第二十六届“第二十六届“韩素音青年翻译奖”竞赛”竞赛原文
韩素音青翻译奖赛中文原文及参考译文和解析
老来乐Delights in Growing Old六十整岁望七十岁如攀高山。
不料七十岁居然过了。
又想八十岁是难于上青天，可望不可即了。
岂知八十岁又过了。
老汉今年八十二矣。
这是照传统算法，务虚不务实。
现在不是提倡尊重传统吗?At the age of sixty I longed for a life span of seventy, a goal as difficult as a summit to be reached. Who would expect that I had reached it? Then I dreamed of living to be eighty, a target in sight but as inaccessible as Heaven. Out of my anticipation, I had hit it. As a matter of fact, I am now an old man of eighty-two. Such longevity is a grant bestowed by Nature; though nominal and not real, yet it conforms to our tradition. Is it not advocated to pay respect to nowadays?老年多半能悟道。
孔子说“天下有道”。
老子说“道可道”。
《圣经》说“太初有道”。
佛教说“邪魔外道”。
我老了，不免胡思乱想，胡说八道，自觉悟出一条真理: 老年是广阔天地，是可以大有作为的。
An old man is said to understand the Way most probably: the Way of good administration as put forth by Confucius, the Way that can be explained as suggested by Laotzu, the Word (Way) in the very beginning as written in the Bible and the Way of pagans as denounced by theBuddhists. As I am growing old, I can't help being given to flights of fancy and having my own Way of creating stories. However I have come to realize the truth: my old age serves as a vast world in which I can still have my talents employed fully and developed completely.七十岁开始可以诸事不做而拿退休金，不愁没有一碗饭吃，自由自在，自得其乐。
历届韩素音翻译大奖赛竞赛原文及译文
历届韩素音翻译大奖赛竞赛原文及译文历届韩素音翻译大奖赛竞赛原文及译文英译汉部分 (3)Hidden within Technology‘s Empire, a Republic of Letters (3)隐藏于技术帝国的文学界 (3)"Why Measure Life in Heartbeats?" (8)何必以心跳定生死？ (9)美(节选) (11)The Literature of Knowledge and the Literature of Power byThomas De Quincey (16)知识文学与力量文学托马斯.昆西 (16)An Experience of Aesthetics by Robert Ginsberg (18)审美的体验罗伯特.金斯伯格 (18)A Person Who Apologizes Has the Moral Ball in His Court by Paul Johnson (21)谁给别人道歉，谁就在道义上掌握了主动保罗.约翰逊 (21)On Going Home by Joan Didion (25)回家琼.狄迪恩 (25)The Making of Ashenden (Excerpt) by Stanley Elkin (28)艾兴登其人（节选）斯坦利.埃尔金 (28)Beyond Life (34)超越生命[美] 卡贝尔著 (34)Envy by Samuel Johnson (39)论嫉妒[英]塞缪尔.约翰逊著 (39)《中国翻译》第一届“青年有奖翻译比赛”（1986）竞赛原文及参考译文（英译汉） (41)Sunday (41)星期天 (42)四川外语学院“语言桥杯”翻译大赛获奖译文选登 (44)第七届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛获奖译文选登 (44)The Woods: A Meditation (Excerpt) (46)林间心语（节选） (47)第六届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛获奖译文选登 (50)第五届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛原文及获奖译文选登 (52)第四届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛原文、参考译文及获奖译文选登 (54) When the Sun Stood Still (54)永恒夏日 (55)CASIO杯翻译竞赛原文及参考译文 (56)第三届竞赛原文及参考译文 (56)Here Is New York (excerpt) (56)这儿是纽约 (58)第四届翻译竞赛原文及参考译文 (61)Reservoir Frogs (Or Places Called Mama's) (61)水库青蛙（又题：妈妈餐馆） (62)中译英部分 (66)蜗居在巷陌的寻常幸福 (66)Simple Happiness of Dwelling in the Back Streets (66)在义与利之外 (69)Beyond Righteousness and Interests (69)读书苦乐杨绛 (72)The Bitter-Sweetness of Reading Yang Jiang (72)想起清华种种王佐良 (74)Reminiscences of Tsinghua Wang Zuoliang (74)歌德之人生启示宗白华 (76)What Goethe's Life Reveals by Zong Baihua (76)怀想那片青草地赵红波 (79)Yearning for That Piece of Green Meadow by Zhao Hongbo (79)可爱的南京 (82)Nanjing the Beloved City (82)霞冰心 (84)The Rosy Cloud byBingxin (84)黎明前的北平 (85)Predawn Peiping (85)老来乐金克木 (86)Delights in Growing Old by Jin Kemu (86)可贵的“他人意识” (89)Calling for an Awareness of Others (89)教孩子相信 (92)To Implant In Our Children‘s Young Hearts An Undying Faith In Humanity (92)心中有爱 (94)Love in Heart (94)英译汉部分Hidden within Technology’s Empire, a Republic of Le tters 隐藏于技术帝国的文学界索尔·贝娄（1）When I was a boy ―discovering literature‖, I used to think how wonderful it would be if every other person on the street were familiar with Proust and Joyce or T. E. Lawrence or Pasternak and Kafka. Later I learned how refractory to high culture the democratic masses were. Lincoln as a young frontiersman read Plutarch, Shakespeare and the Bible. But then he was Lincoln.我还是个“探索文学”的少年时，就经常在想：要是大街上人人都熟悉普鲁斯特和乔伊斯，熟悉T.E.劳伦斯，熟悉帕斯捷尔纳克和卡夫卡，该有多好啊！后来才知道，平民百姓对高雅文化有多排斥。
韩素音青年翻译奖
On IrritabilityIrritability is the tendency to get upset for reasons that seem – to other people – to be pretty minor. Your partner asks you how work went and the way they ask makes you feel intensely agitated. Your partner is putting knives and forks on the table before dinner and you mention (not for the first time) that the fork should go on the left hand side, not the right. They then immediately let out a huge sigh and sweep the cutlery onto the floor and tell you that you can xxxx-ing do it yourself if you know better. It was the most minor of criticisms and technically quite correct. And now they’ve exploded.There is so much irritability around and it exacts a huge daily cost on our collective lives, so we deserve to get a lot more curious about it: what is really going on for the irritable person? Why, really, are they getting so agitated? And instead of blaming them for getting het up about “little things”, we should do them the honour of working out why, in fact, these things may not be so minor after all.The journey begins by recognising the role of fear in irritability in couples. Behind most outbursts are cack-handed attempts to teach the other person something. There are things we’d like to point out, flaws that we can discern, remarks w e feel we really must make, but our awareness of how to proceed is panicked and hasty. We give cack-handed, mean speeches, which bear no faith in the legitimacy (even the nobility) of the act of imparting advice. And when our partners are on the receiving end of these irritable “lessons”, they of course swiftly grow defensive and brittle in the face of suggestions which seem more like mean-minded and senseless assaults on their very natures rather than caring, gentle attempts to address troublesome aspects of joint life.The prerequisite of calm in a teacher is a degree of indifference as to the success or failure of the lesson. One naturally wants for things to go well, but if an obdurate pupil flunks trigonometry, it is – at base – their problem. Tempers can stay even because individual students do not have very much power over teachers’ lives. Fortunately, as not caring too much turns out to be a critical aspect of successful pedagogy.Yet this isn’t an option open to the fearful, irritable lover. They feel ineluctably led to deliver their “lessons” in a cataclysmic, frenzied manner (the door slams very loudly indeed) not because they are insane or vile (though one could easily draw theseconclusions) so much as because they are terrified; terrified of spoiling what remains of their years on the planet in the company of someone who it appears cannot in any way understand a pivotal point about conversation, or cutlery, or the right time to order a taxi.One knows intuitively, when teaching a child, that only the utmost care and patience will ever work: one must never shout, one