综合教程5课文与课文翻译

THE FOURTH OF JULY

Audre Lorde

1 The first time I went to Washington D.C. was on the edge of the summer when I was supposed to stop being a child. At least that's what they said to us all at graduation from the eighth grade. My sister Phyllis graduated at the same time from high school. I don’t know what she was supposed to stop being. But as graduation presents for us both, the whole family took a Fourth of July trip to Washington D.C., the fabled and famous capital of our country.

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2 It was the first time I'd ever been on a railroad train during the day. When I was little, and we used to go to the Connecticut shore, we always went at night on the milk train, because it was cheaper.

3. Preparations were in the air around our house before school was even over. We packed for a week. There were two very large suitcases that my father carried, and a box filled with food. In fact, my first trip to Washington was a mobile feast; I started eating as soon as we were comfortably ensconced in our seats, and did not stop until somewhere after Philadelphia. I remember it was Philadelphia because I was disappointed not to have passed by the Liberty Bell.

4. My mother had roasted two chickens and cut them up into dainty bite-size pieces. She packed slices of brown bread and butter, and green pepper and carrot sticks. There were little violently yellow iced cakes with scalloped edges called "marigolds," that came from Cushman's Bakery. There was a spice bun and rock-cakes from Newton's, the West Indian bakery across Lenox Avenue from St. Mark's school, and iced tea in a wrapped mayonnaise jar. There were sweet pickles for us and dill pickles for my father, and peaches with the fuzz still on them, individually wrapped to keep them from bruising. And, for neatness, there were piles of napkins and a little tin box with a washcloth dampened with rosewater and glycerine for wiping sticky mouths.

5. I wanted to eat in the dining car because I had read all about them, but my mother reminded me for the umpteenth time that dining car food always cost too much money and besides, you never could tell whose hands had been playing all over that food, nor where those same hands had been just before. My mother never mentioned that Black people were not allowed into railroad dining cars headed south in 1947. As usual, whatever my mother did not like and could not change, she ignored. Perhaps it would go away, deprived of her attention.

6. I learned later that Phyllis's high school senior class trip had been to Washington, but the nuns had given her back her deposit in private, explaining to her that the class, all of whom were white, except Phyllis, would be staying in a hotel where Phyllis "would not be happy," meaning, Daddy explained to her, also in private, that they did not rent rooms to Negroes. "We still take among-you to Washington, ourselves, "my father had avowed, "and not just for an overnight in some measly fleabag hotel."

7. In Washington D.C., we had one large room with two double beds and an extra cot for me. It was a back-street hotel that belonged to a friend of my father's who was in real estate, and I spent the whole next day after Mass squinting up at the Lincoln Memorial where Marian Anderson had sung after the D.A.R. refused to allow her to sing in their auditorium because she was Black. Or because she was "Colored", my father said as he told us the story. Except that what he probably said was "Negro", because for his times, my father was quite progressive.

8. I was squinting because I was in that silent agony that characterized all of my childhood summers, from the time school let out in June to the end of July, brought about by my dilated and vulnerable eyes exposed to the summer brightness.

9. I viewed Julys through an agonizing corolla of dazzling whiteness and I always hated the Fourth of July, even before I came to realize the travesty such a celebration was for Black people in this country.

10. My parents did not approve of sunglasses, nor of their expense.

11. I spent the afternoon squinting up at monuments to freedom and past presidencies and democracy, and wondering why the light and heat were both so much stronger in Washington D.C., than back home in New York City. Even the pavement on the streets was a shade lighter in color than back home.

12. Late that Washington afternoon my family and I walked back down Pennsylvania Avenue. We were a proper caravan, mother bright and father brown, the three of us girls step-standards in-between. Moved by our historical surroundings and the heat of early evening, my father decreed yet another treat. He had a great sense of history, a flair for the quietly dramatic and the sense of specialness of an occasion and a trip.

13. "Shall we stop and have a little something to cool off, Lin? "

14. Two blocks away from our hotel, the family stopped for a dish of vanilla ice cream at a Breyer's ice cream and soda fountain. Indoors, the soda fountain was dim and fan-cooled, deliciously relieving to my scorched eyes.

15. Corded and crisp and pinafored, the five of us seated ourselves one by one at the counter. There was I between my mother and father, and my two sisters on the other side of my mother. We settled ourselves along the white mottled marble counter, and when the waitress spoke at first no one understood what she was saying, and so the five of us just sat there.

16. The waitress moved along the line of us closer to my father and spoke again. "I said I kin give you to take out, but you can't eat here, sorry." Then she dropped her eyes looking very embarrassed, and suddenly we heard what it was she was saying all at the same time, loud and clear.

17. Straight-backed and indignant, one by one, my family and I got down from the counter stools and turned around and marched out of the store, quiet and outraged, as if we had never been Black before. No one would answer my emphatic questions with anything other than a guilty silence. "But we hadn't done anything!" This wasn't right or fair! Hadn't I written poems about freedom and democracy for all?

18. My parents wouldn't speak of this injustice, not because they had contributed to it, but because they felt they should have anticipated it and avoided it. This made me even angrier. My fury was not going to be acknowledged by a like fury. Even my two sisters copied my parents' pretense that nothing unusual and anti-American had occurred. I was left to write my angry letter to the president of the United States all by myself, although my father did promise I could type it out on the office typewriter next week, after I showed it to him in my copybook diary.

19. The waitress was white, and the counter was white, and the ice cream I never ate in Washington D.C., that summer I left childhood was white, and the white heat and the white pavement and the white stone monuments of my first Washington summer made me sick to my stomach for the whole rest of that trip and it wasn't much of a graduation present after all.

我第一次去华盛顿是在那年刚入夏，这个夏天也是我从此告别孩提时代的开始。至少，这是他们在我们八年级毕业时对大家这么说的。我的姐姐菲利丝同时从高中毕业。我不清楚她应该告别什么阶段。不过，作为给我们俩毕业的礼物，全家人于七月四日赴华盛顿旅游，前往我们国家寓言般的、闻名遐迩的首都。

2. 那是我第一次大白天乘火车。小时候，我们常去康涅狄格海边，我们总是晚上搭乘运送牛奶的火车，因为车票更便宜。

3. 早在放假前，家里就洋溢着准备出发的气氛。我们打包就花了一个星期。有两个很大的箱子，是爸爸拿的，还有一个装满食品的盒子。事实上，我的那第一次前往华盛顿的旅途是个流动的宴席；舒舒服服地在座位上刚坐下来，我就开吃了，一直吃到火车抵达费城附近的地方。我记得那是费城，是因为没有路过自由大钟而感到失望的缘故。

4. 我妈妈烤了两只鸡，还将它们很漂亮地切成一口一块那么大小。她带了黑面包片、黄油、青椒和胡萝卜条；还有那边上点缀着叫做“万寿菊”的有点儿黄黄的冰镇蛋糕，是从库什曼面包房买来的。有在牛顿店里买来的辣面包卷和硬饼，就是在伦诺克斯大街圣马可学校对面的那家西部印第安面包房。有包裹得好好的灌在色拉酱瓶里的冰茶。有给我们吃的甜泡菜，有给爸爸吃的小茴香泡菜，还有长着绒毛的桃子，每一只都分开来包，以免碰伤。此外，为了整洁，还有一沓沓的餐巾，一块放在小铁盒子里浸泡着玫瑰水和甘油的小毛巾，擦黏糊糊的嘴巴用的。

5. 我想要到餐车去吃饭，因为我阅读过这方面的内容。但是，妈妈已经无数次地提醒过我，在餐车里吃饭要花很多钱，而且还不知道那些吃的东西出自于什么人的手，也不知道那双手刚碰过什么东西。妈妈从来不提及，1947年开往南方的火车上，黑人是不准进餐车的。一如既往，凡是妈妈不喜欢的东西和不能改变的事情，她一概不予理睬。也许因为得不到她的关注，这种事情就会消失。

6. 我后来获悉，菲利丝高三班级的旅游也是去华盛顿，但是那几个嬷嬷悄悄地把她交的预付款退还给她，对她解释说，除了她，全班都是白人学生。他们要待在一家旅馆里，菲利丝在那儿会“不开心的”，意思是说他们不租房间给黑人，爸爸也是这么悄悄地对她解释的。“我们还是要带你们去华盛顿的，我们自己去，”爸爸信誓旦旦，“而且远不止住在便宜肮脏的旅馆里待一个晚上。”

