專業英語八級考試翻譯複習題

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專業英語八級考試翻譯複習題

 part 1

L君躋身文壇,蓋有年矣,但總是紅不起來,頗感寂寞。於是,他找到了各種關係,以盛宴重禮把著名的評論家J君招待了一次。J君有感於其情之盛,慨然允諾說:“現在他們對你太冷落了,就是不公平!我一定要寫一篇推薦你的作品的文章,登到大報上,你的作品的優點是……”

L君不等I君說完,慌忙擺手搖頭,他說:

“千萬不必!千萬不必!我只乞求您寫一篇義正詞嚴的文章把我批一個狗血淋頭!積數十年之經驗,我深知凡被您批了的,都可以風行全國,名震環球!而您也可以獲得另一方面的美譽和利益,那才叫相反相成,相得益彰。

  參考譯文

Mr. L. had been a member of the literary circles for years without attracting any public attention. He felt rather deserted, and so he managed through various personal connections to invite Mr. J., a famous literary critic, to an elaborate dinner besides presenting him with expensive gifts. Mr. J. was quite moved by Mr. L.s hospitality and promised right away, "It's not fair that you have been so ignored! I must write an article for a key newspaper to recommend your works. The merits of your works are...

Mr. L. hastily cut in, shaking his head and waving his hands," No! No! I only beg you to write a very severe criticism against me. From my years of experience, I have come to the conclusion that all articles you criticize mill become popular not only in our country but also in the world. Meanwhile, you gaingreater fame and interests through your criticism. Ibis is indeed `extremes meet' and hill only end up with mutual help and benefit!"

  part 2

燕子去了,有再來的時候;楊柳枯了,有再青的時候;桃花謝了,有再開的時候。但是,聰明的,你告訴我,我們的.日子爲什麼一去不復返呢?——是有人偷了他們罷:那是誰?又藏在何處呢?是他們自己逃走了罷;現在又到了哪裏呢?

我不知道他們諮給了我多少日子;但我的手確乎是漸漸空虛了。在默默裏算着,八千多日子已經從我手中溜去;像針尖上一滴水滴在大海里,我的日子滴在時間的流裏,沒有聲音,也沒有影子。我不禁頭滲鴻而淚潛潛了。去的儘管去了,來的儘管來着,去來的中間,又怎樣地匆匆呢?早上我起來的時候,小屋裏射進兩三方斜斜的太陽。太陽他有腳啊,輕輕悄悄地挪移了;我也茫茫然跟着旋轉。於是—洗手的時候,日子從水盆裏過去;吃飯的時候,日子從飯碗裏過去;默默時,便從凝然的雙跟前過去。我覺察他去的匆匆了,伸出手遮挽時,他又從遮挽着的手邊過去,天黑時,我躺在牀上,他便伶伶俐俐地從我身上跨過,從我腳邊飛去了。等我睜開眼和太陽再見,這算又溜走了一日。我掩着面嘆息。但是新來的日子的影兒又開始在嘆息裏閃過了。

在逃去如飛的日子裏,在千門萬戶的世界裏的我能做些什麼呢?只有徘徊罷了,只有匆匆罷了;公在八千多日的匆匆裏,除徘徊外,又剩些什麼呢?過去的口子如輕煙被微風吹散了,如薄霧,被初陽蒸融了:我留着些什麼痕跡呢?我何曾留着像遊絲樣的痕跡呢?我赤裸裸來到這世界,轉眼間也將赤裸裸的回去罷?但不能平的,爲什麼偏要白白走這一遭啊?

你聰明的,告訴我,我們的日子爲什麼一去不復返呢?

  參考譯文

Swallows may have gone, but there is a time of return; willow trees may have died back, but there is a time of regreening; peach blossoms may have fallen, but they will bloom again. Now, you the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return? -If they had been stolen by someone, who could it be? Where could ire hide them? If they had made the escape themselves, then where could they stay at the

moment? I do not know how many days I have been given to spend, but I do feel my hands are getting empty. Taking stock silently, I find that more than eight thousand days have already slid away from me a drop of water from the point of a needle disappearing into the ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless, traceless. Already sweat is startingon my forehead, and tears welling up in my eyes. Those that have gone have gone for good, those to come keep coming; yet in between, how swift is the shift, in such a rush? When I get up in the morning, the slanting sun marks its presence in my small mom in two or three oblongs. The sun has feet, look, he is treading on, lightly and furtively; and I am caught, blankly, in his revolution. 'Thus,--the day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands, wears off in the bowl when I eat my meal, and passes away before my daydreaming gaze as I reflect in silence. I can feel his haste now, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but be keeps flowing past my

withholding hands. In the evening, as I lie in bed, he strides over my body, glides past my feet, in his agile way. The moment I open my eyes and meet the sun again, one whole day has gone. I bury my face in my hands and heave a sigh. But the new day begins to flash past in the sigh. What can I do, in this bustling world, with my days flying in their escape? Nothing but to hesitate, to rush. What have I been doing in that eight-thousand-day rush, apart from hesitating? Those bygone days have been dispersed as smoke by a fight wind, or evaporated as mist by the left behind any gossamer morning sun. What traces have I left behind me? Have I eve left behind any gossamer traces at all? I have come to this world, stark nakedness; am I to go hack, in a blink, in the same stark nakedness? It is not fair though: why should 1 have made such a trip for nothing!

You the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return?