诗歌欣赏中英互译
诗歌欣赏：The Bight
At low tide like this how sheer the water is.
White， crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare
and the boats are dry， the pilings dry as matches，
Absorbing， rather than being absorbed，
the water in the bight doesn't wet anything，
the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.
One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.
The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock
already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.
The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash
into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard.
it seems to me， like pickaxes，
rarely coming up with anything to show for it，
and going off with humorous elbowings，
Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar
on impalpable drafts
and open their tails like scissors on the curves
or tense them like wishbones， till they tremble.
The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in
with the obliging air of retrievers，
bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks
and decorated with bobbles of sponges.
There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock
where， glinting like little plowshares，
the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry
for the Chinese-restaurant trade.
Some of the little white boats are still piled up
against each other， or lie on their sides， stove in，
and not yet salvaged， if they ever will be， from the last bad storm.
like torn-open， unanswered letters.
the bight is littered with old correspondences.
Click. Click. Goes the dredge，
and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.
All the untidy activity continues，
awful but cheerful.
海潮退到这样的时候，水便分外清澈了。
白色的石灰泥滩，层层露出水来，浪纹斑驳，闪耀亮眼。
条条小船，晒得干干的;根根木桩，则干得像火柴棒。
吸收而非被吸收，
海湾里的水弄不湿任何东西，
而且呈现出一种瓦斯火开至最低时的颜色。
你可以闻到那海水正转化成瓦斯;假如你是波特莱尔的话
你说不定可以听到那海水正转化成马林巴木琴的声音。
而码头尾端，一个褐色小型捞网正在那里捞着
一直在那里以绝对冷硬的调子，打着双节棒，伴奏着。
水鸟都是特大号的。鹈鹕哗啦冲
入这一泓奇异的瓦斯之中，真是小题大作，
这景象对我来说，有点像鹤嘴锄，
一锄下去，拉回来看看，什么也没有，
于是只好游到一边，样子滑稽的挤入鹈鹕堆里去了。
黑白相间的军舰鸟翱翔在
捉摸不定的气流里
尾巴张开，如剪刀弯弯裁过
尾巴紧绷，如叉骨绷然颤动。
腥臭的海绵船不断的开了进来
以一种猎狗衔回东西般的殷勤姿态，
上面竖立着稻草人般的鱼叉鱼钩
装饰着垂悬吊幌的海绵。
沿着码头，有一排方格铁丝网墙
上面，挂着闪闪发光犁刀般
灰蓝鲨的尾巴，一条条的，在那里风干，
准备卖给中国餐馆。
一些白色的小船，仍然相互靠在一起
堆着放，或侧着放，船身破裂，
还没修好(要是将来真还会去修的话)，都是上回暴风弄坏的，
像一封封拆开而没有回复的信。
这小海湾内到处都丢着废弃的信件。
卡啦卡啦，捞网上下捞着，
捞上来滴滴答答一大堆石灰泥。
所有乱七八糟的事都在进行着，糟是糟透了，不过却满愉快的。
诗歌欣赏：The Arrow And The Song 箭与歌
(1)
I shot an arrow in the air，我向空中射了一箭，
It fell to earth， I knew not where;它已落到地面，我不知道其去向;
For so swiftly it flew， the sight 因它飞得如此地快速
Could not follow it in its flight.视力无法跟得上它的飞驰。
(2)
I breathed a song into the air，我向空中轻歌一曲，
It fell to earth， I knew not where;它已落地而停，我不知其去向;
For who has sight so keen and strong，谁有这么敏锐的视力，
That it can follow the flight of song? 能跟得上歌声的'飞驰?
(3)
Long， long afterward， in an oak 很久，很久以后，在一棵橡树上，
I found the arrow still unbroke;我发现它依然完好无损;
And the song， from beginning to end，而这首歌，从头到尾，
I found again in the heart of a friend.我发现又深印在一位友人的心上。
by H. W. Longfellow
诗歌欣赏：Pippa's Song 琵琶之歌
The year's at the spring，一年之计在于春，
And day's at the morn;一日之计在于晨;
Morning's at seven;一晨之计在于七时;
The hillside's dew-pearled;山坡上装点着珍珠般的露水珠露;
the lark's on the wing;云雀在风中飞跃;
The snail's on the thorn;山垆上蜗牛爬行
God's in his heaven---神在天堂司宇宙
All's right with the world!世上一切都太平!
by Robert Browning， 1812-1889
诗歌欣赏：The Fountain 喷泉
(1)
Into the sunshine，阳光下，
Full of the light，充满着光辉，
Leaping and flashing 跳跃着、闪烁着
From morn till night!从日出到日落!
