英汉翻译对照阅读 Translation Exercises(from English into Chinese) 1.Skiing There is,perhaps,no other sport in the world quite so exciting as skiing.For viewers,it is a spectacle of unsurpassed beauty.For skiers,it is a vivid personal experience,a thrilling test of mind,muscle and nerves. More and more Americans are discovering this thrill for themselves.Not too long ago,skiing had virtually no part in the American sport scene.If it were thought of at all,it was purely as a European sport.Then came the 1932 winter Olympics at Lake Placid,New York.Americans got their first good look at skiing and made for the hills.Today ski trains make regular runs from our cities to the great,white outdoors. In addition to joy and exhilaration,skiing offers other attractions.It is a comparatively inexpensive sport,and,for the young,the art of skiing is often mastered in a very short time The special thrill of skiing is well described by Suddy Werner."It's all up to you,"he says,"No teammates can help.You're alone.It's you against the snow,the mountains,yourself.You're a warrior." 2.An Act in Modern Diplomatic History That afternoon,the greatest disappearing act in modern diplomatic history was to unfold.It had all been worked out meticulously in advance between the White House and Pakistan's President Yahya Khan. The plan worked smoothly.First,Kissinger paid a ninety minute courtesy call on the President.Next,the word went out,as previously arranged,that the visiting American, exhausted by the long journey,would have to cancel a formal dinner in his honor and would be driven to the eighty-five-hundred-foot-high hill station of Nathia Gali for a brief rest.The next day, July 9,the Pakistan government announced that Kissinger would be forced to extend his stayin Nathia Gali because of a"slight indisposition"-"Delhi belly";some reporters called it,a common enough problem for fast-moving travelers. As part of the cover,the trip to Nathia Gali was to be as conspicuous as possible.So a decoy caravan of limousines,flying the flags of the United States and Pakistan and accompanied by a
英汉翻译对照阅读 Translation Exercises (from English into Chinese) 1. Skiing There is, perhaps, no other sport in the world quite so exciting as skiing. For viewers, it is a spectacle of unsurpassed beauty. For skiers, it is a vivid personal experience, a thrilling test of mind, muscle and nerves. More and more Americans are discovering this thrill for themselves. Not too long ago, skiing had virtually no part in the American sport scene. If it were thought of at all, it was purely as a European sport. Then came the 1932 winter Olympics at Lake Placid, New York. Americans got their first good look at skiing and made for the hills. Today ski trains make regular runs from our cities to the great, white outdoors. In addition to joy and exhilaration, skiing offers other attractions. It is a comparatively inexpensive sport, and, for the young, the art of skiing is often mastered in a very short time. The special thrill of skiing is well described by Suddy Werner. "It's all up to you," he says, "No teammates can help. You're alone. It's you against the snow, the mountains, yourself. You're a warrior." 2. An Act in Modern Diplomatic History That afternoon, the greatest disappearing act in modern diplomatic history was to unfold. It had all been worked out meticulously in advance between the White House and Pakistan's President Yahya Khan. The plan worked smoothly. First, Kissinger paid a ninety minute courtesy call on the President. Next, the word went out, as previously arranged, that the visiting American, exhausted by the long journey, would have to cancel a formal dinner in his honor and would be driven to the eighty- five-hundred-foot-high hill station of Nathia Gali for a brief rest. The next day, July 9, the Pakistan government announced that Kissinger would be forced to extend his stay in Nathia Gali because of a "slight indisposition"—"Delhi belly"; some reporters called it, a common enough problem for fast-moving travelers. As part of the cover, the trip to Nathia Gali was to be as conspicuous as possible. So a decoy caravan of limousines, flying the flags of the United States and Pakistan and accompanied by a
motorcycle escort,rolled through the streets of Islamabad and up into the mountains. To preserve the fiction,the government kept a steady stream of visitors driving from Islamabadto Nathin Gali to pay their respects to the indisposed traveler.The Chief of Staff of the Pakistan army,the Minister of Defense,and a score of other officials dropped in to inquire about Kissinger's health.All were intercepted by Khan.He'd serve them a cup of coffee and tell them that Kissinger was resting and could not be disturbed. Actually,Kissinger had never gone to Nathia Gali. 3.How Should One Read a Book? by Virginia Woolf It is simple enough to say that since books have classes-fiction,biography,poetry-we should separate them and take from each what it is right that each should give us.Yet few people ask from books what books can give us.Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds,asking of fiction that it shall be true,of poetry that it shall be false,of biography that it shall be flattering,of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices.If we could banish all such preconceptions when we read,that would be an admirable beginning.Do not dictate to your author;try to become him.Be his fellow-worker and accomplice.If you hang back,and reserve and criticise at first,you are preventing yourself from getting the fullest possible value from what you read.But if you open your mind as widely as possible,then signs and hints of almost imperceptible fineness,from the twist and turn of the first sentences,will bring you into the presence of a human being unlike any other.Steep yourself in this,acquaint yourself with this,and soon you will find that your author is giving you,or attempting to give you,something far more definite. The thirty-two chapters of a novel-if we consider how to read a novel first-are an attempt to make something as formed and controlled as a building;but words are more impalpable than bricks;reading is a longer and more complicated process than seeing.Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read,but to write;to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties of words.Recall,then,some event that has left a distinct impression on you-how at the corner of the street,perhaps,you passed two people talking.A tree shook;an electric light danced;the tone of the talk was comic,but also tragic;a whole vision,an entire conception,seemed contained in that moment.But when you
motorcycle escort, rolled through the streets of Islamabad and up into the mountains. To preserve the fiction, the government kept a steady stream of visitors driving from Islamabad to Nathin Gali to pay their respects to the indisposed traveler. The Chief of Staff of the Pakistan army, the Minister of Defense, and a score of other officials dropped in to inquire about Kissinger's health. All were intercepted by Khan. He'd serve them a cup of coffee and tell them that Kissinger was resting and could not be disturbed. Actually, Kissinger had never gone to Nathia Gali. 3. How Should One Read a Book? by Virginia Woolf It is simple enough to say that since books have classes—fiction, biography, poetry—we should separate them and take from each what it is right that each should give us. Yet few people ask from books what books can give us. Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it shall be false, of biography that it shall be flattering, of history that it shall enforce our own prejudices. If we could banish all such preconceptions when we read, that would be an admirable beginning. Do not dictate to your author; try to become him. Be his fellow-worker and accomplice. If you hang back, and reserve and criticise at first, you are preventing yourself from getting the fullest possible value from what you read. But if you open your mind as widely as possible, then signs and hints of almost imperceptible fineness, from the twist and turn of the first sentences, will bring you into the presence of a human being unlike any other. Steep yourself in this, acquaint yourself with this, and soon you will find that your author is giving you, or attempting to give you, something far more definite. The thirty-two chapters of a novel—if we consider how to read a novel first —are an attempt to make something as formed and controlled as a building; but words are more impalpable than bricks; reading is a longer and more complicated process than seeing. Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties of words. Recall, then, some event that has left a distinct impression on you—how at the corner of the street, perhaps, you passed two people talking. A tree shook; an electric light danced; the tone of the talk was comic, but also tragic; a whole vision, an entire conception, seemed contained in that moment. But when you
attempt to reconstruct it in words,you will find that it breaks into a thousand confliction impressions.Some must be subdued;others emphasised;in the process you will lose,probably, all graspupon the emotion itself.Then turn from your blurred and littered pages to the opening pages of some great novelist-Defoe,Jane Austen,Hardy.Now you will be better able to appreciate their mastery... 4.The Delights of Books Books are to mankind what memory is to the individual.They contain the history of our race,the discoveries we have made,the accumulated knowledge and experience of ages;they picture for us the marvels and beauties of nature;help us in our difficulties,comfort us in sorrow and in suffering,store our minds with ideas,fill them with good and happy thoughts,and lift us out of and above ourselves. When we read we may transport ourselves to the mountains or the seashore,and visit the most beautiful parts of the earth,without fatigue,inconvenience,or expense.Many of those who have had all that this world can give,have told us they owed much of their purest happiness to books.Macaulay,a Britain historian,writer and statesman,had wealth and fame,rank and power,and yet he tells us in his biography that he owed the happiest hours of his life to books. He says:"If any one would make me the greatest king that ever lived,with palaces,gardens, fine dinners,wines and coaches,and beautiful clothes,and hundreds of servants,on condition that I should not read books,I would not be a king.I would rather be a poor man in a garret with plenty of books than a king who did not love reading." Books,indeed,endow us with a whole enchanted palace of thoughts.In one way they give us an even more vivid idea than the actual reality,just as reflections are often more beautiful than real nature. Without stirring from our firesides we may roam to the most remote regions of the earth. Science,art,literature,philosophy,all that man has thought,all that man has done,the experience that has been bought with the sufferings of a hundred generations,all are garnered up for us in the world of books. 5.Calgary:Canada's Not-So-Wild West by David S.Boyer THE WEST,for a century dirt-farm poor and ignored by the more industrialized eastern
