The Drunkard, by Frank O’Connor

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The Drunkard, by Frank O’Connor

It was a terrible blow to Father when Mr. Dooley on the terrace died. Mr. Dooley was a commercial traveller with two sons in the Dominicans and a car of his own, so socially he was miles ahead of us, but he had no false pride. Mr. Dooley was an intellectual, and, like all intellectuals the thing he loved best was conversation, and in his own limited way Father was a well-read man and could appreciate an intelligent talker. Mr. Dooley was remarkably intelligent. Between business acquaintances and clerical contacts, there was very little he didn’t know about what went on in town, and evening after evening he crossed the road to our gate to explain to Father the news behind the news. He had a low, palavering voice and a knowing smile, and Father would listen in astonishment, giving him a conversational lead now and again, and then stump triumphantly in to Mother with his face aglow and ask: “Do you know what Mr. Dooley is after telling me?” Ever since, when somebody has given me some bit of information off the record I have found myself on the point of asking: “Was it Mr. Dooley told you that?”

Till I actually saw him laid out in his brown shroud with the rosary beads entwined between his waxy fingers I did not take the report of his death seriously. Even then I felt there must be a catch and that some summer evening Mr. Dooley must reappear at our gate to give us a lowdown on the next world. But Father was very upset, partly because Mr. Dooley was about one age with himself, a thing that always gives a distinctly personal turn to another man’s demise; partly because now he would have no one to tell him what dirty work was behind the latest scene at the Corporation. You could count on your fingers the number of men in Blarney Lane who read the papers as Mr. Dooley did, and none of these would have overlooked the fact that Father was only a laboring man. Even Sullivan, the carpenter, a mere nobody, thought he was a cut above Father. It was certainly a solemn event.

“Half past two to the Curragh,” Father said meditatively, putting down the paper.

“But you’re not thinking of going to the funeral?” Mother asked in alarm.

“’Twould be expected,” Father said, scenting opposition. “I wouldn’t give it to say to them.”

“I think,” said Mother with suppressed emotion, “it will be as much as anyone will expect if you go to the chapel with him.”

(“Going to the chapel,” of course, was one thing, because the body was removed after work, but going to the funeral meant the loss of a half-day’s pay.)

“The people hardly know us,” she added.

“God between us and all harm,” Father replied with dignity, “we’d be glad if it was our own turn.”

To give Father his due, he was always ready to lose a half day for the sake of an old neighbor. It wasn’t so much that he liked funerals as that he was a conscientious man who did as he would be done by; and nothing could have consoled him so much for the prospect of his own death as the assurance of a worthy funeral. And, to give Mother her due, it wasn’t the half day’s pay she begrudged, badly as we could afford it.

Drink, you see, was Father’s great weakness. He could keep steady for months, even for years, at a stretch, and while he did he was as good as gold. He was first up in the morning and brought the mother a cup of tea in bed, stayed at home in the evenings and read the paper; saved money and bought himself a new blue serge suit and bowler hat. He laughed at the folly of men who, week in week out, left their hard-earned money with the publicans; and sometimes, to pass an idle hour, he took pencil and paper and calculated precisely how much he saved each week through being a teetotaller. Being a natural optimist he sometimes continued this calculation through the whole span of his prospective existence and the total was breathtaking. He would die worth hundreds.

If I had only known it, this was a bad sign; a sign he was becoming stuffed up with spiritual pride and imagining himself better than his neighbors. Sooner or later, the spiritual pride grew till it called for some form of celebration. Then he took a drink—not whisky, of course; nothing like that—just a glass of some harmless drink like lager beer. That was the end of Father. By the time he had taken the first he already realized he had made a fool of himself, took a second to forget it and a third to forget that he couldn’t forget, and at last came home reeling drunk. From this on it was “The Drunkard’s Progress,” as in the moral prints. Next day he stayed in from work with a sick head while Mother went off to make his excuses at the works, and inside a forthnight he was poor and savage and despondent again. Once he began he drank steadily through everything down to the kitchen clock. Mother and I knew all the phases and dreaded all the dangers. Funerals were one.

“I have to go to Dunphy’s to do a half-day’s work,” said Mother in distress. “Who’s to look after Larry?”

“I’ll look after Larry,” Father said graciously. “The little walk will do him good.”

There was no more to said, though we all knew I didn’t need anyone to look after me, and that I could quite well have

stayed at home and looked after Sonny, but I was being attached to the party to act as a brake on Father. As a brake I had never achieved anything, but Mother still had great faith in me.

Next day, when I got home from school, Father was there before me and made a cup of tea for both of us. He was very good at tea, but too heavy in the hand for anything else; the way he cut bread was shocking. Afterwards, we went down the hill to the church, Father wearing his best blue serge and a bowler cocked to one side of his head with the least suggestion of the masher. To his great joy he discovered Peter Crowley among the mourners. Peter was another danger signal, as I knew well from certain experiences after mass on Sunday morning: a mean man, as Mother said, who only went to funerals for the free drinks he could get at them. It turned out that he hadn’t even known Mr. Dooley! But Father had a sort of contemptuous regard for him as one of the foolish people who wasted their good money in public-houses when they could be saving it. Very little of his own money Peter Crowley wasted!

It was an excellent funeral from Father’s point of view. He had it all well studied before we set off after the hearse in the afternoon sunlight.

“Five carriages!” he exclaimed. “Five carriages and sixteen covered cars! There’s one alderman, two councillors and ‘tis known how many priests. I didn’t see a funeral like this from the road since Willie Mack, the publican, died.”

“Ah, he was well liked,” said Crowley in his dusky voice.

“My goodness, don’t I know that?” snapped Father. “Wasn’t the man my best friend? Two nights before he died—only two nights—he was over telling me the goings-on about the housing contract. Them fellow in the Corporation are night and day robbers. But even I never imagined he was as well connected as that.”

Father was stepping out like a boy, pleased with everything: the other mourners, and the fine houses along Sunday’s Well. I knew the danger signals were there in full force: a sunny day, a fine funeral, and a distinguished company of clerics and public men were bringing out all the natural vanity and flightiness of Father’s character. It was with something like genuine pleasure that he saw his old friend lowered into the grave; with the sense of having performed a duty and a pleasant awareness that however much he would miss poor Mr. Dooley in the long summer evenings, it was he and not poor Mr. Dooley who would do the missing.

