江西省第二届翻译大赛试题及答案 (1)

江西省第二届英语翻译大赛

Time limit: 150 Min

第一部分：英译汉（50分）

Street Haunting: A London Adventure (Excerpt)

Virginia Woolf

No one perhaps has ever felt passionately towards a lead pencil. But there are circumstances in which it can become supremely desirable to possess one; moments when we are set upon having an object, an excuse for walking half across London between tea and dinner. As the foxhunter hunts in order to preserve the breed of foxes, and the golfer plays in order that open spaces may be preserved from the builders, so when the desire comes upon us to go street rambling the pencil does for a pretext, and getting up we say: “Really I must buy a pencil,” as if under cover of this excuse we could indulge safely in the greatest pleasure of town life in winter — rambling the streets of London.

How beautiful a London street is then, with its islands of light, and its long groves of darkness, and on one side of it perhaps some tree-sprinkled, grass-grown space where night is folding herself to sleep naturally and, as one passes the iron railing, one hears those little cracklings and stirrings of leaf and twig which seem to suppose the silence of fields all round them, an owl hooting, and far away the rattle of a train in the valley. But this is London, we are reminded; high among the bare trees are hung oblong frames of reddish yellow light — windows; there are points of brilliance burning steadily like low stars — lamps; this empty ground, which holds the country in it and its peace, is only a London square, set about by offices and houses where at this hour fierce lights burn over maps, over documents, over desks where clerks sit turning with wetted forefinger the files of endless correspondences; or more suffusedly the firelight wavers and the lamplight falls upon the privacy of some drawing-room, its easy chairs, its papers, its china, its inlaid table, and the figure of a woman, accurately measuring out the precise number of spoons of tea which —— She looks at the door as if she heard a ring downstairs and somebody asking, is she in?

第二部分：汉译英（50分）

一件小事（节选）鲁迅

我从乡下跑到京城里，一转眼已经六年了。其间耳闻目睹的所谓国家大事，算起来也很不少；但在我心里，都不留什么痕迹，倘要我寻出这些事的影响来说，便只是增长了我的坏脾气，——老实说，便是教我一天比一天的看不起人。

但有一件小事，却于我有意义，将我从坏脾气里拖开，使我至今忘记不得。

这是民国六年的冬天，大北风刮得正猛，我因为生计关系，不得不一早在路上走。一路几乎遇不见人，好容易才雇定了一辆人力车，叫他拉到S门去。不一会，北风小了，路上浮尘早已刮净，剩下一条洁白的大道来，车夫也跑得更快。刚近S门，忽而车把上带着一个人，慢慢地倒了。

跌倒的是一个女人，花白头发，衣服都很破烂。伊从马路上突然向车前横截过来；车夫已经让开道，但伊的破棉背心没有上扣，微风吹着，向外展开，所以终于兜着车把。幸而车夫早有点停步，否则伊定要栽一个大筋斗，跌到头破血出了。

伊伏在地上；车夫便也立住脚。我料定这老女人并没有伤，又没有别人看见，便很怪他多事，要自己惹出是非，也误了我的路。

我便对他说，“没有什么的。走你的罢！”

车夫毫不理会，——或者并没有听到，——却放下车子，扶那老女人慢慢起来，搀着臂膊立定，问伊说：

“你怎么啦？”

“我摔坏了。”

我想，我眼见你慢慢倒地，怎么会摔坏呢，装腔作势罢了，这真可憎恶。车夫多事，也正是自讨苦吃，现在你自己想法去。

车夫听了这老女人的话，却毫不踌躇，仍然搀着伊的臂膊，便一步一步的向前走。我有些诧异，忙看前面，是一所巡警分驻所，大风之后，外面也不见人。这车夫扶着那老女人，便正是向那大门走去。

