非文学翻译

Our love and hate of dialects令人又爱又恨的方言
Every time I visit my hometown, I get praised for something I take for granted - being able to speak the local dialect.
每次回老家，我总因还会说家乡话而被人称赞，可这在我看来是理所当然之事。

I spent the first 15 years of my life in that part of Zhejiang province and spoke nothing but that dialect. Sure, I learned putonghua in school, but it was a language we kids would use only when reciting texts. The downside was, my putonghua carries a slight accent that I cannot shake off even though I have been living in Beijing longer than in my hometown.
15岁以前，我一直生活在浙江老家，只会说当地方言。

当然，我在学校学了普通话，但对于我们孩子而言，这是只在念课文时才会用到的语言。

由此产生的负面影响是，尽管后来我在北京生活的时间比在老家还久，但我的普通话总是带着些摆脱不了的口音。

My attitude towards dialects has evolved over the years. I saw it as a form of impediment for communication. When I first arrived in Guangzhou for graduate study in the early 1980s, I could not understand a single word of Cantonese and even some teachers could not get themselves understood despite their efforts to speak putonghua. Forget about the granny whom I asked for directions.
我对方言的态度随着时间慢慢改变。

最初，我一度认为方言是沟通的障碍。

上世纪八十年代初，我读研时第一次来到广州。

我完全听不懂粤语，甚至听不懂一些老师的普通话，尽管他们费劲地想让学生听明白。

就连向个老奶奶问路也听不懂她在说什么。

So I wished the country's dialects would vanish and everyone could easily talk to one another. Be careful what you wish for, it may well come true. Well, the moment I realized my youthful wish is indeed coming true was when I overheard youngsters in my hometown conversing in putonghua even in leisure time. They can still understand the local dialect, but they do not have the willingness or ability to speak it. In another generation, the dialect will be gone.
那时，我就希望全中国的方言都消失，每人都能顺畅地沟通。

切不可随口许愿，一不小心就成真了。

有次偶然听到老家的年轻人闲聊时都是在讲普通话，我意识到年轻时的这个愿望真的变成现实了。

虽然年轻人仍然能听得懂当地的方言，但他们不乐意讲，或讲不了方言了。

再下一代，方言就将消失了。

Multiple it by thousands, even millions, of similar incidents and you'll get the bigger picture of what's happening to the spoken language of Chinese. No wonder some people have taken action to
defend their local dialects.
如果数以千计，甚至数以百万计这种事儿发生，你就会知道中国的口头语言正在发生着什么。

难怪一些人士都已经采取措施来保护当地的方言了。

Call it the victim of progress. In the old days with no televisions or highways, we had little chance to talk to those on the other side of the mountain, so we stuck to our little quaint way of speaking. Now that we can reach another province in an hour, we've realized our special ways are part of our collective linguistic wealth. Lao She's Beijing-based novels, Northeastern comedy, Hong Kong movies, among others, would not be possible without the respective dialects.
姑且称之为时代进步的牺牲品。

在过去没有电视和高速公里的年代，我们没什么机会和大山对面的人交流，所以就坚持自己这种有点古怪有趣的说话方式。

现在我们只需一个小时便能到达外省，我们意识到这种独特的说话方式其实是集体语言财富的一部分。

尤其是老舍的京味小说，东北喜剧，香港电影，如果没有各自的方言就失去了存在的基础。

In the tug of war between unity and diversity, the trick is in balance. Without a unifying spoken language, we won't be able to talk across provinces or even villages. But if we all talk exactly alike, we would have forsaken the little something that marks us for the richness of each of us.
语言一体化还是多样性？这场拉锯战的解决之道关键在于平衡。

如果没有统一的语言，我们就无法与外省交流，甚至是与外村交流。

但如果我们使用几乎同一样的语言，我们便会失去某些让我们每个人更丰富的标志。

There is not much a government can do about such linguistic development. But the push for putonghua is more and more like the family planning policy as I see it. It started with good intention but it may have outgrown its necessity. Unlike my generation, the young has no problem mastering the spoken form of standard Chinese, but they may regret they did not grasp a variety that could have enriched them in expressiveness.
对于这类的语言发展，政府需要做的地方不多。

但是在我看来，推广普通话越来越像执行计划生育政策一样了。

其初衷是美好的，但似乎用力过猛。

不像我的年代，现在的年轻人要说得一口标准的普通话是轻而易举的，但他们可能会后悔没有多掌握一种语言，能够更加丰富多样地表达自己。

Just imagine. China's comedy scene would be so much more barren if all the dialect-based routines disappeared.
想象一下，如果删去所有的方言表演部分，那么中国喜剧是会多么的沉闷无趣。