(2)
Into the moonlight，月光下，
Whiter than snow，比雪更白，
Waving so flower-like 当风吹拂时，
When the winds blow!波动有如花!
(3)
Into the starlight，月光下，
Rushing in spray，急溅起泡沫，
Happy at midnight，午夜里欢乐，
Happy by day.白天里雀跃。
(4)
Ever in motion，永远跳动着，
Blithesome and cheery，愉快又欢欣，
Still climbing heavenward，永远向天高攀，
Never aweary;从不疲惫;
(5)
Glad of all weathers，适应各种天气，
Still seeming best，永远活力充沛，
Upward of downward 上上下下
Motion thy rest;是运动也是休息;
(6)
Full of a nature 充满着活力
Nothing can tame，不受拘束，
Changed every moment 时时有变化，
Ever the same.永远一样。
(7)
Ceaseless aspiring，不断升高
Ceaseless content，不断满足
Darkness or sunshine 黑暗里，阳光下
Thy element;都是你活动范围;
(8)
Glorious fountain!辉煌耀目的喷泉!
Let my heart be 但愿我心如你般
Fresh， changeful， constant，清新，多变，坚定
Upward like thee!永远向上!
by James R. Lowell， 1819-1891
诗歌欣赏：Infant Joy 婴儿的喜悦
(1)
'I have no name;?我无姓名
I am but two days old.' 我只两天大。?
What shall I call thee? 我将如何来称呼你呢?
'I happy am，?我很快乐，
Joy is my name.' 喜悦就是我的名字。?
Sweet joy befall thee!愿甜蜜的快乐降临你身上!
(2)
Pretty Joy!漂亮的喜悦!
Sweet Joy， but two days old.甜蜜的喜悦，才两天大。
Sweet Joy I call thee：我称你为甜蜜的喜悦：
Thou dost smile，你就微笑，
I sing the while，当我唱歌的当儿，
Sweet joy befall thee!愿甜蜜的快乐降临你身上!
by William Blake
诗歌欣赏：渡沙渚
By Alfred Tennyson
Sunset and evening star，
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar，
When I put out to sea，
But such a tide as moving seems asleep，
Too full for sound and foam，
When That which drew form out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell，
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell，
When I embark;
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far，
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
渡沙渚
阿尔费雷德?丁尼生
夕阳下，闪疏星，
召唤一声清朗!
愿沙渚宁静，
我将出海远航;
潮汐如梦幻，
涛声似止，浪花息;
大海深处涌来，
又悄然退却。
暮霭钟鸣，
黑夜将笼罩!
愿诀别无悲声，
登舟起锚;
千古洪流，时空无限，
滔滔载我至远方;
渡沙渚一线，
泰然见领航。
诗歌欣赏：Meeting at Night中英互译
Meeting at Night
The gray sea and the long black land；
And the yellow half-moon large and low；
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand．
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach
Three fields to cross till a farm appears；
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
夜会
长岸黑黝黝，
大海灰濛濛；
半月黄又大，
远远挂低空。
我驾小船来，
疾驰多奋勇；
船头惊细浪，
环环映月红。
终于进港湾，
船滞淤沙中；
弃船登沙岸，
海风暖融融。
心头情切切，
脚步快如风；
沙滩一片片，
田野一垄垄。
心头情切切，
脚步快如风；
眼前现农舍，
举手敲窗櫺。
火柴轻轻摖，
脆响急匆匆；
只见蓝光闪，
砰然两心动。
但听轻声唤，
惊喜又惶恐；
灯照心里亮，
情比夜色浓。
罗伯特·布朗宁(Robert Browning 1812—1889)英国诗人 诗的.标题为 “夜会”,可是通篇都只是描述前去赴约的过程,直到最后也未直接显示 “会面” 的镜头。但诗的末行 “the two hearts beating each to each (两颗心相对着跳动)” 这朦胧的一笔却间接地点明了夜会的高潮。译作结尾借景言情,与原作异曲同工。
守望中的妈妈诗歌欣赏中英互译
She always leaned to watch for us .
Anxious if we were late ,
In winter by the window ,
In summer by the gate ;
And though we mocked her tenderly ,
Who had such foonich care ,
The long way home would seem more safe ,
Because she waited there .
Her thoughts were all so full of us
She never could forget !
And so I think that where she is
She must be watching yet,
Waiting till we come home to her
Anxious if we are late ______
Watching from Heaven's window ,
Leaning from Heaven's gate.
