英文醉人月升(節(jié)選)(文件)
【正文】 金黃的 獵月， 猶巨盤般 當(dāng)空懸起，將秋夜朗照無遺。省略“油門 ”) 月色欣賞 ? 總評： ? 1) 選材具有典型的散文特征， ? 文字充滿著詩情畫意， ? 使得翻譯具有表現(xiàn)空間； ? 2）對句式的處理，對部分語詞概念的把握都很好，譯文形象生動地表現(xiàn)了一幅意趣盎然的觀月賞月之夜景圖； ? 3） 整個譯文風(fēng)格前后一致，具有較強(qiáng)的可讀性，雖然有些詞句還可進(jìn)一步斟酌。 lonely, white winter moons rising into the utter silence of an inkback sky and smokesmudged orange moons over the dry fields of summer. Each, like fine music, excited my heart and the calmed my soul. ? Moongazing is an ancient art. To prehistoric hunters the moon overhead was as unerring as a heartbeat. They knew that every 29 days it became fullbellied and brilliant, then sickened and died, and then was reborn. They knew the waxing moon appeared larger and higher overhead after each succeeding sunset. They knew the waning moon rose later each night until it vanished in the sunrise. To have understood the moon’s patterns from experience must have been a profound thing. ? But we, who live indoors, have lost contact with the moon. The glare of street lights and the dust of pollution veil the night sky. Though men have walked on the moon, it grows less familiar. Few of us can say what time the moon will rise tonight. ? Still, it tugs at our minds. If we unexpectedly encounter the full moon, huge and yellow over the horizon, we are helpless but to stare back at its manding presence. And the moon has gifts to bestow upon those who watch. ? I leaned about its gifts one July evening in the mountains. My car had mysteriously stalled, and I was stranded and alone. The sun had set, and I was watching what seemed to be the brightorange glow of a forest fire beyond a ridge to the east. Suddenly, the ridge itself seemed to burst into flame. Then, the rising moon, huge and red and grotesquely misshapen by the dust and sweat of the summer atmosphere, loomed up out of the woods. ? Distorted thus by the hot breath of earth, the moon seemed illtempered and imperfect. Dogs nearby farmhouse barked nervously, as if this strange light had wakened evil spirits in the weeds. ? But as the moon lifted off the ridge it gathered firmness and authority. Its plexion changed from red, to orange, to gold, to impassive yellow. It seemed to draw light out of the darkening earth, for as it rose, the hills and valleys below grew dimmer. By the time the moon stood clear of the horizon, dull chested and round and the colour of ivory, the valleys were deep shadows in the landscape. The dogs, reassured that this was the familiar moon, stopped barking. And all at once I felt a confidence and joy close to laughter. ? The drama took an hour. Moonrise is slow and serried with subtleties. To watch it, we must slip into an older, more patient sense of time. To watch the moon move inexorably higher is to find an unusual stillness within ourselves. Our imaginations bee aware of the vast distance of space, the immensity of the earth and the huge improbability of our own existence. We feel small but privileged. ? Moonlight shows us none of life’s harder edges. Hillsides seem silken and silvery, the oceans still and blue in its light. In moonlight we bee less calculatin
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