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发表于 2016-7-28 15:37:30
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南国之秋，当然是也有它的特异的地方的，比如廿四桥的明月，钱塘江的秋潮，普陀山的凉雾，荔枝湾的残荷等等，可是色彩不浓，回味不永。比起北国的秋来，正像是黄酒之于白干，稀饭之于馍馍，鲈鱼之于大蟹，黄犬之于骆驼。
秋天，这北国的秋天，若留得往的话，我愿把寿命的三分之二折去，换得一个三分之一的零头。
Autumn in Peiping
Yu Dafu
Autumn, wherever it is, always has something to recommend itself. In North China, however, it is particularly limpid, serene and melancholy. To enjoy its atmosphere to the full in the onetime capital, I have, therefore, made light of travelling a long distance from Hanghou to Qingdao, and thence to Peiping.
There is of course autumn in the South too, but over there plants wither slowly, the air is moist, the sky pallid, and it is more often rainy than windy. While muddling along all by myself among the urban dwellers of Suzhou, Shanghai, Xianmen, Hong Kong or Guangzhou, I feel nothing but a little chill in the air, without ever relishing to my heart’s content the flavour, colour, mood and style of the season. Unlike famous flowers which are most attractive when half opening, good wine which is most tempting when one is half drunk, autumn, however, is best appreciated in its entirety.
It is more than a decade since I last saw autumn in North. When I am in the South, the arrival of each autumn will put me in mind of Peiping’s Tao Ran Ting with its reed catkins, Diao Yu Tai with its shady willow trees, Western Hills with their chirping insects, Yu Quan Shan Mountain on a moonlight evening and Tan Zhe Si with its reverbrating bell. Suppose you put up in a humble rented house inside the bustling imperial city, you can, on getting up at dawn, sit in your courtyard sipping a cup of strong tea, leisurely watch the high azure skies and listen to pigeons circling overhead. Saunter eastward under locust trees to closely observe streaks of sunlight filtering through their foliage, or quietly watch the trumpet-shaped blue flowers of morning glories climbing half way up a dilapidated wall, and an intense feeling of autumn will of itself well up inside you. As to morning glories, I like their blue or white flowers best, dark purple ones second best, and pink ones third best. It will be most desirable to have them set off by some tall thin grass planted underneath here and there.
Locust trees in the North, as a decorative embellishment of nature, also associate us with autumn. On getting up early in the morning, you will find the ground strewn all over with flower-like pistils fallen from locust trees. Quiet and smellless, they feel tiny and soft underfoot. After a street cleaner has done the sweeping under the shade of the trees, you will discover countless lines left by his broom in the dust, which look so fine and quiet that somehow a feeling of forlornness will begin to creep up on you. The same depth of implication is found in the ancient saying that a single fallen leaf from the wutong tree is more than enough to inform the world of autumn’s presence.
The sporadic feeble chirping of cicadas is especially characteristic of autumn in the North. Due to the abundance of trees and the low altitude of dwellings in Peiping, cicadas are audible in every nook and cranny of the city. In the South, however, one cannot hear them unless in suburbs or hills. Because of their ubiquitous shrill noise, these insects in Peiping seem to be living off every household like crickets or mice.
As for autumn rains in the North, they also seem to differ from those in the South, being more appealing, more temperate.
A sudden gust of cool wind under the slaty sky, and raindrops will start pitter-pattering. Soon when the rain is over, the clouds begin gradually to roll towards the west and the sun comes out in the blue sky. Some idle townsfolk, wearing lined or unlined clothing made of thick cloth, will come out pipe in mouth and, loitering under a tree by the end of a bridge, exchange leisurely conversation with acquaintances with a slight touch of regret at the passing of time:
“Oh, real nice and cool—“
“Sure! Getting cooler with each autumn shower!”
Fruit trees in the North also make a wonderful sight in autumn. Take jujube tree for example. They grow everywhere—around the corner of a house, at the foot of a wall, by the side of a latrine or outside a kitchen door. It is at the height of autumn that jujubes, shaped like dates or pigeon eggs, make their appearance in a light yellowish-green amongst tiny elliptic leaves. By the time when they have turned ruddy and the leaves fallen, the north-westerly wind will begin to reign supreme and make a dusty world of the North. Only at the turn of July and August when jujubes, persimmons, grapes are 80-90 percent ripe will the North have the best of autumn—the golden days in a year.
