散文翻译（一）

第一单元　散文翻译（一）

教育目标

本单元教学目标为：一、让学生了解英语散文的特点；二、熟悉散文汉译的原则；三、体会散文汉译的相关策略和方法。

课文

The Cardinal Virtue of Prose

Prose of its very nature is longer than verse，and the virtues peculiar to it manifest themselves gradually.If the cardinal virtue of poetry is love，the cardinal virtue of prose is justice； and，whereas love makes you act and speak on the spur of the moment，justice needs inquiry，patience，and a control even of the noblest passions.By justice here I do not mean justice only to particular people or ideas but a habit of justice in all the processes of thought，a style tranquillized and a form moulded by that habit.The master of prose is not cold，but he will not let any word or image inflame him with a heat irrelevant to his purpose.Unhasting，unresting，he pursues it，subduing all the riches of his mind to it，rejecting all beauties that are not germane to it； making his own beauty out of the very accomplishment of it，out of the whole work and its proportions，so that you must read to the end before you know that it is beautiful.But he has his reward，for he is trusted and convinces as those who are at the mercy of their own eloquence do not； and he gives a pleasure all the greater for being hardly noticed.In the best prose，whether narrative or argument，we are so led on as we read that we do not stop to applaud the writer，nor do we stop to question him.

参考译文

散文的首要品质

本质上，散文长于韵文，散文独有的品质逐渐显现。若诗歌的主要品质是爱，那散文的主要品质就是正义；而且，尽管爱会让你一时心血来潮的去动作和表达，但正义则需要质询，耐心和对强烈感情的控制。这里所说的正义，并非专对某些人或思想，正义是所有思想过程中的习惯，以及由此习惯铸就的形态和沉静的风格。散文大家并不冷漠，但也不会因头脑发热，让任意与其目的无关的词汇或形象扰乱自己。从容不迫，坚持不懈，他追寻着它，献出自己毕生的智慧，赶走所有与它无关的浮华。成就散文创造自己的美，美渗透于整体和部分，所以你只有把它读完，才能发现它的美。但他也有所回报，因为人们信任他，他也使人们信服，这正是那些靠口才的人所不能得到的；他不露声色而给人更大的愉悦。最好的散文，无论是叙述或辩论，都使我们着迷，已无心停下来为作者叫好，亦或质询什么。

（译文一：选自http://wenku.baidu.com/view/016dcc2bb90d6c85ec3ac692.html）

度长短，散文天性甚诗章，其特性渐次方显。若诗章精魂在爱，首掌散文者乃为公。爱所驱，言行多从瞬时意气。欲得公，则切询，安耐，不一可少；灵情潮涌时，遑论卓诡，施之节控。公者，非矛指某人，某论。公在思维慎审，行文沉静，成文公谨。散文大家，非固寒如冰，然妙言佳景，若疏其行文意旨，断不能感之。其循意旨，紧随不弃，步履不僭，集笃思之精华，拒无谓之华表。停笔处风华独领，奇文始筑，综观之，细察之，皆匠心独运，非通读不能尽啖其大美。作文者亦得，得信，得志。志在服人，口若滔滔徒赖穷辩者不能为也！作文者予人愉悦，以难察而愈足珍。散文至善者，或述，或论，读之，目所及处皆心有所悟，读之，击掌称贺尚不暇，毋论戚戚之质哉！

（译文二：选自http://www.douban.com/group/topic/1279560/）

及其根本，文长于诗，非缓步渐入无以彰其异。诗之真髓者情，文之真髓者道。情之所出，急人举止，快人口舌；道之所得，最于利欲攻心之际，尚能诫人沉忍克敛，三思后行。之所谓道，非为某人某家所限，乃大众公推之道，及其所拘之格，所归之类。文豪亦非无情，然大凡背旨词意，皆无以昏其心智。觅求化境，既忌冲，亦忌浮；联翩浮想，扰拂心神，止之，虚华辞藻，无助表意，摒之。文章之美，须待全篇终处，观其全貌，品其谐和，方才臻显，是故非全文通读无以略。文豪亦得其所，盖其行笔铿锵，人皆信服，乃自恃穷辩者所不能及。文章之悦，深藏不露，若有所得，更添欣喜。非常文章，或叙或议，看官既读，顿觉无暇击掌，亦无暇质疑，但因文章醉人，众皆欲罢不能是也。

