【文章內(nèi)容簡介】 以相互借用，不用引申。如： (1) The man is as stubborn as a mule. 譯文 那個人犟得像頭牛。 (2) I am only a small potato in this office. 譯文 我在這個辦公室里只是個小人物。 (3) Don’t put your finger into another’s pie. 譯文 別管他人閑事。 如果在漢語中沒有相似的比喻，則需要引申： (4) Last night, I heard him driving his pigs to market. 譯文 昨晚，我聽到他鼾聲如雷。 (5) She is as busy as a bee recently. 譯文 她最近特別忙。 (6) Old Mr. Jones kicked the bucket last week. 譯文 老瓊斯上周嗚呼哀哉了。 (7) Don’t cross the bridge before you get to it. 譯文 你不必?fù)?dān)心得太早。 專有名詞普通化引申 : 英語經(jīng)歷漫長的 發(fā) 展 進入當(dāng)代，其中沉積了大量的專有名詞，原本是指稱獨一無二的人物、事件、地點等的，但在長期使用的過程中，所指意義逐漸泛化，獨特的本真意義轉(zhuǎn)化為普通意義，英漢翻譯中，我們大多會舍棄原文形象，力求準(zhǔn)確傳達(dá)意義，目的在于使譯文通順自然，減輕讀者理解譯文的負(fù)擔(dān)。例如： (1) I want to be TV’s Czar of script and grammar． 譯文 我真想成為電視這一行的霸主，所有節(jié)目我說了算。 分析 Czar本指俄國十月革命前的沙皇，源于古羅馬皇帝 Julius Caesar之名，翻譯時將個體名稱泛化為普通意義，經(jīng)過了由凱撒 到沙皇再到霸主這樣一個引申的過程，表意更明確。 (2) Churchill， a bent Pickwick in blue uniform， looked up at him with majestic good humor... 譯文 邱吉爾身著藍(lán)裝，背有點駝，儼然一個好老頭，抬頭望著他 (羅斯福 )，顯得莊重而又親切， …… 分析 Pickwick原本時英國小說家狄更斯 (Charles Dickens)筆下的老紳士，在赫爾曼 沃克 (Herman Wouk)的《戰(zhàn)爭風(fēng)云》這部小說里指邱吉爾，對于熟悉這個文學(xué)形象的譯文讀者來說，保留要比舍棄好，但如果對之一無所知，則需舍棄或加注解釋，我們選擇舍棄原文形象，對之做普通化引申，譯成“好老頭”，似乎更簡潔明快些。 (3) It is with procrustean thoroughness that the Soviet government squelches all dissent． 譯文 蘇聯(lián)政府用一刀切的辦法清除異己。 分析 procrustean來自 Procrustes，是希臘神話中的巨人，他開了一家客棧，里面有一張床，晚間投宿者躺在上面，個兒矮的被生生地拉長，個兒高的被斬斷四肢，以便與床等長，該詞喻象生動，但要解釋才能明白，似乎不如直接把寓義引申出來好。 (4) This summer vacation， I had a quixotic adventure on the railroad trip. 譯文 今年暑假我乘火車旅行，有一次匡扶正義，保護弱小的經(jīng)歷。 分析 quixotic來自 Don Quixote，這是西班牙小說家塞萬提斯筆下的人物，夢想成為游俠，匡扶正義，保護弱小。翻譯時只保留這一般意義，否則可能給讀者造成理解和欣賞的難度。 三、英語語篇漢譯 Shouting Vendors Sow Echoes of the Past —— by Andrew Jacobs 叫賣聲聲話當(dāng)年 Not long after daybreak, before the city begins its fullthroated roar, the shouts and calls can be heard up and down the old alleyways and deep within the walled courtyards that form the crowded heart of the Chinese capital. 在每天清晨天剛蒙蒙亮的時候，在偌大個北京城醒來前，從那一條條老胡同里、從那一座座四合院里就會傳出一陣陣吆喝聲，這一聲聲的叫賣聲讓京城開始沸騰。 “Goat meat, goat meat!” “羊肉！羊肉！” “Eggs, rice, eggs, rice!” “賣雞蛋！換大米！” “Scrap, household scrap!” “收廢品！” With more emphasis on song than lyric, they are the marketing jingles of itinerant fruit vendors, sellers of roasted duck, and stooped men who have mastered the art of resuscitating blunt kitchen knives. Like the familiar whine of cicadas in August, their garbled calls are the soundtrack of the Beijing summer, and many residents look forward to the return of the hawkers’ glutinous rice cakes, mismatched crockery and pet grasshoppers that sing. 相比起詞兒，這些叫賣聲的韻律更為優(yōu)美。這些吆喝聲就是他們生意的廣告：流動的水果攤、烤鴨鋪，還有駝背的磨剪子藝人。