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福克纳诺贝尔获奖致辞
福克纳诺贝尔获奖致辞

On Accepting Nobel Prize

I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work -- a life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing.

我感到这份奖金不是授予我个人而是授予我的工作的,授予我一生从事关于人类精神的呕心沥血工作.我从事这项工作,不是为名,更不是为利,而是为了从人的精神原料中创造出一些从前不曾有过的东西.因此,这份奖金只不过是托我保管而已.为这份奖金的钱找到与奖金原来的目的和意义相称的用途并不难,但我还想为奖金的荣誉找到承受者.我愿意利用这个时刻,利用这个举世瞩目的讲坛,向那些听到我说话并已献身同一艰苦劳动的男女青年致敬.他们中肯定有人有一天也会站到我现在站着的地方.

Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.

我们今天的悲剧是人们普遍存在一种生理上的恐惧,这种恐惧存在已久,以致我们能够忍受下去了.现在再没有精神上的问题了.唯一的问题是:我什么时候会被炸得粉身碎骨?正因为如此,今天从事写作的男女青年已经忘记了人类内心的冲突.然而,只有接触到这种内心冲突才能产生出好作品,因为这是唯一值得写,值得呕心沥血地去写的.

He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed -- love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.

他一定要重新认识这些问题.他必须使自己明白世间最可鄙的事情莫过于恐惧.他必须使自己永远忘却恐惧,在他的工作室里除了心底古老的真理之外,不允许任何别的东西有容身之地.缺了这古老的普遍真理,任何小说都只能昙花一现,注定要失败;这些真理就是爱情,荣誉,怜悯,自尊,同情,牺牲等感情.若是他做不到这样,他的力气终归白费.他不是写爱情而是写情欲,他写的失败是没有人感到失去可贵东西的失败,他写的胜利是没有希望,甚至没有怜悯或同情的胜利.他不是为有普遍意义的死亡而悲伤,所以留不下深刻的痕迹.他不是在写心灵而是在写器官.

Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.

在他重新懂得这些之前,他写作时,就犹如站在人类末日中去观察末日的来临.我不接受人类末日的手法.因为人能传种接代而说人是不朽的,这很容易.因为即使最后一次钟声已经消失,消失在再也没有潮水冲刷,映在落日的余晖里,海上最后一块无用的礁石之旁时,还会有一个声音,那就是人类微弱的,不断的说话声,这样说也很容易.但是我不能接受这种说法.我相信人类不仅能传种接代,而且能战胜一切.人之不朽不是因为在动物中唯独他能永远发出声音,而是因为他有灵魂,有同情心,有牺牲和忍耐精神.

The poet’s, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

诗人和作家的责任就是把这些写出来.诗人和作家的特殊光荣就是去鼓舞人的斗志,使人记住过去曾经有过的光荣他曾有过的勇气,荣誉,希望,自尊,同情,怜悯与牺牲精神以达到不朽.诗人的声音不应只是人类的纪录,而应是帮助人类永存并得到胜利的支柱和栋梁.

Gettysburg Address

(1)Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

By Abraham Lincoln

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长长的叹息。 我记忆中最痛苦的一件事,就是跟随着母亲去集体的地里捡麦穗,看守麦田的人来了,捡麦穗的人纷纷逃跑,我母亲是小脚,跑不快,被捉住,那个身材高大的看守人搧了她一个耳光。她摇晃着身体跌倒在地。看守人没收了我们捡到的麦穗,吹着口哨扬长而去。我母亲嘴角流血,坐在地上,脸上那种绝望的神情让我终生难忘,多年之后,当那个看守麦田的人成为一个白发苍苍的老人,在集市上与我相逢,我冲上去想找他报仇,母亲拉住了我,平静地对我说:“儿子,那个打我的人,与这个老人,并不是一个人。” 我记得最深刻的一件事是一个中秋节的中午,我们家难得地包了一顿饺子,每人只有一碗。正当我们吃饺子时,一个乞讨的老人,来到了我们家门口,我端起半碗红薯干打发他,他却愤愤不平地说:“我是一个老人,你们吃饺子,却让我吃红薯干,你们的心是怎么长的?”我气急败坏地说:“我们一年也吃不了几次饺子,一人一小碗,连半饱都吃不了!给你红薯干就不错了,你要就要,不要就滚!”母亲训斥了我,然后端起她那半碗饺子,倒进老人碗里。 我最后悔的一件事,就是跟着母亲去卖白菜,有意无意地多算了一位买白菜的老人一毛钱。算完钱我就去了学校。当我放学回家时,看到很少流泪的母亲泪流满面。母亲并没有骂我,只是轻轻地说:“儿子,你让娘丢了脸。”

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约翰·斯坦贝克诺贝尔文学奖的英文获奖感 言 Banquet Speech John Steinbeck's speech at the Nobel Banquet at the City Hall in Stockholm, December 10, 1962 I thank the Swedish Academy for finding my work worthy of this highest honor. In my heart there may be doubt that I deserve the Nobel award over other men of letters whom I hold in respect and reverence - but there is no question of my pleasure and pride in having it for myself. It is customary for the recipient of this award to offer personal or scholarly ment on the nature and the direction of literature. At this particular time, however, I think it would be well to consider the high duties and the responsibilities of the makers of literature. Such is the prestige of the Nobel award and of this place where I stand that I am impelled, not to squeak like a grateful and apologetic mouse, but to roar like a lion out of pride in my profession and in the great

威廉福克纳获诺贝尔讲演讲稿

威廉·福克纳(William Faulkner,1897-1962)美国作家,生于美国密西西比州新奥尔巴尼的一个庄园主家,南北战争后家道中落。 第一次世界大战期间,福克纳在空军服过役。战后入大学,其后从事过各种职业并开始写作。《士兵的报酬》(1926)发表后,福克纳被列入"迷惘的一代",但很快与他们分道扬镖。《萨拉里斯》(1929)问世之后,福克纳的创作进入高峰斯。他发现"家乡那块邮票般大小的地方倒也值得一写,只怕一辈子也写不完"。怀着这样的信念,他把19篇长篇和70多篇短篇小说纺织在"约克纳帕塌法世系"里,通过南方贵族世家的兴衰,反映了美国独立战争前夕到第二次世界大战之间的社会现实,创伤了20世纪的"人间喜剧"。长篇小说《喧哗与骚动》和《我弥留之际》(1930)、《圣殿》(1931)、《八月之光》(1932)、《押沙龙,押沙龙》(1936)等现代文学的经典之作。 福克纳后期的主要作品有《村子》(1940)、《闯入者》(1948)、《寓言》(1954)、《小镇》(1957)和《大宅》(1959)等。此外还有短篇小说、剧本和诗歌。 福克纳虽是南方重要作家,但他的作品当时并不受重视,直到1946年美国著名的文学批评家马尔科姆·考莱编选了《袖珍本福克纳文集》,又写了一篇有名的序言之后,福克纳才在文坛上引起重视。特别是萨特、马尔洛等人的赏识,使福克纳名声大噪。 在艺术上,福克纳受弗洛伊德影响,大胆地大胆地进行实验,采用意识流手法、对位结构以及象征隐喻等手段表现暴力、凶杀、性变态心理等,他的作品风格千姿百态、扑朔迷离,读者须下大功夫才能感受其特有的审美情趣。 1949年,"因为他对当代美国小说作出了强有力的和艺术上无与伦比的贡献",福克纳获诺贝尔文学奖。 I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work -- life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand where I am standing. Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed -- love and honor and

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