7. 在华盛顿，我们有一间大房间，两张双人床，外加一张给我的儿童床。那是一家位于后街的旅馆，店主是爸爸的朋友，此人从事房地产业。第二天做完弥撒之后，我便一整天眯起眼睛抬头仰望林肯纪念堂。在这里玛丽安·安德森放声高歌，之前美国革命女儿会因为她是黑人拒绝她在他们的礼堂歌唱。或许就因为她是“有色的”，就像爸爸给我们讲这个故事的时候那么说的。要么他很可能说的是“黑人(Negro)”，因为在当时我父亲是相当进步的。8. 我眯起双眼，因为我默默承受着自己童年时代每年夏天都要承受的痛苦，从六月底学校放假开始到七月底。这个痛苦是因为在夏日的强光下张大眼睛受到伤害而造成的。

9. 我是通过一层令人痛苦的圆环状的耀眼强光看见七月份的。我一直痛恨七月四日，甚至在我意识到这种骗人的鬼话之前：这种庆祝是为这个国家的黑人的。

10. 我的父母不认可太阳眼镜，也接受不了太阳镜的价格。

11. 整个下午我眯起双眼抬头张望那些自由、逝去的总统以及民主的纪念碑，心想为什么华盛顿的光线和热量要比在纽约家乡强得多，甚至街上人行道的颜色也比家里的要白一些。12. 在华盛顿一天下午黄昏的时候，我和家人沿着宾夕法尼亚大道往回走。我们俨然一个旅行团，妈妈白晳亮丽，爸爸棕色皮肤，我们三个女孩的肤色介于两者之间，由浅至深。受到周围历史气氛和黄昏热浪的影响，爸爸决定再次请客。他有很强的历史感，他天生有种并不张扬的戏剧性，而且对场景和旅行有种特殊的感触。

13. “我们停下来吃些东西凉快凉快好吗，琳？”

14. 离我们住的旅馆两个街区之遥，我们一家人停下脚步，在一家布雷耶冰淇淋和汽水店买了一盘冰淇淋。室内，柜台光线昏暗，电扇下凉风习习，让我被强光照耀的双眼感到轻松多了。

15. 我们的座位用绳子连在一起，个个神清气爽，围着餐巾，五个人并排在柜台前坐下。我在爸爸和妈妈中间，两个姐姐在妈妈的另一边。我们一字排开，靠着带有花纹的大理石柜台坐下。女服务员张口说话，一开始谁也没听懂她在说什么，于是我们五个人就坐在那儿。

16. 女服务员沿着我们向爸爸走去，再次说道，“我刚才说可以让你们外带，但是你们不能在这儿吃，对不起。”然后，她垂下双眼，一副尴尬的样子。我们突然听见她说的话了，同时听见的，响亮清晰。

17. 挺起胸膛，义愤填膺，我和家人一个接一个地从柜台前的凳子上站起身来，转身大步跨出店堂，一言不发，但怒火中烧，似乎我们以前从来就不是黑人。我加重语气地说道，“我们什么也没有做呀!”就是不对，不公平呀!难道我没有写过所有人都该享有自由民主的诗歌吗？除了因愧疚而默默无声，谁也没有对我的问题做出应答。

18. 我的爸爸妈妈对不公正缄默无语，不是因为他们对此有什么责任，而是因为他们觉得本应该早有预料，并应该加以避免的。这让我更加愤怒。我的怒火并没人认可，也没人像我一样愤怒。连我那两个姐姐也随着爸爸妈妈，装作没有发生过什么非同寻常、反美国的事情。那只好由我自己来给美国总统写封信，表达自己的愤怒。不过，我给爸爸看了我写在练习簿的信之后，他保证我下周可以在他的办公室打字机上将信打出来。

19 那个女服务员是个白人，那张柜台是白色的，那份我从来没在华盛顿吃的冰淇淋，以及我告别了童年的夏天都是白色的。还有那年夏天我第一次去华盛顿的白色的热浪、白色的人行道和白色的石柱纪念碑在接下来的旅程中让我恶心。那可算不上一件毕业礼物啊。

第二课

THE STRUGGLE TO BE AN ALL-AMERICAN GIRL

Elizabeth Wong

1. It's still there, the Chinese school on Yale Street where my brother and I used to go. Despite the new coat of paint and the high wire fence, the school I knew 10 years ago remains remarkably, stoically the same.

2. Every day at 5 p.m., instead of playing with our fourth- and fifth-grade friends or sneaking out to the empty lot to hunt ghosts and animal bones, my brother and I had to go to Chinese school. No amount of kicking, screaming, or pleading could dissuade my mother, who was solidly determined to have us learn the language of our heritage.

3. Forcibly, she walked us the seven long, hilly blocks from our home to school, depositing our defiant tearful faces before the stern principal. My only memory of him is that he swayed on his heels like a palm tree, and he always clasped his impatient twitching hands behind his back. I recognized him as a repressed maniacal child killer, and knew that if we ever saw his hands we'd be in big trouble.

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4. We all sat in little chairs in an empty auditorium. The room smelled like Chinese medicine, an imported faraway mustiness. Like ancient mothballs or dirty closets. I hated that smell. I favored crisp new scents, like the soft French perfume that my American teacher wore in public school.

5. Although the emphasis at the school was mainly language — speaking, reading, writing —

the lessons always began with an exercise in politeness. With the entrance of the teacher, the best student would tap a bell and everyone would get up, kowtow, and chant, "Sing san ho," the phonetic for "How are you, teacher?"

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6. Being ten years old, I had better things to learn than ideographs copied painstakingly in lines that ran right to left from the tip of a moc but, a real ink pen that had to be held in an awkward way if blotches were to be avoided. After all, I could do the multiplication tables, name the satellites of Mars, and write reports on Little Women and Black Beauty. Nancy Drew, my favorite book heroine, never spoke Chinese.

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7. The language was a source of embarrassment. More times than not, I had tried to disassociate myself from the nagging loud voice that followed me wherever I wandered in the nearby American supermarket outside Chinatown. The voice belonged to my grandmother, a fragile woman in her seventies who could outshout the best of the street vendors. Her humor was raunchy, her Chinese rhythmless and patternless. It was quick, it was loud, it was unbeautiful. It was not like the quiet, lilting romance of French or the gentle refinement of the American South. Chinese sounded pedestrian. Public.

8. In Chinatown, the comings and goings of hundreds of Chinese on their daily tasks sounded chaotic and frenzied. I did not want to be thought of as mad, as talking gibberish. When I spoke English, people nodded at me, smiled sweetly, said encouraging words. Even the people in my culture would cluck and say that I'd do well in life. "My, doesn't she move her lips fast," they would say, meaning that I'd be able to keep up with the world outside Chinatown.

9. My brother was even more fanatical than I about speaking English. He was especially hard on my mother, criticizing her, often cruelly, for her pidgin speech —smatterings of Chinese scattered like chop suey in her conversation. "It's not 'What it is,' Mom," he would say in exasperation. "It's 'What is it, what is it, what is it!'" Sometimes Mom might leave out an occasional "the" or "a", or perhaps a verb of being. He would stop her in mid-sentence, "Say it again, Mom. Say it right." When he tripped over his own tongue, he'd blame it on her, "See, Mom, it's all your fault. You set a bad example."

10. What infuriated my mother most was when my brother cornered her on her consonants, especially "r". My father had played a cruel joke on Mom by assigning her an American name that her tongue wouldn't allow her to say. No matter how hard she tried, "Ruth" always ended up "Luth" or "Roof".

11. After two years of writing with a moc but and reciting words with multiples of meanings, I finally was granted a cultural divorce. I was permitted to stop Chinese school.

12. I thought of myself as multicultural. I preferred tacos to egg rolls; I enjoyed Cinco de Mayo more than Chinese New Year.

