分析与翻译材料(本科教材)

分析与翻译材料 本材料共50篇,供分析与翻译之用。各篇字数大多在250字左右,翻译时间可掌握在一小时。英译汉和汉译英中各有一篇为优秀译品的回译,作演示英汉两种语言差异之用。 1 BANANAS Advantage: potassium Low in calories and fat, the banana is a perfect example of a flavorful food that is exceptionally good for you. It contains a number of minerals, notably potassium, one of the body’s most important elements. Potassium provides a counterbalancing action with sodium and is directly connected to proper fluid balance and overall muscle tone. A potassium shortage can lead to weakness, insomnia, even an irregular heart rate. Keep up your natural potassium supply with a banana a day, sliced on cereal, wrapped into pancakes or frozen on a stick. MILK, 99% FAT-FREE Advantage: calcium and phosphorus These two essential and complementary minerals are found together in milk, and in a ratio beneficial to the absorption and utilization of the two elements. Calcium is needed for regular muscle function as well as for strong bones. Phosphorus is involved in nearly all metabolic functions, including heart and muscle contraction, the digestive processes, and transfer of cellular energy. What we don’t need are the excess fats contained in whole-milk products. Ninety-nine percent fat-free milk provides a good compromise: a small amount of fat to aid nutrient absorption especially of the fat-soluble vitamins A and D, usually added to milk. from Foods to Keep You Healthy, by Joan A. Friedrich 2 Here are six pointers to keep in mind when you have your children do chores: 1.Understand the real goals. Th e purpose isn’t simply to get onerous tasks done-or even to teach youngsters “how to work”. Sparkling dishes or a tidy bedroom are less important than developing responsibility, independence, self-esteem, confidence and competence-the underpinnings of emotional health. Dong chores also helps a child understand that people must cooperate and work toward common goals. The most competent adults are those who know how to do this. 2.Start early. The urge to “help Mommy” comes almost as soon as a child can walk. A child of two can fetch and carry, or even sort laundry (which also teaches about colors and shapes). And you can make cleaning up a game: “let’s put the truck in the garage for the night.” The child of four or five can understand simple instructions, run small errands and be expected (sometimes) to pit away toys, pick yo clothes or carry of his own dinner dishes. The seven-year-old can graduate to family responsibilities. A good first assignment is to set the dinner table, but any simple task that brings satisfying results will do. from How to Raise a Happy Child, by Edwin Kiester, Jr. ,and Sally Valente Kiester, 3 My mother couldn’t stand me when o was little, and I couldn’t stand her. Neither of us was what the other would have chosen for a life companion. The mother I had in mind for myself was middle-aged with brown hair pulled back in a bun. She wore an apron, baked a lot, was serious and soft-spoken, and sang hymns. Before her marriage she had been a schoolteacher or librarian. My real mother had quit school to go to work and help out at home. She was 19 when I was born, a tall tomboy with flyaway blond hair and the wide shoulders, narrow hios and long legs of an athlete-which she was. In the grimmest circumstances my m0other could always find a bit of fun, and she had a great shout of a laugh that explored like firecrackers. An inbalid neighbor often told me, “I love to hear your mother laugh.” That neighbor lived two houses away. Other mothers called their children home in a shaky soprano. My mothers put two fingers to her lips and produced a whistle that could be heard in the next street. from “So You’re Kate’s Girl!” by Jeanmarie Coogan 4 The spring is beautiful in California. Valleys in which the fruit blossoms are fragrant pink and white waters in a shallow sea. Then the fruit tendrils of the grapes swelling from the old gnarled vines, cascade down to cover the trunks. The full green hills are round and soft as breasts. And on the level vegetable lands are the mile-long rows of pale green lettuce and the spindly little cauliflowers, the gray-green unearthly artichoke plants. And then the leaves break out on the trees, and the petals drop from the fruit trees and carper the earth with pink and white. The centers of the blossoms swell and grow and color: cherries and apples, peaches and pears, figs which close the flower in the fruit… And all the time the fruit swells and the flowers break out in long clusters on the vines. And in the g rowing year the warmth little green bird’s eggs, and the limbs sag down against the crutches under the weight. And the hard little pears take shape, and the beginning of the fuzz comes out on the peaches. Grape blossoms shed their tiny petals and the hard little beads become green buttons, and the buttons grow heavy. The men who work in the fields, the owners of the little orchards, watch and calculate. The year is heavy with produce. And the men are proud, for of their knowledge they can make the year heavy. They have transformed the world with their knowledge. from The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck 5 The only way to get to Krakatoa is by boat. Fortunately, our old friends Sig and Lilo Oldenburg, long-time residents of Jakarta, known about our dream and invite us to accompany them on their 38-foot ketch Emma. It is a sail that will take us to some of the most beautiful and untouched wilderness in Southeast Asia and