可是我却哭了。哭那陌生的、但却疼爱我的卖灶糖(candy)的老汉。
后来我常想，他为什么疼爱我呢?无非我是个贪吃的、因为丑陋而又少人疼爱的吧。
等我长大以后，总感到除了母亲，再没有谁能够像他那样朴素地疼爱过我——没有任何希求，也没有任何企望的。
我常常想念他，也常常想要找到我那个像猪肚子一样的烟荷包。可是，它早已不知被我丢到哪里去了。
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But I cried for the strange old candy peddler who had been so fond of me.
Later on, I wondered why. For no other reason than that I was a foolish little thing who loved candy, with few to love me because of my plain face.
When I glow up, I could never forget that apart from my own mother, no one had loved me so fondly and so disinterestedly, with no expectations whatever.
I often think of him now, and have tried to find that tobacco pouch that had looked like a piece of pork liver. But I don’t know what became of it.
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