attempt to reconstruct it in words, you will find that it breaks into a thousand confliction impressions. Some must be subdued; others emphasised; in the process you will lose, probably, all grasp upon the emotion itself. Then turn from your blurred and littered pages to the opening pages of some great novelist —Defoe, Jane Austen, Hardy. Now you will be better able to appreciate their mastery... 4. The Delights of Books Books are to mankind what memory is to the individual. They contain the history of our race, the discoveries we have made, the accumulated knowledge and experience of ages; they picture for us the marvels and beauties of nature; help us in our difficulties, comfort us in sorrow and in suffering, store our minds with ideas, fill them with good and happy thoughts, and lift us out of and above ourselves. When we read we may transport ourselves to the mountains or the seashore, and visit the most beautiful parts of the earth, without fatigue, inconvenience, or expense. Many of those who have had all that this world can give, have told us they owed much of their purest happiness to books. Macaulay, a Britain historian,writer and statesman, had wealth and fame, rank and power, and yet he tells us in his biography that he owed the happiest hours of his life to books. He says: "If any one would make me the greatest king that ever lived, with palaces, gardens, fine dinners, wines and coaches, and beautiful clothes, and hundreds of servants, on condition that I should not read books, I would not be a king. I would rather be a poor man in a garret with plenty of books than a king who did not love reading." Books, indeed, endow us with a whole enchanted palace of thoughts. In one way they give us an even more vivid idea than the actual reality, just as reflections are often more beautiful than real nature. Without stirring from our firesides we may roam to the most remote regions of the earth. Science, art, literature, philosophy, all that man has thought, all that man has done, the experience that has been bought with the sufferings of a hundred generations, all are garnered up for us in the world of books. 5. Calgary: Canada's Not-So-Wild West by David S. Boyer THE WEST, for a century dirt-farm poor and ignored by the more industrialized eastern
provinces of Ontario and Quebec that control Canada,has lately begun to sway the nation's entire economic structure.And that has drawn the earnest attention of lots of eastern Canadians, who voice pride and concern. Calgary's new high-rise banks and oil-company skyscrapers,sandwiching the towers of investment and insurance compaines,are home base for a flamboyant collection of Canadian millionaires and big consortia and astronomical contracts,all representing incalculable consequences for Canada's political future.The West has recently been hard hit by recession,but its continuing sense of power,centered in Calgary,stands in ongoing confrontation with the federal government at Ottawa,over taxes and prices and freight rates and socialistic policies.For a century there has been alienation,and even talk of secession,though separatist sentiment has now receded. The western dynamo shoots out sparks from Calgary,by plane and phone and computer and satellite,to every corner of the nation and,indeed,the world.And now Brian Sawyer was telling me how he perceives this hustling delirium of 620,000 people and more than half as many cars,and their new houses and condos grazing out in all directions like the undisciplined herds of buffalo that once roamed these hills and prairies. Out the window over Brian's shoulder,as a stage back drop for this whole improbable scene, rose the serrated wall of the Rockies,etched in snow and ice,jagged as a giant bread knife along the western horizon. "Nobody can claim credit or take the blame,"the chief was saying."This city just exploded. We didn't know what hit us." "Yes,crime did go up faster even than the population -crime and drinking and divorce and suicide.For ten years we averaged 58 new Calgarians a day-an inundation of money-hungry people from everywhere.What can you expect when strangers pile in on each other like that? You can see for yourself what we had here.Uncontrolled growth." "It has all cooled down now-including,I'm happy to say,the crime.Our timetable has been stretched out,but we could still be the prototype 21st-century city of the planet.The slowdown, meanwhile,is making the place more manageable and more livable." 6.Vords！Words！Words! "It Works."These words may be the final judgment on a missile project or a plan to inerease