to Krakatoa. Our journey begins at Tanjungpriok, Jakarta’s h arbor. We cast off at noon, heading west. The weather is hot and humid, the water filthy from city-spawned effluent. A ten-knot wind fills Emma’s sails and we slip past legions of rusty freighters and powerful supply boats bound for offshore oil rigs. Two miles out, the water turns clear. Small wooden fishing craft, called prahus, glide by, their hulls painted in bright blues, yellows and reds; tattered sails billow from their masts. Fishing stacks-platforms of bamboo rising from the water on spindly legs set into the shallow seabed-dot the Bay of Jakarta almost as far as the eye can see. Thousands of fishermen spend the nights here, luring shrimp into nets with the light from small kerosene lanterns. Evening finds us anchored by a tiny atoll. As darkness falls, the gas lamps on the now-distant shrimp stacks flicker on, giving the impression of a city at sea. In the water ribbons of phosphorescence float by, caused by tiny animals, invisible by flashlight, that weave yard-long ephemeral trails through the blackened sea. The Southern Cross-the mariner’s celestial beacon below the equator-twinkles overhead. From Vayage to Krakatoa, by Emily and Per Ola D’aylaire 6 The style of Rip Van Winkle is characteristic of Irving. The sentences are long, but easy and balanced. The tone is familiar and sympathetic toward the reader and the tale. The opening paragraph shows Irving’s ability to paint with detail, with color, and even with the very shape and sound of his sentences an atmospheric pic ture. The last sentences of the third paragraph show Irving’s gentle wit. The dialogue is similarly easy and fluent and unobtrusively suited to the character speaking. Not only has the story of Rip Van Winkle becomes a tradition, but many of the elements in the story are themselves traditional and familiar. Rip is a rich example of the hen-pecked husband and likable good-for-nothing, and Dame Van Winkle an example of termagant wife. The mountains are the traditional home of magic, and the magical sleep is found throughout folk and fairy tale. In spite f the conventionality of these elements in the story, Irving has, by the skillful use of the specific setting of the Hudson River valley and by such details as the rusted gun Rip finds when he wakes and the changed Rip meets when he returns to the village, made the story as real to us as if it were an everyday occurrence. from The Introduction to the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, by Lauriat Lane, Jr. 7 On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter palaces, arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, and with serpentine; along the quays before their gates were tiding troops of knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield; horse and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light-the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and clashing mail, like sea-waves over rock at sunset. Opening on each side from the were gardens, courts, and cloisters; long successions of white pillars among wreaths of vine; leaping of fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange; and still along the garden-paths, and under through the crimson of the pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest women that Italy ever saw-fairest, because purest and thoughtfulest; trained in all high knowledge, as in all courteous art-in dance, in love-able alike to cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of men. Above all this scenery of perfect human life, rose dome and hell-tower the sloes of mighty hills, hoary with olive; far in the north, above a purple sea of peaks of solemn Apennines, the clear, sharp-cloven Carrara mountains sent up their steadfast flames of marble summit into amber sky; the great sea itself, scorching with expanse of light, stretching from their feet to the Gorgonian isles… from The Beauty of Pisa in the Afternoon, by John Ruskin 8 From this hill I have watched many moon rise. Each one had its own mood. There have been broad, confident harvest moons in autumn, shy, misty moons in spring; lonely, white winter moons rising into the utter silence of an ink-black sky and smoke-smudged orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and then calmed my soul. Moongazing is an ancient art. To prehistoric hunters the moon overhead was an unerring as heartbeat. They knew that every 29 days it became full-bellied and brilliant, then sickened and died, and then was reborn. They knew the waxing moon appeared larger and higher overhead after each succeeding sunset. They knew the waning moon rose later each night until it vanished in the sunrise. To have understood the moon’s patterns from experience must have been a pro found thing. But we, who live indoors, have lost contact with the moon. The glare of street lights sang the dust of pollution veil the night sky. Though men have walked on the moon, it grows less familiar. Few of us can say what time the moon will rise tonight. Still, it tugs at out minds. If we unexpectedly encounter the full moon, huge and yellow over the horizon, we are helpless but to stare back at its commanding presence. from Spell of the Rising Moon, by Peter Steinhart 9 To the door of this , the twelfth house whose bell he had rung, came a housekeeper who made him think of an unwholesome, surfeited worm that had eater its nut to a hollow shell and now sought to fill the vacancy with edible