守望中的'妈妈
她总在那儿把我们守望，
我们晚归会使她发慌，
冬天里守在窗前
夏日里靠在门前。
我们曾善意地将她嘲弄
这般呵护似乎超出正常
可漫长的归途却平添了安全
因为有她在殷切地翘望。
她心里盛下的却是我们，
却不曾有一刻的遗忘！
我欣然感到她的那番期待
无论她身处什么地方。
守望，一直到我们远回到她身旁
若晚归，会使她发慌，
守望，在天庭之窗，
伫立，在天庭的门廊。
中英互译比赛原文
英译汉竞赛原文：
The Posteverything Generation
I never expected to gain any new insight into the nature of my generation, or the changing landscape of American colleges, in Lit Theory. Lit Theory is supposed to be the class where you sit at the back of the room with every other jaded sophomore wearing skinny jeans, thick-framed glasses, an ironic tee-shirt and over-sized retro headphones, just waiting for lecture to be over so you can light up a Turkish Gold and walk to lunch while listening to Wilco. That’s pretty much the way I spent the course, too: through structuralism, formalism, gender theory, and post-colonialism, I was far too busy shuffling through my Ipod to see what the patriarchal world order of capitalist oppression had to do with Ethan Frome. But when we began to study postmodernism, something struck a chord with me and made me sit up and look anew at the seemingly blasé college-aged literati of which I was so self-consciously one.
According to my textbook, the problem with defining postmodernism is that it’s impossible. The difficulty is that it is so...post. It defines itself so negatively against what came before it – naturalism, romanticism and the wild revolution of modernism – that it’s sometimes hard to see what it actually is. It denies that anything can be explained neatly or even at all. It is parodic, detached, strange, and sometimes menacing to traditionalists who do not understand it. Although it arose in the post-war west (the term was coined in 1949), the generation that has witnessed its ascendance has yet to come up with an explanation of what postmodern attitudes mean for the future of culture or society. The subject intrigued me because, in a class otherwise consumed by dead-letter theories, postmodernism remained an open book, tempting to the young and curious. But it also intrigued me because the question of what postmodernism – what a movement so post-everything, so reticent to define itself – is spoke to a larger question about the political and popular culture of today, of the other jaded sophomores sitting around me who had grown up in a postmodern world.
In many ways, as a college-aged generation, we are also extremely post: post-Cold War, post-industrial, post-baby boom, post-9/11...at one point in his famous essay, “Postmodernism, or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism,” literary critic Frederic Jameson even calls us “post-literate.” We are a generation that is riding on the tail-end of a century of war and revolution that toppled civilizations, overturned repressive social orders, and left us with more privilege and opportunity than any other society in history. Ours could be an era to accomplish anything.
And yet do we take to the streets and the airwaves and say “here we are, and this is what we demand”? Do we plant our flag of youthful rebellion on the mall in Washington and say “we are
not leaving until we see change! Our eyes have been opened by our education and our conception of what is possible has been expanded by our privilege and we demand a better world because it is our right”? It would seem we do the opposite. We go to war without so much as questioning the rationale, we sign away our civil liberties, we say nothing when the Supreme Court uses Brown v. Board of Education to outlaw desegregation, and we sit back to watch the carnage on the evening news.
On campus, we sign petitions, join organizations, put our names on mailing lists, make small-money contributions, volunteer a spare hour to tutor, and sport an entire wardrobe’s worth of Live Strong bracelets advertising our moderately priced opposition to everything from breast cancer to global warming. But what do we really stand for? Like a true postmodern generation we refuse to weave together an overarching narrative to our own political consciousness, to present a cast of inspirational or revolutionary characters on our public stage, or to define a specific philosophy. We are a story seemingly without direction or theme, structure or meaning – a generation defined negatively against what came before us. When Al Gore once said “It’s the combination of narcissism and nihilism that really defines postmodernism,” he might as well have been echoing his entire generation’s critique of our own. We are a generation for whom even revolution seems trite, and therefore as fair a target for bland imitation as anything else. We are the generation of the Che Geuvera tee-shirt.