13. At last, I was one of you; I wasn't one of them.

14. Sadly, I still am.

我和弟弟小时候上的那所耶鲁大街上的中文学校还在那儿。除了新刷的油漆和高高的电网，我10年前就认识的这所学校依然一切如故。。

2. 每天下午5点钟，我和弟弟不能和四年级、五年级的伙伴们玩耍，也不能偷偷溜进那片空地去寻找鬼魂和动物骨头，而非得去中文学校上课。无论怎么跺脚踢腿、大喊大闹、或者

苦苦哀求，妈妈都无动于衷。她下定决心要让我们学会祖传的语言。

3. 连拖带拽，她带着我们走过那长长的七个街区的陡坡路来到学校，把我们扔在那无比严酷的校长面前，我们满脸都是倔强的泪水。我头脑里只记得，那个校长像一棵棕榈树，双脚站立，身体左右摇晃，双手手指交叉放在背后总不耐烦地抽动着。在我眼里，他是个心情压抑、行为狂躁的谋杀小孩的凶手，而且还知道，如果一旦看见他的手，我们就有大麻烦了。

4. 我们都坐在空空荡荡礼堂里的小椅子上。屋内散发着像中药似的气味，一种来自远方的陈年霉味，像年代久远的樟脑丸或肮脏的小房间里的味道。我对那种味道深恶痛绝。我喜爱清新的香味，比如我的那位公立学校美国老师身上的那种温馨的法国香水味。

5. 虽然在那所学校里主要是学习语言——说话、阅读、写字，但是每堂课总是以操练礼貌开始。老师一走进教室，最好的那个学生就打铃，于是大家全体起立、磕头、并齐声说，“先生好”，即“老师您好”的中文发音。

6. 那年我十岁，比起用毛笔从右至左一横一竖、煞费苦心地写方块字，我有更好的东西去学习。毛笔是一支真正的墨水笔，要避免弄出墨点儿来，就得别别扭扭地握住笔。我毕竟背得出乘法口诀，说得出火星的卫星名字，还写过《小妇人》和《黑美人》的读书报告。南希·德鲁是我最喜欢的书籍里的女主人翁，她可从来不说中文。

7. 语言真给人带来尴尬。很多次我去逛唐人街附近的美国超市时，就会从身后传来喋喋不休的大声喧哗。我经常要想方设法摆脱这个声音。那是我奶奶的声音，她已年逾七旬，身体脆弱，但是她的喉咙超过街上最棒的小贩。她有一种低俗的幽默，说的中文既缺乏节奏，又没有句型。那声音说得很快、很响、很不美；不像那细声细气、抑扬顿挫的浪漫法语，也不像温柔上乘的美国南部的声音。中文听上去就是有市井气，不登大雅之堂。

8. 在唐人街，数以千计的华人为了生计来往忙碌，他们说起话的声音杂乱无章。我可不想被人以为疯了，以为在胡言乱语。我开口说英语时，人们对我点头示意、报以微笑，还说上几句鼓励的话。甚至连与我同民族的人也会忙不迭地说我以后会有出息。“天哪，她那小嘴唇动得多快，”他们说道，意思是说我跟得上唐人街外面世界的步伐。

9. 提到说英语，我弟弟比我更吹毛求疵。他对妈妈特别严格，经常批评她的洋泾浜英语，丝毫不留情面——说她的英语会话中像炒杂碎似的夹杂着一两句中文。“不是‘What it is,’妈妈，”他会很生气地说。“是‘What is it, what is it, what is it!’”有的时候，妈妈也许会漏掉“the”或“a", 或者忘掉动词“being”。他就会在她说到一半的时候打断她。“再说一次，妈妈。要说正确了。”他自己口误时，就会把责任推给她。“瞧，妈妈，都是因为你，是你树立的坏榜样。”

10. 最让妈妈怒不可遏的是弟弟抓住她在辅音上出的错，尤其是“r”这个音。爸爸对妈妈恶作剧，给她取了一个美国名字，她那舌头就是发不出这个音。无论怎么努力，她说“Ruth”，结果不是“Luth”，就是“Roof”。

11. 用毛笔写了两年字，背了两年有几个意思的汉字，我终于获准在文化上脱离了，获准不再上中文学校了。

12. 我原来以为自己具有多元文化的背景。我喜欢吃墨西哥玉米卷，不爱吃蛋卷。比起过春节，我更喜欢五月五日死亡节。

13. 最终，我成了你们当中的一员，不再是他们当中的一员。

14. 令我难过的是，我现在还是这样。

第三课

A HANGING

George Orwell

1. It was in Burma, a sodden morning of the rains. We were waiting outside the condemned cells, a row of sheds fronted with double bars, like small animal cages. Each cell measured about ten feet by ten and was quite bare within except for a plank bed and a pot for drinking water. In some of them brown silent men were squatting at the inner bars, with their blankets draped round them. These were the condemned men, due to be hanged within the next week or two. Detailed Reading

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2. One prisoner had been brought out of his cell. He was a Hindu, a puny wisp of a man, with a shaven head and vague liquid eyes. Six tall Indian warders were guarding him and getting him ready for the gallows. Two of them stood by with rifles and fixed bayonets, while the others handcuffed him, passed a chain through his handcuffs and fixed it to their belts, and lashed his arms tightly to his sides. They crowded very close about him, with their hands always on him in a careful, caressing grip, as though all the while feeling him to make sure he was there. But he stood quite unresisting, yielding his arms limply to the ropes, as though he hardly noticed what was happening.

3. Eight o'clock struck and a bugle call floated from the distant barracks. The superintendent of the jail, who was standing apart from the rest of us, moodily prodding the gravel with his stick, raised his head at the sound. "For God's sake hurry up, Francis," he said irritably. "The man ought to have been dead by this time. Aren't you ready yet?"

4. Francis, the head jailer, a fat Dravidian in a white drill suit and gold spectacles, waved his black hand. "Yes sir, yes sir," he bubbled. "All is satisfactorily prepared. The hangman is waiting. We shall proceed."

5. "Well, quick march, then. The prisoners can't get their breakfast till this job's over."

6. We set out for the gallows. Two warders marched on either side of the prisoner, with their rifles at the slope; two others marched close against him, gripping him by arm and shoulder, as though at once pushing and supporting him. The rest of us, magistrates and the like, followed behind.

7. It was about forty yards to the gallows. I watched the bare brown back of the prisoner marching in front of me. He walked clumsily with his bound arms, but quite steadily. At each step his muscles slid neatly into place, the lock of hair on his scalp danced up and down, his feet printed themselves on the wet gravel. And once, in spite of the men who gripped him by each shoulder, he stepped slightly aside to avoid a puddle on the path.

8. It is curious, but till that moment I had never realized what it means to destroy a healthy, conscious man. When I saw the prisoner step aside to avoid the puddle I saw the mystery, the unspeakable wrongness, of cutting a life short when it is in full tide. This man was not dying, he was alive just as we are alive. All the organs of his body were working -- bowels digesting food, skin renewing itself, nails growing, tissues forming -- all toiling away in solemn foolery. His nails would still be growing when he stood on the drop, when he was falling through the air with a tenth of a second to live. His eyes saw the yellow gravel and the gray walls, and his brain still remembered, foresaw, reasoned -- reasoned even about puddles. He and we were a party of men walking together, seeing, hearing, feeling, understanding the same world; and in two minutes, with a sudden snap, one of us would be gone -- one mind less, one world less.

9. The gallows stood in a small yard. The hangman, a gray-haired convict in the white uniform of the prison, was waiting beside his machine. He greeted us with a servile crouch as we entered.

At a word from Francis the two warders, gripping the prisoner more closely than ever, half led half pushed him to the gallows and helped him clumsily up the ladder. Then the hangman climbed up and fixed the rope around the prisoner's neck.

10. We stood waiting, five yards away. The warders had formed a rough circle round the gallows. And then, when the noose was fixed, the prisoner began crying out to his god. It was a high, reiterated cry of "Ram! Ram! Ram! Ram!" not urgent and fearful like a prayer or a cry for help, but steady, rhythmical, almost like the tolling of a bell.

11. The hangman climbed down and stood ready, holding the lever. Minutes seemed to pass. The steady crying from the prisoner went on and on, "Ram! Ram! Ram!" never faltering for an instant. The superintendent, his head on his chest, was slowly poking the ground with his stick; perhaps he was counting the cries, allowing the prisoner a fixed number -- fifty, perhaps, or a hundred. Everyone had changed color. The Indians had gone gray like bad coffee, and one or two of the bayonets were wavering.

12. Suddenly the superintendent made up his mind. Throwing up his head he made a swift motion with his stick. "Chalo!" he shouted almost fiercely.

13. There was a clanking noise, and then dead silence. The prisoner had vanished, and the rope was twisting on itself. We went round the gallows to inspect the prisoner's body. He was dangling with his toes pointing straight downward. Very slowly revolving, as dead as a stone.

14. The superintendent reached out with his stick and poked the bare brown body; it oscillated slightly. "He's all right," said the superintendent. He backed out from under the gallows, and blew out a deep breath. The moody look had gone out of his face quite suddenly. He glanced at his wrist watch. "Eight minutes past eight. Well, that's all for this morning, thank God."

15. The warders unfixed bayonets and marched away. We walked out of the gallows yard, past the condemned cells with their waiting prisoners, into the big central yard of the prison. The convicts were already receiving their breakfast. They squatted in long rows, each man holding a tin pannikin, while two warders with buckets march round ladling out rice; it seemed quite a homely, jolly scene, after the hanging. An enormous relief had come upon us now that the job was done. One felt an impulse to sing, to break into a run, to snigger. All at once everyone began chattering gaily.

16. The Eurasian boy walking beside me nodded toward the way we had come, with a knowing smile, "Do you know sir, our friend (he meant the dead man) when he heard his appeal had been dismissed, he pissed on the floor of his cell. From fright. Kindly take one of my cigarettes, sir. Do you not admire my new silver case, sir? Classy European style."