lodgers. He asked if there was a room to let. “Come in,” said the housekeeper. Her voice came from her throat; her throat seemed lined with fur. “I have the third floor back, vacant since a week back. Should you wish to look at it?” The young man followed her up the stairs. A faint light from no particular source mitigated the shadows of the halls. They trod noiselessly upon a stair carpet that its own loom would have forsworn. It seemed to have become vegetable; to have degenerated in that rank, sunless air to lush lichen that grew in patches to the staircase. “This is the room,” said the housekeeper, from her furry throat. “It’s nice room. It ain’t often vacant. I had some most elegant people in it last summer-no trouble at all, and paid in advance to the minute. The water’s at the end of the hall. Sprowls and Mooney kept it three months. They done a vaudeville sketch. Miss B’rerra Sprowls-you may have heard of her-Oh, that was just the stage names-right there over the dresser is where the marriage certificate hung, framed. The gas is here , and you see the re is plenty of closer room. It’s a room everybody likes. It never stays idle long.” from The Furnished Room, by O. Henry 10 Three years age, a group of plant scientists led by Ilya Raskin, at Du Pont’s agricultural laboratory in Delaware, discovered a surge of salicylic acid in the voodoo lily the day before flowering. Using a sensitive analytical technique, they discovered that the level of salicylic acid in the plant leapt almost 100 times and triggered the explosion of respiration. This established salicylic acid as a powerful chemical signal, albeit in a rather quirky plant. But what role might salicylic acid, have in less exotic plants? Plants have a kind of “immune system” with which they fight diseases. When fungi, bacteria or viruses infect a plant, they often trigger a signal which travels to uninfected leaves where it stimulates the production of disease-fighting proteins. This mechanism of disease resistance, and the signal which prepares the plant’s defences, had been a mystery to biologists. A promising clue came to light, however, in 1979. Raymond White at Britain’s Rothamsted research station was able to prevent tobacco mosaic viruses from multiplying by injecting the infected plants with aspirin. The aspirin appeared to trigger the production of a group of disease-fighting proteins. Building on this and his own discovery with the voodoo lily, Raskin continued the work with graduate student Jocelyn Malamy and her colleagues at Rutgers University, New Jersey. They measured the levels of salicylic acid in tobacco plants that were infected with tobacco mosaic virus. Before any signs of infection or resistance were detected, salicylic acid levels surged almost five-fold throughout the plants this surge then set off the manufacture of the disease-fighting proteins. from Aspirin Helps the Garden Grow, New Scientist, Jan, 5, 1991 11 As we drove to New York’s tenement district my mind went back to the years when I had known Benny Cremona. He had a one-chair barbershop in the neighborhood, where I was born and brought up. In that brawling neighborhood, a tough tenement jungle, a cockpits of different nationalities and customs and feuds, Mr Cremona’s barbershop was an oasis of beauty and good w ill. He scorned the usual barbershop trappings of those days: the racy calendars, the crime-and-sex gazettes. “The way I’m working,” he would say, “I’m always looking down at heads. A man’s got to have something to look up to, too.” When we youngsters had out hair cut we gazed on reproductions of the Mona Lisa, the Winged Victory, the Adoration of the Magi, Michelangelo’s David. We learned who Dante was, and Shakespeare, by hearing for the first time the splendid, gleaming limes of poetry. Mr Cremoins was a round butter-ball of a man with an enormous, flowing black mustache, and he acted out everything he told us. He was versatile with his scissors. They might be a conductor’s baton, the brush between Rembrandt’s fingers, or-an he pirouetted in a Shakespearean duel- a rapier. from he Most Unforgettable Character I’ve Known, by Maxwell Maltz, M. D. 12 Raccoons exist only in North and South America and have been here for 30 million years. Capt. John Smith mentioned the “Aroughcun’ in his dispatches from Massachusetts in 1612, and settlers were soon complaining about raccoons eating their corn. Naturalist Ernest Thompson Seton estimated there were five million raccoons in the New World in the 17th century. There are about the same number now; the raccoon appears to have achieved zero population growth. More than most animals, the raccoon manages to coexist with man without being domesticated---that is, enslaved. So long as they can come and go, raccoons will avail themselves of the advantages of human hospitality. One regularly called at its benefactor’s door and rang a dinner bell to announce its arrival. A ranger claims to have seen campers around a fire joined by raccoons that gradually edged closer until they were sitting with the group, enjoying the firelight and munching hot dogs. I have not yet seen a claim that they joined the singing. Some raccoons do crave entertainment, though. One indulgent host swears he is visited regularly by a raccoon that sits on his sofa watching TV, yawning during commercials and on occasion switching channels. A certain music lover avows that a neighborhood raccoon relishes Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. When