翻译资料 (39).doc

2012第3周翻译练习一、 英译汉：AI sometimes think that you boys of this generation are a deal tenderer fellows than we used to be. At any rate youre much more comfortable travellers, for I see every one of you with his rug or plaid, and other dodges for preserving the caloric, and most of you going in those fuzzy, dusty, padded first-class carriages. It was another affair altogether, a dark ride on the top of the Tally-ho, I can tell you, in a tight Petersham coat, and your feet dangling six inches from the floor. Then you knew what cold was, and what it was to be without legs, for not a bit of feeling had you in them after the first half-hour. But it had its pleasures, the old dark ride. First there was the consciousness of silent endurance, so dear to every Englishmanof standing out against something, and not giving in. Then there was the music of the rattling harness, and the ring of the horses feet on the hard road, and the glare of the two bright lamps through the steaming hoar frost, over the leaders ears, into the darkness, and the cheery toot of the guards horn, to warn some drowsy pikeman or the hostler at the next change; and the looking forward to daylight; and last, but not least, the delight of returning sensation in your toes.我有时候在想这代的小伙子们比起我们过去那个时候是多么的稚嫩。不管怎么说，你们都是一个舒服的旅行者，因为我看到你们每个人带着小毛毯，披着披肩或者其他的东西来保持热量，你们中的大多数能够钻进那些模糊的，布满灰尘的一级填补车。这完全是另一个事情,当你坐在一辆马伦车的顶部时。我可以告诉你，穿上一件紧身的螺纹丝带大衣，并且你的脚离地面六英尺时，你才会知道什么叫做冷，并且什么叫做感觉不到腿的存在，因为在你站了半小时之后你会毫无知觉。但是她也有他的乐趣，那就是在黑暗的旅程中有意识无声的耐力。开始每一个亲爱的英国人都始终坚持这，而且不放弃。但接下来我们就可以听到无休止的吱吱音乐声，马蹄落地的声音，和看见两盏台灯透过灰蒙蒙的雾气折射出来的刺眼的眩光，这些都越过人们，消失在黑暗中。那些守卫者为了警告那些昏昏欲睡的即将要下车的人们吹起号角。这些人期待着明天的到来，在最后，并非并不重要的，脚上麻木的感觉统统不见了。Then the break of dawn and the sunrise, where can they be ever seen in perfection but from a coach roof? You want motion and change and music to see them in their glorynot the music of singing men and singing women, but good, silent music, which sets itself in your own head, the accompaniment of work and getting over the ground.然后他们从这个公共汽车的车顶他们看到了破晓的到来，太阳的升起，这幅景象是他们从未见过的完美，你想要运动和变化和用他们的glory-not唱歌唱的男人和女人,但好,无声的音乐,这使自己在你自己的头,伴奏中的工作,克服了地面The Tally-ho is past St. Albans, and Tom is enjoying the ride, though half-frozen. The guard, who is alone with him on the back of the coach, is silent, but has muffled Toms feet up in straw, and put the end of an oat-sack over his knees. The darkness has driven him inwards, and he has gone over his little past life, and thought of all his doings and promises, and of his mother and sister, and his fathers last words; and has made fifty good resolutions, and means to bear himself like a brave Brown as he is, though a young one. Then he has been forward into the mysterious boy-future, speculating as to what sort of place Rugby is, and what they do there, and calling up all the stories of public schools which he has heard from big boys in the holidays. He is choke-full of hope and life, notwithstanding the cold, and kicks his heels against the back-board, and would like to sing; only he doesnt know how his friend the silent guard might take it.And now they begin to see, and the early life of the country-side comes outa market cart or two; men in smock-frocks going to their work, pipe in mouth, a whiff of which is no bad smell this bright morning. The sun gets up, and the mist shines like silver gauze. They pass the hounds jogging along to a distant meet, at the heels of the huntsmans back, whose face is about the colour of the tails of his old pink, as he exchanges greetings with coachman and guard. Now they pull up at a lodge, and take on board a well-muffled-up sportsman, with his gun-case and carpet-bag. An early up-coach meets them, and the coachmen gather up their horses, and pass one another with the accustomed lift of the elbow, each team doing eleven miles an hour, with a mile to spare behind if necessary. And here comes breakfast. “Twenty minutes here, gentlemen,” says the coachman, as they pull up at half-past seven at the inn-door.BIt is not easy to see how this house of mine can make to itself a Sunday quiet, for at all times it is well-nigh soundless; yet I find a difference. My housekeeper comes into the room with her Sunday smile; she is happier for the day, and the sight of her happiness gives me pleasure. She speaks, if possible, in a softer voice; she wears a garment which reminds me that there is only the lightest and cleanest housework to be done. She