has to use extraordinary tact, one has to make ten compliments for every one negative remark and one must leave oneself plenty of time…All this wisdom we reliably forget in lov e’s classroom, sadly because increasing the level of threat seldom hastens development. We do not grow more reasonable, more accepting of responsibility and more accurate about our weaknesses when our pride has been wounded, our integrity is threatened and our self-esteem has been violated.The complaint against the irritable person is that they are getting worked up over “nothing”. But symbols offer a way of seeing how a detail can stand for something much bigger and more serious. The groceries placed on the wrong table are not upsetting at all in themselves. But symbolically they mean your partner doesn’t care about domestic order; they muddle things up; they are messy. Or the question about one’s day is experienced as a symbol of interrogation, a lack o f privacy and a humiliation (because one’s days rarely go well enough).The solution is, ideally, to concentrate on what the bigger issue is. Entire philosophies of life stir and collide beneath the surface of apparently petty squabbles. Irritations are the outward indications of stifled debates between competing conceptions of existence. It’s to the bigger themes we need to try to get.In the course of discussions, one might even come face-to-face with that perennially surprising truth about relationships: that the other person is not an extension of oneself that has, mysteriously, gone off message. They are that most surprising of things, a different person, with a psyche all of their own, filled with a perplexing number of subtle, eccentric and unforeseen reasons for thinking as they do.The decoding may take time, perhaps half an hour or more of concentrated exploration for something that had until then seemed as if it would more rightfully deserve an instant.We pay a heavy price for this neglect; every conflict that ends in sour stalemate is a blocked capillary within the heart of love. Emotions will find other ways to flow for now, but with the accumulation of unresolved disputes, pathways will fur and possibilities for trust and generosity narrow.A last point. It may just be sleep or food: when a baby is irritable, we rarely feel the need to preach about self-control and a proper sense of proportion. It’s not simply that we fear the infant’s intellect might not quite be up to it, but because we have a much better explanation of what is going on. We know that they’re acting this way –and getting bothered by any little thing – because they are tired, hungry, too hot or having some challenging digestive episode.The fact is, though, that the same physiological causes get to us all our lives. When we are tired, we get upset more easily; when we feel very hungry, it takes less to bother us. But it is immensely difficult to transfer the lesson in generosity (and accuracy) that we gain around to children and apply it to someone with a degree in business administration or a pilot’s license, or to whom we have been married for three-and-a-half years.We should try to see irritability for what it actually is: a confused, inarticulate, often shameful attempt to get us to understand how much someone is suffering and how urgently they need our help. We should – when we can manage it – attempt to help them out.。
韩素英翻译大赛参赛题
英译汉原文Hidden Within Technology’s Empire, a Republic of LettersWhen I was a boy “discovering literature”, I used to think how wonderful it would be if every other person on the street were familiar with Proust and Joyce or T.E. Lawrence or Pasternak and Kafka. Later I learned how refractory to high culture the democratic masses were. Lincoln as a young frontiersman read Plutarch, Shakespeare and the Bible. But then he was Lincoln.Later when I was traveling in the Midwest by car, bus and train, I regularly visited small-town libraries and found that readers in Keokuk, Iowa, or Benton Harbor, Mich., were checking out Proust and Joyce and even Svevo and Andrei Biely. D. H. Lawrence was also a favorite. And sometimes I remembered that God was willing to spare Sodom for the sake of 10 of the righteous. Not that Keokuk was anything like wicked Sodom, or that Proust’s Charlus would have been tempted to settle in Benton Harbor, Mich.I seem to have had a persistent democratic desire to find evidences of high culture in the most unlikely places.For many decades now I have been a fiction writer, and from the first I was aware that mine was a questionable occupation. In the 1930’s an elderly neighbor in Chicago told me that he wrote fiction for the pulps. “The people on the block wonder whyI don’t go to a job, and I’m seen puttering around, trimming the bushes or paintinga fence instead of working in a factory. But I’m a writer. I sell to Argosy and Doc Savage,” he said with a certain gloom. “They wouldn’t call that a trade.”Probably he noticed that I was a bookish boy, likely to sympathize with him, and perhaps he was trying to warn me to avoid being unlike others. But it was too late for that.From the first, too, I had been warned that the novel was at the point of death, that like the walled city or the crossbow, it was a thing of the past. And no one likes to be at odds with history. Oswald Spengler, one of the most widely read authors of the early 30’s, taught that our tired old civilization was very nearly finished. His advice to the young was to avoid literature and the arts and to embrace mechanization and become engineers.In refusing to be obsolete, you challenged and defied the evolutionist historians.I had great respect for Spengler in my youth, but even then I couldn’t accept his conclusions, and (with respect and admiration) I mentally told him to get lost.Sixty years later, in a recent issue of The Wall Street Journal, I come upon the old Spenglerian argument in a contemporary form. Terry Teachout, unlike Spengler, does not dump paralyzing mountains of historical theory upon us, but there are signs that he has weighed, sifted and pondered the evidence.He speaks of our “atomized culture,” and his is a responsible, up-to-date and carefully considered opinion. He speaks of “art forms as technologies.” He tells us that movies will soon be “downloadable”—that is, transferable from one computer to the memory of another device—and predicts that films will soon be marketed like books. He predicts that the near-magical powers of technology are bringing us to the threshold of a new age and concludes, “Once this happens, my guess is that the independent movie will replace the novel as the principal vehicle for serious storytelling in the 21st century.”In support of this argument, Mr. Teachout cites