有關青春的雙語散文

　雙語散文:轉眼青春的散場

　　青春的字眼慢慢的覺得陌生，年輪總是很輕易的烙下蒼老的印記。以為總是長久的東西，其實，就在轉神與剎那間便不在身邊了。曾經深愛、思念著的人便輕易的變成了曾經熟悉的陌生人。曾經純真無邪，曾經美麗夢想，隨著四季輪回慢慢的散盡……這就是青春，在歲月里的轉身，從一個熟悉到另外一個陌生，再從陌生轉變到熟悉，直至一場場的青春的帷幕漸漸的落幕。在青春的酸甜苦樂里稚氣里的幻想慢慢的褪去。

　　“Youth” seems to be fading away in my life, only leaving me some unforgettable and cherished memories. Something that we used to think would last forever in our lives, had actually vanished in a second before we realized it. Those who we used to deeply love or miss, have now become the most acquainted strangers. Our once pure and beautiful dream, is gradually fading away with time passing by……This is youth, which is indeed an endless cycle from familiarity to strangeness, and from strangeness to familiarity, until the curtain of our youth is closing off little by little, along with our childish fantasies.

　　人就是這樣一種奇怪的動物，擁有的時候厭倦，失去回首的時候才酸痛。得到了很多，失去的也不少，只是希望抵達安詳的心靈。很喜歡小孩，因為他們有著人類心靈最純正的東西，他們的人性是最美的。喜歡親近老人，因為可以感觸到他們心靈的平靜，臉龐的安詳，也許生活對于他們而言就是盡量的用最舒適的方式過完余生。喜歡貓，只因為他們的慵懶而自在，有一種踏實感。

　　Human is such a strange animal that when we mostly did not cherish something until we lost it. We have gained a lot of things, but also lost a lot. What we want is merely getting the peace of mind. We care for children because they are the most pure-minded and kind-hearted among human beings. We are fond of staying with the old, because we can sense their inner peace from their serene faces. Maybe for them, the essence of life is to live it in the most comfortable way they deem. We may also love cats because their relaxation renders us a substantive sense of life.

　　生命里太多的東西太容易的散去與破碎，所以，學會了習慣性的冷漠與淡然，也許，更多的時候我們更愿意相信自己，不愿隨便的托付，因為生活里，沒有永遠的唯一，所有的東西終究有一天都會離我們而去。有時不是世界拋棄了我們，是我們自己先拋棄了世界，因為我們學會了習慣性的否定，習慣性的抵制而讓許多的東西擦肩而過。太多的時候，我們自己更愿意相信是生活傷害了我們，而不愿去接受是自己的缺失傷了自己。

　　There are many things in our lives that are easily gone or broken. Therefore, we will gradually learn to become apathetic and indifferent towards everything. Maybe oftentimes, we are inclined to believe in ourselves rather than trust and rely on others, because in our lives, nothing will stay with us eternally and all will be gone one day eventually. Sometimes it is not the world that abandons us, but we who abandon the world. It can be evidenced by the fact that we have learnt to deny something habitually and therefore lost a lot of things. More often than not, we would believe that it is life that hurts us rather than believe that it is our personality flaw that hurts ourselves.

　散文英譯漢佳作賞析：我父親的音樂

　　My Father's Music

　　我父親的音樂

　　by Wayne Kalyn

　　韋恩凱林

　　I remember the day Dad first lugged the heavy accordion up our front stoop, taxing his small frame. He gathered my mother and me in the living room and opened the case as if it were a treasure chest. "Here it is," he said. "Once you learn to play, it'll stay with you for life."

　　記得有一天，身材瘦小的父親背著一架沉重的手風琴，費力地走到前門廊。他把媽媽和我叫進廳里，打開了那只盒子，好象那是一個百寶箱似的。“就這個，”他說，“你一旦學會，它將伴隨你一生。”

　　If my thin smile didn't match his full-fledged grin, it was because I had prayed for a guitar or a piano. For the next two weeks, the accordion was stored in the hall closet. Then one evening Dad announced that I would start lessons the following week. In disbelief I shot my eyes toward Mom for support. The firm set of her jaw told me I was out of luck.