provinces of Ontario and Quebec that control Canada, has lately begun to sway the nation's entire economic structure. And that has drawn the earnest attention of lots of eastern Canadians, who voice pride and concern. Calgary's new high-rise banks and oil-company skyscrapers, sandwiching the towers of investment and insurance compaines, are home base for a flamboyant collection of Canadian millionaires and big consortia and astronomical contracts, all representing incalculable consequences for Canada's political future. The West has recently been hard hit by recession, but its continuing sense of power, centered in Calgary, stands in ongoing confrontation with the federal government at Ottawa, over taxes and prices and freight rates and socialistic policies. For a century there has been alienation, and even talk of secession, though separatist sentiment has now receded. The western dynamo shoots out sparks from Calgary, by plane and phone and computer and satellite, to every corner of the nation and, indeed, the world. And now Brian Sawyer was telling me how he perceives this hustling delirium of 620,000 people and more than half as many cars, and their new houses and condos grazing out in all directions like the undisciplined herds of buffalo that once roamed these hills and prairies. Out the window over Brian's shoulder, as a stage back drop for this whole improbable scene, rose the serrated wall of the Rockies, etched in snow and ice, jagged as a giant bread knife along the western horizon. "Nobody can claim credit or take the blame, "the chief was saying." This city just exploded. We didn't know what hit us." "Yes, crime did go up faster even than the population —crime and drinking and divorce and suicide. For ten years we averaged 58 new Calgarians a day—an inundation of money-hungry people from everywhere. What can you expect when strangers pile in on each other like that? You can see for yourself what we had here. Uncontrolled growth." "It has all cooled down now—including, I'm happy to say, the crime. Our timetable has been stretched out, but we could still be the prototype 21st-century city of the planet. The slowdown, meanwhile, is making the place more manageable and more livable." 6. Words! Words! Words! "It Works." These words may be the final judgment on a missile project or a plan to inerease
the efficiency of a labor group or could be the happy answer to the project that proved too complicated for father to assemble.They also may describe what goes on when the right mixture is put away in sealed bottles or jugs.Some earn their living at a boiler"works"and it is the "works"that make a watchtick.Most people work for a living,but what teenager hasn't "worked"on his dad for the use of the car.And a boat will work its way through an ice field or an army through a swamp or heavy going The physicist has a precise meaning for the word"work",but the metallurgist uses the word in relation to a wide variety of processes.Cogging of ingots,rolling of bars or sheets,forging of bars,blocks,or semi-finished parts,piercing of bars to form tubing,drawing of wire through dies or the drawing of sheet into cups,swaging,hammering,extruding,all are operations involving the "working"of metals and produce parts that are classed as"worked"metals."Work"to the metallurgist is any operation that changes the shape of a metal part without changing its volume. A nail bent by a hammer is"worked"and the straightening that follows is further working.The making of an automobile fender,of a tube for toothpaste,or of an aluminum safety hat are common examples which involve severe working of metals.Of all parts made of metals,castings and sintered products are the only classes of final product which do not,at some stage or other in their manufacture,go through one or more operations which are classed as"working." 7.First Snow The first fall of snow is not only an event but it is a magical event.You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different,and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found?The very stealth,the eerie quie tness,of the thing makes it more magical.If all the snow fell at once in one shattering crash,awakening us in the middle of the night the event would be robbed of its wonder.But it flutters down,soundless,hour after hour while we are asleep.Outside the closed curtains of the bedroom a vast transformation scene is taking place,just as if a myriad elves and brownies were at work,and we turn and yawn and stretch and know nothing about it.And then,what an extraordinary change it is!It is as if the house you are in had been dropped down in another continent.Even the inside,which has not been touched,seems different,every room appearing smaller and cosier,just as if some power were trying to turn it into a woodcutter's hut or a snug log-cabin.Outside,where the garden was yesterday,there is now a white and glistening level,and the village beyond is no longer your own