（译文三：选自http://www.douban.com/group/topic/1279560/）

参考译文赏析

“The Cardinal Virtue of Prose”的作者是亚瑟·克拉顿·布洛克（Arthur Clutton-Brock）（1868—1924），英国散文家、评论家和记者，其作品深受英国小说家、诗人威廉·莫里斯的社会主义、唯美主义思潮的影响。

“The Cardinal Virtue of Prose”是带有论说性质的短篇散文，开头将散文和诗歌进行对比，点明散文的本质特征，之后从散文作者和读者的角度论述了散文的特性。全篇只有七句话，却表达清晰，层次分明。在翻译时要注意在理解原文的基础上用简洁的语言，适当增加连接词来增加句与句之间的连贯。原文长句、排比句较多，翻译时要注意句式的使用，尽量符合原文的节奏。此外，原文中有很多关键词，例如“justice”，“not cold”，“inquiry”等，非常好地概括了散文的本质特征，译文要正确理解这些词语并准确传达。

参考译文一为白话文，译文二、三是文言文。文章适合翻译成白话文还是文言文要考察原作与译作的时空关系。原文写于20世纪初的英国，对应当时的中国，正处于文白交替的时代，所以翻译成文言文无可厚非。但在当今时代翻译此文，考虑到现代读者的阅读习惯，白话文更加适合。

先从白话文译文说起。总体来说，译文一表达较为流畅，比较准确地传达出了原文的大意，但也有一些需要改进的地方。首先，从对原文的理解上看，译文有错译的地方。原文第五句是一个长句，“subduing all the riches of his mind to it”的意思是克制脑子中丰富的思想，而译文一则理解成“献出自己毕生的智慧”。“making his own beauty out of the very accomplishment of it，out of the whole work and its proportions”使用了并列句，意思为从完成的作品中，从作品整体和部分的关系中成就散文的美，而译文一将其译成“成就散文创造自己的美，美渗透于整体和部分”，并不准确。其次，从句式上看，译文多用散句，对于排比句的翻译并没有使用相应的句型，这样做在传达原文意义上或许并无不妥，但失去了韵律和节奏感。最后，从对关键词的翻译上看，译文一仍有不足之处。原文作者认为诗歌的本质是“love”，而散文对应的品质是“justice”。“love”自然译成“爱”，而“justice”的本义是公义、正当，作者想要说明的是诗歌的风格行为出于感性，但散文是更理性的。因此“justice”更准确的表达是“合理”。译文一取“正义”之意，不是很妥当。

再看译文二、三，两篇译文使用文言文的形式。总体上讲，译文多用意译，大致翻译出了原文的主旨，但句式比较零散，和原文的风格相距较远。译文二生造词较多，如“首掌”、“切询”、“安耐”、“灵情”、“卓诡”等，这些词很少在古文中使用，读起来生硬牵强。另外，“公在思维慎审，行文沉静，成文公谨”翻译成白话文是“公理的表达，在于思维谨慎细密，组织文字要沉稳平静，形成文章要公正谨严”，和原文“a habit of justice in all the processes of thought，a style tranquillized and a form moulded by that habit”并不对应。而“停笔处风华独领，奇文始筑”强调显示了独有的才华，完成了与众不同的作品，属于多余的语句。

译文三有类似的问题。首先，“无以略”、“最于利欲攻心之际”、“所拘之格，所归之类”属于自造，在文言中并无这样的词句，读者理解起来也很困难。其次，译文有褒词贬用的现象。“浮想联翩”本是褒义词，被译者用作形容连续不断的空想，属于贬用，不仅不准确，更会使读者混乱。另外，译文有漏译错译的情况。“须待全篇终处，观其全貌，品其谐和，方才臻显”只强调从文章整体发现美，没有译出“整体和部分的关系”。而“盖其行笔铿锵，人皆信服”并不是作者的原意。最后再来讨论对“justice”的翻译，译文三译成“道”。“道”在古汉语中无法用一两个词解释清楚。“道”在中国各朝各代的名家著作中多次出现，解释多种多样。《老子》的第一句话就是“道可道，非常‘道’”，后文中也可见，解释也不全相同。“道”是真实存在的东西，也指一种规律，也是人生的一种准则。译文三用“道”会有歧义的情况出现，不易理解，不如用“理”更合适。总之，译文二、三过于咬文嚼字，突出文笔的华丽和译文的“雅”，忽略了“信”和“达”，殊不知没有“信”和“达”，“雅”将是空中楼阁。