the ominous drop in the volume of book sales and the great increase in movie attendance: “For Americans under the age of 30, film has replaced the novel as the dominant mode of artistic expression.”To this Mr. Teachout adds that popular novelists like Tom Clancy and Stephen King “top out at around a million copies per book,” and notes, “The final episode of NBC’s ‘Cheers,’ by contrast, was seen by 42 million people.”On majoritarian grounds, the movies win. “The power of novels to shape the national conversation has declined,” says Mr. Teachout. But I am not at all certain that in their day “Moby-Dick” or “The Scarlet Letter” had any considerable influence on “the national conversation.” In the mid-19th century it was “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”that impressed the great public. “Moby-Dick” was a small-public novel.The literary masterpieces of the 20th century were for the most part the work of novelists who had no large public in mind. The novels of Proust and Joyce were written in a cultural twilight and were not intended to be read under the blaze and dazzle of popularity.Mr. Teachout’s article in The Journal follows the path generally taken by observers whose aim is to discover a trend. “According to one recent study 55 percent of Americans spend less than 30 minutes reading anything at all. . . . It may even be that movies have superseded novels not because Americans have grown dumber but because the novel is an obsolete artistic technology.”“We are not accustomed to thinking of art forms as technologies,” he says, “but that is what they are, which means they have been rendered moribund by new technical developments.”Together with this emphasis on technics that attracts the scientific-minded young, there are other preferences discernible: It is better to do as a majority of your contemporaries are doing, better to be one of millions viewing a film than one of mere thousands reading a book. Moreover, the reader reads in solitude, whereas the viewer belongs to a great majority; he has powers of numerosity as well as the powers of mechanization. Add to this the importance of avoiding technological obsolescence and the attraction of feeling that technics will decide questions for us more dependably than the thinking of an individual, no matter how distinctive he may be.John Cheever told me long ago that it was his readers who kept him going, people from every part of the country who had written to him. When he was at work, he was aware of these readers and correspondents in the woods beyond the lawn. “If I couldn’t picture them, I’d be sunk,” he said. And the novelist Wright Morris, urging me to get an electric typewriter, said that he seldom turned his machine off. “When I’m not writing, I listen to the electricity,” he said. “It keeps me company. We have conversations.”I wonder how Mr. Teachout might square such idiosyncrasies with his “art forms as technologies.” Perhaps he would argue that these two writers had somehow isolated themselves from “broad-based cultural influence.” Mr. Teachout has at least one laudable purpose: He thinks that he sees a way to bring together the Great Public of the movies with the Small Public of the highbrows. He is, however, interested in millions: millions of dollars, millions of readers, millions of viewers.The one thing “everybody” does is go to the movies, Mr. Teachout says. How right he is.Back in the 20’s children between the ages of 8 and 12 lined up on Saturdays to buy their nickel tickets to see the crisis of last Saturday resolved. The heroine was untied in a matter of seconds just before the locomotive would have crushed her. Then came a new episode; and after that the newsreel and “Our Gang.” Finally there was a western with Tom Mix, or a Janet Gaynor picture about a young bride and her husband blissful in the attic, or Gloria Swanson and Theda Bara or Wallace Beery or Adolphe Menjou or Marie Dressler. And of course there was Charlie Chaplin in “TheGold Rush,” and from “The Gold Rush” it was only one step to the stories of Jack London.There was no rivalry then between the viewer and the reader. Nobody supervised our reading. We were on our own. We civilized ourselves. We found or made a mental and imaginative life. Because we could read, we learned also to write. It did not confuse me to see “Treasure Island” in the movies and then read the book. There was no competition for our attention.One of the more attractive oddities of the United States is that our minorities are so numerous, so huge. A minority of millions is not at all unusual. But there are in fact millions of literate Americans in a state of separation from others of their kind. They are, if you like, the readers of Cheever, a crowd of them too large to be hidden in the woods. Departments of literature across the country have not succeeded in alienating them from books, works old and new. My friend Keith Botsford and I felt strongly that if the woods were filled with readers gone astray, among those readers there were probably writers as well.To learn in detail of their existence you have only to publish a magazine like The Republic of Letters. Given encouragement, unknown writers, formerly without hope, materialize. One early reader wrote that our paper, “with its contents so fresh, person-to-person,” was “real, non-synthetic, undistracting.” Noting that there were no ads, she asked, “Is it possible, can it last?” and called it “an antidote to the shrinking of the human being in every one of us.” And toward the end of her letter our correspondent added, “It behooves the elder generation to come up with reminders of who we used to be and need to be.”This is what Keith Botsford and I had hoped that our “tabloid for literates” would be. And for two years it has been just that. We are a pair of utopian codgers who feel we have a duty to literature. I hope we are not like those humane do-gooders who, when the horse was vanishing, still donated troughs in City Hall Square for thirsty nags.We have no way of guessing how many independent, self-initiated connoisseurs and lovers of literature have survived in remote corners of the country. The little evidence we have suggests that they are glad to find us, they are grateful. They want more than they are getting. Ingenious technology has failed to give them what they so badly need.索尔·贝娄索尔·贝娄（Saul Bellow，1915-2005）美国作家。
韩素音英语竞赛24-27届原文
