英译汉
1．
The Quest
Taking the train, the two friends arrived in Berlin in late October 1922, and went directly to the address of Chou Enlai. Would this man receive them as fellow countrymen, or would he treat them with cold suspicion and question them cautiously about their past careers as militarists? Chu Teh remembered his age. He was thirty-six, his youth had passed like a screaming eagle, leaving him old and disillusioned.
When Chou En-lai’s door opened they saw a slender man of more than average height with gleaming eyes and a face so striking that it bordered on the beautiful. Yet it was a manly face, serious and intelligent; and Chu judged him to be in his middle twenties.
Chou was a quiet and thoughtful man, even a little shy as he welcomed his visitors, urged them to be seated and to ten how he could help them.
王潮歌老公
Ignoring the chair offered him, Chu Teh stood squarely before this youth more than ten years his junior and in a level voice told him who he was, what he had done in the past, how he had fled from Yunnan, talked with Sun Yat-sen, been repulsed by Chen Tuhsiu in Shanghai, and had come to Europe to find a new way of life for himself and a new revolutionary road for China. He wanted to join the Chinese Communist Party group in Berlin, he would study and work hard? he would do anything he was asked to do but5 return to his old life, which had turned to ashes beneath his feet.
As he talked Chou En-lai stood facing him, his head a little to one side as was his habit, listening intently until the story was told. and then questioning him.
When both visitors had told their stories, Chou smiled a little, said he would help them find rooms, and arrange for them to join the Berlin Communist group as candidates until their application had been sent to China and an answer received. When the reply came a
few months later they were enrolled as full members, but Chu's membership was kept a secret from outsiders.
爱真三
2.
How to Grow Old
by Bertrand Russcll
In spite of the title, this article will really be on1 how not to grow old, which, at my time of life, is a much more important subject. My first advice would be to choose your ancestors carefully. Although both my parents died young 1 J have done well in this respect as regards my other ancestors. My maternal grandfather, it is true, was cut off in the flower of his youth at the age of sixty-seven, but my other three grandparents all lived to be over eighty. Of remoter ancestors I can only discover one who did not live to a great age, and he died of a disease which is now rare, namely, having his head cut off. A great grandmother of mine; who was a friend of Gibbon, lived to the age of ninety-two, and to h
ireer last day remained a terror to all her descendants. My maternal grandmother, after having nine children who survived, one who died in infancy and many miscarriages, as soon as she became a widow devoted herself to women’s higher education. She was one of the founders of Girton College, and worked hard at opening the medical profession to women. She used to relate how she met in Italy an elderly gentleman who was looking very sad. She inquired the cause of his melancholy and he said that he had just parted from his two grandchildren. “Good gracious,” she exclaimed, “I have seventy-two grandchildren, and if I were sad each time I parted from one of them, I should have a dismal existence!” “Madre snaturate,” he replied. But speaking as one of the seventy-two, I prefer her recipe. After the age of eighty she found she had some difficulty in getting to sleep, so she habitually spent the hours from midnight to 3 a. m. in reading popular science. I do not believe that she ever had time to notice that she was growing old. This, I think, is the proper recipe for remaining young. If you have wide and keen interests and activities in which you can still be effective, you will have no reason to think about the merely statistical fact of the number of years you have already lived, still less of the probable brevity of your future.
As regards health, I have nothing useful to say since I have little experience of illness, 1 eat and drink whatever I like , and sleep when I cannot keep awake. I never do anything whatever on the ground that it is good for health, though in actual fact the things I like doing are mostly wholesome.
Psychologically there are two dangers to be guarded against in old age. One of these is undue absorption in the past. It does not do to live in memories, in regrets for the good old days, or in sadness about friends who are dead. One’s thoughts must be directed to the future, and to things about which there is something to be done. This is not always easy; one's own past is a gradually increasing weight. It is easy to think to oneself that one's emotions used to be more vivid than they are, and one's mind more keen. If this is true it should be forgotten, and if it is forgotten it will probably not be true.
The other thing to be avoided is clinging to youth in the hope of sucking vigour from its vitality. When your chi1dren are grown up they want to live their awn lives, and if you continue to be as interested in them as you were when they were young, you are likely to
become a burden to them, unless they are unusually callous. I do not mean that one should be without interest in them, but one's interest should be contemplative and. if possible, philanthropic, but not unduly emotional. Animals become indifferent to their young as soon as their young can look after themselves, but human beings. owing to the length of infancy, find this difficult.
How Should One Read a Book?
by Virginia Woolf
It is simple enough to say that since books have classes ——fiction, biography, poetry —— we should separate them and take from each what is right that each should give us. Yet few people ask from books what books can give us. Most commonly we come to books with blurred and divided minds, asking of fiction that it shall be true, of poetry that it should be false, of biography that it shall be flattering, of history that it shall enforce our o
wn prejudices. If we could banish all such preconceptions when we read, that would be an admirable beginning. Do not dictation to your author; try to become him. Be his fellow-worker and accomplice. If you hang back, and reserve and criticize at first, you are preventing yourself from getting the fullest possible value from what you read. But if you open your mind as widely as possible, then signs and hints of almost imperceptible fineness, from the twist and turn of the sentences, will bring you into the presence of a human being unlike any other. Steep yourself in this, acquaint yourself with this, and soon you will find that your author is giving you, or attempting to give you, something far more definite. The thirty-two chapters of a novel —— if : consider how to read a novel first —— are an attempt to make something as formed and controlled as a building: but words are more impalpable than bricks; reading is a longer and more complicated process than seeing. Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties of words. Recall, then, some event that has left a distinct impression on you —— how at the corner of the street, perhaps, you passed two people talking. A tree shook; an electric
light danced; the tone of the talk was comic, but also tragic; a whole vision, an entire conception, seemed contained in the moment.
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