“We’ll be making tracks before they break up,” he whispered to Crowley as the gravediggers tossed in the first shovelfuls of clay, and away he went, hopping like a goat from grassy hump to hump. The drivers, who were probably in the same state as himself, though without months of abstinence to put an edge to it, looked up hopefully.

“Are they nearly finished, Mick,” bawled one.

“All over now bar the last prayers,” trumpeted Father in the tone of one who brings news of great rejoicing.

The carriages passed us in a lather of dust several hundred yards from the public-house, and Father, whose feet gave him trouble in hot weather, quickened his pace, looking nervously over his shoulder for any sign of the main body of mourners crossing the hill. In a crowd like that a man might be kept waiting.

When we did reach the pub the carriages were drawn up outside, and solemn men in black ties were cautiously bringing out consolation to mysterious females whose hands reached out modestly from behind the drawn blinds of the coaches. Inside the pub there were only the drivers and a couple of shawly women. I felt if I was to act as a brake at all, this was the time, so I pulled Father by the coattails.

“Dadda, can’t we go home now?” I asked.

“Two minutes now,” he said, beaming affectionately. “Just a bottle of lemonade and we’ll go home.”

This was a bribe, and I knew it, but I was always a child of weak character. Father ordered lemonade and two pints. I was thirsty and swallowed my drink at once. But that wasn’t Father’s way. He had long months of abstinence behind him and an eternity of pleasure before. He took out his pipe, blew through it, filled it, and then lit it with loud pops, his eyes bulging above it. After that he deliberately turned his back on the pint, leaned one elbow on the counter in the attitude of a man who did not know there was a pint behind him, and deliberately brushed the tobacco from his palms. He had settled down for the evening. He was steadily working through all the important funerals he had ever attended. The carriages departed and the minor mourners drifted in till the pub was half full.

“Dada,” I said, pulling his coat again, “can’t we go home now?”

“Ah, your mother won’t be in for a long time yet,” he said benevolently enough. “Run out in the road and play, can’you?”

It struck me as very cool, the way grown-ups assumed that you could play all by yourself on a strange road. I began to get bored as I had so often been bored before. I knew Father was quite capable of lingering there till nightfall. I knew I might have to bring him home, blind drunk, down Blarney Lane, with all the old women at their doors, saying: “Mick Delaney is on it again.” I knew that my mother would be half crazy with anxiety; that next day Father wouldn’t go out to work; and before the end of the week she would be running down to the pawn with the clock under her shawl. I could never get over the lonesomeness of the kitchen without a clock.

I was still thirsty. I found if I stood on tiptoe I could just reach Father’s glass, and the idea occurred to me that it would be interesting to know what the contents were like. He had his back to it and wouldn’t notice. I took down the glass and sipped cautiously. It was a terrible disappointment. I was astonished that he could even drink such stuff. It looked as if he had never tried lemonade.

I should have advised him about lemonade but he was holding forth himself in great style. I heard him say that bands were a great addition to a funeral. He put his arms in the position of someone holding a rifle in reverse and hummed a few bars of Chopin’s Funeral March. Crowley nodded reverently. I took a longer drink and began to see that porter might have its advantages. I felt pleasantly elevated and philosophic. Father hummed a few bars of the Dead March in Saul. It was a nice pub and a very fine funeral, and I felt sure that poor Mr. Dooley in Heaven must be highly gratified. At the same time I thought they might have given him a band. As Father said, bands were a great addition.

But the wonderful thing about porter was the way it made you stand aside, or rather float aloft like a cherub rolling on a cloud, and watch yourself with your legs crossed, leaning against a bar counter, not worrying about trifles but thinking deep, serious, grown-up thoughts about life and death. Looking at yourself like that, you couldn’t help thinking after a while how funny you looked, and suddenly you got embarrassed and wanted to giggle. But by the time I had finished the pint, that phase too had passed; I found it hard to put back the glass, the counter seemed to have grown so high. Melancholia was supervening again.

“Well,” Father said reverently, reaching behind him for his drink, “God rest the poor man’s soul, wherever he is!” He stopped, looked first at the glass, and then at the people round him. “Hello,” he said in a fairly good-humored tone, as if he were just prepared to consider it a joke, even if it was in bad taste, “who was at this?”

There was silence for a moment while the publican and the old women looked first at Father and then at his glass.“There was no one at it, my good man,” one of the women said with a offended air. “Is it robbers you think we are?” “Ah, there’s no one here would do a thing like that, Mick,” said the publican in a shocked tone.

“Well, someone did it,” said Father, his smile beginning to wear off.

“If they did, they were them that were nearer it,” said the woman darkly, giving me a dirty look; and at the same moment the truth began to dawn on Father. I supposed I might have looked a bit starry-eyed. He bent and shook me.“Are you all right, Larry?” he asked in alarm.

Peter Crowley looked down at me and grinned.

“Could you beat that?” he exclaimed in a husky voice.

I could, and without difficulty. I started to get sick. Father jumped back in holy terror that I might spoil his good suit, and hastily opened the back door.

“Run! run! run!” he shouted.

I saw the sunlit wall outside with the ivy overhanging it, and ran. The intention was good but the performance was exaggerated, because I lurched right into the wall, hurting it badly, as it seemed to me. Being always very polite, I said “Pardon” before the second bout came on me. Father, still concerned for his suit, came up behind and cautiously held me while I got sick.

“That’s a good boy!” he said encouragingly. “You’ll be grand when you get that up.”

Begor, I was not grand! Grand was the last thing I was. I gave one unmerciful wail out of me as he steered me back to the pub and put me sitting on the bench near the shawlies. They drew themselves up with an offended air, still sore at the suggestion that they had drunk his pint.

“God help us!” moaned one, looking pityingly at me, “isn’t it the likes of them would be fathers?”

“Mick,” said the publican in alarm, spraying sawdust on my tracks, “that child isn’t supposed to be in here at all. You’d better take him home quick in case a bobby would see him.”

“Merciful God!” whimpered Father, raising his eyes to heaven and clapping his hands silently as he only did when distraught, “What misfortune was on me? Or what will his mother say? … If women might stop at home and look after their children themselves!” he added in a snarl for the benefit of the shawlies. “Are them carriages all gone, Bill?”

“The carriages are finished long ago, Mick,” replied the publican.

