一百条笔直的线。
"Is it bad?" Cyrus asks.
“很糟吗？”赛勒斯问。
"It is terrible," Freya says.
“糟透了。”弗蕾娅说。
"The goal box is round."
“球门区是圆的。”
"I can fix it."
“我可以改。”
Freya looks across the field. The players arrive. They stop, one by one, and look at the lines. They start to laugh, but not in a mean way. A few of them kneel down and touch the sand.
弗蕾娅望向球场对面。球员们到了。他们一个接一个停下来，看着那些线。他们笑了起来，但并没有恶意。有几个人蹲下去，摸了摸沙子。
"Leave it," Freya says. She puts her hand on his wet hair. "Today, we play on these." The whistle blows. Cyrus passes the ball on his first touch.
“别动它。”弗蕾娅说。她把手放在他湿湿的头发上。“今天，我们就在这些线上踢。”哨声响了。赛勒斯第一次触球就把球传了出去。
