trip新世纪大学英语读写第一册课文翻译

2021年1月21日发(作者：粗大)
When we are writing we are often told to keep our readers in mind, to shape what we say to fit
their tastes and interests. But there is one reader in particular who should not be forgotten. Can
you
guess
who?
Russell
Baker
surprised
himself
and
everyone
else
when
he
discovered
the
answer.
我们写作时常常被告诫，
脑子里要有读者，
笔者所云一定要符合读者的口味和兴趣。
但有一
位读者特别 不该忘记。
你能猜出是谁吗？当拉塞尔·
贝克找到这个问题的答案时，
他自己和
别人都感到大为惊讶。


Writing for Myself
Russell Baker
1

The idea of becoming a writer had come to me off and on since my childhood in Belleville,
but
it
wasn't
until
my
third
year
in
high
school
that
the
possibility
took
hold.

Until
then
I've
been
bored
by
everything
associated
with
English
courses.
I
found
English
grammar
dull
and
difficult.

I
hated
the
assignments
to
turn
out
long,
lifeless
paragraphs
that
were
agony
for
teachers to read and for me to write.
为自己而写

拉塞尔·贝克

从孩提时代，
我还住在贝尔维 尔时，
我的脑子里就断断续续地转着当作家的念头，
但直等到
我高中三年级，
这一想法才有了实现的可能。
在这之前，
我对所有跟英文课沾边的事都感到
腻味。我觉得英文语法枯燥难懂。我痛恨那些长而乏味的段落写作，老师读着受累，我写着
痛苦。

2

When
our
class
was
assigned
to
Mr.
Fleagle
for
third-year
English
I
anticipated
another
cheerless year in that most tedious of subjects. Mr. Fleagle had a reputation among students for
dullness and inability to inspire. He was said to be very formal, rigid and hopelessly out of date.
To me he looked to be sixty or seventy and excessively wore primly severe eyeglasses, his
wavy hair was primly cut and primly combed. He wore prim suits with neckties set primly against
the collar buttons of his white shirts. He had a primly pointed jaw, a primly straight nose,

and a
prim manner of speaking that was so correct, so gentlemanly, that he seemed a comic antique.
弗 利格尔先生接我们的高三英文课时，
我就准备着在这门最最单调乏味的课上再熬上沉闷的
一年。
弗利格尔先生在学生中以其说话干巴和激励学生无术而出名。
据说他拘谨刻板，
完全< br>落后于时代。我看他有六七十岁了，
古板之极。他戴着古板的毫无装饰的眼镜，微微卷曲的
头发剪得笔齐，
梳得纹丝不乱。
他身穿古板的套装，领带端端正正地顶着白衬衣的领扣。他< br>长着古板的尖下巴，古板的直鼻梁，说起话来一本正经，字斟句酌，彬彬有礼，活脱脱一个
滑稽的 老古董。

3

I prepared for an unfruitful year with Mr. Fleagle and for a long time was not disappointed.
Late in the year we tackled the informal essay. Mr. Fleagle distributed a homework sheet offering
us a choice of topics. None was quite so simple-minded as
but most seemed to be almost as dull. I took the list home and did nothing until the night before
the essay was due. Lying on the sofa, I finally faced up to the unwelcome task, took the list out of
my
notebook,
and
scanned
it.
The
topic
on
which
my
eye
stopped
was

Art
of
Eating
Spaghetti
我作好 准备，
打算在弗利格尔先生的班上一无所获地混上一年，
不少日子过去了，
还真不出< br>所料。
后半学期我们学写随笔小品文。
弗利格尔先生发下一张家庭作业纸，
出了 不少题目供
我们选择。像

暑假二三事

那样傻乎乎的题目倒是一个也没 有，但绝大多数一样乏味。我把
作文题带回家，
一直没写，直到要交作业的前一天晚上。
我躺在沙发上，最终不得不面对这
一讨厌的功课，便从笔记本里抽出作文题目单粗粗一看。我的目光落 在