the efficiency of a labor group or could be the happy answer to the project that proved too complicated for father to assemble. They also may describe what goes on when the right mixture is put away in sealed bottles or jugs. Some earn their living at a boiler "works" and it is the "works" that make a watch tick. Most people work for a living, but what teenager hasn't "worked" on his dad for the use of the car. And a boat will work its way through an ice field or an army through a swamp or heavy going. The physicist has a precise meaning for the word "work", but the metallurgist uses the word in relation to a wide variety of processes. Cogging of ingots, rolling of bars or sheets, forging of bars, blocks, or semi-finished parts, piercing of bars to form tubing, drawing of wire through dies or the drawing of sheet into cups, swaging, hammering, extruding, all are operations involving the "working" of metals and produce parts that are classed as "worked" metals. "Work" to the metallurgist is any operation that changes the shape of a metal part without changing its volume. A nail bent by a hammer is "worked" and the straightening that follows is further working. The making of an automobile fender, of a tube for toothpaste, or of an aluminum safety hat are common examples which involve severe working of metals. Of all parts made of metals, castings and sintered products are the only classes of final product which do not, at some stage or other in their manufacture, go through one or more operations which are classed as "working." 7. First Snow The first fall of snow is not only an event but it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found? The very stealth, the eerie quie tness, of the thing makes it more magical. If all the snow fell at once in one shattering crash, awakening us in the middle of the night the event would be robbed of its wonder. But it flutters down, soundless, hour after hour while we are asleep. Outside the closed curtains of the bedroom a vast transformation scene is taking place, just as if a myriad elves and brownies were at work, and we turn and yawn and stretch and know nothing about it. And then, what an extraordinary change it is! It is as if the house you are in had been dropped down in another continent. Even the inside, which has not been touched, seems different, every room appearing smaller and cosier, just as if some power were trying to turn it into a woodcutter's hut or a snug log-cabin. Outside, where the garden was yesterday, there is now a white and glistening level, and the village beyond is no longer your own
familiar cluster of roofs but a village in an old German fairy-tale.You would not be surprised to learn that all the people there,the spectacled postmistress,the cobbler,the retired school master,and the rest,had suffered a change too and had become queer elvish beings,purveyors of invisible caps and magic shoes.You yourselves do not feel quite the same people you were yesterday.How could you when so much has been changed?There is a curious stir,a little shiver of excitement,troubling the house,not unlike the feeling there is abroad when a journey has to be made.The children,of course,are all excitement but even the adults hang about and talk to one another longer than usual before settling down to the day's work.Nobody can resist the windows.It is like being on board a ship When I got up this morning the world was a chilled hollow of dead white and faint blues. The light that came through the windows was very queer,and it contrived to make the familiar business of splashing and shaving and brushing and dressing very queer too.Then the sun came out,and by the time I had sat down to breakfast it was shining bravely and flushing the snow with delicate pinks.The dinningroom window had been transformed into a lovely Japanese print. The little plum-tree outside,with the faintly flushed snow lining its boughs and artfully disposed along its trunk,stood in full sunlight.An hour or two later everything was a cold glitter of white and blue.The world had completely changed again.The little Japanese prints had all vanished. 8.AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA The shore is an ancient world,for as long as there has been an earthand sea there has been this place of the meeting of land and water.Yet it is a world that keeps alive the sense of continuing creation and of the relentless drive of life.Eachtime that I enter it,I gain some new awareness of its beauty and its deeper meanings,sensing that intricate fabric of life by which one creature is linked with another,and each with its surroundings. In my thoughts of the shore,one place stands apart for its revelation of exquisite beauty.It is a pool hidden within a cave that one can visit only rarely and briefly when the lowest of the year's low tides fall below it,and perhaps from that very fact it acquires some of its special beauty.Choosing such a tide,I hoped for a glimpse of the pool.The ebb was to fall early in the morning.I knew that if the wind held from the northwest and no interfering swell ran in from a distant storm the level of the sea should drop below the entrance to the pool.There had been