the Ninth booms through the open window, the raccoon comes out of the woods, unlatches the screen door, walks to the speaker and sits beside it, immobile, until the last bars have sounded. Then it lets itself out and returns to the forest. That, I suppose, is worth a lot of garbage. From Canny, Cunning, Unconquerable: The Raccoon, by Smithsonian 13 I know what is being said about me and you can take my side or theirs. It’s my word against Eunice’s and Olivia-Ann’s, and it should be plain enough to anyone with two good eyes which one of us has their wits about them. I just want the citizens of the U.S.A. to know the facts, that’s all. The facts: on Sunday, August 12, this year of our Lord, Eunice tried to kill me with her papa’s Civil War sword and Olivia-Ann cut up all over the place with a fourteen-inch hog knife. This is not even to mention lots of other things. It began six months ago when I married Marge. That was the first thing I did wrong. We were married in Mobile after an acquaintance of only four days. We were both sixteen and she was visiting my cousin Georgia. Now that I’ve had plenty of time to think it over, I can’t for the life of me figure how I fell for the likes of her. She has no books, no body, and no brains whatsoever. But Marge is a natural blonde and maybe that’s the answer. Well, we were married going on three months when she starts hollering that she’s got to go home to Mame---only she hasn’t got no mama, just these two aunts, Eunice and Olivia---Ann. So she makes me quit my perfectly swell position clerking at the Cash’n’ Carry and move here to Admiral’s Mill which is nothing but a damn gap in the road any way you care to consider it. From My Side of the Matter, by Truman Capote 14 MUSIC HATH HARMS Medical critics of deafeningly loud music tend to focus their attacks on youth with a penchant for rock’n’ roll. Now ear specialist Dr. Alf Axelsson and research engineer Fredrik Lindgren report in Working Environment 1982 that even Beethoven can do damage. Employed by the department of audiology and occupational medicine at Sahlgrenska Hospital, Gothenburg, Sweden, the pair noted that half of classical concerts they monitored in Gothenburg’s Concert Hall and Lyric Theatre exceeded 85 decibels, the hearing-damage level for eight-hour workplace exposure. The 139 orchestral musicians the researchers studied performed roughly 40 hours each week, including practice sessions, and 59 of them exhibited hearing losses worse that expected for their age. ---Science News SUCCESS AND MARRIAGE Success in marriage and in business go hand in hand, finds Prof. John E. Tropman of the University of Michigan. He measured the advancement of 6000American males, aged 45 to 54. Those who had progressed the furthest were those who remained married or had remarried. “The stereotype of the hard-driving, ambitious breadwinner who works long hours and accepts new responsibilities at the expense of his duties to his family may not be wholly accurate,” Professor Tropman says. “It may not be the career which jeopardizes the marriage, but the marital status, if disrupted, which hampers the career.” The idea that advancement causes stress may have been warranted in the past, Professor Tropman adds. But in today’s society mobility is becoming the norm, and it may be lack of advancement which causes disruption in a marriage, rather than advancement. ---Science Digest 15 In the distance we could see half a dozen cars filled with other visitors. They had gathered in the circle at the bottom of a stream. We bumped over the rocks toward them. There in the long grass about twelve feet away too other lionesses and eight cubs were playing. This is the kind of scene that has made Nairobi Park famous. It is hard to believe that one can get so close. Both mothers were lying on their backs with their paws in the air. The cubs were pretending to fight them. The younger ones were not very clever at this game. They came stalking through the long grass with great intentness. Then, just as they were about to pounce, something would catch their attention. It might be another cub stealing up behind, or just a butterfly passing by on the breeze. They would prance on their hind legs, making wild swipes in the air or tumbling over each other. Their heads seemed at times just a bit too heavy for them to handle. Often their weak legs got hopelessly out of control. The older cubs, however, were much more professional. It would be a year or more before their mothers had taught them how to go out and kill for themselves. But already that quick pounce to the throat looked very real. Once or twice, the game got too rough. Then the mother bared her teeth a little. With one lazy blow she sent the cub tumbling head over heels into the grass. From Wild Animals Face to Face, by Alan Moorhead 16 The Blue Nile pours very quietly and uneventfully out of Lake Tana in the northern highlands of Ethiopia. There is no waterfall or cataract, no definite current, nothing in fact to indicate that a part at least of this gently moving flow is embarked upon a momentous journey to the Mediterranean, 2 750 miles away …… A few miles downstream from the lake the water begins to boil turbulently over rocks and shadows which are impossible to navigate with any safety; and so the traveler must take to mules and follow the river as close to its banks as the thick scrub will allow him. The landscape is delightful, a combination of tropical and