Some literary critics say that Chinese literati, especially poets, are mostly disposed to be decadent, which accounts for predominance of Chinese works singing the praises of autumn. Well, the same is true of foreign poets, isn’t it? I haven’t read much of foreign poetry and prose, nor do I want to enumerate autumn-related poems and essays in foreign literature. But, if you browse through collected works of English, German, French or Italian poets, or various countries’ anthologies of poetry or prose, you can always comes across a great many literary pieces eulogizing or lamenting autumn. Long pastoral poems or songs about the four seasons by renowned poets are mostly distinguished by beautiful moving lines on autumn. All that goes to show that all live creatures and sensitive humans alike are prone to the feeling of depth, remoteness, severity and bleakness. Not only poets, even convicts in prison, I suppose, have deep sentiments in autumn in spite of themselves. Autumn treats all humans alike, regardless of nationality, race or class. However, judging from Chinese idiom qiushi (autumn scholar, meaning and aged scholar grieving over frustrations in his life) and frequent selection in textbooks of Ouyang Xiu’s On the Autumn Sough and Su Dongpo’s On the Red Cliff, Chinese men of letters seem to be particularly autumn-minded. But, to know the real flavour of autumn, especially China’s autumn, one has to visit the North.
Autumn in the South also has its unique features, such as the moonlit Ershisi Bridge in Yangzhou, the flowing sea tide at the Qiantangjiang River, the mist-shrouded Putuo Mountain and lotuses at the Lizhiwan Bay. But they all lack strong colour and lingering flavour. Southern autumn is to Northern autumn what yellow rice wine is to kaoliang wine, congee to steamed buns, perches to crabs, yellow dogs to camels.
Autumn, I mean Northern autumn, if only it could be made to last forever! I would be more than willing to keep but one-third of my life-span and have two-thirds of it bartered for the prolonged stay of the season!
注释
《故都的秋》是郁达夫(1896-1945)的名篇，1934年8月写于北平。文章通过对北国特有风物的细腻描绘，抒发作者对故都之秋的无比眷恋之情。
(1)“总是好的”不宜按字面直译。现译为always has something to recommend itself，其中to have…to recommend…作“有……可取之处”解。
(2)“不远千里，要从杭州赶上青岛……”译为have made light of travelling a long distance from Hangzhou to Qingdao…，其中to make light of是成语，作“对……不在乎”解。
(3)“总看不饱，尝不透，赏玩不到十足”不宜逐字直译。译文without ever relishing to my heart’s content…中用relishing to my heart’s content概括原文中的“看……饱”、“尝……透”、“赏玩……”等。
(4)“每年到了秋天，总要想起陶然亭的芦花……”译为the arrival of each autumn will put me in mind of Peiping’s Tao Ran Ting with its reed catkins…，其中to put one in mind of…是成语，作“使人想起……”解。译文中的Peiping’s是添加成分，以便国外读者理解句中所列各景点的所在地是北平。
(5)“既觉得细腻，又觉得清闲”中的“清闲”意同“幽静”，故译为quiet。
(6)“可和蟋蟀耗子一样，简直像是家家户户都养在家里的家虫”译为seem to be living off every household like crickets or mice，其中to live off (= to live on)中成语，作“靠……生活”解，用以表达“养在……的家虫”。
(7)“更像样”意即“更有节制”，故译为more temperate 。