familiar cluster of roofs but a village in an old German fairy-tale. You would not be surprised to learn that all the people there, the spectacled postmistress, the cobbler, the retired school master, and the rest, had suffered a change too and had become queer elvish beings, purveyors of invisible caps and magic shoes. You yourselves do not feel quite the same people you were yesterday. How could you when so much has been changed? There is a curious stir, a little shiver of excitement, troubling the house, not unlike the feeling there is abroad when a journey has to be made. The children, of course, are all excitement but even the adults hang about and talk to one another longer than usual before settling down to the day's work. Nobody can resist the windows. It is like being on board a ship. When I got up this morning the world was a chilled hollow of dead white and faint blues. The light that came through the windows was very queer, and it contrived to make the familiar business of splashing and shaving and brushing and dressing very queer too. Then the sun came out, and by the time I had sat down to breakfast it was shining bravely and flushing the snow with delicate pinks. The dinningroom window had been transformed into a lovely Japanese print. The little plum-tree outside, with the faintly flushed snow lining its boughs and artfully disposed along its trunk, stood in full sunlight. An hour or two later everything was a cold glitter of white and blue. The world had completely changed again. The little Japanese prints had all vanished. 8. AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA The shore is an ancient world, for as long as there has been an earth and sea there has been this place of the meeting of land and water. Yet it is a world that keeps alive the sense of continuing creation and of the relentless drive of life. Each time that I enter it, I gain some new awareness of its beauty and its deeper meanings, sensing that intricate fabric of life by which one creature is linked with another, and each with its surroundings. In my thoughts of the shore, one place stands apart for its revelation of exquisite beauty. It is a pool hidden within a cave that one can visit only rarely and briefly when the lowest of the year's low tides fall below it, and perhaps from that very fact it acquires some of its special beauty. Choosing such a tide, I hoped for a glimpse of the pool. The ebb was to fall early in the morning. I knew that if the wind held from the northwest and no interfering swell ran in from a distant storm the level of the sea should drop below the entrance to the pool. There had been
sudden ominous showers in the night,with rain like handfuls of gravel flung on the roof.When I looked out into the early morning the sky was full of a graydawn light but the sun had not yet risen.Water and air were pallid.Across the bay the moon was a luminous disc in the westernsky, suspended above the dim line of distant shore-the full August moon,drawing the tide to the low,low levels of the threshold of the alien sea world.As I watched,a gull flew by,above the spruces.Its breast was rosy with the light of the unrisen sun.The day was,after all,to be fair. Later,as I stood above the tide near the entrance to the pool,the promise of that rosy light was sustained.From the base of the steepwall of rock on which I stood,a moss-covered ledge jutted seaward into deep water.In the surge at the rim of the ledge the dark fronds of oarweeds swayed,smooth and gleaming as leather.The projecting ledge was the path to the small hidden cave and its pool.Occasionally a swell,stronger than the rest,rolled smoothly over the rim and broke in foam against the cliff.But the intervals between such swells were long enough to admit me to the ledge and long enough for a glimpse of that airypool,so seldom and so briefly exposed. And so I knelt on the wet carpet of sea moss and looked back into the dark cavern that held the pool in a shallow basin.The floor of the cave was only a few inches below the roof,and a mirror had been created in which all that grew on the ceiling was reflected in the still water below. Under water that was clear as glass the pool was carpeted with green sponge.Gray patches of sea squirts glistened on the ceiling and colonies of soft coral were a pale apricot color.In the moment when I looked into the cave a little elfin starfish hung down,suspended by the merest thread,perhaps by only a single tube foot.It reached down to touch its own reflection,so perfectly delineated that there might have been,not one starfish,but two.The beauty of the reflected images and of the limpid pool itself was the poignant beauty of things that are ephemeral,existing only until the sea should return to fill the little cave. 9.Yearning for Her Lips As he gazed at her and listened,his thoughts grew daring.He reviewed all the wild delight of the pressure of her hand in his at the door,and longed for it again.His gaze wandered often towards her lips,and he yearned for them hungrily.But there was nothing gross or earthly a bout this yearning.It gave him exquisite delight to watch every movement and play of those lips as they enunciated the words she spoke;yet they were not ordinary lips such as all men and women