“I’ll take him home,” Father said despairingly…. “I’ll never bring you out again,” he threatened me. “Here,” he added, giving me the clean handkerchief from his breast pocket, “put that over your eye.”

The blood on the handkerchief was the first indication I got that I was cut, and instantly my temple began to throb and I set up another howl.

“Whisht, whisht, whisht!” Father said testily, steering me out the door. “One’d think you were killed. That’s nothing. We’ll wash it when we get home.”

“Steady now, old scout!” Crowley said, taking the other side of me. “You’ll be all right in a minute.”

I never met two men who knew less about the effects of drink. The first breath of fresh air and the warmth of the sun made me groggier than ever and I pitched and rolled between wind and tide till Father started to whimper again.

“God Almighty, and the whole road out! What misfortune was on me didn’t stop at my work! Can’t you walk straight?”

I couldn’t. I saw plain enough that, coaxed by the sunlight, every woman old and young in Blarney Lane was leaning over her half-door or sitting on her doorstep. They all stopped gabbling to gape at the strange spectacle of two sober, middle-aged men bringing home a drunken small boy with a cut over his eye. Father, torn between the shamefast desire to get me home as quick as he could, and the neighbourly need to explain that it wasn’t his fault, finally halted outside Mrs. Roche’s. There was a gang of old women outside a door at the opposite side of the road. I didn’t like the look of them from the first. They seemed altogether too interested in me. I leaned against the wall of Mrs. Roche’s cottage with my hands in my trousers pockets, thinking mournfully of poor Mr. Dooley in his cold grave on the Curragh, who would never walk down the road again, and, with great feeling, I began to sing a favorite song of

Father’s.

Though lost to Mononia and cold in the grave

He returns to Kincora no more.

“Wisha, the poor child!” Mrs. Roche said. “Haven’t he a lovely voice, God bless him!”

That was what I thought myself, so I was the more surprised when Father said “Whisht!” and raised a threatening finger at me. He didn’t seem to realize the appropriateness of the song, so I sang louder than ever.

“Whisht, I tell you!” he snapped, and then tried to work up a smile for Mrs. Roche’s benefit. “We’re nearly home now. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

But, drunk and all as I was, I knew better than to be carried home ignominiously like that.

“Now,” I said severely, “can’t you leave me alone? I can walk all right. “Tis only my head. All I want is a rest.”

“But you can rest at home in bed,” he said viciously, trying to pick me up, and I knew by the flush on his face that he was very vexed.

“Ah, Jasus,” I said crossly, “what do I want to go home for? Why the hell can’t you leave me alone?”

For some reason the gang of old women at the other side of the road thought this very funny. They nearly split their sides over it. A gassy fury began to expand in me at the thought that a fellow couldn’t have a drop taken without the whole neighbourhood coming out to make game of him.

“Who are ye laughing at?” I shouted, clenching my fists at them. “I’ll make ye laugh at the other side of yeer faces if ye don’t let me pass.”

They seemed to think this funnier still; I had never seen such ill-mannered people.

“Go away, ye bloody bitches!” I said.

“Whisht, whisht, whisht, I tell you!” snarled Father, abandoning all pretence of amusement and dragging me along behind him by the hand. I was maddened by the women’s shrieks of laughter. I was maddened by Father’s bullying. I tried to dig in my heels but he was too powerful for me, and I could only see the women by looking back over my shoulder.

“Take care or I’ll come back and show ye!” I shouted. “I’ll teach ye to let decent people pass. Fitter for ye to stop at home and wash yeer dirty faces.”

“Twill be all over the road,” whimpered Father. “Never again, never again, not if I lived to be a thousand!”

To this day I don’t know whether he was forswearing me or the drink. By way of a song suitable to my heroic mood I bawled “The Boys of Wexford,” as he dragged me in home. Crowley, knowing he was not safe, made off and Father undressed me and put me to bed. I couldn’t sleep because of the whirling in my head. It was very unpleasant, and I got sick again. Father came in with a wet cloth and mopped up after me. I lay in a fever, listening to him chopping sticks to start a fire. After that I heard him lay the table.

Suddenly the front door banged open and Mother stormed in with Sonny in her arms, not her usual gentle, timid self, but a wild, raging woman. It was clear that she had heard it all from the neighbours.

“Mick Delaney,” she cried hysterically, “what did you do to my son?”

“Whisht, woman, whisht, whisht!” he hissed, dancing from one foot to the other. “Do you want the whole road to hear?”“Ah,” she said with a horrifying laugh, “the road knows all about it by this time. The road knows the way you filled your unfortunate innocent child with drink to make sport for you and that other rotten, filthy brute.”

“But I gave him no drink,” he shouted, aghast at the horrifying interpretation the neighbours had chosen to give his misfortune. “He took it while my back was turned. What the hell do you think I am?”

“Ah,” she replied bitterly, “everyone knows what you are now. God forgive you, wasting our hard-earned few ha’pence on drink, and bringing up your child to be a drunken corner-boy like yourself.”

Then she swept into the bedroom and threw herself on her knees by the bed. She moaned when she saw the gash over my eye. In the kitchen Sonny set up a loud bawl on his own, and a moment later Father appeared in the bedroom door with his cap over his eyes, wearing an expression of the most intense self-pity.

“That’s a nice way to talk to me after all I went through,” he whined. “That’s a nice accusation, that I was drinking. Not one drop of drink crossed my lips the whole day. How could it when he drank it all? I’m the one that ought to be pitied, with my day ruined on me, and I after being made a show for the whole road.”

But the next morning, when he got up and went out quietly to work with his dinner-basket, Mother threw herself at me in the bed and kissed me. It seemed it was all my doing, and I was being given a holiday till my eye got better.

“My brave little man!” she said with her eyes shining. “It was God did it you were there. You were his guardian angel.”