总的来说，将英文翻译成古汉语要求译者对文言文有准确而深刻的理解，还要使译文再现原文的结构和意义，同时要求读者有很好的古文鉴赏能力，这对译者和读者的要求都很高。译者在翻译散文时要思考原文和译文在时间和空间上的区别与联系，还要考虑读者的阅读习惯，再决定使用白话文或是文言文。

翻译理论学习

散文汉译

一、英语散文简介

按照叙述方式、语气和风格分类，散文文体大致可分为两类：较为随意的文体（primarily informal）和较为正式的文体（primarily formal）。较为随意的文体包括个性散文（personal essay）、性格特写（characters）和描写散文（descriptive essay）。较为正式的文体包括批评散文（critical essay）、科学散文（scientific essay）、哲学或思辨散文（philosophical essay 或称 reflective essay）。

观察性评论（Observations）是现代散文的雏形，它以谚语、格言、警句或日记和日志的形式，就人、物、事件、自然现象、书籍、艺术作品、个人经历、风俗习惯和思维方式等，作单纯的观察性评论；或以某一种思想或情绪为主线，串联出一个相关的整体。

较为随意文体之一的个性散文展示作家的个性魅力，作家以自己具体的经历表现感情、智慧和精神，如兰姆（Charles Lamb）。读兰姆的散文就如和一个熟识的老朋友在聊天，他以伊利亚为笔名给《伦敦杂志》撰写了许多散文，后结集《伊利亚随笔集》出版，文中称自己是伊利亚，姐姐玛丽为表姐布里奇特，但明眼的读者一眼便读出那是作者自己朴素寻常的生活，深刻的情感体验。

个性散文的亲近感并不完全始于兰姆，我们在一些十七世纪作家，如威廉·坦普尔（Sir William Temple）和塞缪尔·佩皮斯（Samuel Pepys）的作品中已能找到它的基本特征，比如佩皮斯的“日记”，虽本不是写给读者，虽以不成形的日常条目写就，但它已较圆满地体现了个性散文的精神。

十八世纪的报章杂志，通过玛丽夫人（Lady Mary），沃特利·蒙塔古（Wortley Montagu），切斯特菲尔德爵士（Lord Chesterfield），霍勒斯·沃波尔（Horace Walpole）等富有个性的书信促进了个性散文的精神，为散文的传播与繁荣作出了特殊的贡献。

十九世纪兰姆、哈兹里特和史蒂文森的出现，使个性散文的发展达到了高潮。这一发展受很多因素的影响，比如个人主义时代的到来，比如杂志的流行需求更长、更个性化的文章，比如对蒙田兴趣的再度兴起，以及兰姆、哈兹里特这样的散文大家的出现，为大家提供了可资效仿的对象。兰姆的散文虽然在风格和方式上过于个性化，很难模仿，但他却是英国最受欢迎的散文家。蒙田之后整整一个世纪的哈兹里特，和蒙田一样，成了个性化散文的临摹对象，众多追随者和模仿者的楷模和灵感。

性格特写是描写某一人物类型的短文。早在公元前四世纪古希腊哲学家亚里士多德的弟子泰弗拉斯托斯（Theophrastus）概述了人的28种德性，用典型的类型阐释了刻薄、贪婪、乡气、愚蠢等抽象概念。1592年一位学者将这些“性格特写”从希腊文译成当时人们较为熟悉的拉丁文后，它们逐渐成为十七世纪英国“性格特写”者竞相模仿的对象。这些“性格特写”描述的对象没名没姓没个性，只是代表各种不同的品质或不同类型。