17. Several people laughed -- at what, nobody seemed certain.

18. Francis was walking by the superintendent, talking garrulously, "Well, sir, all has passed off with the utmost satisfactoriness. It was all finished -- flick! Like that. It is not always so -- oah no! I have known cases where the doctor was obliged to go beneath the gallows and pull the prisoner's legs to ensure decease. Most disagreeable."

19. "Wriggling about, eh? That's bad," said the superintendent.

20. "Ach, sir, it is worse when they become refractory! One man, I recall, clung to the bars of his cage when we went to take him out. You will scarcely credit, sir, that it took six warders to dislodge him, three pulling at each leg."

21. I found that I was laughing quite loudly. Everyone was laughing. Even the superintendent grinned in a tolerant way. "You'd better all come and have a drink," he said quite genially. "I've

got a bottle of whiskey in the car. We could do with it."

22. We went through the big double gates of the prison into the road. "Pulling at his legs!" exclaimed a Burmese magistrate suddenly, and burst into a loud chuckling. We all began laughing again. At that moment Francis' anecdote seemed extraordinarily funny. We all had a drink together, native and European alike, quite amicably. The dead man was a hundred yards away.

1. 那是发生在缅甸的事情。在一个很潮湿的雨季清晨，我们都在死囚牢房外面等着，一排小屋的门上加了双根铁条，就像小动物的笼子。每间牢房大约10英寸见方，里面只有一张木板床和一个盛饮水的罐儿。有几间里，棕色皮肤的人默默无声地蹲在里面一间的铁条后面，身上披着毯子。这些都是死囚，在一两周以内将被处以绞刑。

2. 有个囚犯从他的牢房里被带了出来。他是个印度教徒，身材瘦小，弱不禁风，头顶剃得光光的，双眼水汪汪的，浑浊无神。六个高大的印度狱卒看着他，准备送他上绞刑架。其中两个手持上了刺刀的长枪，站在旁边，其余几个给他戴上手铐，从手铐中穿上一根链条系在他们的皮带上，再把他的手臂紧紧地捆在他身体的两侧。狱卒们团团站在他周围，手都小心地紧握住他，似乎在抚摸他，时刻确信人就在那儿。然而，囚犯毫无反抗地站着，双臂耷拉地让绳子捆着，似乎他并没有注意将要发生的事情。

3. 八点钟的钟声响起，从远处的军营传来一阵军号声。监狱长站在我们的外围，闷闷不乐地用手杖戳了戳沙砾地面，随着传来的声响抬起头来。“天哪，快点儿，法朗西斯，”他焦躁地说道。“这家伙此刻早该死啦。你还没有准备好吗？”

4. 法朗西斯是狱卒小队长，一个胖胖的达罗毗荼人，身穿白色的斜纹布制服，还戴副金丝边眼镜，挥了挥黑色的手。“好了，好了，监狱长，”他反反复复地说道。“万事俱备。绞刑手等着呢。我们马上动手。”

5. “行，听好了，齐步走。等这活儿干完，囚犯们才可以吃早饭。”

6. 我们向绞刑架走去。各有两名狱卒走在死囚左右两边，掮着长枪；另外两名紧靠着他，死死地抓住他的手臂和肩膀，似推似扶着他。我们其余的人，像执法官一类的，跟在后面。

7. 在离绞刑架大约40码的地方，我眼望着那死囚光着膀子的棕颜色脊背，走在我的前面。他双臂被捆着，走起路来虽不灵活，但稳稳的。身上的肌肉与迈出的步伐很协调，脑袋上的那簇头发上下跳跃，双脚在潮湿的沙砾地面上留下脚印。有一次，尽管两个肩膀被人紧握着，他稍稍地向一旁迈出一小步，为了避开小道上的水坑。

8. 真奇怪，在那一刻之前，我从来没有意识到把一个活生生的、身体健康的人置于死地是怎么回事。等看到那死囚为了避开水坑向旁边侧一步的时候，我发现了将一个正当壮年的生命戛然结束的神秘，那是一种无以言表的错误。那个人不是生命垂危，他活着，像我们一样活着。他身体里的所有器官还在运作——肠子在消化食品、皮肤在自我更新、指甲在生长、细胞组织在形成——全在一本正经地、愚蠢地忙碌着。他站在那块活动踏板上的时候，指甲还在长；当他从空中落下来的时候，他还有十分之一秒的时间活着。他的双眼将看见黄颜色的沙砾地面和灰颜色的墙壁，他的头脑仍然会记忆、预见和思考——甚至会思考那个水坑。他和我们是一起向前走的一群人，看见、听见、感觉、理解同一个世界。然而，两分钟后，突然咔嗒一声，我们当中有一个将死去——少了一个头脑，少了一个世界。

9. 绞刑架竖立在一个小院子里。绞刑手是个满头花白头发的囚犯，身穿监狱里白颜色的囚服，在那台机器旁等候着。我们走进去时，他奴颜婢膝地向我们躬身致意。随着法朗西斯的一句话，两名狱卒靠得更近地抓住死囚，半拉半推地把他带到绞刑架，笨手笨脚地帮他爬上扶梯。然后，绞刑手也爬上去，将绞索套在死囚的脖子上。

10. 我们在五码开外的地方等着。狱卒们围着绞刑架一圈站开。接着，等绞索套好后，死囚开始向他的神喊叫起来。声音很高，反复地喊着“罗摩!罗摩!罗摩!罗摩!”，不像焦急恐惧求

救的祈祷或喊叫，倒是一声接一声，很有节奏感，像击钟的声音。

11. 绞刑手爬了下来，站立着手握杠杆，准备就绪。好像又过了几分钟。死囚发出的那一声接一声呼喊还在继续。“罗摩!罗摩!罗摩!”一刻儿都不停顿。监狱长的脑袋低垂在胸前，慢慢地用手杖戳着地面，他也许正在数着喊叫的次数，允许让死囚喊叫一个固定的次数——大概五十次，或者一百次。每个人的脸色都变了。那几个印度人的脸色像坏了的咖啡，发灰，而且有一两把刺刀摇晃了起来。

12. 监狱长突然下了决心。他猛地抬起头来，拿起手杖迅速一挥。“绞了!”他近乎残暴地大吼道。

13. 哐当一声，接着是死一般的寂静。死囚不见了，就那根绳索在打转。我们走到绞刑架四周查看死囚的尸体。他悬着，左右晃来晃去的，脚趾直指下方。非常缓慢地转动着，死得像块石头。

14. 监狱长伸出手杖，戳戳那光着膀子的棕色尸体，那尸体微微地晃动了一下。“完事了，”监狱长说道。他从绞刑架下面退出来，深深地吐了口气。他那副阴沉沉的脸色突然消失了。他瞟了一眼手表。“八点零八分。嗯，今天上午的活儿到此为止，谢天谢地。”

15. 狱卒们取下刺刀，迈步走开。我们从放置绞刑架的院子里走出来，路过等死囚犯的牢房，来到监狱的中心大院。囚犯们已经在领早饭了。他们一长排一长排地蹲着，每个人手里拿着一个锡碗，两名狱卒抬着饭桶来回打饭。绞刑刚过，那看上去倒是一个朴实快乐的场景。既然活儿干完了，我们大大地松了一口气。有一种想唱歌、想狂奔、想偷偷笑一笑的冲动。大家开始开心地聊起天来。

16. 走在我身边的欧亚混血小伙子朝来的那条路点头示意，面露无所不知的微笑说道，“长官，您知道吗，我们的朋友(他指的是那个死人)听说上诉被驳回的时候，都尿裤子了，尿在地板上，吓出来的。长官，请抽支烟吧。长官，我这只新的银烟盒您看看怎么样？正宗的欧洲款式。”

17. 有几个人哈哈大笑起来——笑什么，好像谁也不清楚。

18. 法朗西斯走在监狱长身边，喋喋不休地说：“嗯，长官，事情全办完了，十分满意。啪的一声，就全完了!并非总是如此的，哦，不是的。我就知道，有几次医生不得不到绞刑架下面，抓住囚犯的腿向下拉，才死的。麻烦得很。”

19. “哦，抽动着？太糟糕了，”监狱长说道。

20. “啊呀，长官，那些家伙不听话起来就更加麻烦了!我记得，有个家伙我们带他出来时，拼命地抓住牢房的铁条。长官啊，你简直不会相信，用了六个狱卒才把他拽出来，三个人拖一条腿。”

21. 我发现自己在哈哈大笑，声音很响。每个人都在哈哈大笑。连监狱长也宽容地露出牙齿笑了。“大家都来喝杯酒吧，”他和蔼地说道，“我车上有一瓶威士忌，我们几个喝。”

22. 我们穿过双铁条的监狱大门，走到大路上。“拉他的腿!”一个缅甸人执法官突然嚷嚷道，又咯咯地大笑起来。我们大家再次开始大笑。此时此刻，法朗西斯讲的事情似乎格外好玩。我们大家一起喝了杯酒，当地人和欧洲人，很和睦。那个死人就在一百码之外。

Unit 5

GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH

Patrick Henry

1. Mr. President: No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the house. But different men often see the

same object in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining, as I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question before the house is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery. And in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offence, I should consider myself as guilty of treason toward my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.

2. Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who having eyes see not, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I'm willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst and to provide for it.

3. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation —the last arguments to which kings resort.

4. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging.

5. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not already been exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer.

6. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be

free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!

7. They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanging may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

8. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, "Peace, peace" — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

1. 议长先生：我比任何人更钦佩刚刚在议会上发言的先生们的爱国主义精神和才干。但是，对同样的问题，智者见智，仁者见仁。因此，尽管我的观点与他们大相径庭，但是我仍要把自己的心里话一吐为快，并希望不要因此而被看做是对他们大不敬：现在不是讲客套的时候。摆在议会面前的问题关系到国家的存亡。我认为，这是关系到享受自由还是蒙受奴役的关键问题，而且正因为事关重大，我们的辩论就要做到各抒己见。只有这样，我们才能弄清事实的真相，才能不辜负上帝和祖国赋予我们的责任。在这种时刻，如果怕得罪人而闭口不言，我认为就是叛国，就是比对世上所有国君更为神圣的上帝的不忠行为。

2. 议长先生，对希望抱有幻觉是人的天性。我们往往紧闭双眼不去正视痛苦的现实，而是倾听海妖蛊惑人心的歌声，让她把我们变成禽兽。在为自由而进行艰苦卓绝的斗争中，这难道是聪明人的所作所为吗？难道我们愿意为对获得拯救如此至关重要的事情视而不见，听而不闻吗？就我来说，无论精神上有多么痛苦，我仍愿意获悉全部的真相和最坏的事态，并为之做好充分准备。

3. 我只有一盏指路明灯，那就是经验之灯。除了过去的经验，我没有其他的方法去判断未来。依据过去的经验，我倒希望知道，十年来英国政府的所作所为，凭什么使得各位先生有理由满怀希望，并欣然用来安慰自己和议会呢？难道就是最近接受我们请愿时的那种狡诈的微笑吗？不要相信这种微笑，阁下，事实证明那是放置在您脚下的陷阱。不要被人家的亲吻

把自己出卖了!请你们扪心自问，接受我们请愿时的和蔼亲善与遍布海陆疆域的大规模备战怎么会相称呢？难道出于对我们的爱护和和解，就有必要动用战舰和军队吗？难道我们流露过绝不和解的愿望，因此结果为了重新赢得我们的爱，而必须诉诸武力吗？我们不要再欺骗自己了，阁下，这些都是战争和征服的工具，是国王们采取的最后的辩解手段。

4. 我要请问先生们，阁下，这些战争的部署如果不是为了迫使我们俯首称臣，那又意味着什么？先生们能够指出还有其他的动机吗？难道在世界的这个地方，还有什么敌人值得大不列颠如此兴师动众，调集如此庞大的海陆军队吗？没有了，阁下，什么敌人也没有。他们完全是针对我们的，而不是别人。他们是派来给我们紧紧套上英国政府长期以来铸造的锁链的。

5. 我们用什么来抵抗呢？还要辩论吗？阁下，我们已经辩论了十年。难道对这个问题我们还有什么新鲜观点吗？什么也没有。我们已经把各个方面全考虑过了，但是一切都徒劳枉然。难道我们只得苦苦哀告，微言乞求吗？难道我们还能期望找到什么没有穷尽的说法吗？阁下，我恳求您，我们千万不要再自欺欺人了。

6. 阁下，为了躲避这场即将降临的风暴，一切该做的事情我们都已经做了。我们请愿过，我们抗议过，我们哀求过：我们曾拜倒在御座之前，恳求制止国会和内阁的残暴行径。我们的请愿遭到蔑视，我们的抗议招致格外的镇压和侮辱，我们的哀求被置之不理，我们被不以为然地从御座前一脚踢开了。全都枉然，事已至此，我们还能沉湎于愚蠢的希望之中吗？我们什么希望都没有余地了。假如我们希望获得自由，并维护我们长期以来为之献身的崇高权力，假如我们不愿意卑鄙地放弃我们多年来的斗争，不获全胜，绝不收兵，那么，我们必须战斗！我再重复一遍，我们必须战斗！我们只有诉诸武力，只有求助于千军万马之主的上帝。

7. 阁下，他们说我们太弱小了——无法抵挡这么强大的敌手。但是，我们什么时候才能更强大呢？是下周，还是明年？难道要等我们被彻底解除武装，家家户户都驻扎了英国士兵的时候吗？难道我们靠犹豫不决，无所作为来积聚力量吗？难道我们高枕而卧，抱有虚无缥缈的希望，等到敌人捆住了我们的手脚，就能找到有效抵抗敌人的良策吗？阁下，只要我们恰如其分地利用好自然之神恩赐给我们的力量，我们并不弱小。一旦300万人民在自己的国土上武装起来为了自由的神圣事业而战，那么敌人派遣来的任何武装力量都无法战胜我们。此外，我们并非孤军作战，公正的上帝主宰着各国的命运，他将号召朋友们为我们而战。阁下，战争的胜利并非只属于强者，它将属于那些机警、主动和勇敢的人们。何况我们已经别无选择。即使我们没有骨气，想退出战斗，也为时已晚。退路已被切断，除非甘愿蒙受屈辱和奴役。囚禁我们的锁链已经铸成，叮叮当当的镣铐声已经在波士顿平原上回荡，战争已经无可避免——让它来吧!我重复一遍，阁下，让它来吧！

8. 企图使事态得到缓和是徒劳的，阁下。各位先生可以高喊，“和平，和平”——但是根本没有和平。战争实际上已开始了！从北方刮来的风暴将把武器的铿锵的撞击声传到我们的耳中。我们的兄弟们已经上了战场！我们为什么还要站在这儿袖手旁观？先生们希望的是什么？他们会得到什么？难道生命就这么可贵，和平就这么甜美，竟值得以锁链和奴役做代价？全能的上帝啊，制止他们这样做吧！我不知道别人会如何行事：至于我，不自由，毋宁死！

HOW AMERICA LIVES

James Albert Michener

1. Americans still follow many of the old ways. In a time of rapid change it is essential that we remember how much of the old we cling to. Young people still get married (

2.41million couples last year as opposed to only 1.52 million in 1960). Of course, many do get divorced, but they remarry at astonishing rates. They have children, but fewer than before. They belong to churches, even though they attend somewhat less frequently, and they want their children to have religious instruction. They are willing to pay taxes for education, and they generously support institutions like hospitals, museums and libraries. In fact, when you compare the America of today with that of 1950, the similarities are far greater than the differences.

2. Americans seem to be growing conservative. The 1980 election, especially for the Senate and House of Representatives, signaled a decided turn to the right insofar as political and social attitudes were concerned. It is as if our country spent the 1960s and 1970s jealously breaking out of old restraints and now wishes to put the brakes on, as cautious people often do after a binge. We should expect to see a reaffirmation of traditional family values, sharp restraints on pornography, a return to religion and a rejection of certain kinds of social legislation.

3. Patterns of courtship and marriage have changed radically. Where sex was concerned, I was raised in an atmosphere of suspicion, repression and Puritanism, and although husky young kids can survive almost anything, many in my generation suffered grievously. Without reservation, I applaud the freer patterns of today, although I believe that it's been difficult for some families to handle the changes.

4. American women are changing the rules. Thirty years ago I could not have imagined a group of women employees suing a major corporation for millions of dollars of salary which, they alleged, had been denied them because they had been discriminated against. Nor could I imagine women in universities going up to the men who ran the athletic programs and demanding a just share of the physical education budget. But they are doing this — and with the support of many men who recognize the justice of their claims. At work, at play, at all levels of living women are suggesting new rules.

5. America is worried about its schools. If I had a child today, I would send her or him to a private school for the sake of safety, for the discipline that would be enforced and for the rigorous academic requirements. But I would doubt that the child would get any better education than I did in my good public school. The problem is that good public schools are becoming pitifully rare, and I would not want to take the chance that the one I sent my children to was inadequate. Detailed Reading

6. Some Americans must live on welfare. Since it seems obvious that our nation can produce all its needs with only a part of the available work force, some kind of social welfare assistance must be doled out to those who cannot find jobs. When I think of a typical welfare recipient I think of a young neighbor woman whose husband was killed in a tragic accident, leaving her with three young children. In the bad old days she might have known destitution, but with family assistance she was able to hold her children together and produced three fine, tax-paying citizens. I like that kind of social assistance and am willing to support it. America is essentially a compassionate

society.