　　如果說我勉強的微笑與他發自內心的笑容不和諧的話，那是因為我一直想要一把吉他或一架鋼琴。隨后的兩個星期，那架手風琴一直放在大廳的櫥子里。一天晚上，爸爸宣布下周我開始上琴課。疑惑中，我把視線急忙投向媽媽求助。她緊繃的下巴告訴我：我倒運了。

　　Spending $300 for an accordion and $5 per lesson was out of character for my father. He was practical always － something he learned growing up on a Pennsylvania farm. Clothes, heat and sometimes even food were scarce.

　　花300元買一架手風琴，每次上課再花3美元，這可不像父親的作風。他一直是很實際的——這是他在賓夕法尼亞農場成長過程中學來的。那時候，衣服、暖氣，有時甚至連食物都短缺。

　　Dad was a supervisor in a company that serviced jet engines. Weekends, he tinkered in the cellar, turning scraps of plywood into a utility cabinet or fixing a broken toy with spare parts. Quiet and shy, he was never more comfortable than when at his workbench.

　　爸爸是一家為噴氣式飛機引擎提供服務的公司的主管。周末，他在地下室里修修補補，把膠合板的邊角料做成一個實用的小柜子，或者用一些零件把壞了的玩具修好。他不喜張揚，不愛說話。最讓他感到舒服的，莫過于在工作臺旁邊。

　　Only music carried Dad away from his world of tools and projects. On a Sunday drive, he turned the radio on immediately. At red lights, I'd notice his foot tapping in time. He seemed to hang on every note.

　　只有音樂會讓爸爸遠離他的工具和計劃的世界。一個星期天駕車外出，一上車他就打開了收音機。遇到紅燈時，我注意到他的腳在打著拍子，似乎能跟得上每一個節拍。

　　Still, I wasn't prepared when, rummaging in a closet, I found a case that looked to me like a tiny guitar's. Opening it, I saw the polished glow of a beautiful violin. "It's your father's," Mom said. "His parents bought it for him. I guess he got too busy on the farm to ever learn to play it." I tried to imagine Dad's rough hands on this delicate instrument － and couldn't.

　　然而，我還是沒有思想準備，那是我在櫥子里翻找東西時，發現一只像是裝小吉它的盒子。打開一看，是一把锃亮的、漂亮的小提琴。“那是你爸爸的，”媽媽說。“他父母給他買的。我想他在農場里太忙了，沒有時間學。”我試圖想象爸爸粗糙的雙手放在這精致的樂器上的情景——無法想象。

　　Shortly after, my lessons began with Mr. Zelli. On my first day, with straps straining my shoulders, I felt clumsy in every way. "How did he do?" my father asked when it was over. "Fine for the first lesson," said Mr. Zelli. Dad glowed with hope.

　　不久，澤利先生開始教我拉手風琴。第一天，手風琴背帶壓著我的肩膀，我感到渾身不自在。“他學得怎么樣？”結束時，父親問。“第一堂課，這已經很不錯。”澤利先生說。爸爸眼中閃著希望的光芒。

　　I was ordered to practice half an hour every day, and every day I tried to get out of it. My future seemed to be outside playing ball, not in the house mastering songs I would soon forget. But my parents hounded me to practice.

　　爸爸命令我每天練半個小時，可每天我都想賴掉。我的將來似乎應在戶外打球，而不是在屋內練那些很快就會忘掉的曲子。然而父母不斷地督促我練習。

　　Gradually, to my surprise, I was able to string notes together and coordinate my hands to play simple songs. Often, after supper, my father would request a tune or two. As he sat in his easy chair, I would fumble through "Lady of Spain" and "Beer Barrel Polka."