我这时突然感到一种异样的感觉，觉得他满身灰尘的后影，刹时高大了，而且愈走愈大，须仰视才见。而且他对于我，渐渐的

又几乎变成一种威压，甚而至于要榨出皮袍下面藏着的“小”来。

参考译文

第一部分：英译汉（50分）

伦敦神游（节选）

弗吉尼亚·伍尔夫

恐怕从未有人曾经热切地想要一支铅心笔，但有时候这种欲望会变得压倒一切。那是在下午茶之后、晚饭之前，我们会一心要买一件东西，其实是找借口在此期间游逛半个伦敦。猎人猎狐以保持狐狸的品种，球手打高尔夫以阻止建筑商侵占空地。同样，当我们心血来潮想去街上闲逛时，铅笔就可以作为借口。所以，我们站起身说：“真的，我必须买支铅笔。”好像有了这个借口，我们就可以放心去尽情享受冬天城市生活最大的乐趣—在伦敦逛街。

伦敦的街道是多么美丽啊！有灯光的岛屿，有一团团幽暗的阴影，可能在其中一侧还有树木错落的茵茵草地，夜在草地上舒展开，将大地罩入夜的睡乡；越过铁栅栏，你还可以听到树枝树叶摇曳发出轻微的窸窣声，衬出周围田野的一片寂静，还有一只猫头鹰的枭叫，远处山谷火车经过的咔嚓声。但我们旋即想起这是伦敦。光秃秃的的大树上方，高高悬挂着黄里透红的方形方框—是窗户；点点亮光不动不灭好像低垂的星星—是路灯；这片让人感觉如乡村一样恬静的空旷地只是伦敦的一个广场，四周布满了办公楼与家居。此时此刻，要么楼里刺眼的灯光正照耀着地图，照耀着文件，照耀着办公桌，桌前办事员正沾湿了食指，翻阅着无穷无尽信件

往来的文件夹；要么在一个客厅，壁炉的火光闪烁着，路灯的灯光窥射进来，光线在这个隐私空间弥漫，映照出扶手椅、书信、瓷器、嵌花桌子，还有一个女人的身影，她一匙匙准确地量着茶水，算出准确的数字；这茶—她望着门，好像听到楼下门铃声，听到有人问，她在吗？

第二部分：汉译英（50分）

A Small Incident (Excerpt)

Lu Xun

Six years have slipped by since I came from the country to the capital. During that time the number of so-called affairs of state I have witnessed or heard about is far from small, but none of them made much impression. If asked to define their influence on me, I can only say they made my bad temper worse. Frankly speaking, they taught me to take a poorer view of people every day.

One small incident, however, which struck me as significant and jolted me out of my irritability, remains fixed even now in my memory.

It was the winter of 1917, a strong north wind was blustering, but the exigencies of earning my living forced me to be up and out early. I met scarcely a soul on the road, but eventually managed to hire a rickshaw to take me to S-Gate. Presently the wind dropped a little, having blown away the drifts of dust on the road to leave a clean broad highway, and the rickshaw man quickened his pace. We were just approaching S-Gate when we knocked into someone who slowly toppled over.

It was a grey-haired woman in ragged clothes. She had stepped out abruptly from the roadside in front of us, and although the rickshaw man had swerved, her tattered padded waistcoat, unbuttoned and billowing in the wind, had caught on the shaft. Luckily the rickshaw man had slowed down, otherwise she would certainly have had a bad fall and it might have been a serious accident.

She huddled there on the ground, and the rickshaw man stopped.

As I did not believe the old woman was hurt and as no one else had seen us, I thought this halt of his uncalled for, liable to land him trouble and hold me up.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Go on.”

He paid no attention - he may not have heard - but set down the shafts, took the old woman's arm and gently helped her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I hurt myself falling.”

I thought: I saw how slowly you fell, how could you be hurt?

Putting on an act like this is simply disgusting. The rickshaw man asked for trouble, and now he’s got it. He’ll have to find his own way out.

But the rickshaw man did not hesitate for a minute after hearing the old woman's answer. Still holding her arm, he helped her slowly forward. Rather puzzled by his I looked ahead and saw a police-station. Because of the high wind, there was no one outside. It was there that the rickshaw man was taking the old woman.

Suddenly I had the strange sensation that his dusty retreating figure had in that instant grown larger. Indeed, the further he walked the larger he loomed, until I had to look up to him. At the same time he seemed gradually to be exerting a pressure on me which threatened to overpower the small self hidden under my fur-lined gown.