―CATTI杯‖第二十七届韩素音青年翻译奖竞赛英译汉竞赛原文：The Posteverything GenerationI never expected to gain any new insight into the nature of my generation, or the changing landscape of American colleges, in Lit Theory. Lit Theory is supposed to be the class where you sit at the back of the room with every other jaded sophomore wearing skinny jeans, thick-framed glasses, an ironic tee-shirt and over-sized retro headphones, just waiting for lecture to be over so you can light up a Turkish Gold and walk to lunch while listening to Wilco. That‘s pretty much the way I spent the course, too: through structuralism, formalism, gender theory, and post-colonialism, I was far too busy shuffling through my Ipod to see what the patriarchal world order of capitalist oppression had to do with Ethan Frome. But when we began to study postmodernism, something struck a chord with me and made me sit up and look anew at the seemingly blasé college-aged literati of which I was so self-consciously one.According to my textbook, the problem with defining postmodernism is that it‘s impossible. The difficulty is that it is so...post. It defines itself so negatively against what came before it – naturalism, romanticism and the wild revolution of modernism –that it‘s sometimes hard to see what itactually is. It denies that anything can be explained neatly or even at all. It is parodic, detached, strange, and sometimes menacing to traditionalists who do not understand it. Although it arose in the post-war west (the term was coined in 1949), the generation that has witnessed its ascendance has yet to come up with an explanation of what postmodern attitudes mean for the future of culture or society. The subject intrigued me because, in a class otherwise consumed by dead-letter theories, postmodernism remained an open book, tempting to the young and curious. But it also intrigued me because the question of what postmodernism –what a movement so post-everything, so reticent to define itself – is spoke to a larger question about the political and popular culture of today, of the other jaded sophomores sitting around me who had grown up in a postmodern world.In many ways, as a college-aged generation, we are also extremely post: post-Cold War, post-industrial, post-baby boom, post-9/11...at one point in his fa mous essay, ―Postmodernism, or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism,‖ literary critic Frederic Jameson even calls us ―post-literate.‖ We are a generation that is riding on the tail-end of a century of war and revolution that toppled civilizations, overturned repressive social orders, and left us with more privilege and opportunity than any other society in history. Ours could be an era to accomplish anything.And yet do we take to the streets and the airwaves and say ―here we are, and this is what we dema nd‖? Do we plant our flag of youthful rebellion on the mall in Washington and say ―we are not leaving until we see change! Our eyes have been opened by our education and our conception of what is possible has been expanded by our privilege and we demand a better world because it is our right‖? It would seem we do the opposite. We go to war without so much as questioning the rationale, we sign away our civil liberties, we say nothing when the Supreme Court uses Brown v. Board of Education to outlaw segregation, and we sit back to watch the carnage on the evening news.On campus, we sign petitions, join organizations, put our names on mailing lists, make small-money contributions, volunteer a spare hour to tutor, and sport an entire wardrobe‘s worth of Live S trong bracelets advertising our moderately priced opposition to everything from breast cancer to global warming. But what do we really stand for? Like a true postmodern generation we refuse to weave together an overarching narrative to our own political consciousness, to present a cast of inspirational or revolutionary characters on our public stage, or to define a specific philosophy. We are a story seemingly without direction or theme, structure or meaning –a generation defined negatively againstwhat ca me before us. When Al Gore once said ―It‘s the combination of narcissism and nihilism that really defines postmodernism,‖ he might as well have been echoing his entire generation‘s critique of our own. We are a generation for whom even revolution seems trite, and therefore as fair a target for blind imitation as anything else. We are the generation of the Che Geuvera tee-shirt.Jameson calls it ―Pastiche‖ –―the wearing of a linguistic mask, speech in a dead language.‖ In literature, this means an author s peaking in a style that is not his own – borrowing a voice and continuing to use it until the words lose all meaning and the chaos that is real life sets in. It is an imitation of an imitation, something that has been re-envisioned so many times the original model is no longer relevant or recognizable. It is mass-produced individualism, anticipated revolution. It is why postmodernism lacks cohesion, why it seems to lack purpose or direction. For us, the post-everything generation, pastiche is the use and reuse of the old clichés of social change and moral outrage – a perfunctory rebelliousness that has culminated in the age of rapidly multiplying non-profits and relief funds. We live our lives in masks and speak our minds in a dead language – the language of a society that expects us to agitate because that‘s what young people do. But how do we rebel against a generation that is expecting, anticipating, nostalgic for revolution?How do we rebel against parents that sometimes seem to want revolution more than we do? We don‘t. We rebel by not rebelling. We wear the defunct masks of protest and moral outrage, but the real energy in campus activism is on the internet, with websites like . It is in the rapidly developing ability to communicate ideas and frustration in chatrooms instead of on the streets, and channel them into nationwide projects striving earnestly for moderate and peaceful change: we are the generation of Students Taking Action Now Darfur; we are the Rock the V ote generation; the generation of letter-writing campaigns and public interest lobbies; the alternative energy generation.College as America once knew it –as an incubator of radical social change –is coming to an end. To our generation the word ―radicalism‖ evokes images of al Qa eda, not the Weathermen. ―Campus takeover‖ sounds more like Virginia Tech in 2007 than Columbia University in 1968. Such phrases are a dead language to us. They are vocabulary from another era that does not reflect the realities of today. However, the technological revolution, the revolution, the revolution of the organization kid, is just as real and just as profound as the revolution of the 1960‘s – it is just not as visible. It is a work in progress, but it is there. Perhaps when our parents finally stop pointing out the things that we arenot, the stories that we do not write, they will see the threads of our narrative begin to come together; they will see that behind our pastiche, the post generation speaks in a language that does make sense. We are writing a revolution. We are just putting it in our own words.汉译英竞赛原文：保护古村落就是保护―根性文化‖传统村落是指拥有物质形态和非物质形态文化遗产，具有较高的历史、文化、科学、艺术、社会、经济价值的村落。
