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发表于 2021-7-5 22:04:46 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
把以下十个英语段落译成汉语。

Passage 1
Ladies and gentlemen, boys...the Light of Knowledge. One hundred years ago, in 1859, 41 boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that now greets you at the start of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the Four Pillars? Tradition. Honour. Discipline. Excellence. Welton Academy graduated five students in her first year. Last year we graduated 51, and more than 75 percent of those went on to the Ivy League. This...This kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States.


Passage 2
''O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It's from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr Keating, or, if you're slightly more daring, ''O Captain, my Captain.' Now, let me dispel a few rumours so they don't fester into facts. Yes, I, too, attended Hell-ton and survived. And, no, at that time, I was not the mental giant you see before you. I was the intellectual equivalent of a 98-pound weakling. I would go to the beach, and people would kick copies of Byron in my face.

Passage 3
Gentlemen, open your text to page 21 of the introduction. Mr Perry, will you read the opening paragraph of the preface entitled ''Understanding Poetry. ''Understand Poetry" by Dr J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. ''To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its metre, rhyme and figures of speech. Then ask two questions. One: How artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered? And, two: How important is that objective? Question one rates the poem's perfection. Question two rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered,  determining a poem's greatness becomes a relatively simple matter. If the poem's score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of a graph and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness. A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical, but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practise this rating method. As your ability to evaluate poems in this manner grows, so will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry.

Passage 4
Excrement. That's what I think of Mr J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe. We're talking about poetry. I mean, how can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? I like Byron. I give him a 42. But I can't dance to it. Now, I want you to rip out that page. Go on. Rip out the entire page. You heard me. Rip it out. Rip it out!  Go on. Rip it out. Thank you, Mr Dalton. Gentlemen, tell you what. Don't just tear out that page. Tear out the entire introduction. I want it gone, history. Leave nothing.  Rip it out! Rip! Be gone, J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D.J. Evans Pritchard  Rip! Shred! Tear! Rip it out! I want to hear nothing but ripping of Mr Pritchard! We'll perforate it, put it on a roll! It's not the Bible. You're not gonna go to hell for this. Go on. Make a clean tear. I want nothing left of it. Keep ripping, gentlemen. This is a battle, a war. And the casualties could be your hearts and souls. Thank you, Mr Dalton. Armies of academics going forward measuring poetry. No! We will not have that here. No more of Mr J. Evans Pritchard. Now, in my class, you will learn to think for yourselves again. You will learn to savour words and language. No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. I see that look in Mr Pitts' eye like 19th century literature has nothing to do with going to business school or medical school. Right? Maybe. Mr Hopkins, you may agree with him, thinking,Hopkins Yes, we should simply study our Mr Pritchard, and learn our rhyme and metre and go quietly about the business of Pritchard, achieving other ambitions. I have a little secret for you. Huddle up. Huddle up! We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering , these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman.
''O me, O life of the questions of these recurring.
''Of the endless trains of the faithless.
''Of cities filled with the foolish.
''What good amid these, O me, O life?
''Answer: That you are here.
''That life exists and identity.
''That the powerful play goes on,
and you may contribute a verse.
''That the powerful play goes on,
and you may contribute a verse. '
What will your verse be?


Passage 5
Say something. - O Captain, my Captain?- Gentlemen. We were just looking in your old annual. Oh, my God. No, that's not me.  God. - What was the Dead Poets Society? I doubt the present administration would look too favourably upon that. Why? What was it? Gentlemen, can you keep a secret? - Sure. The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase from Thoreau we'd invoke at the beginning of every meeting. You see, we would gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley... the biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment, we'd let poetry work its magic. You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting around, reading poetry? No, Mr Overstreet. It wasn't just guys. We weren't a Greek organization. We were romantics. We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues, like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned and gods were created, gentlemen.Not a bad way to spend an evening, eh?

Passage 6
I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life. And not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.


Passage 7
Why do I stand up here? Anybody? - To feel taller. No! Thank you for playing. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.See, the world looks very different from up here. You don't believe me? Come see for yourselves. Come on. Come on.Just when you think you know something, you have to look at it in another way. Even though it may seem silly or wrong, you must try. Now when you read, don't just consider what the author thinks. Consider what you think. Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, ''Most men lead lives of quiet desperation. Don't be resigned to that. Break out. Don't just walk off the edge like lemmings. Look around you. There you go, Mr Priske. Thank you! Dare to strike out and find new ground.Now, in addition to your essays, I would like you to compose a poem of your own, an original work. That's right. You have to deliver it aloud, in front of the class on Monday.
Bon chance, gentlemen. --Anderson Mr Anderson. Don't think I don't know this assignment scares the hell out of you, you mole.

Passage 8
No grades at stake, gentlemen. Just take a stroll. There it is. I don't know, but I've been told. I don't know, but I've been told. Doing poetry is cold. Doing poetry is cold. - Left. Left. Left, right, left. Left. Left. Left, right, left. Left. Halt! Thank you, gentlemen. If you noticed, everyone started off with their own stride, their own pace. Mr Pitts taking his time. He knew he'll get there one day.Pitts Mr Cameron. You could see him thinking, ''Is this right? Cameron. It might be right. It might be right. I know that...Maybe not. I don't know. Mr Overstreet, driven by a deeper force. Yes.Overstreet, We know that. All right. Now, I didn't bring them up here to ridicule them. I brought them up here to illustrate the point of conformity. The difficulty in maintaining your own beliefs in the face of others. Now, I see the look in your eyes like, I would have walked differently. Well, ask yourselves why you were clapping. Now we all have a great need for acceptance. But you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own. Even though others may think them odd or unpopular. Even though the herd may go, ''That's ba-a-a-a-ad. Robert Frost said, ''Two roads diverged in the wood and I... I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference. I want you to find your own walk right now, your own way of striding, pacing any direction. Anything you want, whether it's proud, whether it's silly, anything. Gentlemen, the courtyard is yours. You don't have to perform, just make it for yourself. Mr Dalton, will you be joining us? Dalton: Exercising the right not to walk. Thank you, Mr Dalton. Just illustrated the point. Swim against the stream.

Poem 9
William Bloat
(Raymond Calvert)
In a mean abode on the Shankill Road
Lived a man named William Bloat
And he had a wife, the bane of his life
Who always got his goat
And one day at dawn, with her nightdress on
He slit her bloody throat
Now, he was glad he had done what he had
As she lay there stiff and still
'Til suddenly awe of the angry law
Filled his soul with an awful chill
And to finish the fun so well begun
He decided himself to kill
Then he took the sheet from his wifes cold feet
And he twisted it into a rope
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf
'Twas an easy end, let's hope
In the face of death with his lastest breath
He solemnly cursed the Pope
But the strangest turn of the whole concern
Is only just beginning
He went to hell, but his wife got well
And she's still alive and sinning
For the razor blade was German-made
But the rope was Belfast linen

Poem 10
Oh CaptainMy Captain
  Oh Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done,
  The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
  The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
  While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
  But Oh heart! heart! heart!
  Oh the bleeding drops of red!
  Where on the deck my Captain lies,
  Fallen cold and dead.
  Oh Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
  Rise up -for you the flag is flung -for you the bugle trills,
  For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores crowding,
  For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turing;
  Here, Captain! dear father!
  This arm beneath your head;
  It is some dream that on the deck
  You've fallen cold and dead.
  My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
  My father does not feel my arm , he has no pulse nor will;
  The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
  From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
  Exult, Oh shores! and ring, Oh bells!
  But I,with mournful tread,
       Walk the deck my captain lies,
         Fallen cold and dead.

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