(8)根据上下文，“微叹“是为”感怀时光的消逝“，故以释义法译为with a slight touch of reget at the passing of time。
(9)“西北风就要起来了”译为the northwesterly wind will begin to reign supreme，其中to reign supreme强调“占优势”之意。
(10)“感到不能自已的深情”译为have deep sentiments…in spite of themselves，其中in spite of oneself是成语，作“不由自主地”解。
(11)“秋士”是古汉语，指“士之暮年不遇者”，现译为qiushi (autumn scholar, meaning an aged scholar grieving over frustrations in his life)。
(12)“欧阳子的秋声”即“欧阳修所作的《秋声赋》”，现译为Ouyang Xiu’s On the Autumn Sough。
(13)〈赤壁赋〉为苏东坡所作，借秋游赤壁，抒发自己的人生感慨。可译为On the Red Cliff或Fu on the Red Cliff。
谈结婚
郁达夫
前些日子，林语堂先生似乎曾说过(1)女子的唯一事业，是在结婚，现在一位法国大文豪来沪，对去访问他的新闻记者的谈话之中，又似乎说，男子欲成事业，应该不要结婚。
华盛顿·欧文(2)是一个独身的男子，但《见闻短记》里的一篇歌颂妻子的文章(3)，却写的那么优美可爱。同样查而斯·兰姆(4)也是独身的男子，而爱丽亚的《独身者的不平》(5)一篇，又冷嘲热讽，将结婚的男女和婚后必然的果子——小孩们——等，俏皮到了那一步田地。
究竟是结婚的好呢，还是不结婚的好?这问题似乎同先有鸡还是先有鸡蛋一样(6)，常常有人提起，而也常常没有人解决过的问题(7)。照大体看来，想租房子的时候，是无眷莫问的，想做官的时候，又是朝里无裙(8)莫做官的，想写文章的时候，是独身者(9)不能写我的妻的，凡此种种似乎都是结婚的好。可是要想结婚，第一要有钱，第二要有闲，第三要有职，这潘驴(10)……的五个条件，却也不容易办到(11)。更何况结婚之后，“儿子自己要来(12)”，在这世界人口过剩，经济恐慌，教育破产，世风不古的时候，万一不慎，同兰姆所说的一样，儿子们去上了断头台(13)，那真是连祖宗三代的楣都要倒尽，那里还有什么“官人请!娘子请!”的唱随之乐(14)可说呢?
左思右想，总觉得结婚也不好的，不结婚也是不好的。
A Chat about Marriage
Yu Dafu
The other day, Mr. Lin Yutang said something to the effect that women’s only career lies in matrimony. Now, an eminent French writer declared at a press interview after arriving in Shanghai that men should stay bachelors if they want to achieve success in life.
Washington Irving was a confirmed bachelor, but in his Sketch Book there is an article extolling the wife as a graceful and lovely life-long partner. Charles Lamb, also a single man, in A Bachelor’s Complaint of the Behaviour of Married People, one of his essays signed “Elia”, speaks mockingly of married people with their inevitable postnuptial fruits—the children. Marriage or no marriage, which is more desirable? That sounds like the chicken-and- egg question, which, though often discussed, remains a perpetual puzzle. Generally speaking, one who has no family dependants is not supposed to rent a house, one who has no petticoat influence in the government should refrain from becoming an official, an unmarried male writer is in no position to writer about “my wife”. All these seem to hint at the advantage of marriage. But, to get married, you need to have five perquisites, namely, money, leisure, employment, good looks and potentness, of which all are not always available. What is more, after your marriage, your offspring will come to this world of themselves. And in a world with overpopulation, economic crisis, educational bankruptcy and deteriorating public morals, they may, just as Charles Lamb says, through their own acts of indiscretion, be sent to the gallows. With such a terrible misfortune befalling your family, how could you still have wedded bliss to speak of?
Thinking the matter over and over again, I cannot but come to the conclusion that neither matrimony nor bachelorship has anything to recommend itself.