在此之后的法国作家将这一概念深化和细化了，他们的人物有名有姓（虽然还带有希腊或拉丁名字的渊源，但已暗示出一些个性的东西），文中具体细节的描写，让人感觉这些人物即属于某一类型，同时也具有一定的真实性，富有一定的个性色彩。“Les Caracteres”（1688）在英国开始流传，并于1699年译成英文。

十八世纪英国的报章杂志甚至给这类典型人物创造俱乐部，“性格特写”有了充分展示这些典型人物的空间。一开始这些俱乐部里的人物都很概念化，比如，参加《旁观者》（Spectator，斯梯尔和艾狄生在1711—1712年间出版的一种报纸）俱乐部的军官先特里上尉，商贾安德列·忽里波特爵士，乡绅罗杰·地·考夫来爵士，每一个人都具有一定的性格、仪态和独特的言语风格。但这没维持多久，罗杰·地·考夫来爵士很快超出了给他预定的范围，成了文学中最可爱的人物之一。性格特写运动除散文之外，在小说、戏剧和部分诗歌中也得以继续。十八世纪的文学专注于人物类型描写，这些类型，很多因为塑造得形象生动而成了英语语言中最优秀的艺术创造，比如托比叔叔（Uncle Toby，十八世纪英国小说家L.斯特恩的小说《项狄传》中人物），帕森·亚当斯（Parson Adams，H.菲尔丁小说《约瑟夫·安德鲁斯》人物）和普里木罗斯博士（Dr.Primrose，O.哥尔德斯密斯小说《威克菲尔德的牧师》中人物）。

描写散文（Descriptive Essay）指作家对外部世界精彩的个性化描写，它往往不仅仅是单纯的写景文字，它更融入了作者的个人情怀，情景交融，物我合一，比如，艾迪生的《西敏寺漫游》、艾丽丝·梅内尔的《七月》。

较为正式文体一说似乎与散文这一形式自相矛盾，因为散文的基本特征就在它的随意与自由。然而区别只是程度上的，不是类别上的，较为正式的散文不是另外一种形式的作品，只是与个性化散文相比，少了一点主观，少了一点随意，多了一点更纯粹的阐释与说明。他对生活的批评性审视多于对生活的个性反应。批评性散文通过仔细审读文学，传记与历史散文通过公正评价人物与事件，科学散文通过呈现科学观察结果，哲学和思辨散文通过洞悉世事、呈现思想结晶，尽情展示这一文体的风采。

写较为正式文体的散文家也许会评价自己最喜欢的诗人，他通常以较为谨慎的评家之态而非澎湃的狂热者身份发言。吴尔夫称自己收了很多这类散文的《普通读者》是“一本并非专业性的评论著作；只是从一个作家的角度，而非从一个学者或批评家的角度，来谈一谈自己偶然读到的某些人物传记和作品。作为一个小说家，我自然常常会对某一本书发生兴趣，但我也常常为了自娱而随意读一读、写一写，并不想建立什么理论体系。”早在《旁观者》和《漫谈者》（Rambler，塞缪尔·约翰逊在1750—1752年间主编的一种杂志）里，比较复杂的批评性和哲学性散文就已开始出现。十九世纪的批评性评论使得这一文体得以充分发展。这是一个人们对宗教信仰开始质疑的时代，约翰·亨利·纽曼（John Henry Newman）和马修·阿诺德（Matthew Arnold）有关神学的作品对此尽有表述；这是一个科学发展的时期，托马斯·亨利·赫胥黎（Thomas Henry Huxley）的散文让科学也充满了文采；这是一个文学动荡、个性发扬的阶段，浪漫派反击正统派，倡导文学评价新标准；这是一个充满社会和经济变革的时代，政府、教育、社会制度、公共伦理，人们渴盼新理论、新思想的出现。正式散文如鱼得水，尽情畅抒己见，表述究竟，它不再仅仅局限于个人感受的交流，它开始关注大是大非问题的阐述和论战，比如马修·阿诺德的《英国民族的精神》，托马斯·亨利·赫胥黎的《开明教育》。