古代晋灵公不君、齐晋鞌之战原文及译文

晋灵公不君(宣公二年) 原文: 晋灵公不君。厚敛以雕墙。从台上弹人,而观其辟丸也。宰夫胹熊蹯不熟,杀之,寘诸畚,使妇人载以过朝。赵盾、士季见其手,问其故而患之。将谏,士季曰:“谏而不入,则莫之继也。会请先,不入,则子继之。”三进及溜,而后视之,曰:“吾知所过矣,将改之。”稽首而对曰:“人谁无过?过而能改,善莫大焉。诗曰:‘靡不有初,鲜克有终。’夫如是,则能补过者鲜矣。君能有终,则社稷之固也,岂惟群臣赖之。又曰:‘衮职有阙,惟仲山甫补之。’能补过也。君能补过,衮不废矣。” 犹不改。宣子骤谏,公患之,使鉏麑贼之。晨往,寝门辟矣,盛服将朝。尚早,坐而假寐。麑退,叹而言曰:“不忘恭敬,民之主也。贼民之主,不忠;弃君之命,不信。有一于此,不如死也!”触槐而死。 秋九月,晋侯饮赵盾酒,伏甲将攻之。其右提弥明知之,趋登曰:“臣侍君宴,过三爵,非礼也。”遂扶以下。公嗾夫獒焉。明搏而杀之。盾曰:“弃人用犬,虽猛何为!”斗且出。提弥明死之。 初,宣子田于首山,舍于翳桑。见灵辄饿,问其病。曰:“不食三日矣!”食之,舍其半。问之,曰:“宦三年矣,未知母之存否。今近焉,请以遗之。”使尽之,而为之箪食与肉,寘诸橐以与之。既而与为公介,倒戟以御公徒,而免之。问何故,对曰:“翳桑之饿人也。”问其名居,不告而退。——遂自亡也。 乙丑,赵穿①攻灵公于桃园。宣子未出山而复。大史书曰:“赵盾弑其君。”以示于朝。宣子曰:“不然。”对曰:“子为正卿,亡不越竟,反不讨贼,非子而谁?”宣子曰:“呜呼!‘我之怀矣,自诒伊戚。’其我之谓矣。” 孔子曰:“董狐,古之良史也,书法不隐。赵宣子,古之良大夫也,为法受恶。惜也,越竞乃免。” 译文: 晋灵公不行君王之道。他向人民收取沉重的税赋以雕饰宫墙。他从高台上用弹弓弹人,然后观赏他们躲避弹丸的样子。他的厨子做熊掌,没有炖熟,晋灵公就把他杀了,把他的尸体装在草筐中,让宫女用车载着经过朝廷。赵盾和士季看到露出来的手臂,询问原由后感到很忧虑。他们准备向晋灵公进谏,士季说:“如果您去进谏而君王不听,那就没有人能够再接着进谏了。还请让我先来吧,不行的话,您再接着来。”士季往前走了三回,行了三回礼,一直到屋檐下,晋灵公才抬头看他。晋灵公说:“我知道我的过错了,我会改过的。”士季叩头回答道:“谁能没有过错呢?有过错而能改掉,这就是最大的善事了。《诗经》说:‘没有人向善没有一个开始的,但却很少有坚持到底的。’如果是这样,那么能弥补过失的人是很少的。您如能坚持向善,那么江山就稳固了,不只是大臣们有所依靠啊。

如何翻译古文

如何翻译古文 学习古代汉语,需要经常把古文译成现代汉语。因为古文今译的过程是加深理解和全面运用古汉语知识解决实际问题的过程,也是综合考察古代汉语水平的过程。学习古代汉语,应该重视古文翻译的训练。 古文翻译的要求一般归纳为信、达、雅三项。“信”是指译文要准确地反映原作的含义,避免曲解原文内容。“达”是指译文应该通顺、晓畅,符合现代汉语语法规范。“信”和“达”是紧密相关的。脱离了“信”而求“达”,不能称为翻译;只求“信”而不顾“达”,也不是好的译文。因此“信”和“达”是文言文翻译的基本要求。“雅”是指译文不仅准确、通顺,而且生动、优美,能再现原作的风格神韵。这是很高的要求,在目前学习阶段,我们只要能做到“信”和“达”就可以了。 做好古文翻译,重要的问题是准确地理解古文,这是翻译的基础。但翻译方法也很重要。这里主要谈谈翻译方法方面的问题。 一、直译和意译 直译和意译是古文今译的两大类型,也是两种不同的今译方法。 1.关于直译。所谓直译,是指紧扣原文,按原文的字词和句子进行对等翻译的今译方法。它要求忠实于原文,一丝不苟,确切表达原意,保持原文的本来面貌。例如: 原文:樊迟请学稼,子曰:“吾不如老农。”请学为圃。子曰:“吾不如老圃。”(《论语?子路》) 译文:樊迟请求学种庄稼。孔子道:“我不如老农民。”又请求学种菜蔬。孔子道:“我不如老菜农。”(杨伯峻《论语译注》) 原文:齐宣王问曰:“汤放桀,武王伐纣,有诸?”(《孟子?梁惠王下》) 译文:齐宣王问道:“商汤流放夏桀,武王讨伐殷纣,真有这回事吗?(杨伯峻《孟子译注》) 上面两段译文紧扣原文,字词落实,句法结构基本上与原文对等,属于直译。 但对直译又不能作简单化理解。由于古今汉语在文字、词汇、语法等方面的差异,今译时对原文作一些适当的调整,是必要的,并不破坏直译。例如: 原文:逐之,三周华不注。(《齐晋鞌之战》) 译文:〔晋军〕追赶齐军,围着华不注山绕了三圈。