注释：
郁达夫，一生短暂，在恋爱与婚姻上有很多坎坷经历。小品文《谈结婚》寥寥数语，看似游戏笔墨，但庄谐并出，寓理于趣，感叹人生多苦难，对现实百态深表不满。
(1)“似乎曾说过……”意即“说过一些话，大意是……”，译为said something to the effect that…，其中to the effect that…作“大意是……”解。
(2)“华盛顿·欧文”是美国作家Washington Irving (1783-1859)。《见闻短记》(Sketch Book)为其著名代表作。
(3)“一篇歌颂妻子的文章”的篇名为The Wife。
(4)“查而斯·兰姆”是英国散文家Charles Lamb (1775-1834)。笔名爱丽亚(alia)，著有《爱丽亚散文集》(Essays of Alia)。
(5)“《独身者的不平》”指《爱丽亚散文集》中的一篇。
(6)“这个问题似乎同先有鸡呢还是先有鸡蛋一样”译为That sounds like the chicken-and-egg question，其中chicken-and-egg(或chicken and egg )是成语，作“鸡与蛋孰先难定”或“因果难定”解。
(7)“常常没有人解决过的问题”可译为has never been resolved，现译为remains a perpetual puzzle，变反说为正说。
(8)“裙”指“裙带关系”意即“藉以相互依靠的姻亲关系”，现译为petticoat influence。
(9)“独身者”指“独身男作家”，故译为an unmarried male writer。
(10)“潘驴”源自《金瓶梅》第三回，指“潘安的貌”和“驴大行货”，在文中分别指第四、第五两个条件。现分别译为gook looks和potentness。
(11)“却也很不易办到”意即“却也不易都具备”，译为of which all are not always available，等于of which not all are always available。
(12)“儿子自己要来”译为your offspring will come to this world of themselves，其中短语of themselves和automatically同义。
(13)“走上了断头台”，本可译为be sent to the guillotine，但因兰姆文中说的绞刑架，故译为be sent to the gallows。
(14)“‘官人请!娘子请!’的唱随之乐”不宜逐字直译，现意译为wedded bliss(闺房之乐)，简单明了。
永远的憧憬(1)和追求
萧红
一九一一年，在一个小县城里边，我生在一个小地主的家里。那县城差不多就是中国的最东最北部——黑龙江省——(2)所以一年之中，倒有四个月飘着白雪。
父亲常常为着贪婪而失掉了人性。他对待仆人，对待自己的儿女，以及对待我的祖父都是同样的吝啬而疏远，甚至于无情(3)。
有一次，为着房屋租金的事情，父亲把房客的全套的马车赶了过来。房客的家属们哭着诉说着(4)，向我的祖父跪了下来，于是祖父把两匹棕色的马(5)从车上解下来还了回去。
为着这匹马，父亲向祖父起着终夜的争吵(6)。“两匹马，咱们是算不了什么的，穷人，这匹马就是命根。(7)”祖父这样说着，而父亲还是争吵。九岁时，母亲死去。
父亲也就更变了样(8)，偶然打碎了一只杯子，他就要骂到使人发抖的程度。后来就连父亲的眼睛也转了弯，每从他的身边经过，我就像自己的身上生了针剌一样(9);他斜视着你，他那高傲的眼光从鼻梁经过嘴角而后往下流着(10)。
所以每每在大雪中的黄昏里(11)，围着暖炉，围着祖父，听着祖父读着诗篇，看着祖父读着诗篇时微红的嘴唇(12)。
父亲打了我的时候，我就在祖父的房里，一直面向着窗子，从黄昏到深夜——窗外的白雪，好像白棉花一样飘着;而暖炉上水壶的盖子，则像伴奏的乐器似的振动着(13)。
祖父时时把多纹的两手放在我的肩上，而后又放在我头上，我的耳边便响着这样的声音：
“快快长吧!长大就好了。”
二十岁那年，我就逃出了父亲的家庭。直到现在还是过着流浪的生活。
“长大”是“长大了”，而没有“好”。
可是从祖父那里，知道了人生除掉了冰冷和憎恶而外，还有温暖和爱。
所以我就向这“温暖”和“爱”的方面，怀着永久的憧憬和追求。
My Everlasting Dream and Pursuit
Xiao Hong
In 1911, I was born into a petty Landlord family in a remote county town in Heilongjiang Province—a town situated virtually at the northeastern tip of China. We had snow there for as long as one third of a year.
Father, driven by avarice, often became very unfeeling. He would treat his servants, his own children and even my grandpa alike with meanness and indifference, not to say with ruthlessness.
Once, due to a dispute over house rent, he took away by force a tenant’s horse-drawn cart and drove it home. The tenant’s family came to see grandpa and, dropping to their knees, tearfully related their troubles. Grandpa unharnessed the two chestnut horses and retuned them to tenant.
That touched off a night-long quarrel between father and grandpa. “The two horses mean nothing to us, but everything to the poor,” argued grandpa. Father, however, refused to listen. Mother died when I was nine. From then on father went from bad to worse. Even a mere cup accidentally broken by someone would send him into such a violent rage that we all shivered with fear. Later, whenever I happened to walk past him, he would even have his eyes directed sideways, which made me feel like being pricked all over on thorns. When he looked askance at me, superciliousness gushed from his eyes down the bridge of his nose and then off the corners of his mouth.
Often of a snowy evening, we children would hang about grandpa by a heating stove, listening to him reading poems aloud and meanwhile watching his busy ruddy lips.