现代散文关注人，关注人的外延行为与内省心灵，无论其风格上是随意的个性化还是正式的阐释式。

二、英语散文汉译

翻译散文，首先要准确把握原文的内容与风格，因为内容与风格是统一的。譬如英国早期的散文，如前文所述，多为说明性文字、教育用文字和劝谕性文字，用古英语写成，以简洁朴实见长，且有明显的口语化倾向。另外要认真体会散文的时代风格与作家风格，如培根的散文多用排比并列句式，形式工整，而这同时也是英国十七世纪散文的一大修辞特点。十八世纪的散文，初中期口语化盛行，代表作家是艾迪生（Joseph Addison）和斯梯尔（Richard Steele），但到了末期却又转向典雅华丽。到了十九世纪，虽然一部分作家仍坚持散文朴实无华的特点，但在整个文学艺术界浪漫主义思潮的影响下，浪漫派散文似乎一直占据上风，作家常直抒胸臆，表现自己鲜明独特的个性。这类散文句式灵活、语言新颖，富有极强的感染力。其生动的比喻、强烈的节奏感、飞扬的文采形成了散文的时代特色。但进入二十世纪后，英国散文的主流又回到了以正规口语为基础的朴实自然语言。翻译英语散文时，对上述语言风格的变化不能不察。

具体而言，英语散文汉译应着重注意以下几个方面：

（1）注意对原作进行历史文化语境分析，掌握作品创作的历史背景、文化氛围、时代风格等；

（2）注意对原作进行文本分析，研究原作的声音与节奏、修辞与意境、笔法与风格等可操作成分；

（3）注意在对原作的整体效果转换，不拘泥于原作的语法、句法和逻辑等技术层面的东西，而注重技术与艺术的结合，强调对作品思想和情感的审美重构。

英国“企鹅丛书”古典文学主编E.V.Rieu在其所译的荷马史诗《奥德赛》的序言中所说的一段话，对我们做好散文翻译或许会不无启发：

“……我认为，在荷马的作品中，内容与形式是紧密结合，不可分割的。事实上，所有伟大作家的作品莫不如此。因此，在英语散文写作方式允许的范围内，我不仅一直在努力传达荷马说了什么，而且试图传达出他是怎样说的……为了在译文中保留原作的某种相似的效果，我常常发现我必须——事实上，作为一名译者，我也有责任——放弃，或改变原作的某些语言特性和句法结构。太过忠实往往达不到原作自身的目的，如果我们将荷马作品直接转换成英语词汇，那么原作的意义和风格都将不复存在。”

翻译练习

练习一

Our Inheritance

Hilare Belloc (1870-1953)

How noble is our inheritance.The more one thinks of it the more suffused with pleasure one’s mind becomes； for the inheritance of a man living in this country is not one of this sort or of that sort，but of all sorts.It is，indeed，a necessary condition for the enjoyment of that inheritance that a man should be free，and we have really so muddled things that very many men in England are not free，for they have either to suffer a gross denial of mere opportunity—I mean they cannot even leave their town for any distance—or they are so persecuted by the insecurity of their lives that they have no room for looking at the world，but if an Englishman is free what an inheritance he has to enjoy！

It is the fashion of great nations to insist upon some part of their inheritance，their military memories，or their letters，or their religion，or some other thing.But in modern Europe，as it seems to me，three or four of the great nations can play upon many such titles to joy as upon an instrument.For a man in Italy，or England，or France，or Spain，if he is weary of the manifold literature of his own country，can turn to its endurance under arms (in which respect，by the way，victory and defeat are of little account)，or if he is weary of these military things，or thinks the too continued contemplation of them hurtful to the State (as it often is，for it goes to the head like wine)，he can consider the great minds which his nation has produced，and which give glory to his nation not so much because they are great as because they are national.Then，again，he can consider the landscapes of his own land，whether peaceably，as do older men，or in a riot of enthusiasm as do all younger men who see England in the midst of exercising their bodies，as it says in the Song of the Man who Bicycled：

“…and her distance and her sea.

Here is wealth that has no measure，

Park and Close and private pleasure

All her hills were made for me.”

