But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling¹ in places, and the front door is so swollen² you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard, only four little elms the city planted by the curb³. Our back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they're ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom. Everybody has to share a bedroom—Mama and Papa, Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny.

　　可是芒果街上的小屋全然不是他們講的那樣。它很小，是紅色的，門前一方窄臺階，窗戶小得讓你覺得它們像是在屏著呼吸。幾處墻磚蝕成了粉。前門那么鼓，你要用力推才進得來。這里沒有前院，只有四棵市政栽在路邊的小榆樹。屋后有個小車庫，是用來裝我們還沒買的小汽車的，還有個小院子，夾在兩邊的樓中間，越發顯得小了。我們的房子里有樓梯，可那只是普通的門廳臺階，而且房子里只有一個衛生間.每個人都要和別人合用一間臥室——媽媽和爸爸、卡洛斯和奇奇、我和蕾妮。