7. America cannot find housing for its young families. I consider this the most serious danger confronting family life in America, and I am appalled that the condition has been allowed to develop. For more than a decade, travelers like me have been aware that in countries like Sweden, Denmark, Russia and India young people have found it almost impossible to acquire homes. In Sweden the customary wait was 11 years of marriage, and we used to ask, "what went wrong?" It seemed to us that a major responsibility of any nation would be to provide homes for its young people starting their families. Well, this dreadful social sickness has now overtaken the United States, and for the same reasons. The builders in our society find it profitable to erect three-bathroom homes that sell for $220,000 with a mortgage at 19 percent but find it impossible to erect small homes for young marrieds. For a major nation to show itself impotent to house its young people is admitting a failure that must be corrected.

8. Our prospects are still good. I find our chances to be at least as good as those of any other nation and probably better. We have a physical setting of remarkable integrity, the world's best agriculture, a splendid wealth of minerals, great rivers for irrigation and an unsurpassed system of roads for transportation. We also have a magnificent mixture of peoples from all the continents with varied traditions and strengths. But most of all, we have a unique and balanced system of government.

9. I think of America as having the oldest form of government on earth, because since we started our present democracy in 1789, every other nation has suffered either parliamentary change or revolutionary change. It is our system that has survived and should survive, giving the maximum number of people a maximum chance for happiness.

在很多方面，美国人依然因循守旧。在日新月异的时代，我们必须记住我们还在坚守多少过去的东西。年轻人依然步入婚姻殿堂(去年有241万对男女结为夫妇，而在1960年仅有152万对)。当然，其中有许多人离婚，然而他们又以惊人的速度再婚。他们生儿育女，但比以前少多了。他们是教会成员，尽管去教堂的次数比以前少，他们还要子女接受宗教方面的教育。他们心甘情愿地为教育纳税，他们也为支助医院、博物馆和图书馆等机构慷慨解囊。事实上，将今日的美国与1950年的相比，相似之处大大超过差异之处。

2. 美国人好像越来越保守。1980年大选，尤其是参议院和众议院的选举，标志着选民的政治和社会态度明显右倾。我们的国家在上个世纪六七十年代不遗余力地挣脱陈旧的束缚，似乎现在想要刹车了，就像谨小慎微的人在放纵自己以后常做的那样。我们预计会看到对传统家庭价值观的重新首肯，对色情严加控制，回归宗教，以及摒弃某些社会法律条文。

3. 求爱和结婚的方式有了很大的变化。说到性的问题，我是在猜疑、压抑和清教徒式的生活环境中长大的，虽然有些粗犷的孩子几乎在什么环境中都能活得不赖，但是我们这一代人中，大多数人活得真不容易。对当今较为自由的模式，我鼓掌表示毫无保留地赞成。但是，我相信对有些家庭来说，要适应这些变化绝非易事。

4. 美国妇女在改变这些规则。30年前，我完全想象不到一群女性雇员会控告一家大公司，起诉公司因为歧视而少支付了她们数以百万美元的薪金。我想象不到，女大学生会去找负责运动项目的男性，要求在体育教育的经费中公正地获得她们的一份。然而，她们正在这么做，而且得到许多男士的支持，他们认识到这些女性诉求的公正性。工作中，娱乐中，在生活的各个层次，女性在提出新的规则。

5. 美国在为学校忧心忡忡。如果我现在有个孩子，那为了安全问题、为了执行纪律以及为了严格的学业要求，我宁愿将孩子送到私立学校。但是，我怀疑的是，这个孩子接受的教育会不会有我当年在那所良好的公立学校里接受的教育那么好。问题是，良好的公立学校少得可怜。因此，我不想冒险把孩子送进不够格的学校去。

6. 有些美国人必须靠吃救济为生。显而易见，既然我们的国家只需要在可供劳动力的一部分就能生产出所有的必需品，那么对那些找不到工作的人必须要发放某种形式的社会救助。一想到典型的接受救济的对象，我就想起一个邻居，一位年轻女子，她丈夫在车祸中惨死，给她留下三个小孩。在早年的困难时期，她完全可能尝到贫困的滋味。但是，凭着家庭救助，她能够供养自己的孩子，把他们培养成三个纳税的良好公民。我喜爱这种社会救助，并且乐意助上一臂之力。归根到底，美国是个富有同情心的社会。

7. 美国无法为年轻家庭提供住房。我认为这是美国家庭生活面临着的最为严重的问题，令我十分吃惊的是，国家竟然任由这种情况发展。十多年来，像我这样周游世界的人，很清楚在瑞典、丹麦、俄罗斯和印度这样的国家里，年轻人几乎不可能得到房屋。在瑞典，常常要在婚后等待十一个年头，我曾经问过：“什么出错了？”在我们看来，任何国家主要的责任就是为年轻人提供住房，让他们成家。然而，这个可怕的社会顽疾现在已降临到美国，而且出于同样的原因。在我们的社会里，开发商觉得建筑有三个浴室的住房，售价为220,000美元，再加上19%的按揭，有利可图，但却发现几乎无法为年轻夫妇建筑小面积的住房。一个大国没有能力为年轻人提供住房就等于承认一个必须加以纠正的失误。

8. 我们的前景仍然一片大好。我发现，与其他任何国家相比，我们的机会至少不相上下，甚至更好。我们有一大块完整的疆土，有世界上最强的农业，有丰富的矿藏，有用以灌溉的宽广的河流，还有无与伦比的运输交通系统。我们还有来自四大洲的各色人种，完美地结合在一起，各自拥有自己的传统和优势。但是，最难能可贵的是，我们拥有一个独一无二、平衡的政府体制。

9. 我认为美国具有最古老的政府模式，因为自从1789年我们建立起现在的民主制度以来，其他的国家不是经历了议会制度的变革，就是经过了革命的洗礼；而只有我们的制度一如既往，而且会经久不衰，给予最大多数的人最高程度的幸福。

THE NEW IMMORALITY

Joseph Wood Krutch

1. The provost of one of our largest and most honored institutions told me not long ago that a questionnaire was distributed to his undergraduates and that 40 percent refused to acknowledge that they believed cheating on examinations to be reprehensible.

2. Recently a reporter for a New York newspaper stopped six people on the street and asked them if they would consent to take part in a rigged television quiz for money. He reported that

five of the six said yes. Yet most of these five, like most of the college cheaters, would probably profess a strong social consciousness. They may cheat, but they vote for foreign aid and for enlightened social measures.

3. These two examples exhibit a paradox of our age. It is often said, and my observation leads me to believe it true, that our seemingly great growth in social morality has oddly enough taken place in a world where private morality — a sense of the supreme importance of purely personal honor, honesty, and integrity —seems to be declining. Beneficent and benevolent social institutions are administered by men who all too frequently turn out to be accepting "gifts." The world of popular entertainment is rocked by scandal. College students, put on their honor, cheat on examination. Candidates for the Ph. D. hire ghost writers to prepare their theses.

4. But, one may object, haven't all these things always been true? Is there really any evidence that personal dishonesty is more prevalent than it always was?

5. I have no way of making a historical measurement. Perhaps these things are not actually more prevalent. What I do know is that there is an interesting tendency to accept and take for granted such personal dishonesty. The bureaucrat and disk jockey say, "Well, yes, I took presents, but I assure you that I made just decisions anyway." The college student caught cheating does not even blush. He shrugs his shoulders and comments: "Everybody does it, and besides, I can't see that it really hurts anybody."

6. Jonathan Swift once said: "I have never been surprised to find men wicked, but I have often been surprised to find them not ashamed." It is my conviction that though men may be no more wicked than they always have been, they seem less likely to be ashamed. If everybody does it, it must be right. Honest, moral, decent mean only what is usual. This is not really a wicked world, because morality means mores or manners and usual conduct is the only standard.

7. The second part of the defense, "it really doesn't hurt anybody," is equally revealing. "It doesn't hurt anybody" means it doesn't do that abstraction called society any harm. The harm it did to the bribe-taker and the cheater isn't important; it is purely personal. And persona, as opposed to social decency, doesn't count for much. Sometimes I am inclined to blame sociology for part of this paradox. Sociology has tended to lay exclusive stress upon social morality, and tended too often to define good and evil as merely the "socially useful" or its reverse.

8. What social morality and social conscience leave out is the narrower but very significant concept of honor -- as opposed to what is sometimes called merely "socially desirable conduct". The man of honor is not content to ask merely whether this or that will hurt society, or whether it is what most people would permit themselves to do. He asks, and he asks first of all, would it hurt him and his self-respect? Would it dishonor him personally?