齐晋鞌之战原文和译文

鞌之战选自《左传》又名《鞍之战》原文:楚癸酉,师陈于鞌(1)。邴夏御侯,逢丑父为右②。晋解张御克,郑丘缓为右(3)。侯日:“余姑翦灭此而朝食(4)”。不介马而驰之⑤。克伤于矢,流血及屦2 未尽∧6),曰:“余病矣(7)!”张侯曰:“自始合(8),而矢贯余手及肘(9),余折以御,左轮朱殷(10),岂敢言病吾子忍之!”缓曰:“自始合,苟有险,余必下推车,子岂_识之(11)然子病矣!”张侯曰:“师之耳目,在吾旗鼓,进退从之。此车一人殿之(12),可以集事(13),若之何其以病败君之大事也擐甲执兵(14),固即死也(15);病未及死,吾子勉之(16)!”左并辔(17) ,右援拐鼓(18)。马逸不能止(19),师从之,师败绩。逐之,三周华不注(20) 韩厥梦子舆谓己曰:“旦辟左右!”故中御而从齐侯。邴夏曰:“射其御者,君子也。”公曰:“谓之君子而射之,非礼也。”射其左,越于车下;射其右,毙于车中。綦毋张丧车,从韩厥,曰:“请寓乘。”从左右,皆肘之,使立于后。韩厥俛,定其右。逢丑父与公易位。将及华泉,骖絓于木而止。丑父寝于轏中,蛇出于其下,以肱击之,伤而匿之,故不能推车而及。韩厥执絷马前,再拜稽首,奉觞加璧以进,曰:“寡君使群臣为鲁、卫请,曰:‘无令舆师陷入君地。’下臣不幸,属当戎行,无所逃隐。且惧奔辟而忝两君,臣辱戎士,敢告不敏,摄官承乏。” 丑父使公下,如华泉取饮。郑周父御佐车,宛茷为右,载齐侯以免。韩厥献丑父,郤献子将戮之。呼曰:“自今无有代其君任患者,有一于此,将为戮乎”郤子曰:“人不难以死免其君,我戮之不祥。赦之,以劝事君者。”乃免之。译文1:在癸酉这天,双方的军队在鞌这个地方摆开了阵势。齐国一方是邴夏为齐侯赶车,逢丑父当车右。晋军一方是解张为主帅郤克赶车,郑丘缓当车右。齐侯说:“我姑且消灭了这些人再吃早饭。”不给马披甲就冲向了晋军。郤克被箭射伤,血流到了鞋上,但是仍不停止擂鼓继续指挥战斗。他说:“我受重伤了。”解张说:“从一开始接战,一只箭就射穿了我的手和肘,左边的车轮都被我的血染成了黑红色,我哪敢说受伤您忍着点吧!”郑丘缓说:“从一开始接战,如果遇到道路不平的地方,我必定(冒着生命危险)下去推车,您难道了解这些吗不过,您真是受重伤了。”daier 解张说:“军队的耳朵和眼睛,都集中在我们的战旗和鼓声,前进后退都要听从它。这辆车上还有一个人镇守住它,战事就可以成功。为什么为了伤痛而败坏国君的大事呢身披盔甲,手执武器,本来就是去走向死亡,伤痛还没到死的地步,您还是尽力而为吧。”一边说,一边用左手把右手的缰绳攥在一起,用空出的右手抓过郤克手中的鼓棰就擂起鼓来。(由于一手控马,)马飞快奔跑而不能停止,晋军队伍跟着指挥车冲上去,把齐军打得打败。晋军随即追赶齐军,三次围绕着华不注山奔跑。韩厥梦见他去世的父亲对他说:“明天早晨作战时要避开战车左边和右边的位置。”因此韩厥就站在中间担任赶车的来追赶齐侯的战车。邴夏说:“射那个赶车的,他是个君子。”齐侯说: “称他为君子却又去射他,这不合于礼。”daier 于是射车左,车左中箭掉下了车。又射右边的,车右也中箭倒在了车里。(晋军的)将军綦毋张损坏了自己的战车,跟在韩厥的车后说: “请允许我搭乗你的战车。”他上车后,无论是站在车的左边,还是站在车的右边,韩厥都用肘推他,让他站在自己身后——战车的中间。韩厥又低下头安定了一下受伤倒在车中的那位自己的车右。于是逢丑父和齐侯(乘韩厥低头之机)互相调换了位置。将要到达华泉时,齐侯战车的骖马被树木绊住而不能继续逃跑而停了下来。(头天晚上)逢丑父睡在栈车里,有一条蛇从他身子底下爬出来,他用小臂去打蛇,小臂受伤,但他(为了能当车右)隐瞒了这件事。由于这样,他不能用臂推车前进,因而被韩厥追上了。韩厥拿着拴马绳走到齐侯的马前,两次下拜并行稽首礼,捧着一杯酒并加上一块玉璧给齐侯送上去,

《鞌之战》阅读答案(附翻译)原文及翻译

《鞌之战》阅读答案(附翻译)原文及翻 译 鞌之战[1] 选自《左传成公二年(即公元前589年)》 【原文】 癸酉,师陈于鞌[2]。邴夏御齐侯[3],逢丑父为右[4]。晋解张御郤克,郑丘缓为右[5]。齐侯曰:余姑翦灭此而朝食[6]。不介马而驰之[7]。郤克伤于矢,流血及屦,未绝鼓音[8],曰:余病[9]矣!张侯[10]曰:自始合,而矢贯余手及肘[11],余折以御,左轮朱殷[12],岂敢言病。吾子[13]忍之!缓曰:自始合,苟有险[14],余必下推车,子岂识之[15]?然子病矣!张侯曰:师之耳目,在吾旗鼓,进退从之[16]。此车一人殿之[17],可以集事[18],若之何其以病败君之大事也[19]?擐甲执兵,固即死也[20]。病未及死,吾子勉之[21]!左并辔[22],右援枹而鼓[23],马逸不能止[24],师从之。齐师败绩[25]。逐之,三周华不注[26]。 【注释】 [1]鞌之战:春秋时期的著名战役之一。战争的实质是齐、晋争霸。由于齐侯骄傲轻敌,而晋军同仇敌忾、士气旺盛,战役以齐败晋胜而告终。鞌:通鞍,齐国地名,在今山东济南西北。 [2]癸酉:成公二年的六月十七日。师,指齐晋两国军队。陈,

列阵,摆开阵势。 [3]邴夏:齐国大夫。御,动词,驾车。御齐侯,给齐侯驾车。齐侯,齐国国君,指齐顷公。 [4]逢丑父:齐国大夫。右:车右。 [5]解张、郑丘缓:都是晋臣,郑丘是复姓。郤(x )克,晋国大夫,是这次战争中晋军的主帅。又称郤献子、郤子等。 [6]姑:副词,姑且。翦灭:消灭,灭掉。朝食:早饭。这里是吃早饭的意思。这句话是成语灭此朝食的出处。 [7]不介马:不给马披甲。介:甲。这里用作动词,披甲。驰之:驱马追击敌人。之:代词,指晋军。 [8] 未绝鼓音:鼓声不断。古代车战,主帅居中,亲掌旗鼓,指挥军队。兵以鼓进,击鼓是进军的号令。 [9] 病:负伤。 [10]张侯,即解张。张是字,侯是名,人名、字连用,先字后名。 [11]合:交战。贯:穿。肘:胳膊。 [12]朱:大红色。殷:深红色、黑红色。 [13]吾子:您,尊敬。比说子更亲切。 [14]苟:连词,表示假设。险:险阻,指难走的路。 [15]识:知道。之,代词,代苟有险,余必下推车这件事,可不译。 [16]师之耳目:军队的耳、目(指注意力)。在吾旗鼓:在我们