sudden ominous showers in the night, with rain like handfuls of gravel flung on the roof. When I looked out into the early morning the sky was full of a gray dawn light but the sun had not yet risen. Water and air were pallid. Across the bay the moon was a luminous disc in the western sky, suspended above the dim line of distant shore─the full August moon, drawing the tide to the low, low levels of the threshold of the alien sea world. As I watched, a gull flew by, above the spruces. Its breast was rosy with the light of the unrisen sun. The day was, after all, to be fair. Later, as I stood above the tide near the entrance to the pool, the promise of that rosy light was sustained. From the base of the steep wall of rock on which I stood, a moss-covered ledge jutted seaward into deep water. In the surge at the rim of the ledge the dark fronds of oarweeds swayed, smooth and gleaming as leather. The projecting ledge was the path to the small hidden cave and its pool. Occasionally a swell, stronger than the rest, rolled smoothly over the rim and broke in foam against the cliff. But the intervals between such swells were long enough to admit me to the ledge and long enough for a glimpse of that airypool, so seldom and so briefly exposed. And so I knelt on the wet carpet of sea moss and looked back into the dark cavern that held the pool in a shallow basin. The floor of the cave was only a few inches below the roof, and a mirror had been created in which all that grew on the ceiling was reflected in the still water below. Under water that was clear as glass the pool was carpeted with green sponge. Gray patches of sea squirts glistened on the ceiling and colonies of soft coral were a pale apricot color. In the moment when I looked into the cave a little elfin starfish hung down, suspended by the merest thread, perhaps by only a single tube foot. It reached down to touch its own reflection, so perfectly delineated that there might have been, not one starfish, but two. The beauty of the reflected images and of the limpid pool itself was the poignant beauty of things that are ephemeral, existing only until the sea should return to fill the little cave. 9. Yearning for Her Lips As he gazed at her and listened, his thoughts grew daring. He reviewed all the wild delight of the pressure of her hand in his at the door, and longed for it again. His gaze wandered often towards her lips, and he yearned for them hungrily. But there was nothing gross or earthly about this yearning. It gave him exquisite delight to watch every movement and play of those lips as they enunciated the words she spoke; yet they were not ordinary lips such as all men and women
had.Their substance was not mere human clay.They were lips of pure spirit,and his desire for them seemed absolutely different from the desire that had led him to other women's lips.He could kiss her lips,rest his own physical lips upon them,but it would be with the lofty and awful fervor with which one would kiss the robe of God.He was not conscious of this transvalutation of values that had taken place in him,and was unaware that the light that shone in his eyes when he looked at her was quite the same light that shines in all men's eyes when the desire of love is upon them. 10.Confusion of Mind And now,because my mind was not confused enough before,I complicated its confusion fifty thousand-fold by having states and season when I was clear that Biddy was immeasurably better than Estella,and that the plain honest working life to which I was born had nothing in it to be ashamed of,but offered me sufficient means of self-respect and happiness.At those times,I would decide conclusively that my disaffection to dear old Joe and the forge was gone,and that I was growing up in a fair wayto be partners with Joe and to keep company with Biddy--when all in a moment some confounding remembrance of the Havisham days would fall upon me,like a destructive missile,and scatter my wits again.Scattered wits take a long time picking up;and often,before I had got them well together,they would be dispersed in all directions by one stray thought,that perhaps after all Miss Havisham was going to make my fortune when my time was out. Reference Versions参考译文 1.滑雪 世界上也许没有哪一项运动比得上滑雪那样令人激奋。对观众来说，滑雪表演简直是无 与伦比，蔚为奇观。对滑雪者来说，滑雪是一种亲历其境的生动体验，一种心灵上、身体上 和胆量上惊心动魂的考验。 越来越多的美国人亲自体验了这项运动所富有的刺激性。不久以前，滑雪运动在美国体 坛上几乎毫无地位。人们就算想到这个项目的话，也只是把它看成是欧洲人的运动。后来于 1932年，在纽约州普拉西德湖举行了冬季奥运会。美国人第一次看到了精彩的滑雪表演， 于是开始奔向皑皑的雪山。今天，铁路有定期班车将滑雪爱好者从城市送往茫茫雪野。 除了供人娱乐，使人兴奋外，滑雪运动还具有其他引人入胜的优点。这项运动花费较少， 而且，青年人往往在很短的时间内就能掌握滑雪的奥妙
had. Their substance was not mere human clay. They were lips of pure spirit, and his desire for them seemed absolutely different from the desire that had led him to other women’s lips. He could kiss her lips, rest his own physical lips upon them, but it would be with the lofty and awful fervor with which one would kiss the robe of God. He was not conscious of this transvalutation of values that had taken place in him, and was unaware that the light that shone in his eyes when he looked at her was quite the same light that shines in all men’s eyes when the desire of love is upon them. 10. Confusion of Mind And now, because my mind was not confused enough before, I complicated its confusion fifty thousand-fold by having states and season when I was clear that Biddy was immeasurably better than Estella, and that the plain honest working life to which I was born had nothing in it to be ashamed of, but offered me sufficient means of self-respect and happiness. At those times, I would decide conclusively that my disaffection to dear old Joe and the forge was gone, and that I was growing up in a fair way to be partners with Joe and to keep company with Biddy——when all in a moment some confounding remembrance of the Havisham days would fall upon me, like a destructive missile, and scatter my wits again. Scattered wits take a long time picking up; and often, before I had got them well together, they would be dispersed in all directions by one stray thought, that perhaps after all Miss Havisham was going to make my fortune when my time was out. Reference Versions 参考译文 1． 