《匆匆》朱自清散文英译版本Word文档下载推荐.docx

1、像针尖上一滴水滴在大海里，我的日子滴在时间的流里，没有声音，也没有影子。我不禁头涔涔而泪潸潸了。3 去的尽管去了，来的尽管来着；去来的中间，又怎样地匆匆呢？早上我起来的时候 , 小屋里射进两三方斜斜的太阳。太阳他有脚啊，轻轻悄悄地挪移了；我也茫茫然跟着旋转。于是 洗手的时候，日子从水盆里过去；吃饭的时候，日子从饭碗里过去；默默时，便从凝然的双眼前过去。我觉察他去的匆匆了，伸出手遮挽时，他又从遮挽着的手边过去，天黑时，我躺在床上， 他便伶伶俐俐地从我身上跨过，从我脚边飞去了。等我睁开眼和太阳再见，这算又溜走了一日。我掩着面叹息。但是新来的日子的影儿又开始在叹息里闪过了。4 在逃去如飞的日子里，在

2、千门万户的世界里的我能做些什么呢？只有徘徊罢了，只有匆匆罢了；在八千多日的匆匆里，除徘徊外，又剩些什么呢？过去的日子如轻烟，被微风吹散了， 如薄雾，被初阳蒸融了；我留着些什么痕迹呢？我何曾留着像游丝样的痕迹呢？我赤裸裸来到这世界，转眼间也将赤裸裸的回去罢？但不能平的，为什么偏要白白走这一遭啊？5 你聪明的，告诉我，我们的日子为什么一去不复返呢？（写于 1922 年 3 月 18 日）朱自清踪迹，1924 ：68-70 上海：亚东图书馆6【译文一】Haste1 The swallows may go, but they will return another day; the willows m

3、ay wither, but they will turn green again; the peach blossoms may fade and fall, but they will bloom agaionu. Ywho are wiser than I,tell me, then: why is it that the days, once gone, never again return? Are they stolen by someone? Then, by whom? And where are they hidden? Or do they run away by them

4、selves? Then, where are they now?2 I do not know how many days Ive been given, yet slowly but surely my supply is diminishing. Counting silently to myself, I can see that more than 8,000 of them have already slipped through my fingers, each like a drop of water on the head of a pin, falling into the

5、 ocean. My days are disappearing into the stream of time, noiselessly and without a trace; uncontrollably, my sweat and tears stream down.3 Whats gone is gone, and what is coming cannot be halted. From what is gone to what is yet tocome, why must it pass so quickly? In the morning when I get up ther

6、e are two or three rays of sunlight slanting into my small room. The sun, does it have feet? Stealthily it moves along, as I too, unknowingly, follow its progress. Then as I wash up the day passes through my washbasin, and at breakfast through my rice bowl. When I am standing still and quiet my eyes

7、 carefully follow its progress past me. I can sense that it is hurrying along, and when I stretch out my hands to cover and hold it, it soon emerges from under my hands and moves along. At night, as I lie on my bed, agilely it strides across my body and flies pastmy feet. And when I open my eyes to

8、greet the sun again, another day has slipped by. I bury my face inmy hands and heave a sigh. But the shadow of the new day begins darting by, even in the midst of my sighing.4 During these fleeting days what can I, only one among so many, accomplish? Nothing more than to pace irresolutely, nothing m

9、ore than to hurry along. In these more than 8,000 days of hurrying what have I to show but some irresolute wanderings? The days that are gone are like smoke that has been dissipated by a breeze, like thin mists that have been burned off under the onslaught of the morning sun. What mark will I leave

10、behind? Will the trace I leave behind be so much as a gossamer thread? Naked I came into this world, and in a twinkling still naked I will leave it. But what I cannot accept is: why shouldI make this journey in vain?5 You who are wiser than I, please tell me why it is that once gone, our days never

11、r（e48tu1rwno. rds）（Translated bHy oward Goldblatt . Lau & Goldblatt, 1995: 625-626） （Translated by Howard Goldblatt. Joseph S. M. Lau & Howard Goldblatt （eds.）. The Columbia Anthology of Modern Chinese Literatur.Ne ew York: Columbia University Press, 1995: 625-626）【译者简介】Howard Goldblatt , Research P

12、rofessor of Chinese at the University of Notre Dame, USA., has taught modern Chinese literature and culture for more than a quarter of a century. He obtained his BA from Long Beach State College in 1961, MA from San Francisco State University in 1971, and PhD from Indiana University in 1974. As the

13、foremost translator of modern and contemporary Chinese literature in the West, he has published English translations of over 40 volumes of Chinese fiction in translation to his name, includinMgo Yan Rsed Sorghuma,s well as several memoirs and a volume ofpoetry in translation. Goldblatt was awarded t

14、he Translation Center Robert Pwaayrnde（1A985） and“ Translation of theaYr ” （1999） given by the American Translators Association. He is also the founder and editor of the scholarly joMurondael rn Chinese Literatur,eand has contributed essays and articleTshteo Washington Pos,tThe Timesof London, TIME