9. It was a favorite and no doubt sound argument among early twentieth-century reformers that "playing the game" as the gentleman was supposed to play it was not enough to make a decent society. They were right: it is not enough. But the time has come to add that it is indeed

inevitable that the so-called social conscience unsupported by the concept of personal honor will create a corrupt society. But suppose that it doesn't? Suppose that no one except the individual suffers from the fact that he sees nothing wrong in doing what everybody else does? Even so, I still insist that for the individual himself nothing is more important than this personal, interior sense of right and wrong and his determination to follow that rather than to be guided by what everybody does or merely the criterion of "social usefulness". It is impossible for me to imagine a good society composed of men without honor.

10. We hear it said frequently that what present-day men most desire is security. If that is so, then they have a wrong notion of what the real, the ultimate, security is. No one who is dependent on anything outside himself, upon money, power, fame, or whatnot, is or ever can be secure. Only he who possesses himself and is content with himself is actually secure. Too much is being said about the importance of adjustment and "participation in the group". Even cooperation, to give this thing its most favorable designation, is no more important than the ability to stand alone when the choice must be made between the sacrifice of one's own integrity and adjustment to or participation in group activity.

11. No matter how bad the world may become, no matter how much the mass man of the future may lose such of the virtues as he still has, one fact remains. If one person alone refuses to go along with him, if one person alone asserts his individual and inner right to believe in and be loyal to what his fellow men seem to have given up, then at least he will still remain what is perhaps the most important part of humanity.

不久以前，有一家最大、也是最著名学校的教务长告诉我，给本科生发了一份调查问卷，其中有40%的人拒绝承认他们相信考试作弊应该受到谴责。

2. 最近，纽约一家报纸的一位记者在街上拦住六名行人，问他们是不是同意为了钱参加有舞弊性质的电视测试。他报道说，这六个人当中有五个说同意。但是，就像大多数在大学里作弊的人那样，这五个人当中很可能多数会宣称有很强烈的社会觉悟。也许他们徇私舞弊，但是他们投票支持提供外援，支持实行开明的社会措施。

3. 这两个事例说明了我们这个时代的一种悖论。人们常说，而且根据我的观察这种说法是真的，看上去我们的社会道德观有了显著的提高，但奇怪的是，就在这个世界里，个人的道德观——一种纯粹个人的信誉、诚实和正直至高无上的价值取向——却似乎在倒退。常常发现那些经营管理社会慈善机构的人接受“礼物”。大众娱乐界受到丑闻的震撼。大学生名声在外，但是考试作弊。报考攻读博士学位的家伙雇佣枪手撰写论文。

4. 然而，也许有人会反驳，所有这些不是一直这样吗？真的有证据说明，现在个人的不诚实要比往昔更猖獗吗？

5. 我无法做出历史性的衡量。或许这些事情并不真的更加猖獗。我能指出的是，现在有一种饶有趣味的苗头，就是有人接受这种个人的不诚实，而且还觉得理所当然。官僚和电台节目主持人说：“嗯，是的，我接受过礼物，但是我保证反正自己做出的是公正的决定。”作弊被现场捉住的大学生连脸都不红。他耸耸肩膀，评论道：“大家都这么干，而且我看不出对

谁有什么伤害。”

6. 乔纳森·斯威夫特曾经说过：“发现有人为人邪恶，我不吃惊；但是我常常感到惊讶的是发现这些人厚颜无耻。”我坚信的是，虽然人们也许并不比以往那么邪恶，但是他们似乎更加不知廉耻了。如果人人如此，那就一定对了。诚实、品德和正直这些操守的执行仅是因为人们循规蹈矩。这并不是一个邪恶的世界，因为道德规范意味着道德观和行为举止，而且一般的行为才是唯一的标准。

7. 辩解的第二部分，“真的对谁也没有什么伤害”同样很说明问题。“对谁也没有什么伤害”的意思是，对那个叫做社会的抽象概念毫发无损。接受贿赂的人和考试作弊的人受到的伤害并不重要；纯粹是个人的事情。与社会的行为准则相比，个人的形象无足轻重。有时候，我会认为这种似是而非的情况要归谬于社会学，它要承担部分的责任。社会学往往只强调社会道德规范，过分倾向于将好与恶仅仅界定为“对社会有用的”或无用。

8. 社会道德规范和社会良知缺失的是较为狭隘，但非常重要的信誉观——与之相对应的是，有时仅以“社会适宜行为”冠名的观念。有信誉的人并不满足于单单询问，这个或那个是否有损于社会，或者是不是大多数人允许自己这样做。他要问，而且首先要问，那会伤害到他和他的自尊吗？那会使他个人信誉扫地吗？

9. 20世纪早期革新者喜欢使用的，也无疑是个有力的论点是，以绅士应该遵守的规范来“玩游戏”不足以形成一个正派的社会。他们说得对：是不够。但是，是时候再加上一句，所谓的社会良知得不到个人信誉的支持将会产生一个腐败的社会。不过，假如不呢？如果，随大流做大家都在做的事情，除了个人，谁也不会蒙受损失呢？即便如此，我仍坚持认为，对个人自己而言，什么都没有个人内心里的是非观重要，也没有比下决心去遵循内心的是非观，而不去随大流或仅凭“对社会有用”的标准去行事更重要。我无法想象一个良好的社会里全是些没有信誉的人。

10. 我们常听人说，现在人们最需要的是安全感。如果真是如此，那么他们就误解了什么是真正的、最终的安全感。依赖身外之物的人，无论钱财、权力、名誉或其他的东西，是不会、也不可能会安全的。只有那些把握住自己，对自己感到满意的人才会安全。关于适应能力和“参与集体”的重要性的话题大谈特谈，提倡得过多。纵然是合作能力，可谓这种观念最冠冕堂皇的称法，也不比坚持自我的能力重要，尤其必须在牺牲自我的正直和为了集体活动调节自我或积极参与之间做出决定时。

11. 无论这个世界变得多么糟糕，无论未来受大众媒体左右的人失去多少今日尚存的美德，有一个事实不变。只要有一个人孑然一身拒绝随大流，如果有一个人独自坚持自己和个人内心的权利，坚信并忠于同伴们似乎已经放弃了的东西，那么至少这个人仍然保留着人性中或许最重要的部分。

BEAUTY

Susan Sontag

1. For the Greeks, beauty was a virtue: a kind of excellence. Persons then were assumed to be what we now have to call —lamely, enviously — whole persons. If it did occur to the Greeks to distinguish between a person's "inside" and "outside", they still expected that inner beauty

would be matched by beauty of the other kind. The well-born young Athenians who gathered around Socrates found it quite paradoxical that their hero was so intelligent, so brave, so honorable, so seductive — and so ugly. One of Socrates' main pedagogical acts was to be ugly —and teach those innocent, no doubt splendid-looking disciples of his how full of paradoxes life really was.

2. They may have resisted Socrates' lesson. We do not. Several thousand years later, we are more wary of the enchantments of beauty. We not only split off — with the greatest facility —the "inside" (character, intellect) from the "outside" (looks); but we are actually surprised when someone who is beautiful is also intelligent, talented, good.

3. It was principally the influence of Christianity that deprived beauty of the central place it had in classical ideals of human excellence. By limiting excellence (virtus in Latin) to moral virtue only, Christianity set beauty adrift — as an alienated, arbitrary, superficial enchantment. And beauty has continued to lose prestige. For close to two centuries it has become a convention to attribute beauty to only one of the two sexes: the sex which, however Fair, is always Second. Associating beauty with women has put beauty even further on the defensive, morally.

4. A beautiful woman, we say in English. But a handsome man. "Handsome" is the masculine equivalent of —and refusal of —a compliment which has accumulated certain demeaning overtones, by being reserved for women only. That one can call a man "beautiful" in French and in Italian suggests that Catholic countries —unlike those countries shaped by the Protestant version of Christianity — still retain some vestiges of the pagan admiration for beauty. But the difference, if one exists, is of degree only. In every modern country that is Christian or post-Christian, women are the beautiful sex — to the detriment of the notion of beauty as well as of women.

5. To be called beautiful is thought to name something essential to women's character and concerns. (In contrast to men — whose essence is to be strong, or effective, or competent.) It does not take someone in the throes of advanced feminist awareness to perceive that the way women are taught to be involved with beauty encourages narcissism, reinforces dependence and immaturity. Everybody (women and men) knows that. For it is "everybody", a whole society, that has identified being feminine with caring about how one looks. (In contrast to being masculine —which is identified with caring about what one is and does and only secondarily, if at all, about how one looks.) Given these stereotypes, it is no wonder that beauty enjoys, at best, a rather mixed reputation.