《鞌之战》阅读答案附翻译

《鞌之战》阅读答案(附翻译) 《鞌之战》阅读答案(附翻译) 鞌之战[1] 选自《左传·成公二年(即公元前589年)》 【原文】 癸酉,师陈于鞌[2]。邴夏御齐侯[3],逢丑父为右[4]。晋解张御郤克,郑丘缓为右[5]。齐侯曰:“余姑 翦灭此而朝食[6]。”不介马而驰之[7]。郤克伤于矢, 流血及屦,未绝鼓音[8],曰:“余病[9]矣!”张侯[10]曰:“自始合,而矢贯余手及肘[11],余折以御,左轮 朱殷[12],岂敢言病。吾子[13]忍之!”缓曰:“自始合,苟有险[14],余必下推车,子岂识之[15]?——然 子病矣!”张侯曰:“师之耳目,在吾旗鼓,进退从之[16]。此车一人殿之[17],可以集事[18],若之何其以 病败君之大事也[19]?擐甲执兵,固即死也[20]。病未 及死,吾子勉之[21]!”左并辔[22],右援枹而鼓[23],马逸不能止[24],师从之。齐师败绩[25]。逐之,三周 华不注[26]。 【注释】 [1]鞌之战:春秋时期的著名战役之一。战争的实质是齐、晋争霸。由于齐侯骄傲轻敌,而晋军同仇敌忾、 士气旺盛,战役以齐败晋胜而告终。鞌:通“鞍”,齐

国地名,在今山东济南西北。 [2]癸酉:成公二年的六月十七日。师,指齐晋两国军队。陈,列阵,摆开阵势。 [3]邴夏:齐国大夫。御,动词,驾车。御齐侯,给齐侯驾车。齐侯,齐国国君,指齐顷公。 [4]逢丑父:齐国大夫。右:车右。 [5]解张、郑丘缓:都是晋臣,“郑丘”是复姓。郤(xì)克,晋国大夫,是这次战争中晋军的主帅。又称郤献子、郤子等。 [6]姑:副词,姑且。翦灭:消灭,灭掉。朝食:早饭。这里是“吃早饭”的意思。这句话是成语“灭此朝食”的出处。 [7]不介马:不给马披甲。介:甲。这里用作动词,披甲。驰之:驱马追击敌人。之:代词,指晋军。 [8]未绝鼓音:鼓声不断。古代车战,主帅居中,亲掌旗鼓,指挥军队。“兵以鼓进”,击鼓是进军的号令。 [9]病:负伤。 [10]张侯,即解张。“张”是字,“侯”是名,人名、字连用,先字后名。 [11]合:交战。贯:穿。肘:胳膊。 [12]朱:大红色。殷:深红色、黑红色。 [13]吾子:您,尊敬。比说“子”更亲切。

左传《齐晋鞌之战》原文+翻译+注释

左传《齐晋鞌之战》原文+翻译+注释 楚癸酉,师陈于鞌(1)。邴夏御侯,逢丑父为右②。晋解张御克,郑丘缓 为右(3)。侯日:“余姑翦灭此而朝食(4)”。不介马而驰之⑤。克伤于矢, 流血及屦2未尽∧?6),曰:“余病矣(7)!”张侯曰:“自始合(8),而矢贯余手 及肘(9),余折以御,左轮朱殷(10),岂敢言病?吾子忍之!”缓曰:“自始合,苟有险,余必下推车,子岂_识之(11)?然子病矣!”张侯曰:“师之耳目,在 吾旗鼓,进退从之。此车一人殿之(12),可以集事(13),若之何其以病败君之大事也?擐甲执兵(14),固即死也(15);病未及死,吾子勉之(16)!”左并辔(17) ,右援拐?鼓(18)。马逸不能止(19),师从之,师败绩。逐之,三周华不注(20) 韩厥梦子舆谓己曰:“旦辟左右!”故中御而从齐侯。邴夏曰:“射其御者,君子也。”公曰:“谓之君子而射之,非礼也。”射其左,越于车下;射其右,毙于车中。綦毋张丧车,从韩厥,曰:“请寓乘。”从左右,皆肘之,使立于后。韩厥俛,定其右。逢丑父与公易位。将及华泉,骖絓于木而止。丑父寝于轏中,蛇出于其下,以肱击之,伤而匿之,故不能推车而及。韩厥执絷马前,再拜稽首,奉觞加璧以进,曰:“寡君使群臣为鲁、卫请,曰:‘无令舆师陷入君地。’下臣不幸,属当戎行,无所逃隐。且惧奔辟而忝两君,臣辱戎士,敢告不敏,摄官承乏。”丑父使公下,如华泉取饮。郑周父御佐车,宛茷为右,载齐侯以免。韩厥献丑父,郤献子将戮之。呼曰:“自今无有代其君任患者,有一于此,将为戮乎?”郤子曰:“人不难以死免其君,我戮之不祥。赦之,以劝事君者。”乃免之。 在癸酉这天,双方的军队在鞌这个地方摆开了阵势。齐国一方是邴夏为齐侯赶车,逢丑父当车右。晋军一方是解张为主帅郤克赶车,郑丘缓当车右。齐侯说:“我姑且消灭了这些人再吃早饭。”不给马披甲就冲向了晋军。郤克被箭射伤,血流到了鞋上,但是仍不停止擂鼓继续指挥战斗。他说:“我受重伤了。”解张说:“从一开始接战,一只箭就射穿了我的手和肘,左边的车轮都被我的血染成了黑红色,我哪敢说受伤?您忍着点吧!”郑丘缓说:“从一开始接战,如果遇到道路不平的地方,我必定(冒着生命危险)下去推车,您难道了解这些吗?不过,您真是受重伤了。”daier解张说:“军队的耳朵和眼睛,都集中在我们的战旗和鼓声,前进后退都要听从它。这辆车上还有一个人镇守住它,战事就可以成功。为什么为了伤痛而败坏国君的大事呢?身披盔甲,手执武器,本来就是去走向死亡,伤痛还没到死的地步,您还是尽力而为吧。”一边说,一边用左手把右手的缰绳攥在一起,用空出的右手抓过郤克手中的鼓棰就擂起鼓来。(由于一手控马,)马飞快奔跑而不能停止,晋军队伍跟着指挥车冲上去,把齐军打得打败。晋军随即追赶齐军,三次围绕着华不注山奔跑。