　　漸漸地，讓我吃驚的是，我竟然能把幾個音符連起來了。手指的協調性也好點了，還能拉出幾首簡單的曲子。晚飯后，父親常常會要我拉上一、兩首曲子。他躺在安樂椅里，我則笨拙地拉完“西班牙女郎”和“啤酒桶波爾卡”。

　　"Very nice, better than last week," he'd say. Then I would follow into a medley of his favorites, "Red River Valley" and "Home on the Range," and he would drift off to sleep, the newspaper folded on his lap. I took it as a compliment that he could relax under the spell of my playing.

　　他會說，“不錯，比上星期好，”然后我會接著拉他喜歡的曲子“紅河谷”和“山上的家”。聽著聽著，他慢慢睡著了，報紙疊在腿上。我把這看作是一種贊揚：他能在我美妙的演奏中放松。

　　One July evening I was giving an almost flawless rendition of "Come Back to Sorrento," and my parents called me to an open window. An elderly neighbor, rarely seen outside her house, was leaning against our car humming dreamily to the tune. When I finished, she smiled broadly and called out, "I remember that song as a child in Italy. Beautiful, just beautiful."

　　七月的一個傍晚，我正在拉“重回索聯托”，拉得幾乎完美無缺。父母突然把我叫到窗前。一位極少出門、上了年紀的老鄰居，正靠在我們的車旁，跟著曲子沉醉地哼唱著。當我拉完時，她咧開嘴笑了，大聲說：“小時候在意大利我聽到過這首歌曲，我還記得。太棒了，真是棒極了。

　　”Throughout the summer, Mr. Zelli's lessons grew more difficult. It took me a week and a half to master them now. All the while I could hear my buddies outside playing heated games of stickball. I'd also hear an occasional taunt; "Hey, where's your monkey and cup?"

　　整個夏天，澤利先生的課越來越難。現在要一個半星期才能掌握。練琴時，我總是聽到伙伴們在外面玩棍球的嬉鬧聲。偶爾還聽到奚落：“嗨，你的猴子和獎杯哪里去了？

　　”Such humiliation paled, though, beside the impending fall recital. I would have to play a solo on a local movie theater's stage. I wanted to skip the whole thing. Emotions boiled over in the car one Sunday afternoon. "I don't want to play a solo." I said. "You have to," replied my father.

　　不過，這種羞辱與即將來臨的秋季演奏會相比，算不得什么。我得在當地一家影劇院舞臺上獨奏一曲。我想逃避這一切。一個星期天的下午，不滿的情緒終于在車上爆發了。“我不想獨奏，”我說。“你必須去，”父親說。

　　"Why?" I shouted. "Because you didn't get to play your violin when you were a kid? Why should I have to play this stupid instrument when you never had to play yours?"Dad pulled the car over and pointed at me. "Because you can bring people joy. You can touch their hearts. That's a gift I won't let you throw away." He added softly, "Someday you'll have the chance I never had: you'll play beautiful music for your family. And you'll understand why you've worked so hard."

　　“為什么？”我叫了起來。“就因為你小時候沒能拉上小提琴？你從來不用拉琴，我為什么必須拉那笨重的玩意？”爸爸把車開到路邊，手指著我。“因為你能給人們帶來快樂。你能撥動他們的心弦。我不會讓你放棄這份才能。”爸爸又心平氣和地說：“有一天你會有我從未有過的機會：你能為你的全家彈奏美妙的音樂。那時你會明白，如此努力到底是為什么。”

　　I was speechless. I had rarely heard Dad speak with such feeling about anything, much less the accordion. From then on, I practiced without my parents’ making me.

　　我不吱聲了。我很少聽到爸爸如此語重心長地跟我談事情，更不用說是為了拉手風琴的事。從那以后，我練琴再也不用父母盯著。

　　The evening of the concert Mom wore glittery earrings and more makeup than I could remember. Dad got out of work early, put on a suit and tie, and slicked down his hair with Vitalis. They were ready an hour early, so we sat in the living room chatting nervously. I got the unspoken message that playing this one song was a dream come true for them.