滑雪 世界上也许没有哪一项运动比得上滑雪那样令人激奋。对观众来说，滑雪表演简直是无 与伦比，蔚为奇观。对滑雪者来说，滑雪是一种亲历其境的生动体验，一种心灵上、身体上 和胆量上惊心动魂的考验。 越来越多的美国人亲自体验了这项运动所富有的刺激性。不久以前，滑雪运动在美国体 坛上几乎毫无地位。人们就算想到这个项目的话，也只是把它看成是欧洲人的运动。后来于 1932 年，在纽约州普拉西德湖举行了冬季奥运会。美国人第一次看到了精彩的滑雪表演， 于是开始奔向皑皑的雪山。今天，铁路有定期班车将滑雪爱好者从城市送往茫茫雪野。 除了供人娱乐，使人兴奋外，滑雪运动还具有其他引人入胜的优点。这项运动花费较少， 而且，青年人往往在很短的时间内就能掌握滑雪的奥妙
滑雪运动秘特有的刺激性，巴迪·沃纳曾生动地描述过。“这全看你自己了。”他说，“没 有队友可以帮忙。你只有孤身一人，与茫茫雪野斗，崇山峻岭斗，还要和你自己斗。你就是 勇士。 2.现代外交史上的一幕遁身剧 现代外交史上最了不起的遁身剧就要在这天下午演出了。白宫和巴基斯坦总统叶海亚为 了准备这件事真是煞费苦心。 计划进行得很顺利。首先是基辛格向巴基斯坦总统作了九十分钟的礼节拜会。过后，按 预定计划放出空气说，由于这位美国贵宾长途跋涉过分劳累，预定为他举行的正式宴会不得 不取消，他将乘车前往海拔八千五百英尺的纳蒂亚加利山庄略事休息。第二天，7月9日， 巴基斯坦政府宣布，基辛格“稍感不适”，不得不在纳蒂亚加利多住几天。有些记者说他准 是得了“德里痢疾”，这是来去匆匆的旅行者常有的毛病。 为了以假乱真，纳蒂亚加利之行倒是要尽量引人注目。于是插着美巴两国国旗的一支冒 牌乔装的汽车队在摩托车队护送之下，从伊斯兰堡招摇过市，驰往山区。 巴基斯坦政府为了不露破绽，还组织了巴基斯坦陆军参谋长、国防部长以及二十来个其 他政府宫员陆续不断地从伊斯兰堡坐车到纳蒂亚加利探望这个政躬违和的贵宾。苏尔坦·穆 罕默德把他们一一挡驾，请他们喝咖啡，推说基辛格正在休息，不便打扰。 其实，基辛格根本没有去纳蒂亚加利…。 3.应该如何读书？ 这个问题很简单，因为既然书分类别，例如小说、传记、诗歌，那我们就应该有所区别， 从中吸取其应该给我们的正确的东西。但是很少有人向书索取它所能真正给我们的东西。最 常见的是，我们模模糊糊地、心不在焉地在读书。对于小说，要求它真实：对于诗歌，要求 虚构：对于传记，要求它是恭维：对于历史，要求它能应验我们自己的偏见。假如我们在阅 读时能排除以上这些成见，那将是一个极好的开端。我们应该去适应作者，不要想使役作者， 要成为他的同行或伙伴。假如你一开始就踌躇不前，持保留和批评的态度，那么你就无法从 你所读的书中获得可能得到的最大益处。但是，假如你完全敞开思想，你从篇首一些句子的 迂回曲折之中就会体察到几乎难以觉察的微妙的暗示与线索，由此，你进入一个与众不同的 人性境界。要沉浸于作者的境界并且熟悉这一境界，你很快会领略到作者正在给你或力图给 你的东西，其内容大大超过文字所限定的内容。 我们先来讨论一下小说的读法。一部三十二章的小说，作者努力把它塑造成像建筑物一 样有形态、受制约的东西。然而，字句与砖瓦不同，更加触摸不到：阅读书本与现实相比
滑雪运动秘特有的刺激性，巴迪·沃纳曾生动地描述过。“这全看你自己了。”他说，“没 有队友可以帮忙。你只有孤身一人，与茫茫雪野斗，崇山峻岭斗，还要和你自己斗。你就是 勇士。 2． 现代外交史上的一幕遁身剧 现代外交史上最了不起的遁身剧就要在这天下午演出了。白宫和巴基斯坦总统叶海亚为 了准备这件事真是煞费苦心。 计划进行得很顺利。首先是基辛格向巴基斯坦总统作了九十分钟的礼节拜会。过后，按 预定计划放出空气说，由于这位美国贵宾长途跋涉过分劳累，预定为他举行的正式宴会不得 不取消，他将乘车前往海拔八千五百英尺的纳蒂亚加利山庄略事休息。第二天，７月９日， 巴基斯坦政府宣布，基辛格“稍感不适”，不得不在纳蒂亚加利多住几天。有些记者说他准 是得了“德里痢疾”，这是来去匆匆的旅行者常有的毛病。 为了以假乱真，纳蒂亚加利之行倒是要尽量引人注目。于是插着美巴两国国旗的一支冒 牌乔装的汽车队在摩托车队护送之下，从伊斯兰堡招摇过市，驰往山区。 巴基斯坦政府为了不露破绽，还组织了巴基斯坦陆军参谋长、国防部长以及二十来个其 他政府宫员陆续不断地从伊斯兰堡坐车到纳蒂亚加利探望这个政躬违和的贵宾。苏尔坦·穆 罕默德把他们一一挡驾，请他们喝咖啡，推说基辛格正在休息，不便打扰。 其实，基辛格根本没有去纳蒂亚加利…… 3． 应该如何读书？ 这个问题很简单，因为既然书分类别，例如小说、传记、诗歌，那我们就应该有所区别， 从中吸取其应该给我们的正确的东西。但是很少有人向书索取它所能真正给我们的东西。最 常见的是，我们模模糊糊地、心不在焉地在读书。对于小说，要求它真实；对于诗歌，要求 虚构；对于传记，要求它是恭维；对于历史，要求它能应验我们自己的偏见。假如我们在阅 读时能排除以上这些成见，那将是一个极好的开端。我们应该去适应作者，不要想使役作者， 要成为他的同行或伙伴。假如你一开始就踌躇不前，持保留和批评的态度，那么你就无法从 你所读的书中获得可能得到的最大益处。但是，假如你完全敞开思想，你从篇首一些句子的 迂回曲折之中就会体察到几乎难以觉察的微妙的暗示与线索，由此，你进入一个与众不同的 人性境界。要沉浸于作者的境界并且熟悉这一境界，你很快会领略到作者正在给你或力图给 你的东西，其内容大大超过文字所限定的内容。 我们先来讨论一下小说的读法。一部三十二章的小说，作者努力把它塑造成像建筑物一 样有形态、受制约的东西。然而，字句与砖瓦不同，更加触摸不到；阅读书本与现实相比
读书是一个更长、更复杂的过程。也许，理解小说家的创作要素的最快方法不是阅读，面是 写作一一亲自去体验一下遣字造句的困难和危险。那末，就来回忆一下给你留下深刻印象的 某一事件吧。比如说，在马路拐弯的地方，你从两个正在谈话的人的身旁走过：树影摇曳， 电光闪烁，谈话的声调亦喜亦悲一一这整个景色与意念的构成都在这一刹那之中。但是，当 你企图用文字把它重新组合时，你将会发觉，原来完整的景象分裂成成千上百个互相矛盾的 印记。其中，有的要抑制，有的要强调，在这个过程中，你可能把握不住自己的情绪。这时， 搁下你那模糊而散乱的几页文字，去阅读某个伟大小说家（例如笛福、珍妮·奥斯丁或托马 斯·哈代)作品的头几页。现在你就能更好地欣赏他们的精湛技艺了。 4.书之乐趣 书籍之于全人类，犹如记忆之于个人。书籍记录了我们人类的历史，记录了我们的新发 现，也记录了我们世世代代积累的知识和经验：书籍为我们描绘了自然界的奇观和美景：书 籍帮助我们摆脱困境，在我们悲哀困苦的时候，给我们以安慰，给我们的头脑装进各种观念， 使我们的脑海充满了美妙、高尚的思想，从而使我们超越自我，高于自我。 读书时，我们可以神驰群山，或畅游海滨，我们也可遍访世界上最美丽的地方，而无须 经受任何劳累，也没有什么不方便，更无须花费分文。许多人拥有的这个世界能给予的一切， 然而他们却告诉我们，他们真正的幸福在很大程度上还是得之于书籍。麦考利，一名英国历 史学家、作家、政治家，既有财富又有声望，既有地位又有权势，然而他在传记中告诉我们， 他生活中最幸福的时刻还是读书。他说：“真要是有人拥戴我为世上最显赫的国王，拥有宫 殿、花园、珍肴美味、佳酿华辇、龙袍化衮，以及成群成群的奴仆，但若不让我读书，我则 决不愿为国王。我宁愿成为一个穷人，与众多书籍为伴，蜗居阁楼斗室，也不愿成为一个不 爱读书的国王。” 事实上，书籍赋予我们一个思想魔宫。从某种意义上说，书籍给我们的形象比现实的东 西更生动，正如影像往往比真实的风景更美丽。 无须离开家门，我们便可遨游世界上最遥远的地方。科学、艺术、文学及哲学、所有这 一切人类思想行为的结晶，还有我们的祖祖辈辈经受了无数靡难而获得的经验，都为我们贮 藏在书籍的世界里了。 5.卡尔加里一一新兴的加拿大西部城市 一个世纪以来，加拿大西部是贫困的小农经济地区。工业化程度较高、左右全国的东部 省份安大略和魁北克对它不屑一顾。但最近以来，西部地区对加拿大的整个经济结构已产生 影响。由此而引起了许多加拿大东部人士的认真注意，这些人既表示骄傲，又表示关切
读书是一个更长、更复杂的过程。也许，理解小说家的创作要素的最快方法不是阅读，面是 写作——亲自去体验一下遣字造句的困难和危险。那末，就来回忆一下给你留下深刻印象的 某一事件吧。比如说，在马路拐弯的地方，你从两个正在谈话的人的身旁走过；树影摇曳， 电光闪烁，谈话的声调亦喜亦悲——这整个景色与意念的构成都在这一刹那之中。但是，当 你企图用文字把它重新组合时，你将会发觉，原来完整的景象分裂成成千上百个互相矛盾的 印记。其中，有的要抑制，有的要强调，在这个过程中，你可能把握不住自己的情绪。这时， 搁下你那模糊而散乱的几页文字，去阅读某个伟大小说家（例如笛福、珍妮·奥斯丁或托马 斯·哈代）作品的头几页。现在你就能更好地欣赏他们的精湛技艺了。 4． 书之乐趣 书籍之于全人类，犹如记忆之于个人。书籍记录了我们人类的历史，记录了我们的新发 现，也记录了我们世世代代积累的知识和经验；书籍为我们描绘了自然界的奇观和美景；书 籍帮助我们摆脱困境，在我们悲哀困苦的时候，给我们以安慰，给我们的头脑装进各种观念， 使我们的脑海充满了美妙、高尚的思想，从而使我们超越自我，高于自我。 读书时，我们可以神驰群山，或畅游海滨，我们也可遍访世界上最美丽的地方，而无须 经受任何劳累，也没有什么不方便，更无须花费分文。许多人拥有的这个世界能给予的一切， 然而他们却告诉我们，他们真正的幸福在很大程度上还是得之于书籍。麦考利，一名英国历 史学家、作家、政治家，既有财富又有声望，既有地位又有权势，然而他在传记中告诉我们， 他生活中最幸福的时刻还是读书。他说：“真要是有人拥戴我为世上最显赫的国王，拥有宫 殿、花园、珍肴美味、佳酿华辇、龙袍化衮，以及成群成群的奴仆，但若不让我读书，我则 决不愿为国王。我宁愿成为一个穷人，与众多书籍为伴，蜗居阁楼斗室，也不愿成为一个不 爱读书的国王。” 事实上，书籍赋予我们一个思想魔宫。从某种意义上说，书籍给我们的形象比现实的东 西更生动，正如影像往往比真实的风景更美丽。 无须离开家门，我们便可遨游世界上最遥远的地方。科学、艺术、文学及哲学、所有这 一切人类思想行为的结晶，还有我们的祖祖辈辈经受了无数靡难而获得的经验，都为我们贮 藏在书籍的世界里了。 5.卡尔加里——新兴的加拿大西部城市 一个世纪以来，加拿大西部是贫困的小农经济地区。工业化程度较高、左右全国的东部 省份安大略和魁北克对它不屑一顾。但最近以来，西部地区对加拿大的整个经济结构已产生 影响。由此而引起了许多加拿大东部人士的认真注意，这些人既表示骄傲，又表示关切