《鞌之战》阅读答案(附翻译)

鞌之战[1]选自《左传·成公二年(即公元前589年)》【原文】癸酉,师陈于鞌[2]。邴夏御齐侯[3],逢丑父为右[4]。晋解张御郤克,郑丘缓为右[5]。齐侯曰:“余姑翦灭此而朝食[6]。”不介马而驰之[7]。郤克伤于矢,流血及屦,未绝鼓音[8],曰:“余病[9]矣!”张侯[10]曰:“自始合,而矢贯余手及肘[11],余折以御,左轮朱殷[12],岂敢言病。吾子[13]忍之!”缓曰:“自始合,苟有险[14],余必下推车,子岂识之[15]?——然子病矣!”张侯曰:“师之耳目,在吾旗鼓,进退从之[16]。此车一人殿之[17],可以集事[18],若之何其以病败君之大事也[19]?擐甲执兵,固即死也[20]。病未及死,吾子勉之[21]!”左并辔[22],右援枹而鼓[23],马逸不能止[24],师从之。齐师败绩[25]。逐之,三周华不注[26]。【注释】 [1]鞌之战:春秋时期的著名战役之一。战争的实质是齐、晋争霸。由于齐侯骄傲轻敌,而晋军同仇敌忾、士气旺盛,战役以齐败晋胜而告终。鞌:通“鞍”,齐国地名,在今山东济南西北。 [2]癸酉:成公二年的六月十七日。师,指齐晋两国军队。陈,列阵,摆开阵势。 [3]邴夏:齐国大夫。御,动词,驾车。御齐侯,给齐侯驾车。齐侯,齐国国君,指齐顷公。 [4]逢丑父:齐国大夫。右:车右。 [5]解张、郑丘缓:都是晋臣,“郑丘”是复姓。郤(xì)克,晋国大夫,是这次战争中晋军的主帅。又称郤献子、郤子等。 [6]姑:副词,姑且。翦灭:消灭,灭掉。朝食:早饭。这里是“吃早饭”的意思。这句话是成语“灭此朝食”的出处。 [7]不介马:不给马披甲。介:甲。这里用作动词,披甲。驰之:驱马追击敌人。之:代词,指晋军。 [8] 未绝鼓音:鼓声不断。古代车战,主帅居中,亲掌旗鼓,指挥军队。“兵以鼓进”,击鼓是进军的号令。 [9] 病:负伤。 [10]张侯,即解张。“张”是字,“侯”是名,人名、字连用,先字后名。 [11]合:交战。贯:穿。肘:胳膊。 [12]朱:大红色。殷:深红色、黑红色。 [13]吾子:您,尊敬。比说“子”更亲切。 [14]苟:连词,表示假设。险:险阻,指难走的路。 [15]识:知道。之,代词,代“苟有险,余必下推车”这件事,可不译。 [16]师之耳目:军队的耳、目(指注意力)。在吾旗鼓:在我们的旗子和鼓声上。进退从之:前进、后退都听从它们。 [17]殿之:镇守它。殿:镇守。 [18]可以集事:可以(之)集事,可以靠它(主帅的车)成事。集事:成事,指战事成功。 [19]若之何:固定格式,一般相当于“对……怎么办”“怎么办”。这里是和语助词“其”配合,放在谓语动词前加强反问,相当于“怎么”“怎么能”。以,介词,因为。败,坏,毁坏。君,国君。大事,感情。古代国家大事有两件:祭祀与战争。这里指战争。 [20]擐:穿上。执兵,拿起武器。 [21]勉,努力。 [22]并,动词,合并。辔(pèi):马缰绳。古代一般是四匹马拉一车,共八条马缰绳,两边的两条系在车上,六条在御者手中,御者双手执之。“左并辔”是说解张把马缰绳全合并到左手里握着。 [23]援:拿过来。枹(fú):击鼓槌。鼓:动词,敲鼓。 [24]逸:奔跑,狂奔。 [25] 败绩:大败。 [26] 周:环绕。华不注:山名,在今山东济南东北。【译文】六月十七日,齐晋两军在鞌地摆开阵势。邴夏为齐侯驾车,逢丑父担任车右做齐侯的护卫。晋军解张替郤克驾车,郑丘缓做了郤克的护卫。齐侯说:“我姑且消灭了晋军再吃早饭!”齐军没有给马披甲就驱车进击晋军。郤克被箭射伤,血一直流到鞋上,但他一直没有停止击鼓进。并说:“我受重伤了!”解张说:“从开始交战,箭就射穿了我的手和胳膊肘,我折断箭杆继续驾车,左边的车轮被血染得深红色,哪里敢说受了重伤?您还是忍住吧。”郑丘缓说:“从开始交战,只要遇到险峻难走的路,我必定要下去推车,您哪里知道这种情况呢?——不过您确实受重伤了!”解张说:“我们的旗帜和战鼓是军队的耳目,或进或退都听从旗鼓指挥。这辆战车只要一人镇守,就可以凭它成事。怎么能因为受伤而败坏国君的大事呢?穿上铠甲,拿起武器,本来就抱定了必死的决心。您虽然受了重伤还没有到死的地步,您就尽最大的努力啊!”于是左手把马缰绳全部握在一起,右手取过鼓槌来击鼓。战马狂奔不止,晋军跟着主帅的车前进。齐军大败,晋军追击齐军,绕着华不注山追了三圈。

齐晋鞌之战的全文翻译

齐晋鞌之战的全文翻译 1、版本一 晋鞌之战(成公二年) 作者:左丘明 【原文】 楚癸酉,师陈于鞌(1)。邴夏御侯,逢丑父为右②。晋解张御克,郑丘缓为右(3)。侯日:“余姑翦灭此而朝食(4)”。不介马而驰之⑤。克伤于矢,流血及屨2未尽∧?6),曰:“余病矣(7)!”张侯曰:“自始合(8),而矢贯余手及肘(9),余折以御,左轮朱殷(10),岂敢言病?吾子忍之!”缓曰:“自始合,苟有险,余必下推车,子岂_识之(11)?然子病矣!”张侯曰:“师之耳目,在吾旗鼓,进退从之。此车一人殿之(12),可以集事(13),若之何其以病败君之大事也?擐甲执兵(14),固即死也(15);病未及死,吾子勉之(16)!”左并辔(17),右援枴?鼓(18)。马逸不能止(19),师从之,师败绩。逐之,三周华不注(20)。 【注释】 ①师:指、晋两国军队。羞:同“鞍”,国地名,在今山东济南西北。②邴(bing)夏:国大夫。侯:顷公。逢丑父:国大夫。右:车右。③解张:晋国大夫,又称张侯。克:即献子,晋国大大,晋军主帅。郑丘缓:晋国大夫,姓郑丘,名缓。(4)姑:暂且。翦灭:消灭。此;指晋军。朝食;吃早饭。⑤不介马:不给马披甲。驰之:驱马追击敌人。(6)未绝鼓音:作战时,主帅亲自掌旗鼓,指挥三军,