mountainous Africa: acacia trees and the lotus, the banyan and the alien eucalyptus, palms and delicate water---ferns. The baobab in these rain forests is not the smooth bald barrel of a tree which the river will meet far down below in the Sudanese deserts: it put out broad shady leaves. We are as yet a little too far upstream for the crocodile, but there is an exuberance of birds; the fish eagle calling from the treetop in the morning, white storks with a delicate fringe of black on the wings, starlings that look like anything but starling since their feathers gleam with an iridescent blue, the black ibis with its scimitar beak, pelicans, darters, hoopoes, rollers and kites, and the giant horn---bill which is the size of a young ostrich and rather more ungainly until it lumbers into the air, and then reveals the great sweep of its wings, each tipped with white. From The Blue Nile by Alan Moorehead 17 The tapping continued on the front door and a man’s voice could be heard through the door. Molly went to the center lamp, and her burden was heavy on her. She looked down at the lamp. She looked at the table, and she saw the big scissors lying besides her knitting. She picked them up wonderingly by the blades. The blades slipped through her fingers until she held the long shears and she was holding them like a knife, and her eyes were horrified. She looked down into the lamp and the light flooded up in her face. Slowly she raised the shears and placed them inside her dress. The tapping continued on the door. She heard the voice calling to her. She leaned over the lamp for a moment and then suddenly she blew out the light. The room was dark except for a spot of red that came from the coal stove. She opened the door. Her voice was strained and sweet. She called, “I’m coming, Lieutenant, I’m coming!” From The Moon is Down, by John Steinbeck 18 My own first hint of spring comes when the great Balm of Gilead tree across the meadow from my kitchen window puts on a golden corona of buds. Then I know I can put on boots and mittens to climb to where the alpine flowerets are pushing their mauve way up through the snow, hundreds of hundreds of tiny blossoms clustered together, their feet trembling in icy moss. Lower along the creek ways and in boggy places beside the roads, the little red willows make purple shadows on the blue---white snow. The air is still chill (it is March), but the promise has been made. The creeks are low, but air pockets under the ice let small chuckling sounds through. April comes, fierce to see the earth, brown and soggy beneath honeycombed snow banks. Horses, shaggy in their winter coats, roll in the fields, leaving patches of hair that the birds will pick up for their nests. Little colts appear as if by magic and sheep men are up night after night with the lambing. As t he laden cold begins to lift, people seem warmer, too. “Think spring’ll ever come.” They shout to one another. The next day, it snows, covering the first timid crocuses, and the startled birds complain plaintively. Then a week of sunshine, pale and wan perhaps, but sun, nevertheless. And the earth knows. The snow retreats, exposing long, humped tunnels of pocket gophers and mole. Tiny two---bladed plants poke their way up, strong enough to push aside good---sized pebbles. From In Praise of Spring by Mackey Brown 19 I am as old as creation, as majestic as space, as useful as the wheel. I am as beautiful and as evocative as poetry. I am the world’s longest, mightiest river, the Nile. Twice as long as the Mississippi, I flow 4 145 voluptuous miles from the equator through the parched desert lands of North Africa to the Mediterranean. I sweep across nine sovereign nations, yet my heart lies in Egypt. I provided not only the means but the spur for that glorious outburst of civilization. Rich with fish and life-giving silt, my waters allowed my favored people to flourish, to turn from the primeval battle for survival towards religion, science, the arts. They invented a 365---day calendar so that they could keep track of the months of my flooding. They developed geometry so that they could lay out ditches and canals to contain their life---blood---my waters. And to coordinate all these efforts they created government. My origins mysteriously evaded explorers since time began. Not until the 19th century was it finally established that I had two sources, that I am, in fact, two rivers of sharply differing tempers. As the White Nile, my longest arm, I gurgle forth 8 594 feet up in tropical central Africa, in the mountains of southern Burundi, I slip in and out of gigantic Lake Victoria, churn through the dark jungles of Uganda, plunge down mighty Murchison Falls, and then emerge in the hot, dry wastes of the Sudan. Here crocodiles still hunt my waters and hippos romp. Ever northward, I struggle through the fearful, 450---mile papyrus swamp known as the Sudd, and come out full---grown, a slow, ponderous, even stately presence. From I Am the Nile, by Christopher Lucas 20 My wilder arm, the Blue Nile, rises at about 6 000 feet in Ethipia’s distant highlands. It crosses Lake Tana, drops over the mist-swept Tisisat Falls, then for 400 miles boils and foams through the virgin forests of a 4 000-foot-deep gorge, eventually escaping into the stifling heat of the Sudan. In the desert I grow wider, warmer, and calmer. The sand dunes close in on both banks, yet my strong waters give life to cotton fields as far as the eye can see. In