第二十六届“韩素音青年翻译奖”竞赛原文
第二十六届“韩素音青年翻译奖”竞赛原文来源：中国译协网英译汉竞赛原文：How the News Got Less MeanThe most read article of all time on BuzzFeed （？)contains no photographs of celebrity nip slips（？）and no inflammatory （煽动性的；激动的）ranting（吼、闹）. 译：最具阅读性的文章It’s a series of photos called “21 pictures that will restore your faith in humanity,”只有一系列被称作“21张将让你重拾对人类的信仰的照片”， which has pulled in nearly 14 million visits so far. 到目前为止，这些照片引来了将近一千四百万的观众参观。
At Upworthy too, hope is the major draw.（？）同样在病毒式媒体网站，希望也是“This kid just died. What he left behind is wondtacular,（？）”这个少年刚刚过世，他留给世人的是an Upworthy post about a terminally （处于末期症状上；致命地）ill teen singer, 病毒式媒体网站上关于患有晚期癌症青年歌手的邮件赢得一千五百万人的关注和筹集到三十多万美元来用于癌症研究。
earned 15 million views this summer and has raised more than $300,000 for cancer research.The recipe for attracting visitors to stories online is changing.网上吸引观众关注故事的秘诀正发生改变。
二十六届韩素音参赛译文(汉译英)
Lost in CitiesTr.Woo FenbyAlong the Aihui-Tengchong Line,a demarcation line discovered and named by Mr.Hu Huanyong in1935for Chinese population,nature and historical geography,we can see that the penetration and decentralization of interest and power have fundamentally changed the state of cities since the emergence of long-distance trade—while cities are swelling,people are alienating.Even to the present day,Alain de Lille’s words still remain startlingly revealing that all-powerful is money instead of Julius Caesar.In ancient Rome,columns were divided according to the proportion of human body;by the time of the Renaissance,human beings had been regarded as the finest scale on earth.Within the cities of China nowadays, waterways are straightened,transportation networks are extended into all directions,and huge urban squares and building facades are expanded to accommodate more business activities.All of these are telling people that the aesthetic standard has turned out to be nothing but the power and capital behind the constructions.Not until one day when we look back at our own children standing on a dust-covered road swarming with vehicles, will we find out that the colossus of a city harbors no opportunity for them to show a smiling face.The evil of planning and designing lies not in seeking profit itself,butthe obsession in doing so to the neglect of all other human needs.The number of cities is increasing,their size expanding,and the urban-rural structure disintegrating;but the designated function and purpose of cities have been forgotten:the wisest no longer understand the forms of social life,yet the most ignorant are intending to build them.As cities grow bigger,people are dwarfed.People and their cities are closely bound up to yet utterly incompatible with each other.Having failed to obtain such means of life with more substantial and satisfactory content as are contrary to those in the business world,people are reduced to bystanders,readers,listeners and passive observers.Hence,year in and year out,we are not living in the real sense of the word,but in an indirect manner,far away from our intrinsic natures.These natures,sweeping past those silent and confused faces in the photos attached,can occasionally be seen in a kite floating across the sky,or in a smile of children at the sight of a pigeon.The isolation between humans and cities makes the former feel at sea; but to our comfort,we have never forgotten about living.As the homeland for deities from the very beginning,cities represented eternal value,consolation and divine power.The segregation and discrimination among people in the past will not persist,because what the city expresses in the end will not be the intention of a deified ruler any more,but that of each individual and the general public within the city.It will no longer bethe conflict per se,but a container instead providing a dynamic stage for daily contradiction and conflict as well as challenge and embrace.One day,art and thought will make their sudden appearance in a city corner and become interwoven with our life.Perhaps,we can only announce with confidence on this day:Better City,Better Life!(542words)。
全国新概念英语作文大赛第26届获奖
全国新概念英语作文大赛第26届获奖全文共3篇示例，供读者参考篇1A Journey of Growth: Embracing Challenges and Seizing OpportunitiesAs I stand before you today, my heart swells with a profound sense of gratitude and accomplishment. To be recognized at the 26th National New Concept English Writing Competition is an honor that fills me with immense pride and humility. This platform has not only celebrated my passion for the English language but has also served as a catalyst for personal growth and self-discovery.Looking back, I can vividly recall the trepidation that gripped me when I first embarked on this journey. The mere thought of articulating my thoughts in a language that was not my mother tongue seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. However, it was this very challenge that ignited a fire within me – a determination to conquer my fears and push beyond my perceived limitations.The English language has always held a certain allure for me, a door to a vast world of knowledge, culture, and diverseperspectives. As I delved deeper into the intricacies of grammar, syntax, and vocabulary, I found myself captivated by the sheer beauty and precision of this remarkable medium of communication. Each word, carefully chosen and masterfully woven, had the power to paint vivid pictures, evoke emotions, and shape narratives that could transcend boundaries.Yet, my growth extended far beyond the confines of linguistic proficiency. Through the process of crafting my submission, I discovered the invaluable art of self-expression. Writing became a canvas upon which I could pour my innermost thoughts, weaving together personal experiences, dreams, and reflections into a tapestry of authenticity. With every word committed to the page, I felt a liberating sense of vulnerability, allowing my true self to shine through the ink.Moreover, the English language opened doors to a wealth of literature, exposing me to diverse cultures, philosophies, and perspectives that broadened my horizons. I found myself transported to distant lands, immersed in the lives of characters whose struggles and triumphs resonated with my own. Through their stories, I gained a deeper understanding of the human condition, cultivating empathy, and appreciating the richness of our global tapestry.The path to this achievement was not without its challenges. There were moments when the weight of self-doubt threatened to undermine my efforts, when the words seemed