6. It is not, of course, the desire to be beautiful that is wrong but the obligation to be — or to try. What is accepted by most women as a flattering idealization of their sex is a way of making women feel inferior to what they actually are — or normally grow to be. For the ideal of beauty is administered as a form of self-oppression. Women are taught to see their bodies in parts, and to evaluate each part separately. Breasts, feet, hips, waistline, neck, eyes, nose, complexion, hair and so on — each in turn is submitted to an anxious, fretful, often despairing scrutiny. Even if some pass muster, some will always be found wanting. Nothing less than perfection will do.

韩国语教程5 课文翻译

?41?????? 1周岁宴 桌子上首先要放上糕点、水果，此外还有许多不可缺少的东西 精心的做了准备，还忘了什么吗？这里放了线和面条 那是表示长命百岁的，还应该放上表示发财的大米和钱 哎呀！突然一下子忘了放钱了 如果一切就绪了，就把孩子带来坐下，穿的那样整齐看起来挺文雅嘛 不用坐下站着吧。吃的东西这么多，大家都还看着他，好像很神气 长得像他父亲，个也高，很有男子汉的样子。来，看先抓什么？抓面条吧 哎呀，先抓糕点吃。对了对了，想好好念书，也抓书了 2聘礼 来，现在看上聘礼，挺有意思的，新媳妇向公婆敬茶了，这是大礼节 然而为什么不让新媳妇一人独自行礼，还要有人搀扶着 那是因为行那种礼的对象不仅是公婆，而是婆家的所有长辈，很累的，所以旁边要有人搀扶 我对这些原来都不知道，公婆表现出很满意的样子，那张桌子上放的饮食都是什么 是说那色彩斑斓的鸡和用线一一串起来的红枣吗？那是新媳妇作为聘礼送给公婆的 哎呀你看，那位当了婆婆的人向新媳妇扔红枣呢 是呀，那意思是根据落在她身体上红枣的数量决定她会多子多孙，一生幸福 是吗？按红枣的数量，哈哈，那岂不是太多了 3花甲宴 朴仁浩先生你属什么？ 比我小三岁，甲戍、乙亥、丙子，丙子年生，属鼠 看的二人坐在那里享受花甲宴，真让人羡慕 那里敬酒的儿子儿媳是老幺。好像在釜山经营着大公司 那么说，是三个儿子两个女儿了。儿女都已成材，真有福气啊 夫妻白头偕老，财富之上，更有子女福……真的多福多寿啊

是啊，花甲老人那样健壮矍铄，长寿之相啊 听说这次宴会结束几天后就要去旅行，儿子和女儿拿钱，让两位老人去济州岛观光 4吊丧 今天早上我接到朋友父亲去世的讣告，想去吊唁应该如何办 接到讣告当然应该去吊唁 如何去吊唁，请多指教 到丧家后，先要焚香，行大礼，祈祷故人冥福。而且要向站立在旁的丧家行礼致意 在丧家说什么话致意呢 应该说多么令人悲痛啊，但往往是话未说完就泣不成声了 这是韩国式的致意啊 而且都要送上丧仪，以补丧礼费用之需。另外如果关系特别好，还要陪同丧家守灵，以分担丧家之悲痛 5婚礼 人生中最美丽的回忆可以说是婚礼，婚礼对于任何人来说都是美丽的重要的。因此有许多必须遵守的繁文缛节。而韩国的婚俗中，甚至包括了某些搞笑的内容，下面看一下韩国的婚俗 在古代，七岁便有男女不同席之说，故无从说到恋爱结婚之事。一般都是媒人从中说合，双方父母了解对方的家庭、人品等情况后，定下婚事。在定下婚事之后，新郎家便将写有生年月日和时辰的生辰八字送至新妇家。接到生辰八字的新妇家提出婚期，再告知新郎家，互相同意后，便约定婚期。定准婚期后，新妇家便做结婚准备。出嫁时自己要穿的衣服，用的物品，向公婆和亲戚赠送的礼品，等等，都要精心购买、准备。 婚礼的前一天是送箱笼之日，新郎家要将装着准备好的红绿色绸缎衣料、礼品和婚书的箱笼送到新妇家。箱笼是由亲戚抬到新妇家的，此时，青纱灯笼引路，亲戚们在进入新妇家所在的村庄后，便一边走一边喊买箱笼呵！于是新妇家或许担心箱笼被送到别人家，便要喊我们买！抬箱笼的大伯们盛气凌人地故意卖关子，摆出不出高价就不卖的讨价还价姿态。当然，最后他们以未能取胜的样子进到新妇家，新妇家因得到箱笼而大喜，以酒招待之。 婚礼时新郎乘马到新妇家，戴着纱帽、穿着官服的新郎同戴着首饰、穿着圆领衫的新妇互相行礼，从而婚礼开始。此时，新郎才一睹新妇芳容。而且新郎将带来的一对大雁置于

新世纪综合教程1(第二版)课文翻译完整版

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韩国语教程第一册语法摘要

韩国语教程第一册语法摘要 ?? 特殊音变 1.?的特殊音变 ?+元音→? ???→???? ???→???? ??+ ?→?? ?→?? 属于此类：??（问）,??（载）,??（走）,??（汲）等 但??（关）,??（出）,??（相信）,??（接受）,??（得到）,??（埋）等不属于此类。 2.?特殊音变 ?+元音→消失：词尾的第一个音节是元音，它前面的单词是?收音时，?收音消失。 ?→?? ?→?? ??+ ??→??? ????→????? 属于此类的有：??（做）,?（肿）等，但??（脱）,??（梳）,??（笑）,??（洗）,???（夺）,??（涌）等不属于此类。 3.?特殊音变 ?+?,?,?,?,元音→消失 ?→?? ?→??? ???+ ?→??? ?→??? ???→???? ???→???? 属于此类的都是以?,? 构成的形容词。如???（黑），????（长）,????(高)???（这样）,???(红)

4.?特殊音变 ?+?(?)→ ??(熄灭)+??→?? ???＋??→??? 属于这类的有???(渡)???(锁)??(浮)???(腌)???(支付)等以?构成的谓词。（除?,?等变化的词外） 5.?特殊音变 ?+?,?,?,?,?（定语时制词尾）→消失 ?→?? ?→??? ???→???? ???+ ???→????? ?→?? ?→??? 属于此类的有??,??,??,??,??,??,??,??等所遇以?收音构成的谓词 6 ?特殊音变 ?+?(?)→??(??): ???+??→??? ???+??→??? 除???,???,???等少数几个单词外，所有最后一个音节是?的单词都属于此类。 7.?特殊音变 ?+?→??: ???+??→???? 属于此类的只有???到达,???黄,???黄,???绿，蓝 8，?特殊音变 ?+元音→?(?) ?→?? ??→??? ??+ ??→??? ?→?? ?→?? ??→??? ??+ ??→??? ?→?? ?→??? ??→????

Unit 1 Love of reading全新版大学英语综合教程五课文翻译

Unit 1 Love of reading Text A One Writer's Beginnings 1 I learned from the age of two or three that any room in our house, at any time of day, was there to read in, or to be read to. My mother read to me. She'd read to me in the big bedroom in the mornings, when we were in her rocker together, which ticked in rhythm as we rocked, as though we had a cricket accompanying the story. She'd read to me in the dining room on winter afternoons in front of the coal fire, with our cuckoo clock ending the story with "Cuckoo", and at night when I'd got in my own bed. I must have given her no peace. Sometimes she read to me in the kitchen while she sat churning, and the churning sobbed along with any story. It was my ambition to have her read to me while I churned; once she granted my wish, but she read off my story before I brought her butter. She was an expressive reader. When she was reading "Puss in Boots," for instance, it was impossible not to know that she distrusted all cats. 2 It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass. Yet regardless of where they came from, I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them —with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself. Still illiterate, I was ready for them, committed to all the reading I could give them. 3 Neither of my parents had come from homes that could afford to buy many books, but though it must have been something of a strain on his salary, as the youngest officer in a young insurance company, my father was all the while carefully selecting and ordering away for what he and Mother thought we children should grow up with. They bought first for the future . 4 Besides the bookcase in the living room, which was always called "the library", there were the encyclopedia tables and dictionary stand under windows in our dining room. Here to help us grow up arguing around the dining room table were the Unabridged Webster, the Columbia Encyclopedia, Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia, the Lincoln Library of Information, and later the Book of Knowledge. In "the library", inside the bookcase were books I could soon begin on —and I did, reading them all alike and as they came, straight down their rows, top shelf to bottom. My mother read secondarily for information; she sank as a hedonist into novels. She read Dickens in the spirit in which she would have eloped with him. The novels of her girlhood that had stayed on in her imagination, besides those of Dickens and Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson, were