the very center of Khartoum, the Sudan’s flat, dusty capital, my scrappy half throws itself into its quieter partner. Now I am the Nile. There are still some 1 850 miles before I reach the Mediterranean. I plunge into bleak, ocher regions of the Sahara where there is no rain at all---a brown, softly moving flow. Descending toward Egypt, I ripple over a series of long, easy cataracts, then pour into Lake Nasser, 310 miles long, the world’s largest man-made lake. Below the wind-whipped surface are vanished villages and fortresses of ancient Nubia, drowned and decade ago by the Aswan High Dam. At last, after rushing fiercely through the Aswan Dam’s hydroelectric locks, I slide over the last of my six cataracts, and into the township of Aswan. Green fields of wheat and sugar cane appear, as do palm trees. This is the beginning of the seductive lushness of Egypt. Aswan, a bustling town of 145 000, hugs my shores. Flocks of storks, pelicans and crested cranes flutter overhead. From I Am the Nile, by Christopher Lucas 21 The Nile is formed by three principal streams, the Blue Nile, and the Atabara, which flow from the Highlands of Ethiopia, and the White Nile, the headstreams of which flow into lakes Victoria and Albert. The White Nile, about 500 miles in length, is the longest branch of the Nile and supplies two-sevenths of its volume. It begins at Malakal, and joins the Blue Nile at Khartoum, receiving no tributaries of importance. Throughout this stretch it is a wide, placid stream with a very small slope (the gradient is no more than 1:19 000), often having a narrow fringe of swamps; the swamps have an average width of about 400 yards, but they are much wider in some places. The valley is wide and shallow, thus causing a considerable loss of water both by evaporation seepage. The Blue Nile drains from the lofty Ethiopian mountains north-north-westward, where it descends from a height of 6 000 feet above sea level. Its reputed source is a small spring, considered by the Orthodox Church of Ethiopia, from which a small stream, the Abbai, flows down to lake Tana, a fairly shallow lake (with an area of about 1 400 square miles) that lies 6 000 feet above sea level. The river leaves Lake Tana in a southeasterly direction, flowing through a series of rapids and plunging through a deep gorge. It is estimated that the lake supplies the river with only one-fourteenth of its total flow, but it is important since it is silt-free. The river then flows west and northwest through the Sudan to join the white Nile. The Atabara, the last tributary of the Nile, flows into the mainstream nearly 200 miles north of Khartowm. It rises in Ethiopia at heights of 600 to 10 000 feet above sea level, not far from Gonder, to the north of Lake Tana. The Atabara rises and falls rapidly, like the Blue Nile. In flood it becomes a large muddy river, and in the dry season it is a string of pools. From Encyclopaedia Britanica 22 I was born in a small hospital in Tokyo. Mamma says she remembers two things: A mouse running across the floor, which she took as a sign of good luck. A nurse bending down a nd whispering apologetically: “I’m afraid it’s a girl. Would you prefer to inform your husband yourself?” My first year at school, in Norway, I remember as long hours of sitting with apprehension in my stomach, waiting for recess. Sometimes there were team game, but other breaks were endless minutes of lonely desperation during which I pretended to be busy with something I preferred to do alone. Snowball fights in winter. The fear when the big boys forced my head down into the snow. I was small and thin and wild. But I was the only one in the school who could do a handstand on the handle-bars of a bicycle. The movies on allowance day. Queues winding round corners, making the feast inside even more fantastic because access to it was so difficult. The pictures, the flight from reality, the world of dreams: experiences and people I believed would become part of my everyday life in the future. Tragedies so great that there was still a lump in the throat many hours later. Wonders so great that my feet did not touch the ground all the way home. And love. I yearned to experience it as it happened on the screen: stand close up against a man with a white shirt and a white smile who looked down at me tenderly and whispered the same words the Hero was whispering to the Heroine. Hear violins when he kissed me. From changing, by Liv Ullmann 23 And that is part of this same, unremarkable theme: spring does come. In the garden the rue anemones come marching out, bright as toy soldiers on their parapets of stone. The dogwoods float in casual clouds among the hills. This is the Resurrection time. That which was dead, or so it seemed, has come to life again---the stiff branch, supple; the brown earth, green. This is the miracle: there is no death; there is in truth eternal life. So, in the spring, we plunge shovels into the garden plot, turn under the dark compost, rake fine the crumbling clods, and press the inert seeds into orderly rows. There are the commonest routines. Who could find excitement here? But look! The rain falls, and the sun warms and something happens. It is the germination process. Germ of what? Germ of life, germ inexplicable, germ of wonder. The dry seeds rupture and the green leaf uncurls. Here is a message that transcends the rites of any church or creed or organized religion. I wonder challenge any doubting Thomas in my pea