Then he can poke about the cities，and anyone of them might occupy him almost for a lifetime.Hereford，for instance.I know of nothing in Europe like the Norman work of Hereford or Ludlow，where you will perpetually find new things，or Leominster just below，or Ledbury just below that again； and the inn at each of these three places is called The Feathers.Then a man may be pleased to consider the recorded history of this country，and to inform the fields he knows with the past and with the actions of men long dead.In this way he can use a battlefield with no danger of any detestable insolence or vulgar civilian ways，for the interest in a battlefield，if it is closely studied，becomes so keen and hot that it burns away all foolish violence，and you will soon find if you study this sort of terrain closely that you forget on which side your sympathies fail or succeed： an excellent corrective if，as it should be with healthy men，your sympathies too often warp evidence and blind you.On this account also one should always suspect the accuracy of military history when it betrays sneering or crowing，because，in the first place，that is a very unmilitary way of looking at battles，and，in the second place，it argues that the historian has not properly gone into all his details.If he had he would have been much too interested in such questions as the measurement of ranges，or，latterly，the presence and nature of cover to bother about crowing or sneering.

When a man tires of these there is left to him the music of his country，by which I mean the tunes.These he can sing to himself as he goes along，and if ever he tires of that there is the victuals and the drink，which，if he has travelled，he may compare to their advantage over those of any other land.But they must be national.Let him take no pleasure in things cooked in a foreign way.There was a man some time ago，in attempting to discover whose name I have spent too much energy，who wrote a most admirable essay upon cold beef and pickles，remarking that these two elements of English life are retreating as it were into the strongholds where England is still holding out against the dirty cosmopolitan mud which threatens every country to-day.He traced the retreat of cold beef and pickles eastward towards the City from the West End all along Piccadilly and the Strand right into Fleet Street，where，he said，they were keeping their positions manfully.They stand also isolated and besieged in one hundred happy English country towns...

The trouble about writing an article like this is that one wander about： it is also the pleasure of it.The limits or trammels to an article like this are that，by a recent and very dangerous superstition，the printed truth is punishable at law，and all one’s memories of a thousand places upon the Icknield Way，the Stane Street，the Pilgrim’s Way，the Rivers Ouse(all three of them)，the Cornish Road，the Black Mountain，Ferry Side，the Three Rivers，all the Pennines，all the Cheviots，all the Cotswolds，all the Mendips，all the Chilterns，all the Malvern Hills，and all the Downs-to speak of but a few-must be memories of praise-by order of the Court.One may not blame： therefore I say nothing of Northwich.

...

Some men say that whereas wealth can be accumulated and left to others when we die，this sort of inheritance can not，and that the great pleasure a man took in his own land and the very many ways in which he found that pleasure and his increase in that pleasure as his life proceeded，all die with him.This you will very often hear deplored： As noble a woman as ever lived in London used to say，speaking of her father (and she also is dead)，that all she valued in him died with him，although he had left her a considerable fortune.By which she meant that not only in losing him she had lost a rooted human affection and had suffered what all must suffer，because there is a doom upon us，but that those particular things in which he was particularly favored had gone away for ever.His power over other languages and over his own language，his vast knowledge of his own country，his acquired courtesy and humor，all mellowed by the world and time，these，she said，were altogether gone.And to us of a younger generation it was her work to lament that we should never know what had once been in England.Among others she vastly admired the first Duke of Wellington，and said that he was tall—which was absurd.Now this noble woman，it seems to me，was in error，for all of us who have loved and enjoyed know not only that we carry something with us elsewhere (as we are bound to believe)，but leave also in some manner which I do not clearly perceive a legacy to our own people.We take with us that of which Peter Wanderwide spoke when he said or rather sang these lines—

“If all that I have loved and seen

Be with me on the Judgment Day，

I shall be saved the crowd between

From Satan and his foul array.”

We carry it with us.And though it is not a virtue it is half a virtue，and when we go down in the grave like the character in Everyman，there will go down with us，I think，not only Good Deeds，a severe female，but also a merry little hobbling comrade who winks and grins and keeps just behind her so that he shall not be noticed and driven away.This little fellow will also speak for us，I think，and he is the Pleasure we took in this jolly world.