15、Magazine, World Literature Today, andThe Los Angeles Tim.es【译文二】Transient Days1 If swallows go away, they will come back again. If willows wither, they will turn green again. If peach blossoms fade, they will flower again. But, tell me, you the wise, why should our days go by neverto return? Perhaps

16、 they have been stolen by someone. But who could it be and where could he hide them? Perhaps they have just run away by themselves. But where could they be at the present moment?2 I don t know how many days I am entitled to altogether, but my quota of them is ouunbdtedly wearing away. Counting up si

17、lently, I find that more than 8,000 days have already slipped away through my fingers. Like a drop of water falling off a needle point into the ocean, my days are quietly dripping into the stream of time without leaving a trace. At the thought of this, sweat oozes from my forehead and tears trickle

18、down my cheeks.3 What is gone is gone, what is to come keeps coming. How swift is the transition in between! When I get up in the morning, the slanting sun casts two or three squarish patches of light into my small room. The sun has feet too, edging away softly and stealthily. And, without knowing i

19、t, I am already caught in its revolution. Thus the day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands; vanishes in the rice bowl when I have my meal; passes away quietly before the fixed gaze of my eyes when I am lost in reverie.Aware of its fleeting presence, I reach out for it only to find it br

20、ushing past my outstretched hands. In the evening, when I lie on my bed, it nimbly strides over my body and flits past my feet. By the time when I open my eyes to meet the sun again, another day is already gone. I heave a sigh, my head buried in my hands. But, in the midst of my sighs, a new day is

21、flashing past.4 Living in this world with its fleeting days and teeming millions, what can I do but waver and wander and live a transient life? What have I been doing during the 8,000 fleeting days except wavering and wandering? The bygone days, like wisps of smoke, have been dispersed by gentle win

22、ds, and, like thin mists, have been evaporated by the rising sun. What traces have I left behind? No, nothing, not even gossamer-like traces. I have come to this world stark naked, and in the twinkling of an eye, I am to go back as stark naked as ever. However, I am taking it very much to heart: why

23、 should I be made to pass through this world for nothing at all?5 O you the wise, would you tell me please: why should our days go by never to ret（u4r7n5?words）（张培基译,1999:75-77）（张培基译，英译中国现代散文选（汉、英对照） ，上海：上海外语教育出版社， 1999:75-77 ）【译者简介】 张培基，毕业于上海圣约翰大学英文系，曾任上海自由西报英文记者、中国评论周报（英文）特约撰稿人，后赴日本东京远东国际军事法庭任英语翻译

24、，于美国印地安纳大学英国文学系肄业后回国。历任 北京外文出版社编译、中国人民解放军外国语学院英语教授、北京对外经济贸易大学英语教授。主要译作：柔石为 奴隶的母亲、曹禺明朗的天、英译中国现代散文选（上、下册）；主要论著：习语汉译英研究、英 汉翻译教程。【译文三】Rush1 Swallows may have gone, but there is a time of return; willow trees may have died back, but there is a time of regreening; peach blossoms may have fallen, but they

25、will bloom again. Now, you the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to returnI?f they had been stolen by someone, who could itbe? Where could he hide them? If they had made the escape themselves, then where could they stay at the moment?2 I do not know how many days I have been given t

26、o spend, but I do feel my hands are gettingempty. Taking stock silently, I find that more than eight thousand days have already slid away from me. Like a drop of water from the point of a needle disappearing into the ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless, traceless. Already

27、sweat is starting on my forehead, and tears welling up in my eyes.3 Those that have gone have gone for good, those to come keep coming; yet in between, how swift is the shift, in such a rush?When I get up in the morning, the slanting sun marks its presence in my small room in two or three oblongs. T

28、he sun has feet, look, he is treading on, lightly and furtively; and I am caught, blankly, in his revolution. Thusthe day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands, wears off in the bowl when I eat my meal, passes away before my day-dreaming gaze asI reflect in silence. I can feel his haste n

29、ow, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but he keeps flowing past my withholding hands. In the evening, as I lie in bed, he strides over my body, glides past my feet, in his agile way. The moment I open my eyes and meet the sun again, one whole day has gone. I bury my face in my hands and heav

30、e a sigh. But the new day begins to flash past in the sigh.4 What can I do, in this bustling world, with my days flying in their escape? Nothing but to hesitate, to rush. What have I been doing in that eight-thousand-day rush, apart from hesitating? Those bygone days have been dispersed as smoke by

31、a light wind, or evaporated as mist by the morning sun. Whattraces have I left behind me? Have I ever left behind any gossamer traces at all? I have come to the world, stark naked; am I to go back, in a blink, in the same stark nakedness? It is not fair though: why should I have made such a trip for

32、 nothing!5 You the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to ret（u4r6n3?words ）（朱纯深译,1994（4）:63-64 ）（朱纯深译，中国翻译，1994（4）:63-64 ）【译者简介】Zhu Chunshen , associate professor of translation studies, received his PhD from the University of Nottingham,Britain and MA from Fujian Normal University, China. He tau