就像八月里熟悉的蟬鳴聲一樣，這些若隱若現(xiàn)的叫賣聲儼然就是北京城的夏之交響樂。許多居民都盼望著黏米糕、不對稱的陶罐和唱著歌兒的蟈蟈兒能重新回到他們的生活中。 Even more numerous than the hawkers are the recyclers, sunscorched migrants from the countryside who survive by collecting yesterday’s newspapers, spent puters or tattered cotton blankets that will be spun into next winter’s forters. 比這些小商販數(shù)量更多的，則是那些廢品收購者。他們一般來自農(nóng)村，皮膚黝黑。依靠收購舊報紙、二手電腦、或者破棉被為生，而那些破棉被被回收后，往往被重新紡織成下一個冬天的保暖物。 “If you can’t yell loudly, you’ll starve,” said Chen Lin, 37, a bony, animated man who earns about $5 a day salvaging dead appliances and anything else containing metal. “No one really knows what I’m yelling,” he said, “but they remember my song and this brings them out of their house.” 37歲的陳林看起來身材瘦削但神采奕奕，他靠回收廢棄的器具和其他任何含有金屬的東西為生，每天大約賺 5美元。陳林說：“你要是不吆喝，那就得餓死。雖然沒有幾個人能聽清楚我在吆喝什么，但這附近的居民都能認(rèn)出我的調(diào)調(diào)，一聽到是我過來了，他們就從家里出來?！? The singing hawkers and recyclers are reminders of the days when Beijing was a thickly populated maze of hutongs, or alleys, that crept outward from the grandiose imperial quarters occupied by China’s emperors and the officials and artisans who served them. 吆喝的小販、走街串巷的收廢品者，構(gòu)成了老北京人共同的記憶。老北京城就像一個由密密麻麻的胡同小巷串起來的迷宮，這些小街小巷一直從皇城里延伸出來。而皇城里，則住著皇帝和他的官員以及能工巧匠。 Cao Huiping, 45, a taxi driver whose childhood pound was stuffed with 17 unrelated families, recalls when vendors filled the air with a cacophony of peting tunes. 45歲的曹會平（ Cao Huiping）現(xiàn)在是一個出租車司機。他小時候曾經(jīng)和 17戶沒有親屬關(guān)系的人家住在一個大雜院兒里，那時整個北京城的空氣中都充斥著那些小商販們此起彼伏的叫賣聲。 “One minute it would be someone selling sugar, then as soon as their song faded it would be the flour dealer, then the fabric salesman,” said Mr. Cao, whose home has since been replaced by an upscale mall. “Now I live in a building where people don’t even know each other and everyone shops at the supermarket.” 他回憶道：“那個時候啊，一分鐘前可能還是賣糖的，當(dāng)他們的叫賣聲漸弱，賣面粉的又來了，然后就是賣布料的?，F(xiàn)在我住的那個地方已經(jīng)被一座高檔大型購物中心所取代?，F(xiàn)在我住在樓房里，人們彼此都不認(rèn)識，人人都在超市里買東西。” Gated apartment plexes are the hawker’s enemy. So, too, are the airconditioners that drown out sales calls and keep residents inside. The city authorities are no friends of the street vendors either. Stringent laws and urban management officials, known as chengguan, keep them on the run with fines and harassment. “The best time to be out is lunchtime, when the chengguan are on break,” said Meng Xiandong, 54, a vendor of dried sweet potatoes, as he nervously scanned the crowds. 現(xiàn)在，北京城里的一個個防盜門隔絕了小販們的生意，空調(diào)的普及也讓這些叫賣聲慢慢消失，因為大家都呆在封閉的空調(diào)房聽不見了。城市管理者同樣是這些小商販的敵人，這些“城管”（ chengguan）動輒罰款和沒收。 54歲的孟憲東（ Meng Xiandong）在北京城里賣烤紅薯，他緊張地張望著四周，然后說：“最佳的出攤