In the narrow street behind the cathedral there was a shop with no sign, only a golden clock hanging above the door.
在大教堂后面的窄街上，有一家没有招牌的店，只有一只金色的钟挂在门上。
The clockmaker was a quiet man with steady hands. He repaired watches that other people had given up on. Customers came with objects that mattered to them: a grandfather's watch, a wedding gift, a clock that had stopped on a difficult day.
钟表匠是个安静的人，双手很稳。他修别人已经放弃的手表。顾客们带着对自己很重要的东西来找他：祖父的手表、结婚礼物、一只在艰难的日子里停下的钟。
He never promised quick work. "Time takes time," he used to say, and then he would ask about the watch, not the price.
他从不承诺很快修好。“时间需要时间，”他常说，然后他会问起那只表，而不是价钱。
A young woman brought him a small silver watch that no longer moved. It had belonged to her mother.
一位年轻女子给他带来一只不再走动的小银表。那是她母亲的。
"It has water inside," he said. "It will never be exact again."
“里面进水了，”他说，“它再也不会分秒不差了。”
"I do not need exact," she said. "I need it to move."
“我不需要分秒不差，”她说，“我需要它走起来。”
He cleaned the gears, replaced two springs, and polished the glass. When she came back a week later, the watch was ticking softly on the counter.
他清洗了齿轮，换了两根发条，擦亮了表玻璃。一周后她回来时，那只表正在柜台上轻轻地走着。
She listened to it for a long moment and began to cry. The clockmaker looked away, and pretended to be busy with a screw.
她听了很久，然后哭了起来。钟表匠把目光移开，假装忙着摆弄一颗螺丝。