所以克受伤后仍然击鼓不停。(7)病:负伤。(8)合:交战。(9)贯:射。穿。肘:胳膊。(10)朱:大红色。殷:深红色。(11)识:知道。 (12) 殿:镇守。(13)集事:成事。(14)擐(huan):穿上。兵:武器。 (15) 即:就。即死:就死,赴死。(16)勉:努力。(17)并:合在一起。辔(Pei):马组绳。(18)援:拉过来。枴〉襲):鼓槌。(19)逸:奔跑,狂奔。(20)周:环绕华不注:山名,在今山东济南东北。 【译文】 六月十七日,国和晋国的军队在鞌摆开了阵势。邴夏为顷公驾车,逢丑父担任车右。晋国解张为卻克驾车,郑丘缓担任车右。顷公说:“我暂且先消灭了这些敌人再吃早饭。”军没有给马披甲就驱车进击晋军。卻克被箭射伤,血流到鞋子上,但他一直没有停止击鼓,并说:“我受伤了!”解张说:“从开始交战,我的手和胳膊就被箭射穿了,我折断了箭,继续驾车,左边的车轮因被血染成了深红色,哪里敢说受了伤?您还是忍住吧?”郑丘缓说:“从开始交战,只要遇到险阻,我一定要下去推车,您哪里知道这些?可是您却受伤了!”解张说:“我们的旗帜和战鼓是军队的耳目,军队进攻和后撤都听从旗鼓指挥。这辆战车只要一个人镇守,就可以成功,怎么能因为负了伤而败坏国君的大事呢?穿上铠甲,拿起武器,本来就是去赴死;受伤不到死的地步,您要奋力而为啊!”解张左手把马绳全部握在一起,右手拿过鼓槌来击鼓。战马狂奔不已,晋军跟著主帅的车前进,军大败,晋军追击军,围著华不注山追了三圈。 2、版本二

齐晋鞌之战原文和译文

创作编号:BG7531400019813488897SX 创作者:别如克* 鞌之战选自《左传》又名《鞍之战》原文:楚癸酉,师陈于鞌(1)。邴夏御侯,逢丑父为右②。晋解张御克,郑丘缓为右(3)。侯日:“余姑翦灭此而朝食(4)”。不介马而驰之⑤。克伤于矢,流血及屦2 未尽∧?6),曰:“余病矣(7)!”张侯曰:“自始合(8),而矢贯余手及肘(9),余折以御,左轮朱殷(10),岂敢言病?吾子忍之!”缓曰:“自始合,苟有险,余必下推车,子岂_识之(11)?然子病矣!”张侯曰:“师之耳目,在吾旗鼓,进退从之。此车一人殿之(12),可以集事(13),若之何其以病败君之大事也?擐甲执兵(14),固即死也(15);病未及死,吾子勉之(16)!”左并辔(17) ,右援拐?鼓(18)。马逸不能止(19),师从之,师败绩。逐之,三周华不注(20) 韩厥梦子舆谓己曰:“旦辟左右!”故中御而从齐侯。邴夏曰:“射其御者,君子也。”公曰:“谓之君子而射之,非礼也。”射其左,越于车下;射其右,毙于车中。綦毋张丧车,从韩厥,曰:“请寓乘。”从左右,皆肘之,使立于后。韩厥俛,定其右。逢丑父与公易位。将及华泉,骖絓于木而止。丑父寝于轏中,蛇出于其下,以肱击之,伤而匿之,故不能推车而及。韩厥执絷马前,再拜稽首,奉觞加璧以进,曰:“寡君使群臣为鲁、卫请,曰:‘无令舆师陷入君地。’下臣不幸,属当戎行,无所逃隐。且惧奔辟而忝两君,臣辱戎士,敢告不敏,摄官承乏。” 丑父使公下,如华泉取饮。郑周父御佐车,宛茷为右,载齐侯以免。韩厥献丑父,郤献子将戮之。呼曰:“自今无有代其君任患者,有一于此,将为戮乎?”郤子曰:“人不难以死免其君,我戮之不祥。赦之,以劝事君者。”乃免之。译文1:在癸酉这天,双方的军队在鞌这个地方摆开了阵势。齐国一方是邴夏为齐侯赶车,逢丑父当车右。晋军一方是解张为主帅郤克赶车,郑丘缓当车右。齐侯说:“我姑且消灭了这些人再吃早饭。”不给马披甲就冲向了晋军。郤克被箭射伤,血流到了鞋上,但是仍不停止擂鼓继续指挥战斗。他说:“我受重伤了。”解张说:“从一开始接战,一只箭就射穿了我的手和肘,左边的车轮都被我的血染成了黑红色,我哪敢说受伤?您忍着点吧!”郑丘缓说:“从一开始接战,如果遇到道路不平的地方,我必定(冒着生命危险)下去推车,您难道了解这些吗?不过,您真是受重伤了。”daier 解张说:“军队的耳朵和眼睛,都集中在我们的战旗和鼓声,前进后退都要听从它。这辆车上还有一个人镇守住它,战事就可以成功。为什么为了伤痛而败坏国君的大事呢?身披盔甲,手执武器,本来就是去走向死亡,伤痛还没到死的地步,您还是尽力而为吧。”一边说,一边用左手把右手的缰绳攥在一起,用空出的右手抓过郤克手中的鼓棰就擂起鼓来。(由于一手控马,)马飞快奔跑而不能停止,晋军队伍跟着指挥车冲上去,把齐军打得打败。晋军随即追赶齐军,三次围绕着华不注山奔跑。韩厥梦见他去世的父亲对他说:“明天早晨作战时要避开

齐晋鞌之战(原文和译文)

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