江西省第二届英语翻译大赛决赛特等奖（第一名）获奖作品选登

一件小事（节选）

鲁迅

我从乡下跑到京城里，一转眼已经六年了。其间耳闻目睹的所谓国家大事，算起来也很不少；但在我心里，都不留什么痕迹，倘要我寻出这些事的影响来说，便只是增长了我的坏脾气，——老实说，便是教我一天比一天的看不起人。

但有一件小事，却于我有意义，将我从坏脾气里拖开，使我至今忘记不得。

这是民国六年的冬天，大北风刮得正猛，我因为生计关系，不得不一早在路上走。一路几乎遇不见人，好容易才雇定了一辆人力车，叫他拉到S门去。不一会，北风小了，路上浮尘早已刮净，剩下一条洁白的大道来，车夫也跑得更快。刚近S门，忽而车把上带着一个人，慢慢地倒了。

跌倒的是一个女人，花白头发，衣服都很破烂。伊从马路上突然向车前横截过来；车夫已经让开道，但伊的破棉背心没有上扣，微风吹着，向外展开，所以终于兜着车把。幸而车夫早有点停步，否则伊定要栽一个大筋斗，跌到头破血出了。

伊伏在地上；车夫便也立住脚。我料定这老女人并没有伤，又没有别人看见，便很怪他多事，要自己惹出是非，也误了我的路。

我便对他说，“没有什么的。走你的罢！”

车夫毫不理会，——或者并没有听到，——却放下车子，扶那老女人慢慢起来，搀着臂膊立定，问伊说：“你怎么啦？”

“我摔坏了。”

我想，我眼见你慢慢倒地，怎么会摔坏呢，装腔作势罢了，这真可憎恶。车夫多事，也正是自讨苦吃，现在你自己想法去。

车夫听了这老女人的话，却毫不踌躇，仍然搀着伊的臂膊，便一步一步的向前走。我有些诧异，忙看前面，是一所巡警分驻所，大风之后，外面也不见人。这车夫扶着那老女人，便正是向那大门走去。

我这时突然感到一种异样的感觉，觉得他满身灰尘的后影，刹时高大了，而且愈走愈大，须仰视才见。而且他对于我，渐渐的又几乎变成一种威压，甚而至于要榨出皮袍下面藏着的“小”来。

江西省第二届英语翻译大赛决赛特等奖

译文：

A Small Incident (Excerpt) Lu Xun

It has been six years since I came to the capital from the country. The so-called affairs of state during that time which I had seen or heard about did amount to many, albeit with no visible trace left in my heart. Speaking of their influence on me, they only exacerbated my ill temper. To be honest, they made me more and more ignorant of others day by day.

One small incident, however, which bore great significance to me, dragged me out of my ill temper and remains forever in my memory.

It was a winter in the sixth year of the Republic of China, the north wind was blowing violently. For the sake of making a living, I had to go out early when there was barely a person in sight on the road. Finally I managed to hire a rickshaw and told him to go towards the door S. Soon the wind blew less fiercely, while dust on the road was swept clean, leaving a smooth road ahead. So the rickshaw man ran faster. As we were approaching the door S, all of a sudden, a person ran into our rickshaw and gradually fell down.

It was a grey-haired woman, dressed in ragged clothes. She suddenly walked towards us from the roadside. Though the rickshaw man had gone out of her way, her ragged waistcoat was unbuttoned, which stretched out in the wind and caught on the handle bar. Fortunately, the rickshaw man had taken early action, otherwise the old lady would certainly fell down and get seriously hurt.

She was lying there. The rickshaw man stopped. I was sure that she was not hurt and there was no witness then, so I complained of his being so “helpful”. If he had made a fuss, it would have wasted my time as well.

So I said to him: “It’s no big deal. Let’s go.”

Totally regardless of my words, (or simply not having heard it,) he let go of the rickshaw, and helped the woman stand on her feet.

Holding her arm, he asked: “Are you OK?”

“Not well.”

I watched her slowly falling down, how could she possibly get hurt? “She is pretending!”I thought to myself, “How contemptible it is!”The rickshaw man was being so “helpful”that he was troubling the trouble. I would leave him alone.

Upon hearing the woman’s words, the rickshaw man made no hesitation. He was still holding her arm and they walked ahead step by step. Feeling a bit confused, I looked ahead. There was a patrolling police station, where nobody was outside in such a violent wind. The two were moving towards that place, surely.