　　音樂會那天晚上，媽媽戴上了亮閃閃的耳環，精心打扮一番；爸爸也早早下班回家，穿上西裝，系上領帶，頭上抹了瓦特里斯，油亮亮的。他們提前一個小時就準備好了，我們就坐在廳里，緊張地談論著。我感覺到，上臺演奏這首曲子是他們要實現的一個夢想。

　　At the theater nervousness overtook me as I realized how much I wanted to make my parents proud. Finally, it was my turn. I walked to the lone chair on stage and performed "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" without a mistake. The applause spilled out, with a few hands still clapping after others had stopped. I was lightheaded, glad my ordeal was over.

　　在劇場里，當我意識到我是多么想讓父母感到驕傲時，我極為緊張。最后，終于輪到我了。我走向舞臺中央的那張椅子，演奏了一曲“今晚你孤獨嗎？”，一個音符也沒拉錯。頓時，掌聲四起，難以停息。我 頭有點暈暈的，慶幸我的苦難終于結束。

　　After the concert Mom and Dad came backstage. The way they walked － heads high, faces flushed － I knew they were pleased. My mother gave me a big hug. Dad slipped an arm around me and held me close. "You were just great," he said. Then he shook my hand and was slow to let it go.

　　音樂會后，爸媽來到后臺。他們走路的樣子，昂著頭，精神煥發--我知道他們很開心。媽媽緊緊地抱住我。爸爸伸出一只手臂，牢牢地摟住我：“你太棒了。”說完，他使勁地握著我的手，不愿松開。

　　As the years went by, the accordion drifted to the background of my life. Dad asked me to play at family occasions, but the lessons stopped. When I went to college, the accordion stayed behind in the hall closet next to my father's violin.

　　隨著歲月的流逝，那架手風琴漸漸退至我生活的幕后。只有在家庭聚會上，爸爸還會讓我拉上一曲。但是風琴課不再上了。我上大學時，那架手風琴放進廳里的壁櫥，在爸爸的小提琴旁邊。

　　A year after my graduation, my parents moved to a house in a nearby town. Dad, at 51, finally owned his own home. On moving day, I didn't have the heart to tell him that he could dispose of the accordion, so I brought it to my own home and put it in the attic.

　　大學畢業后一年，父母搬到附近城鎮的一棟房子。爸爸在他五十一歲那年終于擁有了自己的家。搬家那天，我不忍 心告訴他，說他可以處理那架手風琴，于是我把它帶回自己家，放在閣樓上。

　　There it remained, a dusty memory, until one afternoon several years later when my two children discovered it by accident. Scott thought it was a secret treasure; Holly thought a ghost lived inside. They were both right.

　　手風琴一直放在那里，成了塵封的記憶。直到幾年后的一個下午，我的兩個孩子偶然發現了它。斯科特認為這是一件秘密寶藏。霍莉則認為里面住著一個幽靈。他倆都對。

　　When I opened the case, they laughed and said, "Play it, play it." Reluctantly, I strapped on the accordion and played some simple songs. I was surprised my skills hadn't rusted away. Soon the kids were dancing in circles and giggling. Even my wife, Terri, was laughing and clapping to the beat. I was amazed at their unbridled glee.

　　我打開盒子時，他們笑了，叫道“拉一曲，拉一曲。”我不情愿地背上琴帶，拉了幾只簡單的曲子。真沒想到，我拉起來還是那么嫻熟。很快，孩子們圍成圈跳起來，咯咯地笑個不停。甚至連我妻子特麗也笑了，打著拍子。看著他們縱情歡笑，我感到驚異。

　　My father's words came back to me: "Someday you'll have the chance I never had, Then you'll understand." I finally knew what it meant to work hard and sacrifice for others. Dad had been right all along: the most precious gift is to touch the hearts of those you love. Later I phoned Dad to let him know that, at long last, I understood. Fumbling for the right words, I thanked him for the legacy it took almost 30 years to discover. "You're welcome," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