Jameson calls it “Pastiche” – “the wearing of a linguistic mask, speech in a dead language.” In literature, this means an author speaking in a style that is not his own – borrowing a voice and continuing to use it until the words lose all meaning and the chaos that is real life sets in. It is an imitation of an imitation, something that has been re-envisioned so many times the original model is no longer relevant or recognizable. It is mass-produced individualism, anticipated revolution. It is why postmodernism lacks cohesion, why it seems to lack purpose or direction. For us, the post-everything generation, pastiche is the use and reuse of the old clichés of social change and moral outrage – a perfunctory rebelliousness that has culminated in the age of rapidly multiplying non-profits and relief funds. We live our lives in masks and speak our minds in a dead language – the language of a society that expects us to agitate because that’s what young people do. But how do we rebel against a generation that is expecting, anticipating, nostalgic for revolution?
How do we rebel against parents that sometimes seem to want revolution more than we do? We don’t. We rebel by not rebelling. We wear the defunct masks of protest and moral outrage, but the real energy in campus activism is on the internet, with websites like . It is in the rapidly developing ability to communicate ideas and frustration in chatrooms instead of on the streets, and channel them into nationwide projects striving earnestly for moderate and peaceful change: we are the generation of Students Taking Action Now Darfur; we are the Rock
the Vote generation; the generation of letter-writing campaigns and public interest lobbies; the alternative energy generation.
College as America once knew it – as an incubator of radical social change – is coming to an end. To our generation the word “radicalism” evokes images of al Qaeda, not the Weathermen. “Campus takeover” sounds more like Virginia Tech in 2022 than Columbia University in 1968. Such phrases are a dead language to us. They are vocabulary from another era that does not reflect the realities of today. However, the technological revolution, the revolution, the revolution of the organization kid, is just as real and just as profound as the revolution of the 1960’s – it is just not as visible. It is a work in progress, but it is there. Perhaps when our parents finally stop pointing out the things that we are not, the stories that we do not write, they will see the threads of our narrative begin to come together; they will see that behind our pastiche, the post generation speaks in a language that does make sense. We are writing a revolution. We are just putting it in our own words.
汉译英竞赛原文：
保护古村落就是保护“根性文化”
传统村落是指拥有物质形态和非物质形态文化遗产，具有较高的历史、文化、科学、艺术、社会、经济价值的村落。但近年来，随着城镇化快速推进，以传统村落为代表的传统文化正在淡化，乃至消失。对传统村落历史建筑进行保护性抢救，并对传统街巷和周边环境进行整治，可防止传统村落无人化、空心化。
古村落是历史文化遗存的特有形式之一，是地方历史经济发展水平的象征和民俗文化的集中代表。古村落文化是传统文化的重要组成部分，它直接体现出中华姓氏的血缘文化、聚族文化、伦理观念、祖宗崇拜、典章制度、堪舆风水、建筑艺术、地域特色等。
古村落是传统耕读文化和农业经济的标志，在当前城市化巨大浪潮的`冲击之下，古村落不可避免地被急功近利所觊觎和包围。之所以强调保护古村落，不是为了复古，更不是为了倡导过去的宗族居住生活模式，而是为了了解和保留一种久远的文明传统，最终是为了体现现代人的一份历史文化责任感。
古村落与其说是老建筑，倒不如说是一座座承载了历史变迁的活建筑文化遗产，任凭世事变迁，斗转星移，古村落依然岿然不动，用无比顽强的生命力向人们诉说着村落的沧桑变迁，尽管曾经酷暑寒冬，风雪雨霜，但是古老的身躯依然支撑着生命的张力，和生生不息的人并肩生存，从这点上说，沧桑的古村落也是一种无形的精神安慰。在城市进入现代化的今天，对待古村落的态度也就是我们对待文化的态度。一座古村落的被改造或者消失，也许很多人没有感觉出丢了什么，但是，历史遗产少了一座古老的古村落，就少了些历史文化痕迹，就少了对历史文化的触摸感，也就很容易遗忘历史，遗忘了历史，很难谈文化延承，同时失去的还有附加在古村落上的文化魂灵。看一个地方有没有文化底蕴，有
没有文化割裂感，不仅要看辉煌灿烂的文物遗留，还可以从一座座古村落上感受出来，从古村落高大的厅堂、精致的雕饰、上等的用材，古朴浑厚、巧夺天工的建筑造型上感受出来。台湾作家龙应台曾写过一篇和大树保护有关的文章：一条计划中的道路要穿过一位老人家门口，要砍倒一株老樟树。树小的时候，老人家还是孩子；现在，她人老了，树也大了。如果树能留下，老太太愿意把自己的一部分房子捐出来，经过协调，工程部门同意留树。龙应台感慨道:“人们承认了：树，才是一个地方里真正的原住民，驱赶原住民，你是要三思而行的；不得不挪动时，你是要深刻道歉的。”对于古村落，不得不改造和推倒时，同样需要三思而行。