patch. Everywhere, spring brings the blessed reassurance that life goes on, that death is no more that a passing season. The plan never falters; the design never changes. It is all ordered. It has all been always ordered. Look to the rue anemone, if you will, or to the pea patch, or to the stubborn weed that thrusts its shoulders through a city street. This is how it was, is now, and ever shall be, the world without end. In the serene certainty of spring recurring, who can fear the distant fall? From Spring, by J.J. Kilpatrick 24 Tocello, which used to be lonely as a cloud, has recently become an outing from Venice. Many more visitors than it can comfortably hold pour into it, off the regular steamers, off chartered motor-boats, and off yachts; all day they amble up the towpath, looking for what? The cathedral is decorated with early mosaics----scenes from hell, much restored, and a great sad, austere Madonna; Byzantine art is an acquired taste and probably not one in ten of the visitors have acquired it. They wander into the church and look round aimlessly. They come out on to the village green and photograph each other in a stone armchair, said to be the throne of Attila. They relentlessly tear at the wild roses which one has seen in bud and longed to see in bloom and which for a day have scented the whole island. As soon as they are picked the roses fade and are thrown into the canal. The Americans visit the inn to eat or drink something. The English declare that they can’t afford to do this. They take food which they have brought with them into the vineyard and I am sorry to say leave the devil of a mess behind them. Every Thursday Germans come up the towpath, marching as to war, with a Leader. There is a standing order for fifty luncheons at the inn; while they eat the Leader lectures them through a megaphone. After luncheon they march into the cathedral and undergo another lecture. They, at least, know what they are seeing. Then they march back to their boat. They are tidy; they leave no litter. From the Water Beetle, by Nancy Mitford 25 The Battle of Stalingrad had been compared by the British and American press to the Battle of Verdun, and the “Red Verdun” is now famous all over the world. This comparison is not altogether appropriate. The Battle of Stalingrad is different in nature from the Battle of Verdun in World War I. But they have this in common---now, as then, many people are misled by the German offensive into thinking that German can still win the war. In 1916 the German forces launched several attacks on the French fortress of Verdun, two years before World War I ended in the winter of 1918. The commander-in-chief at Verdun was the German Crown Prince and the forces thrown into battle were the cream of the German army. The battle was of decisive significance. After the ferocious German assaults failed, the entire German-Austrian-Turkish-Bulgarian bloc had no future, and from then on its difficulties mounted, it was deserted by its followers, its disintegrated, and finally collapsed. But at the time, the Anglo-American-French bloc did not grasp this situation, believing that the German army was still very powerful, and they were unaware of their own approaching victory. 26 楚干将莫邪为楚王作剑,三年乃成,王怒,欲杀之。剑有雌雄。其妻重身当产。夫语妻曰:?吾为王作剑,三年乃成,王怒,王必杀我。汝若生子是男,大,告之曰:‘出户望南山,松生石上,剑在其背。’?于是即将雌剑往见楚王。王大怒,使相之。剑有二,一雄一雌,雌来雄不来。王怒,即杀之。 莫邪子名赤,比后壮,乃问其母曰:?吾父所在??母曰:?汝父为楚王作剑,三年乃成,王怒,杀之。去时嘱我:‘语汝子,出户望南山,松生石上,剑在其背。’?于是子出户南望,不见有山,但睹堂前松柱下石砥之上。即以斧破其背,得剑。日夜思欲报楚王。 干宝《搜神记》 27 A 公孙鞅曰:?子之所言,世俗之言也。夫常人安于故习,学者溺于所闻。此两者,所以居官而守法,非所论与法之外也。三代不同礼而王,五霸不同法而霸。故知者作法而愚者制焉;贤者更礼,而不肖者拘焉。拘礼之人,不足与言事;制法之人,不足与论变。君无疑矣。? 《商君书》 B 世皆称孟尝君能得士,士以故归之。而卒赖其力,以脱于虎豹之秦。 嗟呼!孟尝君特鸡鸣狗盗之雄耳,岂足以得士。不然,擅齐之强,得一士 焉,宜可以南面而制秦,尚何取鸡鸣狗盗之力哉?夫鸡鸣狗盗之出其门,此士所以不至也。 王安石《读孟尝君传》 28 鲁达道:?再要十斤寸金软骨,也要细细地跺做臊子,不要见些肉在上面。?郑屠笑道:?却不是特地来消遣我!?鲁达听罢,跳起身来,拿着那两包臊子在手里,睁眼看着郑屠道:?洒家特地要消遣你!?把两包臊子,劈面打将去,却似下了一阵的肉雨。郑屠大怒,两条忿气从脚底直冲到顶门心头。那一吧无明业火焰腾腾的按捺不住,从肉案上抢了一把剔骨尖刀,托地跳将下来。鲁提辖早拔步在当街上。众邻居并十来个火家,那个敢向前来劝。两边过路的人都立住了脚,和那店小二也惊的呆了。 施耐庵《水浒传》 29 玄德曰:?卧龙今在家否??均曰:?昨为崔州平相约,出外闲游去矣。?玄德曰:?何处闲游??均曰:?或驾小舟游于江湖之中,或访僧道于山岭之上,或寻朋友于村落之间,或乐琴棋与洞府之内:往来莫测,不知去所。?玄德曰:?刘备直如此缘分浅薄,两番不遇大贤!?均曰:?少坐献茶。?张飞曰:?那先生既不在,请哥哥上马。?玄德曰:?我既到此间,如何无一语而回??因问诸葛均曰:?闻令兄卧龙先生熟诸韬略,日看兵书,可得闻乎??均曰:?不知。?张飞曰:?问他则甚!风雨甚紧,不如早归。?玄德叱止之。均曰:?家兄不在,不敢久留车骑;容日却来回礼。?玄德曰:?岂敢望先生枉驾。数日之后,备当再至……? 罗贯中《三国演义》 30 正乱着,只见贾母已带了一群人进来了,李纨忙迎上去,笑道:?老太太高兴,倒进来了;我只当还没梳头呢,才掐了菊花要送去。?一面说,一面碧月早捧过一个大荷叶式的翡翠盘子来,里面养着各色折枝菊花,贾母便拣了一朵大红的簪在鬓上;因回头看见了刘老老,忙笑道:?过来带花儿。?一语未完,凤姐便拉过刘老老来,笑道:?让我来打扮你。?说着,把一盘子花,横三竖四地插了一头。贾母和众人笑得了不得。刘老老也笑道:?我这头也不知修了什么福,今儿这样体面起来!?众人笑道:?你还不拔下来摔到他脸上呢,把你打扮成了老妖精了!?刘老老笑道:?我虽老了,年轻时也风流,爱个花儿粉儿的,今儿索性作个老风流!? 曹雪芹《红楼梦》 31 转眼长夏已过,又是新秋,清风戒寒,那秦淮河另是一番景致。满城的人都叫了船,请了大和尚在船上悬挂佛像,铺设经坛,从西水关起,一路施食到进香 河,十里之内,降真香烧的有如烟雾溟蒙。那鼓钹梵呗之声,不绝于耳。到晚,做的极精致的莲花灯,点起来浮在水面上。又有极大的法船,照依佛家中元地狱赦罪之说,超度这些孤魂升天,把一个南京秦淮河,变做西城天竺国。到七月二十九日,清凉山地藏会,——人都说地藏菩萨一年到头都把眼睛闭着,只有这一夜才睁开眼,若见满城都摆的香花灯烛,他就只当是一年到头都是如此,就喜欢这些人好善,就肯保佑人。所以这一夜,南京人各家各户都搭起两张桌子来,两枝通宵风烛,一座香斗,从大中桥到清凉山,一条街有七八里路,点得象一条银龙,一夜的亮,香烟不绝,大风也吹不熄。 吴敬梓《儒林外史》 32 嚓!嚓!嚓!四大娘手快,已经在那里铲着南瓜锅巴了。老通宝气得说不出话来,捧了一碗南瓜就巍颤颤地踱到?廊檐口?,坐在门槛上慢慢地吃着,满肚子是说不明白的不舒服。 面前稻场上一片太阳光,金黄黄地耀得人们眼花。横在稻场前的那条小河象一条银带;可是河水也浅了许多了,岸边的几株水柳叶子有点发黄。河岸两旁静悄悄地没个人影,连黄狗和小鸡也不见一只。往常在这正午时分,河岸上总有些打水洗衣洗碗盏的女人和孩子,稻场上总有些刚吃过饭的男子衔着旱烟袋,蹲在树底下,再不然,各家的廊檐口总也有些人象老通宝似的坐在门槛上吃喝着谈着,但现在,太阳光暖和地照着,小河的水静悄悄地流着,这村庄却象座空山了! 茅盾《秋收》 33 ?我有啥道理哇!?么吵吵忽然板起脸嚷道:?有道理,我也早当了什么主任了。两眼墨黑,见钱就拿!? ?吓,邢 表 关于同志近三年现实表现材料材料类招标技术评分表图表与交易pdf视力表打印pdf用图表说话 pdf 叔!……? 气得脸青面黑的身材瘦小的主任,一下子忍不住站起来了。 ?吓,邢表叔!?他重复道,?你说话要负责啊!? ?甚么叫做负责哇?我就不懂!表叔!?么吵吵模拟着主任的声调,这惹得大家忍不住笑起来,?你认错人了!认真是你表叔,你也不吃我了!??对,对,对,我吃你!?主任解嘲地说,一面坐了下去。 ?不是吗??