At that moment, a strange sensation seized me: his dusty figure suddenly became mighty. The further they walked, the mightier it seemed. In the end I had to look up to him. What he meant to me gradually became a pressure, a kind of pressure massive enough to overshadow “the little myself”beneath the garments.

Street Haunting: A London Adventure (Excerpt)

Virginia Woolf

No one perhaps has ever felt passionately towards a lead pencil. But there are circumstances in which it can become supremely desirable to possess one; moments when we are set upon having an object, an excuse for walking half across London between tea and dinner. As the foxhunter hunts in order to preserve the breed of foxes, and the golfer plays in order that open spaces may be preserved from the builders, so when the desire comes upon us to go street rambling the pencil does for a pretext, and getting up we say: “Really I must buy a pencil,”as if under cover of this excuse we could indulge safely in the greatest pleasure of town life in winter —rambling the streets of London.

How beautiful a London street is then, with its islands of light, and its long groves of darkness, and on one side of it perhaps some tree-sprinkled, grass-grown space where night is folding herself to sleep naturally and, as one passes the iron railing, one hears those little cracklings and stirrings of leaf and twig which seem to suppose the silence of fields all round them, an owl hooting, and far away the rattle of a train in the valley. But this is London, we are reminded; high among the bare trees are hung oblong frames of reddish yellow light —windows; there are points of brilliance burning steadily like low stars —lamps; this empty ground, which holds the country in it and its peace, is only a London square, set about by offices and houses where at this hour fierce lights burn over maps, over documents, over desks where clerks sit turning with wetted forefinger the files of endless correspondences; or more suffusedly the firelight wavers and the lamplight falls upon the privacy of some drawing-room, its easy chairs, its papers, its china, its inlaid table, and the figure of a woman, accurately measuring out the precise number of spoons of tea which ——She looks at the door as if she heard a ring downstairs and somebody asking, is she in?

漫步街区：一次伦敦之旅（节选）

弗吉尼亚·伍尔夫

或许不曾有人对一支铅笔求之不得欣喜不已，但是我们却总有占有某物的欲望之火熊熊燃烧的时候，我们却总有决心得到一个物品，以作为我们茶余饭后漫步伦敦的借口的时候。正如猎狐者为了狐狸生生不息的繁衍而打猎，正如高尔夫球运动者为了保护广阔空旷的土地免遭建设者的蹂躏而打球一样。当漫步街区的欲望不期而至，买铅笔只不过是一个借口罢了。于是我们起身立之，喃喃自语道：“我确实必须要去买一支铅笔。”似乎在这冠冕堂皇的借口之下，我们可以尽情地沉溺在冬日城镇生活的愉悦惬意中——闲庭漫步于伦敦街区。

伦敦街区的景色真是美不胜收啊！光芒温柔地照耀在岛屿上，悠长的小树丛安静地隐没在黑暗中。街道一旁几颗树木零星地生长着，周围草木丛生绿意盎然。夜幕在这里静静地降临，双手合抱，安然入睡。当你路过铁轨旁的时候，你可以听到那细碎的哐啷声，伴着风中枝叶的摇摆声声作响，宛如田野的静谧般扑面而来。一只猫头鹰声声呼唤，远处一辆火车缓缓驶过，在山谷中格格作响，久久回荡。但是我们一次次的被提醒，这里是伦敦啊！那高悬于稀疏的树木之间，放射着浅红微黄光芒的方形框架——只不过是窗户罢了；那些宛如低空星辰般耀眼夺目、异彩纷呈的光点——只不过是电灯罢了；那默默承载着伦敦、展现着她的静穆的空旷大地——只不过是伦敦广场罢了。鳞次栉比的办公室和房屋在此拔地而起。此时此刻，强烈的灯光正照耀着各式各样的地图，照耀着纷至沓来的文件，照耀着一张张桌子，桌旁的小职员们正用湿漉漉的手指书写着无穷无尽的信件。那闪烁的灯光肆无忌惮地弥漫在某间画室里，照亮了那简陋的椅子，厚厚的纸张，精美的瓷器，嵌饰的桌子，也照亮了一个女子的身影，她正精确地量着茶叶的匙数——而此时她朝门望去，仿佛听到楼下传来一阵铃声，一个人正轻声问道：“她在吗？”