to elude me, and the temptation to surrender loomed large. Yet, it was in these trying times that I discovered the true essence of perseverance. Each obstacle became an opportunity to sharpen my resolve, to seek guidance from mentors and peers, and to embrace the iterative process of refinement.Looking ahead, I am filled with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. This achievement has not only validated my linguistic capabilities but has also instilled in me a profound appreciation for the transformative power of language. I now stand ready to embark on new adventures, to explore uncharted territories of knowledge, and to contribute my voice to the rich tapestry of global discourse.To my fellow writers and language enthusiasts, I extend a heartfelt invitation to embrace the challenges that lie ahead. For it is in the midst of adversity that we discover the true depths of our resilience and the boundless potential of our creativity. Let us celebrate the diversity of our voices, for it is through this harmonious symphony that we can weave a narrative of understanding, empathy, and progress.To the esteemed organizers of this competition, I express my sincere gratitude for providing a platform that nurtures young minds and fosters a love for the English language. Your unwavering commitment to excellence has inspired countless individuals like myself to push the boundaries of our capabilities and to embrace the transformative power of words.As I stand on the precipice of new horizons, I carry with me the lessons learned, the memories forged, and the unwavering belief that language has the power to unite, to inspire, and to shape the course of our collective destiny. This achievement is not merely a personal triumph but a testament to the enduring spirit of human expression and the boundless potential that lies within each of us when we dare to dream, to persevere, and to embrace the challenges that life presents.Thank you, and may the journey of growth continue to unfold, one word at a time.篇2A Leap of FaithAs I stood at the edge of the diving board, my heart pounded against my chest like a captive bird desperate for escape. The crystal-clear waters of the Olympic-sized poolshimmered invitingly before me, but my mind conjured up a thousand reasons why I should retreat to safer ground. After all, I was just an ordinary thirteen-year-old girl – what business did I have attempting such a daring feat?It had all started a few months earlier when my English teacher, Mrs. Roberts, announced the 26th National New Concept English Writing Contest. She had that familiar glint in her eye, the one that meant she was challenging us to step out of our comfort zones and embrace something extraordinary. "This year's theme is 'Taking the Plunge,'" she had declared, her voice ringing with enthusiasm. "I want you all to write about a time when you overcame your fears and took a risk that changed your life forever."At first, the words had seemed like a foreign language, incomprehensible and daunting. What did I, a shy bookworm who spent more time lost in the pages of novels than living life itself, know about taking risks? But then, as I pondered the prompt, memories began to surface – memories of a summer long ago, when I had faced my greatest fear head-on.It had been the summer before sixth grade, and my family had decided to spend a week at a resort in the mountains. While my parents had envisioned a relaxing getaway filled with hikingand stargazing, my younger brother, Tommy, had other plans. From the moment we arrived, he had been enchanted by the resort's massive swimming pool, complete with a towering diving board that seemed to touch the clouds."Can we go swimming, pleeease?" Tommy had begged, his eyes wide with anticipation.My mother had laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Of course, sweetheart. But promise me you'll stay away from that diving board. It's much too high for little ones like you."Tommy had readily agreed, but I knew better. His promises were as flimsy as a spider's web, easily broken at the slightest temptation.Sure enough, the next day found us lounging by the pool, and Tommy was already eyeing the diving board with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. Before I could stop him, he had scampered off, scaling the ladder with the agility of a mountain goat."Tommy, get down from there!" I had shouted, my voice trembling with fear.But it was too late. With a whoop of delight, he had launched himself into the air, his small body arcing gracefully before plunging into the water with a mighty splash.In that moment, time seemed to stand still. Seconds ticked by like hours as I waited with bated breath for my brother to resurface. When he finally broke through the surface, sputtering and grinning from ear to ear, relief washed over me like a tidal wave."Did you see that, Sis?" he had crowed, treading water triumphantly. "I did it! I conquered the diving board!"As I watched him celebrate his victory, something shifted within me. Suddenly, I found myself envying his fearlessness, his ability to take risks without hesitation. In that moment, I made a decision – a decision that would change the course of my life forever."Wait for me, Tommy!" I had called out, surprising even myself with my boldness. "I'm coming too!"And so, with trembling legs and a pounding heart, I had climbed the seemingly infinite steps to the diving board's precipice. From that dizzying height, the pool below had appeared as a mere puddle, and doubt had threatened to consume me. But then I had glanced at Tommy, still beaming with pride, and something deep within me had stirred – a fierce determination to conquer my fears, just as he had conquered his.With a deep breath, I had taken the plunge.Those few seconds of freefall had been both terrifying and exhilarating, a chaotic blend of adrenaline and apprehension. And then, in a flash, I had broken through the water's surface, emerging victorious and utterly transformed.From that day on, I had become a different person – more daring, more willing to embrace the unknown. I had discovered a newfound confidence that had propelled me through countless challenges, from academic pursuits to extracurricular endeavors. And now, as I stood poised on the precipice of adulthood, I knew that it was this very spirit of fearlessness that had brought me to this moment – a moment where I had the opportunity to share my story with the world.With a deep breath, I plunged into the task of crafting my essay, letting the words flow like water from a mountain stream. I poured my heart and soul onto the page, reliving that fateful day at the pool and the profound impact it had had on my life. I