But I say that not only do we carry something with us，but that we leave something also； and this has been best put，I think，by the poet Ronsard when he was dying，who said，if I have rightly translated him，this—

“Of all those vanities” (he is speaking of the things of this world)，“the loveliest and most praiseworthy is glory—fame.No one of my time has been so filled with it as I； I have lived in it and loved and triumphed in it through time past，and now I leave it to my country to garner and possess it after I shall die.So do I go away from my own place as satiated with the glory of this world as I am hungry and all longing for that of God.” That is very good.It would be very difficult to put it better，and if you complain that here Ronsard was only talking of fame or glory，why，I can tell you that the pleasure one takes in one’s country is of the same stuff as fame.So true is this that the two commonly go together，and that those become most glorious who have most enjoyed their own land.

翻译提示

作者希莱尔·贝洛克，英国诗人、散文家。代表作有《通向罗马之路》、《欧洲与忠诚》和《英国历史》。《我们的遗产》一文描述了第一次世界大战前夕一个偏远山谷中的平静生活。作者通过描写和议论展现了从和平到战争的经过。如何表达文章的主题，令读者感受作品所描写的氛围，是翻译本文的关键。

练习二

Of Grand Hotels and Grown-Ups

By Catherine Calvert

A mother sees her daughter transformed in one weekend at an elegant villa in Bellagio.

She was long and lanky that spring，just beginning the slow shift away from childhood，adrift in those years that lie between 10 and 20.If adolescence were a place on the map，it would surely be just this side of the doldrums，a place of gusty winds and sudden storms，where even a compass could lose its bearings.

Once，we loaded the two children in the back of the car and went where we wanted，decanting them hours later while a little hailstorm of broken crayons rattled on the road.I would look back at them asleep in a tangle of books and bears，as the highway unrolled behind us，and think this small universe was all I wanted，that voyaging together was a journey made up of more than the miles covered.

But suddenly Zara was 13，all knobby knuckles and knees，full of silences and sighs.The last place she wanted to be was the back seat，with a little sister who，as she reported furiously one day，“was letting her skirt touch me.” In the aggrieved silence that followed，I thought of the two who had once flopped together like puppies.

It was our second year in Munich，when I hesitantly broached the subject of Lake Como.We were to meet friends，children and all，at the Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni.Zara’s eyes flicked upward，then returned to the book in her lap，hair flopped to cover her face.“I’m not wearing a dress，” she said.“And don’t expect me to talk to them.” A page flipped，emphatically.A sigh，and she went off，I guessed to fill her diary with more purple ink.

A few days later，we packed the car for the journey.Zara carried her box of tapes and marked out her space，then settled herself，earphones in.

The picnic we spread when we reached the Alps was a dignified occasion of cheese and bread and politesse，as we sidestepped around each other’s moods.Mist crowded against the car as we climbed through a pass on a road like a paper clip，snow still lining the single-lane track.

But as we descended into Italy，spring arrived.We nosed our way along the lake shore，hurried through a tunnel where glimpses of green trees and blue water would appear through the bridge supports，then emerged in the small town of Varenna to take the little ferry to Bellagio，and the Serbelloni.The air was soft and warm as we stood at the prow and watched the mountains that ring the lake recede in the distance.

“Is that it?” asked Zara，as we caught sight of a point of land where palms framed a large villa，white as a wedding cake and just as full of furbelows.We were used to modest hotels，but this was the Grand Hotel Villa Serbelloni，from the five-star firmament.The children were past the spill-the-vegetable and slide-on-the-stair Stage； I needn’t worry about behavior.And Kate would find the pool and frisk in the sunshine.

But what was there for Zara，always shy，and halfway between the chattering children and the adults with their boring ideas of fun? We clattered across the marble entrance hall，and while men in short red jackets bowed around us and small children skittered，Zara picked up her bag，which，I knew without looking，contained six T-shirts and a hairbrush，then ascended the grand staircase alone，suddenly small against the broad expanse of red carpet.A moment later，we swung open the shutters onto our balcony，and heard the sound of motorboats skipping across the lake，and the bees in the flowers，and the breeze in the cypress trees.Kate inspected every wardrobe，while Zara sat on her bed，where the starched white linen crinkled as she arranged her books by the three pillows.