　　我的耳邊回響起父親說過的話：“有一天你會有我從未有過的機會，那時你會明白的。”我終于明白，去努力，去為別人作出犧牲意味著什么。爸爸始終是對的：最珍貴的禮物莫過于打動你所愛的人的心。后來，我給爸爸去電話，告訴他我終于懂了。我笨嘴拙舌地找尋合適的詞語，為他給我的寶貴財富表示感謝，這財富我花了差不多三十年才發現。“不用謝，”他激動得說不出話來。

　　Dad never learned to coax sweet sounds from his violin. Yet he was wrong to think he would never play for his family. On that wonderful evening, as my wife and children laughed and danced, they heard my accordion. But it was my father's music.

　　爸爸從未學過從他的小提琴上拉出美妙的聲音。但是他以為自己永遠不會為家人彈奏音樂，這種想法是錯的。那個美妙的夜晚，我的妻子、孩子歡歌笑舞，他們聽到的是我的手風琴，但，那卻是我父親的音樂。

　　英譯漢散文佳作賞析：什么叫朋友

　　A Faraway Friend is someone you grew up with or went to school with or lived in the same town as until one of you moved away. Without a Faraway Friend, you would never get any mail addressed in handwriting. A Faraway Friend calls late at night, invites you to her wedding, always says she is coming to visit but rarely shows up. An actual visit from a Faraway Friend is a cause for celebration and binges of all kinds.

　　遠方的朋友是這樣的一個人：和你從小一同長大的，或者是同學，或者和你原本住在同一個鎮上，后來你們中的一人搬到了別處。沒有一位遠方的朋友，你連一封手寫的信都收不到。遠方的朋友會半夜打來電話，邀請你去參加她的婚禮，她總是說要來看你，卻很少露面。要是真的來訪，那才叫“不亦樂乎”，各種名目的狂歡可就有了理由。

　　Faraway friends go through phases of intense communication, then maybe out of touch for many months. Either way, the connection is always there. A conversation with your Faraway Friend always helps to put your life in perspective: When you feel you’ve hit a dead end, come to a confusing fork in the road, or gotten lost in some cracker-box subdivision of your life, the advice of the Faraway Friend — who has the big picture, who is so well acquainted with the route that brought you to this place — is indispensable.

　　兩個遠方的朋友會經歷密切交流的階段，接下來或許幾個月都不聯系。但無論聯系與否，友誼永遠不會改變。與遠方的朋友一席長談，總是有助于你更好地認識生活；當你覺得自己走入了死胡同時，當你面對岔路而不知所措時，來自遠方朋友的忠告就越發不可或缺，她看得清大局，完全了解你是怎么走到這一步的。

　　Another useful function of the Faraway Friend is to help you remember things from a long time ago, like the name of your seventh-grade history teacher, what was in that really good stir-fry, or exactly what happened that night on the boat with the guys from Florida.

　　遠方的朋友還有一個益處，就是能讓你記起很久以前的事情，比如七年級歷史老師的名字，那盤炒菜里究竟什么東西那么好吃，或者那天晚上在船里和佛羅里達來的男孩子們都干了些什么。

　　Ah, the former friend. A sad thing. At best a wistful memory, at worst a dangerous enemy who is in possession of many of your deepest secrets. But what was it that drove you apart? A misunderstanding, a betrayed confidence, an underpaid loan, an ill-conceived flirtation. A poor choice of spouse can do in a friendship just like that. Going into business together can be a serious mistake. Time, money, distance, cult religions: all noted friendship killers. You quit doing drugs, you’re not such good friends with your dealer anymore.