wrote of the exhilaration of facing one's fears, the rush of adrenaline that comes with taking a leap of faith, and the immense personal growth that can blossom from such courageous acts.When I finally set down my pen, I knew that I had created something special – a piece that encapsulated the very essence of "Taking the Plunge." And so, with a mixture of pride and trepidation, I had submitted my essay to the contest, never daring to dream that it would be chosen as a winner.But fate, it seemed, had other plans.Months later, as I sat in Mrs. Roberts' English class, she had called me to the front of the room, a radiant smile playing upon her lips."Congratulations, Emily," she had announced, her voice brimming with pride. "Your essay has been selected as a winner in the 26th National New Concept English Writing Contest."In that moment, a wave of emotions had washed over me –disbelief, elation, and a profound sense of gratitude. For it was in that instant that I realized the true power of taking risks, of embracing the unknown with open arms.As I had accepted the award, clutching the framed certificate to my chest, I had made a silent vow to myself: to never stop taking the plunge, to never allow fear to govern my actions or limit my potential. For it was in those moments of courage, those leaps of faith, that we truly soared.And so, as I stand here today, a young woman poised on the precipice of adulthood, I carry that lesson with me like a torch, illuminating my path forward. The world may present innumerable challenges and uncertainties, but I will face them all with the same fearlessness that propelled me from that diving board all those years ago.For at the end of the day, life is a series of plunges – some small, some monumental, but all equally important in shaping who we are and who we aspire to become. And it is those who have the courage to take that leap, to embrace the unknown with open arms, who will truly soar.篇3A Journey of Growth: My Experience in the National New Concept English Writing CompetitionAs I stand here, clutching the award that bears witness to my triumph in the 26th National New Concept English Writing Competition, a wave of emotions washes over me. This achievement is not merely a recognition of my linguistic prowess but a testament to the transformative journey that has shaped me into the person I am today.It was a crisp autumn morning when my English teacher, Mrs. Liu, announced the competition in class. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she extolled the virtues of this prestigious event, igniting a spark of curiosity within me. Little did I know then that this spark would kindle a flame that would guide me through uncharted territories of self-discovery and personal growth.The initial stages were daunting, to say the least. Staring at the blank page, my mind seemed to rebel against the flow of words, forming an impenetrable barrier between my thoughts and their expression on paper. Doubt crept in, whispering insidiously, questioning my abilities and undermining my confidence. It was then that I realized the true essence of this competition – it was not merely a test of linguistic proficiency but a challenge to conquer the demons of self-doubt and insecurity that so often hold us back.With unwavering determination, I embarked on a journey of self-exploration, delving deep into the recesses of my mind and soul to unearth the stories that lay buried within. Each word I penned became a brushstroke, painting a vivid tapestry of my innermost thoughts and experiences. The process was arduous, yet profoundly cathartic, as I poured my heart onto the pages,allowing my words to flow freely, unencumbered by the shackles of fear or self-imposed limitations.As the deadline loomed closer, the pressure mounted, but so did my resolve. Late nights were spent meticulously crafting sentences, polishing phrases, and sculpting paragraphs into a cohesive whole. It was a labor of love, fueled by a burning desire to express myself in a language that had once seemed foreign and intimidating.When the fateful day arrived, and my essay was submitted, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. Regardless of the outcome, I had already emerged a victor, having conquered the demons that had once held me back. The journey had transformed me, instilling in me a newfound confidence and a deeper appreciation for the power of language to bridge cultural divides and forge connections across borders.Months passed, and the anticipation grew, until finally, the announcement was made – my essay had been chosen as one of the winners in this prestigious competition. In that moment, I felt a surge of pride and validation, not just for my linguistic abilities but for the courage and perseverance that had carried me through this transformative experience.As I stand before you today, basking in the warmth of this accomplishment, I am reminded of the profound impact this journey has had on my life. It has taught me the value of resilience, the importance of self-belief, and the power of language to transcend boundaries and touch the hearts of others.To my fellow competitors, I extend my heartfelt congratulations. Your dedication and passion have been an inspiration, reminding me that true excellence is not a solitary pursuit but a collective endeavor, where we challenge and motivate one another to reach ever greater heights.To the organizers and judges of this esteemed competition, I offer my deepest gratitude. Your tireless efforts and unwavering commitment to fostering linguistic excellence have provided a platform for aspiring writers like myself to showcase our talents and hone our craft.And to my teachers, mentors, and loved ones, words cannot fully express the depth of my appreciation. Your guidance, support, and unwavering belief in me have been the driving force behind my success, propelling me forward even when the path seemed shrouded in uncertainty.As I look ahead, I am filled with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. This experience has ignited within me a passion for language and storytelling, and I am eager to continue exploring the boundless realms of self-expression through the written word.To my fellow students and aspiring writers, I implore you to embrace the challenges that lie ahead, for it is through these trials that we truly grow and discover the depths of our potential. Let this competition be a catalyst for your own journey ofself-discovery, a testament to the transformative power of language and the indomitable spirit of the human mind.In the words of the great Maya Angelou, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." Today, I stand before you, my story told, my voice heard, and my spirit soaring. This is not the end but merely the beginning of a lifelong odyssey, where words will be my compass, guiding me through uncharted territories of self-expression and personal growth.Thank you, and may the power of language continue to inspire, uplift, and unite us all.。