吃意大利细面条的
艺术

这个题目上。

4

This
title
produced
an
extraordinary
sequence
of
mental
images.
Vivid
memories
came
flooding back of a night in Belleville when all of us were seated around the supper table - Uncle
Allen,
my
mother,
Uncle
Charlie,
Doris,
Uncle
Hal
-
and
Aunt
Pat
served
spaghetti
for
supper.
Spaghetti was still a little known foreign dish in those days. Neither Doris nor I had ever eaten
spaghetti, and none of the adults had enough experience to be good at it. All the good humor of
Uncle Allen's house reawoke in my mind as I recalled the laughing arguments we had that night
about the socially respectable method for moving spaghetti from plate to mouth.
这个题目在我脑海里唤起了一连串不同寻常的图像。
贝尔维尔之夜的清晰 的回忆如潮水一般
涌来，当时，我们大家一起围坐在晚餐桌旁——艾伦舅舅、我母亲、查理舅舅、多丽丝 、哈
尔舅舅——帕特舅妈晚饭做的是意大利细面条。
那时意大利细面条还是很少听说的异国食品 。
多丽丝和我都还从来没吃过，
在座的大人也是经验不足，
没有一个吃起来得心应手的 。
艾伦
舅舅家诙谐有趣的场景全都重现在我的脑海中，
我回想起来，
当晚我们 笑作一团，
争论着该
如何地把面条从盘子上送到嘴里才算合乎礼仪。

5 Suddenly I wanted to write about that, about the warmth and good feeling of it, but I wanted to
put it down simply for my own joy, not for Mr. Fleagle. It was a moment I wanted to recapture
and
hold
for
myself.
I
wanted
to
relive
the
pleasure
of
that
evening.
To
write
it
as
I
wanted,
however, would violate all the rules of formal composition I'd learned in school, and Mr. Fleagle
would surely give it a failing grade. Never mind. I would write something else for Mr. Fleagle after
I had written this thing for myself.
突然我就想 描述那一切，
描述当时那种温馨美好的气氛，
但我把它写下来仅仅是想自得其乐，
而不 是为弗利格尔先生而写。
那是我想重新捕捉并珍藏在心中的一个时刻。
我想重温那个夜
晚的愉快。
然而，照我希望的那样去写，
就会违反我在学校里学的正式作文的种种法则，弗利格尔先生也肯定会打它一个不及格。
没关系。
等我为自己写好了之后，
我可以再 为弗利格
尔先生写点什么别的东西。

6 When I finished it the night was half gone and
there was no time left to compose a proper,
respectable essay for Mr. Fleagle. There was no choice next morning but to turn in my tale of the
Belleville
supper.
Two
days
passed
before
Mr.
Fleagle
returned
the
graded
papers,
and
he
returned everyone's but mine.

I was preparing myself for a command to report to Mr. Fleagle
immediately after school for discipline when I saw him lift my paper from his desk and knock for
the class's attention.
等我写完时已是半夜时分，再没时间为弗利 格尔先生写一篇循规蹈矩、像模像样的文章了。
第二天上午，
我别无选择，
只好把我为 自己而写的贝尔维尔晚餐的故事交了上去。
两天后弗
利格尔先生发还批改过的作文，
他 把别人的都发了，
就是没有我的。
我正准备着遵命一放学
就去弗利格尔先生那儿挨训， 却看见他从桌上拿起我的作文，敲了敲桌子让大家注意听。

7

好了，孩子 们，

他说。

我要给你们念一篇小品文。文章的题目是：吃意大利细面条的艺< br>术。

8
And
he
started
to
read.
My
words!
He
was
reading
my
words
out
loud
to
the
entire
class.
What's more, the entire class was listening. Listening attentively. Then somebody laughed, then
the
entire
class
was
laughing,
and
not
in
contempt
and
ridicule,
but
with
open-hearted
enjoyment. Even Mr. Fleagle stopped two or three times to hold back a small prim smile.
于是他开始念了。是我写的！他给全 班大声念我写的文章。更不可思议的是，全班同学都在
听着他念，而且听得很专心。有人笑出声来，接着 全班都笑了，不是轻蔑嘲弄，而是乐乎乎
地开怀大笑。就连弗利格尔先生也停顿了两三次，好抑制他那一 丝拘谨的微笑。

9
I
did
my
best
to
avoid
showing
pleasure,
but
what
I
was
feeling
was
pure
delight
at
this
demonstration that my words had the power to make people laugh.