Whenever father had given me a beating, I would seek solace in grandpa’s room where I would stay gazing out of the window from dusk till late into the night while snowflakes were flying like cotton and the lid of the kettle over the heating stove rattling like a musical instrument playing an accompaniment.
Grandpa would place his wrinkled hand on my shoulder and then on my head, saying,
“Grow up quick, poor child! You’ll be all right after you’ve grown up.”
I fled from home at twenty. And so far I still live the life of a vagrant.
True, I’ve “grown up”, but I’m not yet “all right”.
Nevertheless, from grandpa I’ve learned that apart from coldness and hatred, there is also warmth and love in life.
Hence my everlasting dream and pursuit of this “warmth” and “love”.
注释：
萧红(1911-1942)，黑龙江省呼兰县人，官僚地主家庭出身，是才华横溢的女作家。本文是她应美国友人斯诺之给而写的小传。文章诉说她如何在祖父在关怀和抚育下度过寂寞的幼女时代。
(1)“憧憬“译为dream，和aspiration, longing, yearning等同义。
(2)“那县城差不多就是中国的最东最北部——黑龙江省——”意即“那县城在黑龙江省，差不多位于中国的东北角”。现译为in a remote town in Heilongjiang Province—a town situated virtually at the northeastern tip of china，其中以remote(偏僻的、边远的)表达“小”，便于烘托原文的气氛;at the northeastern tip of China比in China’s northeastern part灵活顺口。
(3)“甚至于无情”译为not to say with ruthlessness，其中not to say是英语成语，意即and almost或and perhaps even。
(4)“哭着诉说着”译为tearfully related their troubles，其中related意told。
(5)“棕色的马”译为chestnut horses。英语常用chestnut指马的棕色，或棕色的马.
(6)译文touched off是成语，作“激起”、“引起”解。
(7)“穷人，这匹马就是命根”译为they mean everything to the poor，其中everything和前面的nothing相互应。
(8)“父亲也就更变了样”译为From then on father went from bad to worse，其中from then on是连接上句的添加成分。又went from bad to worse是成语，作“越来越坏”、“每况俞下”解。
(9)“就像自己的身上生了针剌一样”译为feel like being pricked all over on thorns，其中feel like是短语动词，作“如同”解，又介词on常用来指人体受到伤害的原因，
(10)译文superciliousness gushed from his eyes…是隐喻。
(11)译文Often of a snowy evening中的of 等于on，但有“经常”的含义。
(12)“围着暖炉，围着祖父，听着祖父读着诗篇，看着祖父读着诗篇时微红的嘴唇”译为would hang about grandpa by a heating stove, listening to him ready poems aloud and meanwhile watching his busy ruddy lips，其中hang about或hang around为动词短语，作“待在……身边”解，通常有亲密、友好的含义。又busy一词描述祖父的嘴唇不断张合，以代替“读着诗篇时”。
(13)“暖炉上水壶的盖子，则像伴奏乐器似的振动着”译为and the lid of the kettle over the heating stove rattling like a musical instrument playing an accompaniment, 其中rattling表达“振动”，而不用vibrating等，因to rattle不仅指“振动”，而且指格格作响声，与“伴奏乐器”的比喻相互应。
当 铺
萧红
“你去当吧!你去当吧，我不去!”
“好，我去，我就愿意进当铺(1)，进当铺我一点也不怕，理直气壮。”
新做起来的我的棉袍，一次还没有穿，就跟着我进当铺去了!在当铺门口稍微徘徊了一下，想起出门时郎华要的价目(2)——非两元不当。
包袱送到柜台上，我是仰着脸，伸着腰，用脚尖站起来送上去的，真不晓得当铺为什么摆起这么高的柜台(3)!
那戴帽头的人翻着衣裳看，还不等他问，我就说了：
“两块钱。”
他一定觉得我太不合理，不然怎么连看我一眼也没看，就把东西卷起来，他把包袱仿佛要丢在我的头上，他十分不耐烦的样子(4)。
“两块钱不行，那么，多少钱呢?”
“多少钱不要。”他摇摇像长西瓜形的脑袋，小帽头顶尖的红帽球，也跟着摇了摇。
我伸手去接包袱，我一点也不怕，我理直气壮，我明明知道他故意作难(5)，正想把包袱接过来就走。猜得对对的，他并不把包袱真给我(6)。
“五毛钱!这件衣服袖子太瘦，卖不出钱来……”
“不当。”我说。
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