　　啊，從前的朋友。讓人憂傷的事情。好了的話是一段傷感的記憶，不好的話你有一個危險的敵人，而且對你許多最隱秘的事情都了如指掌。可究竟是什么把你們分開的呢？一個誤解，一個被泄露的秘密，一筆沒有償還的借款，一次有欠考慮的輕俏之舉。擇偶不慎也會使友誼分崩離析；一起做生意會成為一個嚴重的錯誤；時間、金錢、距離、宗教狂熱，這都是耳熟能詳的友誼殺手。如同一旦你戒了毒，你就不再是你供貨商的好朋友了。

　　And lest we forget, there are the Friends You Love to Hate. They call at inopportune times. They say stupid things. They butt in, they boss you around, they embarrass you in public. They invite themselves over. They take advantage. You’ve done the best you can, but they need professional help. On top of all this, they love you to death and are convinced they’re your best friends on the planet.

　　而且我們別忘了：還有些朋友，你喜歡恨他們。他們在不適當的時候打電話，他們蠢話連篇，他們胡亂插手你的事情，他們把你指使得團團亂轉，他們總是占盡了你的`便宜。你已經盡了最大的努力，可他們需要的其實是專業人員的幫助。這一切之外，他們還愛你愛得要死要活，深信他們是你在這個世界上最好的朋友。

　　So why do you continue to be involved with these people? Why do you tolerate them? On the contrary, the real question is what would you do without them. Without Friends You Love to Hate, there would be nothing to talk about with your other friends. Their problems and their irritating stunts provide a reliable source of conversation for everyone they know.

　　那么你又為什么繼續和他們打交道呢？為什么要容忍他們呢？反過來說，真正的問題是：沒有他們你行嗎？沒有這些你寧可去憎恨的朋友，你和你別的朋友也就無話可說了。他們的缺陷和他們惱人的噱頭，為他們認識的每一個人都提供了源源不斷的談資。

　　What’s more, Friends You Love to Hate make you feel good about yourself, since you are obviously in so much better shape than they are. No matter what these people do, you will never get rid of them. As much as they need you, you need them, too.

　　此外，他們還能使你對自己感覺良好，因為你的狀況顯然比他們好得太多。不管他們做出什么事情來，你絕對不愿擺脫他們。你對他們的需要，和他們對你的需要可謂不相上下呢。

　　At the other end of the spectrum are Hero Friends. These people are better than the rest of us, that’s all there is to it. Their career is something you wanted to be when you grew up — painter, forest ranger, tireless doer of good.

　　與此相反的另一個極端則是那些令人艷羨的朋友。他們比我們這些人都更出色，有這一點就夠了。他們的事業就是你長大后的追求——畫家、護林人，不知疲倦的行善者。

　　They have beautiful homes filled with special handmade things presented to them by villagers in the remote areas they have visited in their extensive travels. Yet they are modest. They never gossip. They are always helping others, especially those who have suffered a death in the family or an illness. You would think people like this would just make you sick, but somehow they don’t.

　　他們擁有漂亮的房子，里面滿是手工做的奇特玩意兒，都是他們周游世界時到過的邊遠地區的村民總送給他們的。可他們依舊待人謙和。他們從不饒舌。他們總是去幫助別人，特別是那些遭受喪失親人之痛或疾病折磨的人。你會認為這種人只能讓你厭倦，可他們偏偏不是那樣。

　　A new friend is a tonic unlike any other. Say you meet her at a party. In your bowling league. At a Japanese conversation class, perhaps. Wherever, whenever, there’s that spark of recognition. The first time you talk, you can’t believe how much you have in common. Suddenly, your life story is interesting again, your insights fresh, your opinion valued. Your various shortcomings are as yet completely invisible.

　　新的朋友是一劑無可比擬的良藥。也許你是在一次聚會上結識她的，也許是在保齡球俱樂部里，也許是日語會話課上。無論何處，無論何時，只因為擦出了那鐘惺惺相惜的火花。你簡直無法相信你們有這么多共同點，而且只是第一次交談。突然間，你的經歷又變得有趣了，你的見識不同凡響，你的意見也倍受重視。你各式各樣的缺點一時間也完全消失不見了。