In the eleventh grade,

at
the eleventh hour as it were, I had discovered a calling. It was the happiest moment of my entire
school career. When Mr. Fleaglefinished

he put the final seal on my happiness by saying,
that, boys, is an essay, don't you see. It's - don't you see - it's of the very essence of the essay,
don't you see. Congratulations, Mr. Baker.
我尽力不流露出得意的心情，< br>但是看到我写的文章竟然能使别人大笑，
我真是心花怒放。
就
在十一年级，可谓是最后的时刻，
我找到了一个今生想做的事。
这是我整个求学生涯中最幸
福的 一刻。弗利格尔先生念完后说道：

瞧，孩子们，这就是小品文，懂了没有。这才是—
— 知道吗——这才是小品文的精髓，知道了没有。祝贺你，贝克先生。

他这番话使我沉浸
在十全十美的幸福之中。



How
do
you
feel
when
old
friends
are
far
away?
Do
you
make
an
effort
to
keep
in
touch?
Sometimes it is easy to put off writing a letter, thinking that there will be plenty of time tomorrow.
But then sometimes, as this story shows, we leave it too late. Perhaps reading it will make you
want to reach for your pen.
老朋友天各一方，你心有何感？你是否努力保持联系？有时候写信的事很容易会一拖再拖，
总以为明天有 的是时间。
然而，
正如这则故事所表明的，
有时我们拖得太晚了。也许读一读
这个故事会让你提起笔来。

All the Cabbie Had Was a Letter Foster Furcolo
1 He must have been completely lost in something he was reading because I had to tap on the
windshield to get his attention.
出租车司机拥有的就剩一封信

福斯特·弗克洛

他准是完全沉浸在所读的东西里了，因为我不得不敲挡风玻璃来引起他的注意。

2

your
cab
available?
I
asked
when
he
finally
looked
up
at
me.
He
nodded,
then
said
apologetically as I settled into the back seat,
if he had a cold or something.
他总算抬头看我了。
“你出车吗？”我问道。他点点头，当我坐进后座时，他抱歉地说：
“对< br>不起，我在读一封信。
”听上去他像是得了感冒什么的。

3
“我不着急，
”我对他说，
“你接着把信读完吧。
”

4 He shook his head.
他摇了摇头。
“我已经读了好几遍了。我想我都能背出来了。
”

5
road
so
much.
Then,
estimating
that
he
was
60
or
70
years
old,
I
guessed:

a
child
or
maybe a grandchild?
“家书抵万金 啊，
”我说。
“至少对我来说是这样，因为我老是在外旅行。
”我估量他有六七
十岁了，便猜测说：
“是孩子还是孙子写来的？”

6
have been family. Old Ed was my oldest friend. In fact, we used to call each other 'Old Friend' --
when we'd meet, that is. I'm not much of a hand at writing.
“不是家里人，
”他回答说。
“不过，
” 他接着说，
“想起来，也可以算是一家人了。埃德老伙
计是我最老的朋友了。实际上，过去我俩 总是以‘老朋友’相称的——就是说，当我俩相见
时。我这人就是不大会写东西。
”

7
he's someone you've known quite a while?
“我看大家写信都不那么勤快，
”我说，
“我自己笔头就很懒。我看，你认识他挺久了 吧？”

8
“差不多认识了一辈子了。我俩小时候就一起玩，所以我俩的友谊确实很长了。
”

9
“一起上的学？”

10
high school.
“都一起上到高中呢。事实上，我俩从小学到高中都在一个班里。
”

11
“保持这么长久友谊的人可真不多见啊，
”我说。

12
twice a year over the
past 25 or 30 years because I moved away from the old neighborhood and you kind of lose touch
even though you never forget. He was a great guy.
“其实呢，
”
司机接着说 ，
“近
25
到
30
年来，我跟他一年只见一两次面，
因为我 从原来住的
街区搬了出来，联系自然就少了，虽说你一直放在心上。他在的时候可真是个大好人。
”

13
“你刚才说他‘在的时候’
。你是说——？”

14 He nodded.
他点了点头。
“前几个星期过世啦。
”

15
“真遗憾，
”我说，
“失去朋友真不是个滋味，失去个真正的老朋友更让人受不了。
”

16 He didn't reply to that, and we rode on in silence for a few minutes. But I realized that Old Ed
was still on his mind when he spoke again, almost more to himself than to me:
kept in touch. Yes,
他开着车，没有接话儿。我们沉默了几分钟。可我知道他还在想着老埃德。他又 开口时，与
其说是跟我说话，还不如说是自言自语：
“我真该一直保持联系。真的，
” 他重复道，
“我真
该一直保持联系。
”

17
come up and we just don't seem to find the time.
“是啊 ，
”
我表示赞同，
“我们都该与老朋友保持更多的联系。
不过总是有事情冒出 来，
好像
就是抽不出空来。
”

18 He shrugged.
handed it over to me.
-
他耸了耸肩。
“我们过 去总能抽出空来，
”他说。
“信里还提到呢。
”他把信递给我，
“你看看