will go to church, morning and evening, and I know that she is better for it. During her absence I sometimes look into rooms which on other days I never enter; it is merely to gladden my eyes with the shining cleanliness, the perfect order, I am sure to find in the good womans domain. But for that spotless and sweet-smelling kitchen, what would it avail me to range my books and hang my pictures? All the tranquility of my life depends upon the honest care of this woman who lives and works unseen. And I am sure that the money I pay her is the least part of her reward. She is such an old-fashioned person that the mere discharge of what she deems a duty is in itself an end to her, and the work in itself a satisfaction, and a pride.When a child, I was permitted to handle on Sunday certain books which could not be exposed to the more careless usage of common days; volumes finely illustrated, or the more handsome editions of familiar authors, or works which, merely by their bulk, demanded special care. Happily, these books were all of the higher rank in literature, and so there came to be established in my mind an association between the day of rest and names which are the greatest in verse and in prose. Through my life this habit has remained with me; I have always wished to spend some part of the Sunday quiet with books which, at most times, it is fatally easy to leave aside, ones very knowledge and love of them serving as an excuse for their neglect in favor of print which has the attractiveness of newness. Homer and Virgil, Milton and Shakespeare; not many Sundays have gone by without my opening one or other of these. Not many Sundays? Nay, that is to exaggerate, as one has the habit of doing. Let me say rather that, on many a rest-day I have found mind and opportunity for such reading. Nowadays mind and opportunity fail me never. I may take down my Homer or my Shakespeare when I choose, but it is still Sunday that I feel it most becoming to seek the privilege of their companionship. For these great ones, crowned with immortality, do not respond to him who approaches them as though hurried by temporal care. There befits the garment of solemn leisure, the thought attuned to peace. I open the volume somewhat formally; is it not sacred, if the words have any meaning at all? And, as I read, no interruption can befall me. The note of the linnet, the humming of a bee, these are the sounds about my sanctuary. The page scarce rustles as it turns.二、汉译英：我在草地上走着，忽然，在鲜嫩的春草上看到一只雪白的蝴蝶。蝴蝶给雨水打落在地面上，沾湿的翅膀轻微地簌簌颤动着，张不开来。它奄奄一息，即将逝去。但它白得像一片小雪花，轻柔纤细，楚楚动人，多么可怜呀！When walking on the grass,i saw a white snow butterfly settling on the tender spring grass.the butterfly was fetched down by rain.and the bedewed wings vibrate lightly, which can not open entirely. It breath its last and gong to disappear. But it is white as a little snowflake,which is so beautiful, attractive, and pitiful.她从哪儿来？要飞向哪儿去？我痴痴望着它。忽然像有一滴圣洁的水滴落在灵魂深处，我的心灵给一道白闪闪的柔软而又强烈的光照亮了。Where it came from? And where it wants to go ?I looked at it senselessly.suddenly, my mind was lightened by a light of white, tender light just as a drop of pure water dropped into my heart. 我弯下身，小心翼翼地把白蝴蝶捏起来，放在手心里。I bent down, pick up this white butterfly and put it into my hand .这已经冷僵了的小生灵发蔫了，它的细细的足脚动弹了一下，就歪倒在我的手中。This little creature was cold to stiff. Its thin foot moved once and slanted down in my hand. 我用口呵着气，送给它一丝丝温暖，蝴蝶渐渐苏醒过来。它是给刚才那强暴的风雨吓懵了吧？不过，它确实太纤细了。你看，那白茸茸的像透明的薄纱的翅膀，两根黑色的须向前伸展着，两点黑漆似的眼睛，几乎像丝一样细的脚。可是，这纤细的小生灵，它飞翔出来是为了寻觅什么呢？在这阴晴不定的天气里，它表现出寻求者何等非凡的勇气。I open my mouse to exhale hoping to give it some warmness,and the butterfly wake up gradually.it must be frightened by that violent storm. But ,it is so weak.look!Its White fuzzy, transparent wing, two black tentacle stretched forward, and two vivid eyes,and a pair of foot are so thin like silk.however, what the weakness little creature is looking for by filing out? In this changeable whether,it express such courage that a seeker has.它活过来了，我竟感到无限的喜悦。I felt so joyful that it alive.这时，风过去了，雨也过去了。太阳用明亮的光辉照满人间，一切都那样晶莹，那样明媚，树叶由嫩绿变成深绿了，草地上开满小米粒那样黄的小花朵。我把蝴蝶放在盛满阳光的一片嫩叶上，我向草地上漫步而去了。但我的灵魂里在呐喊开始像很遥远、很遥远，我还以为天空中又来了风、来了雨，后来我才知道就在我的心灵深处：你为什么把一个生灵弃置不顾？In no time ,the wind and the rain stopped.the sun with bright brightness lightened all the world. All things looked so sparkling and crystal-clear,bright and beautiful .the tender green leaves changed into dark green.The grass w