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第二十六届“韩素音青年翻译奖”竞赛原文英译汉竞赛原文：How the News Got Less MeanThe most read article of all time on BuzzFeed contains no photographs of celebrity nip slips and no inflammatory ranting. It’s a series of photos called “21 pictures that will restore your fait h in humanity,” which has pulled in nearly 14 million visits so far. At Upworthy too, hope is the major draw. “This kid just died. What he left behind is wondtacular,” an Upworthy post about a terminally ill teen singer, earned 15 million views this summer and has raised more than $300,000 for cancer research.The recipe for attracting visitors to stories online is changing. Bloggers have traditionally turned to sarcasm and snark to draw attention. But the success of sites like BuzzFeed and Upworthy, whose philosophies embrace the viral nature of upbeat stories, hints that the Web craves positivity.The reason: social media. Researchers are discovering that people want to create positive images of themselves online by sharing upbeat stories. And with more people turning to Facebook and Twitter to find out what’s happening in the world, news stories may need to cheer up in order to court an audience. If social is the future of media, then optimistic stories might be media’s future.“When we started, the prevailing wisdom was that snark ruled the Internet,” says Eli Pariser, a co-founder of Upworthy. “And we just had a really different sense of what works.”“You don’t want to be that guy at the party who’s crazy and angry and ranting in the c orner—it’s the same for Twitter or Facebook,” he says. “Part of what we’re trying to do with Upworthy is give people the tools to express a conscientious, thoughtful and positive identity in social media.”And the science appears to support Pariser’s philosophy. In a recent study from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, researchers found that “up votes,” showing that a visitor liked a comment or story, begat more up votes on comments on the site, but “down votes” did not do the same. In fact, a single up vote increased the likelihood that someone else would like a comment by 32%, whereas a down vote had no effect. People don’t want to support the cranky commenter, the critic or the troll. Nor do they want to be that negative personality online.In another study published in 2012, Jonah Berger, author of Contagious: Why Things Catch On and professor of marketing at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania, monitored the most e-mailed stories produced by the New York Times for six months and found that positive stories were more likely to make the list than negative ones.“What we share [or like] is almost like the car we drive or the clothes we wear,” he says. “Itsays something about us to other people. So people would much rather be seen as a Positive Polly than a Debbie Downer.”It’s not always that simple: Berger says that though positive pieces drew more traffic than negative ones, within the categories of positive and negative stories, those articles that elicited more emotion always led to more shares.“Take two negative emotions, for example: anger and sadness,” Berger says. “Both of those emotions would make the reader feel bad. But anger, a high arousal emotion, leads to more sharing, whereas sadness, a low a rousal emotion, doesn’t. The same is true of the positive side: excitement and humor increase sharing, whereas contentment decreases sharing.”And while some popular BuzzFeed posts —like the recent “Is this the most embarrassing interview Fox News ha s ever done?” — might do their best to elicit shares through anger, both BuzzFeed and Upworthy recognize that their main success lies in creating positive viral material.“It’s not that people don’t share negative stories,” says Jack Shepherd, editori al director at BuzzFeed. “It just means that there’s a higher potential for positive stories to do well.”Upworthy’s mission is to highlight serious issues but in a hopeful way, encouraging readers to donate money, join organizations and take action. The strategy seems to be working: barely two years after its launch date (in March 2012), the site now boasts 30 million unique visitors per month, according to Upworthy. The site’s average monthly unique visitors grew to 14 million people over its first six quarters — to put that in perspective, the Huffington Post had only about 2 million visitors in its first six quarters online.But Upworthy measures the success of a story not just by hits. The creators of the site only consider a post a success if it’s also shared frequently on social media. “We are interested in content that people want to share partly for pragmatic reasons,” Pariser says. “If you don’t have a good theory about how to appear in Facebook and Twitter, then you may disappear.”Nobody has mastered the ability to make a story go viral like BuzzFeed. The site, which began in 2006 as a lab to figure out what people share online, has used what it’s learned to draw 60 million monthly unique visitors, according to BuzzFeed. (Most of that traffic comes from social-networking sites, driving readers toward BuzzFeed’s mix of cute animal photos and hard news.) By comparison the New York Times website, one of the most popular newspaper sites on the Web, courts only 29 million unique visitors each month, according to the Times.BuzzFeed editors have found that people do still read negative or critical stories, they just aren’t the posts they share with their friends. And those shareable posts are the ones that newsrooms increasingly prize.“Anecdotally, I can tell you people are just as likely to click on negative stories as they are to click on positive ones,” says Shepherd. “But they’re more likely to share positive stories. Whatyou’re interested in is different from what you want your friends to see what you’re interested in.”So as newsrooms re-evaluate how they can draw readers and elicit more shares on Twitter and Facebook, they may look to BuzzFeed’s and Upworthy’s happiness model for direction.“I think that the Web is only becoming more social,” Shepherd says. “We’re at a point where readers are your publishers. If news sites aren’t thinking about what it would mean for someone to share a story on social media, that could be detrimental.”汉译英竞赛原文：城市的迷失沿着瑗珲—腾冲线，这条1935年由胡焕庸先生发现并命名的中国人口、自然和历史地理的分界线，我们看到，从远距离贸易发展开始的那天起，利益和权力的渗透与分散，已经从根本结构上改变了城市的状态：城市在膨胀，人在疏离。