“Come and swim.Come and play tennis，” I said，as her little sister wiggled into her suit and shot down the stairway.

“No，thank you.I think I’ll read，” she said，and stepped onto the balcony quiet again，amid a riot of roses.

The next few days unfolded with time to dawdle on the terrace and watch the little ones build sand castles，and spend a delicious few minutes dithering over our choice in the gelateria—was it to be chocolate chip or raspberry，its flavor as intense as its color—and order triple-decker cones that dripped in our wake.We strolled in the gardens of the Villa Meizi and the Villa Serbelloni，treading decorously around beds planted tight as pin curls，while the children froze in front of the statues and mocked their classic poses and Zara trailed behind，stopping now and then to smell a rose or pick up a colored pebble.We spent hours on the hotel’s peninsula，which pointed into the distance where the water and mountains met，and watched the sun play tag with the clouds.

Each night，the children sat under the high ceilings with a room service dinner，teetering on gilded chairs while they ate spaghetti with their fingers.Or at least the little ones did； Zara watched them with an unreadable expression，picked her way through some pasta and excused herself to return to her balcony.The adults would dress for dinner.The dressing table was so grand it made my store of pearls and lipsticks seem inconsequential.We’d sweep down to dinner in the ballroom，leaving a faint trace of perfume in the air.

The last night，I saw Zara’s face appear beside mine in the mirror as I dressed.She fiddled with an earring，then spoke，ducking her head.

“May I come down to dinner with you and your friends?”

I stopped，startled，as I was clasping my pearls.

“It’s six courses，sweetie，” I said.“It takes hours.There are sauces and spices.We talk about things you think are boring.”

“It’s O.K.I really want to.I’m not a child，you know.”

I contemplated her reflection.T-shirt and braces，jeans shorts and sandals，one lock of hair sliding into her eyes.But still，she’d asked.

“If you wear a dress.If you talk，” I said.She ducked her head again，and walked away，and I descended to our pink drinks on the terrace.

In a few moments I felt a figure beside me again.“May I sit here，please?” Eight faces swiveled as Zara appeared.She had found the dress I had packed，one she’d always dubbed“too sweet”，and had brushed her hair.She sat on the chair like someone waiting to be asked to dance，feet on the floor，hands folded in her lap.The waiter hurried over for her order and returned in a flash with his silver tray，the glass sporting not one but two cherries.

“For the bella signorina，” he said，and she blushed.And then she turned to the person on her left and answered the inevitable question about school，with only a little duck of the head.She turned to another and made a little Joke.She asked a question.She smiled.And so it continued while she ate pasta stuffed with beets，and mushrooms，and used a fork，not her fingers，on her shrimp.Then she excused herself，and walked across the polished parquet.

We finished the last of our coffee and went up to our sleeping children.Kate sprawled on a brocade chaise； Zara lay curled on her cot，her hand grasping the monkey that has been everywhere with her，its fur rubbed to a nub，and didn’t stir as I tugged the sheet over her shoulder.

The next morning，we all clung to the bow of the boat，and watched the Serbelloni disappear.Zara shaded her eyes for a last look.

“I like grand hotels，” she said.

“What did you like best?” I asked.

But she simply shrugged，lost in her own thoughts.

“The waiter，” giggled Kate，who had flirted shamelessly.

“The tennis courts where the roses grow，” said my husband.“And you?”

“Suspending reality for three whole days，” I said，knowing they’d never guess what had really pleased me.

The willow trees at the dock splintered the sunlight.We turned our car toward the Alps and headed home.

(From New York Times June 7，1998)

翻译提示

文章发表在1998年7月7日的《纽约时报》上。作者凯瑟琳·卡尔沃特当时生活在伦敦，经常撰写有关旅游方面的文章。作品主要描述了一个小康之家13岁女孩的心理变化，描述了她如何走出这个年龄小孩特有的以自我为中心的历程。故事是通过对人物的相貌、行为、对话及其周围环境等一系列细节的艺术性描写展开的，翻译时应准确把握并尽力再现这些细节。