么吵吵拍了一巴掌桌子,嗓子更加高了,?兵役科的人亲自对我老大说的!你的报告真做得好呢。我今天倒要看你长的几个卵子!……?么吵吵一个劲说下去。而他愈来愈加觉得这不是开玩笑,也不是平日的瞎吵瞎闹,完全为了个痛快;他认真感觉到忿激了。 ?你怕我是聋子吧,?么吵吵简直在咆哮了,?去年蒋家寡母子的儿子五百,你放了;陈二靴子两百,你也放了!你比土匪头儿肖大个子还厉害。钱也拿了,脑袋也保住了,——老子也有钱的,你要张一张嘴呀?? 沙汀《在其香居茶馆里》 34 墨子让耕柱子用水和着玉米粉,自己却取火石和艾绒打了火,点起枯枝来沸 水,眼睛看火焰,慢慢的说道:?我们的老乡公输盘,他总是倚侍着自己的一点小聪明,兴风作浪的。造了钩拒,教楚王和越人打仗还不够,这回是又想出了什么云梯,要怂恿楚王攻宋去了。宋是小国,怎禁得这么一攻。我去按他一下罢。?他看得耕柱子已经把窝窝头上了蒸笼,便回到自己的房里,在壁厨里摸出一把盐渍藜干菜,一柄破铜刀,另外找了一张破包袱,等耕柱子端进蒸熟的窝窝头来,就一起打成一个包裹。衣服却不打点,也不带洗脸的手巾,只把皮带紧了一紧,走到堂下,穿好草鞋,背上包袱,头也不回的走了。 鲁迅《非攻》 35 中华民族不但以刻苦耐劳著称于世,同时又是酷爱自由、富于革命传统的民族。以汉族的历史为例,可以证明中国人民是不能忍受黑暗势力的统治的,他们每次都用革命的手段达到推翻和改造这种统治的目的。在汉族的数千年的历史上,有过大小几百次的农民起义,反抗贵族和地主的黑暗统治。而多数朝代的更换,都是由于农民起义的力量才能得到成功的。中华民族的各族人民都反对外来民族的压迫,都要用反抗的手段解除这种压迫。他们赞成平等的联合,而不赞成互相压迫。在中华民族的几千年的历史中,产生了很多的民族英雄和革命领袖。所以,中华民族又是一个有光荣的革命传统和优秀的历史遗产的民族。 毛泽东《中国革命和中国共产党》 36 交流促进发展。一个国家,一个民族,只要不是由于主观和客观的种种原因,长期处于孤立、闭塞的状态之中,或多或少都可以从交流中得到好处。 中国古代的四大发明曾经给古代世界的文化发展以巨大的推动。汉唐文化对朝鲜、日本等毗邻国家的文化发展,更是给予了深刻而又久远的影响。同样,近代和现代西方的许多重要科技成果,也改变了并继续改变着当代中国人的生活。 对外开放成了我国将要长期坚持不变的基本国策。这就为我们的国家文化交流,开辟了更为自觉,更为广阔的前景。我们向世界各国借鉴一切对我们有益的东西,用以建设我们自己的物质文明和精神文明。同时,我们又向各国人民介绍他们所感兴趣的事物。通过相互交流,增进了解和友谊,促进科学文化的共同发展。 于冠西《对〈文化交流〉的祝贺》 37 A 位于银川附近,贺兰山脚的古西夏国王陵近日正式对旅游者开放。这片距今已近千年的大型陵园长十公里、宽四公里,有九座西夏帝王陵及一百四十多座王公贵族的陪藏陵,被人们称为是?中国的金字塔?。 B 中国医生用针灸帮助烟瘾极大的人戒烟,效果明显。重庆市中区中医院医师万明富用此法帮助65位患者戒烟,已有61位完全戒除。该疗法是给吸烟者造成 味觉异常从而不愿再吸烟。 C 一座保存完好的大型楚墓,新近在湖北省荆门市十里铺包山出土。此墓为战国中晚期土坑坚穴木椁墓,距今2300多年。墓中有大量青铜礼器、生活用具、兵器、漆木器、竹器、车马器、丝织品和一批竹简,共上千件。 D 有100多年养鹿史的吉林双阳县,培育出优质梅花鹿——双阳梅花鹿。双阳梅花鹿具有产茸量高,适应能力强,遗传性稳定等优点,一只公鹿产茸量可达1000克,超过普通梅花鹿一倍多。 38 死,从小时候,她就多么羡慕象个英雄一样地死去呵,现在,这个日子就要来到了。 她陷入纷乱的热烈的回忆中。也许过不多大功夫她就要死掉了,在这最后的时刻中,她要把她短短的一生的快乐、痛苦,和一切值得记忆的事情全好好地想一想、回味一下。她没有第一次被捕时那种胆怯和孤单可怕的感觉了,她的心比较平静地思索着这战斗的人生是多么值得留恋呵! ?出来!?门锁在手电筒一闪之下哗啦开开了。道静被一支大手抓住,连推带拉地走出了这间漆黑的地窖似的屋子。 杨沫《青春之歌》 39 因有雪光,天仿佛亮得早了些。快到年底,不少人家买来鸡喂着,鸡的鸣声比往日多了几倍。处处鸡啼,大有些丰年瑞雪的景况。祥子可是一夜没睡好。到后半夜,他忍了几个盹儿,迷迷糊糊的,似睡不睡的,象浮在水上那些忽起忽落,心中不安。越睡越冷,听到了四外的鸡叫,他实在撑不住了。不愿惊动老程,他蜷着腿,用被子堵上嘴咳嗽,还不敢起来。忍着,等着,心中非常的焦躁。好容易等到天亮,街上有了大车的轮声与赶车人的呼叱,他坐了起来。坐着也是冷,他立起来,系好了钮扣,开开一点门缝向外看了看。雪并没有多么厚,大概在半夜里就不下了;天似乎已晴,可是灰绿绿的看不甚清,连雪上也有一层很淡的灰影似的。 老舍《骆驼祥子》 40 九岁时,母亲死去。父亲也就更变了样,偶然打碎了一只杯子,他就要骂到使人发抖的程度。后来就连父亲的眼睛也转了弯,每从他的身边经过,我就象自己的身上生了针刺一样:他斜视着你,他那高傲的眼光从鼻梁经过嘴角而往下流着。 所以每每在大雪中的黄昏里,围着暖炉,围着祖父,听着祖父读着诗篇,看着祖父读着诗篇时微红的嘴唇。 父亲打了我的时候,我就在祖父的房里,一直面向着窗子,从黄昏到深夜——窗外的白雪,好象白棉一样地飘着;而暖炉上水壶的盖子,则象伴奏的乐器似地振动着。 祖父时时把多纹的两手放在我的肩上,而后又放在我的头上,我的耳边便响着这样的声音: ?快快长大吧!长大就好了。? 萧红《永久的憧憬和追求》 41 他曾在这个环境中度过他的一部分的童年,甚至得到仆人们的敬爱。他常常躺在马房里轿夫的床上,在烟灯旁边,看那个瘦弱的老轿夫一面抽大烟一面叙述青年时代的故事;他常常在马房里和?下人们?围着一堆火席地坐着,听着他们叙说剑仙侠客的事迹。那时候他常常梦想:他将来长大成人以后要做一个劫富济贫的剑侠,没有家庭,一个人一把剑,到处飘游。后来他进了中学,他的世界又开始改变了面目。书本和教员们的讲解竹简地培养了他的爱国主义的热情和改良主义的信仰。他变成了梁任公的带煽动性的文章的爱读者。可是五四运动突然地给他带来了一个新的世界。在梁任公的主张被打得粉碎之后,他连忙带着极大的热情去接受新的,而且更激进的学说。 巴金《家》 42 历史的道路不全是坦平的,有时走到艰难险阻的境界。这是全靠雄健的精神才能够冲过去的。 一条浩浩荡荡的长江大河,有时流到很宽阔的境界,平原无际,一泻千里。有时流到很逼狭的境界,两岸丛山迭岭,绝壁断崖,江河流于其间,曲折回环,极其险峻。民族生命的进展,其经历亦复如是。 人类在历史上的生活正如旅行一样。旅途上的征人所经过的地方有时是坦荡平原,有时是崎岖险路。老于旅途的人,走到平坦的地方因是高高兴兴地向前走,走到崎岖的境界,愈是奇趣横生,觉得在此奇绝壮绝的境界,愈能感得一种冒险的美趣。 李守常《艰难的国运与雄健的国民》 43 ?泥泥狗?是河南淮阳泥玩具的总称。它流传的历史非常久远,据艺人们传说,它是伏羲女娲?抟土造人?时留下来的。?泥泥狗?中,有一种叫?人祖?或称?人面猴?的玩具,却和从猿到人的学说相巧合,这是很有趣的。 ?泥泥狗?造型古朴,形状怪异,富有神话色彩,很象《山海经》里描述的奇禽异兽,如独角兽、多角兽、多头兽、猴头燕身等,很容易使人联想起原始社会里的?图腾?。伏羲是传说中的?三皇五帝?之一,他开创了牧业,狗能照看畜群,有功于本民族,因此狗就是他们民族的图腾。 淮阳有座?人祖庙?,它的正名是?太昊伏羲陵?。?太昊?是对伏羲的赞词,说他象日月那样光明。 到人祖庙祭祀人祖是古代遗风,这里每年农历二月二到三月三举行大庙会,泥泥狗是庙会上最有特色的艺术品。 44 A 钟馗是中国家喻户晓的神话人物。据《梦溪笔谈》一书记载,唐代著名画家吴道子曾奉旨按唐明皇梦中所见形象描摹过钟馗。清初画家,?扬州八怪?之一的罗两峰,工人物、善画鬼,有《鬼趣图》等传世,这画中的鬼便是钟馗。传说中的钟馗本是一英俊书生,赴京会试途中误入鬼窑而毁容。虽文彩过人得中状元,然皇帝以其貌丑而不录,钟馗乃怒触阶柱而亡。上帝闵其刚正,死后封为神。 B 中国现存最大的鼎,是1939年春在河南安阳侯安庄武官村吴氏田地里出土的?司母戊?大方鼎。这个鼎呈长方形,四个足,长110厘米,宽77厘米,带耳高132.8厘米,重约875公斤。鼎身以雷纹为地,上有龙纹盘绕,四角为饕餮纹。这也是世界上已发现的最大青铜器。这个鼎为商代晚期著名的艺术珍品。是商王文丁为祭祀其母戊而用。鼎腹内有铭文?司母戊?三字。 45 那晚上底天色不大好,可是爹爹也到来,实在很难得!爹爹说:?你们爱吃花生么?? 我们都争着答应:?爱!? ?谁能把花生底好处说出来?? 妹妹说:?花生底气味很美。? 哥哥说:?花生可以制油。? 我说:?无论何等人都可以用贱价买它来吃;都喜欢吃它,这就是它底好处。?爹爹说:?花生底好处固然很多;但有一样是很可贵的。这小小的豆不象那好看的苹果,桃子,石榴,把他们底果实悬在枝上,鲜红嫩绿的颜色,令人一望而发生羡慕底心。他只把果子埋在地底,等到成熟,才容人把他挖出来,你们偶然看见一颗花生瑟缩地长在地上,不能立刻辨出他有没有果实,非得等到你接触它才能知道。? 我们都说:?是的。?母亲也点点头,爹爹接下去说:?所有你们要象花生,因为他是有用的,不是伟大、好看的东西。?我说:?那么,人要做有用的人,不要作伟大,体面的人了。?爹爹说:?这是我对于你们的希望。? 许地山《落花生》 46 半夜里听见繁杂的雨声,早起是浓阴的天,我觉得有些烦闷。从窗内往外看时,那一朵白莲已经谢了,白瓣儿小船般散飘在水面。梗上只留个小小的莲蓬,和几根淡黄色的花须,那一朵红莲,昨夜还是菡萏的,今晨却开满了,亭亭地在绿叶中间立着。 仍是不适意!——徘徊了一会子,窗外雷声作了,大雨接着就来,愈来愈大。那朵红莲被那紧密的雨点,打得左右欹斜。在无遮蔽的天空之下,我不敢下阶去,也无法可想。 对屋里母亲唤着,我连忙走过去,坐在母亲旁边——一回头,忽然看见红莲旁边的一个小荷叶,慢慢地倾侧下来,正覆盖在红莲上面……我不宁的心绪散尽 了! 雨势并不减退,红莲却不摇动了。雨点不住的打着,只能在勇敢慈怜的荷叶上面,聚了些流转无力的水珠。 我心中深深地受了感动—— 母亲呵!你是荷叶,我是红莲。心中的雨点来了,除了你,谁是我无遮拦天空下的荫蔽? 冰心《往事(一)〃七》 47 陆游是一个创作力非常旺盛的作家。他辛勤地写作了一生,直到老年,还是?三日无诗却堪忧?,因此他是我国古代文学史上作品特别丰富的一位诗人。集中存诗共有九千三百多首,还不包括散佚的作品或经他自己淘汰的作品在内。 在陆游所写的巨量诗作中,始终贯穿在作品中的鲜明特色,是爱国主义精神。这个特色在他中年入蜀以后,尤其表现得强烈。他在诗中所表现的那种时时刻刻对祖国的热爱和忧患,那种为多难的祖国而歌唱而呼喊的一贯到底的精神,不仅在同时代的诗人中没有一个可以和他相比,即使在中国古代文学史也是不可多见的。由于他所写的诗?言恢复者十之五六?,因此受到投降派的打击。 48 听说做《淘金记》和《马戏》的贾波林也是很忧郁的。这是必然的,否则,他绝不能够演出那趣味深长的滑稽剧。英国十九世纪浪漫派诗人Coleridge曾说:?我是以眼泪来换人们的笑容。?他是个谈锋极好的人,每天晚上谈论玄学、诗体以及其他一切的问题,他说话深刻又清楚,无论谁都会忘了疲倦,整夜坐在旁边听他娓娓地清谈。他虽然能够给人们这么多快乐,他自己的心境却常是枯燥烦恼到了极点。写《心爱的猫儿溺死在金鱼缸里》和《痴汉醉马歌》的Gray和Cowper也都是愁闷之神的牺牲者。Cowper后来憋闷得疯死了,Gray也几乎没有一封信不是说愁说恨的。晋朝人讲究谈吐,喜欢诙谐,可是晋朝人最爱讲达观,达观不过是愁闷不堪,无可奈何时的解嘲说法。杀犯当临刑时节,常常唱出滑稽的歌曲,人们失望到不再失望了,就咬着牙齿无端地狂笑,觉得天下什么事情都是好笑的。这些事情都可以证明滑稽和愁闷的确有很大的关系。 梁遇春《滑稽和愁闷》 49 沿着荷塘,是一条曲折的小煤屑路。这是一条幽僻的路;白天也少人走,夜晚更加寂寞。荷塘四面,长着许多树,翁翁郁郁的。路的一旁,是些杨柳,和一些不知名的树。没有月光的晚上,这路上阴森森的,有些怕人。今晚却很好,虽然月光也还是淡淡的。 路上只我一个人,背着手踱着。这一片天地好象是我的;我也象超出了平常的自己,到另一个世界里。我爱热闹,也爱冷静;爱群居,也爱独处。象今晚上,一个人在这苍苍的月下,什么都可以想,什么都可以不想,便觉是个自由的人。白天里一定要做的事,一定要说的话,现在都可不理。 朱自清《荷塘月色》 50 我的堂弟A比我小一岁半,圆圆的脸,黑黑的皮色,举止是异乎寻常的优雅。他并不是有意做作。他是天生的优雅,正如我是天生的笨拙。学堂里有什么事牵累到他,他是微微一笑,露出他雪白的牙齿,就能叫我们的级任老师D小姐的铁石心肠雪一样的融化,他也就安然无事了;我可不然,事情牵累到我,我就要声嘶力竭的争辩,要证明不是我错,是 D 小姐或是别个谁错,有必要时我愿意上诉到最高法院。 我常常被她给送到校长室。有时候我为了跟校长D先生辩论挨打。校长先生简直不能辩论。一句话叫我窘住,他就掏出鞭子来。