散文翻译（二）

第二单元　散文翻译（二）

教学目标

本单元教学目标为：一、引导学生熟悉英语散文的类型；二、学习散文汉译的审美；三、掌握散文翻译审美传达的方法。

课文

Glories of the Storm

Nancy Peterson

It begins when a feeling of stillness creeps into my consciousness.Everything has suddenly gone quiet.Birds do not chirp.Leaves do not rustle.Insects do not sing.

The air that has been hot all day becomes heavy.It hangs over the trees，presses the heads of the flowers to the ground，sits on my shoulders.With a vague feeling of uneasiness I move to the window.There，in the west，lies the answer—cloud has piled on cloud to form a ridge of mammoth white towers，rearing against blue sky.

Their piercing whiteness is of brief duration.Soon the marshmallow rims flatten to anvil tops，and the clouds reveal their darker nature.They impose themselves before the late-afternoon sun，and the day darkens early.Then a gust of wind whips the dust along the road，chill warning of what is to come.

In the house a door shuts with a bang，curtains billow into the room.I rush to close the windows，empty the clothesline，secure the patio furnishings.Thunder begins to grumble in the distance.

The first drops of rain are huge.They splat into the dust and imprint the windows with individual signatures.They plink on the vent pipe and plunk on the patio roof.Leaves shudder under their weight before rebounding，and the sidewalk wears a coat of shiny spots.

The rhythm accelerates； plink follows plunk faster until the sound is a roll of drums and the individual drops become an army marching over fields and rooftops.Now the first bolt of lightning stabs the earth.It is heaven’s exclamation point.The storm is here！

In spite of myself，I jump at the following crack of thunder.It rattles the windowpane and sends the dog scratching to get under the bed.The next bolt is even closer.It raises the hair on the back of my neck，and I take an involuntary step away from the window.

The rain now becomes a torrent，flung capriciously by a rising wind.Together they batter the trees and level the grasses.Water streams off roofs and out of rain spouts.It pounds against the window in such a steady wash that I am sightless.There is only water.How can so much fall so fast? How could the clouds have supported this vast weight? How can the earth endure beneath it?

Pacing through the house from window to window，I am moved to open-mouthed wonder.Look how the lilac bends under the assault，how the day lilies are flattened，how the hillside steps are a new-made waterfall！ Now hailstones thump upon the roof.They bounce white against the grass and splash into the puddles.I think of the vegetable garden，the fruit trees，the crops in the fields； but，thankfully，the hailstones are not enough in numbers or size to do real damage.Not this time.

For this storm is already beginning to pass.The tension is released from the atmosphere，the curtains of rain let in more light.The storm has spent most of its energy，and what is left will be expended on the countryside to the east.

I am drawn outside while the rain still falls.All around，there is a cool and welcome feeling.I breathe deeply and watch the sun’s rays streak through breaking clouds.One ray catches the drops that form on the edge of the roof，and I am treated to a row of tiny，quivering colors—my private rainbow.

I pick my way through the wet grass，my feet sinking into the saturated soil.The creek in the gully runs bank—full of brown water，but the small lakes and puddles are already disappearing into the earth.Every leaf，brick，shingle and blade of grass is fresh-washed and shining.

Like the land，I am renewed，my spirit cleaned.I feel an infinite peace.For a time I have forgotten the worries and irritations I was nurturing before.They have been washed away by the glories of the storm.

参考译文

辉煌壮丽的暴风雨

南希·彼得森

起初，有一种平静的感觉悄然袭上我的心头。刹那间，万物都突然沉寂无声。鸟儿不再啁啾，树叶不再沙沙作响，昆虫也停止了欢唱。

整日闷热的空气变得格外呆滞，它笼罩着树木，逼得花朵垂向地面，也压得我的肩头沉甸甸的。我怀着隐隐的烦躁不安，信步走到窗边。原来答案就在西边天际，云层重重叠叠，就像一排嵯峨的白塔，高耸在蓝天之上。

云彩那耀眼的白色转瞬便消失了。顷刻间，棉花糖状的云边变得像铁砧一样平展，云层也露出了阴暗的本来面目。它强行遮住西斜的太阳，使天色早早地黑了下来。接着，劲风骤起，一路卷起尘土飞扬，冷飕飕的，预示着即将来临的一切。

砰的一声，风关上了一扇房门，窗帘也随风扬起，向屋内翻卷着。我急忙跑过去关上窗户，收下晾晒的衣服，安顿好露台上的家什。远外开始响起了隆隆的雷声。

最初落下来的是大颗大颗的水珠，扑扑地打在尘土里，在玻璃窗上留下了一个个印记。雨点把排气管敲得叮叮当当，把露台顶棚打得噼噼啪啪，树叶被砸得瑟瑟发抖，难以抬头。人行道铺上了一层亮闪闪的水点。

雨加快了节奏，叮叮当当紧跟着噼噼啪啪，一阵紧似一阵，终于连成一片密集的鼓点，颗颗雨滴也汇集成一支行进在田野和屋顶的大军。这时，第一道闪电刺向大地，这是老天划的惊叹号。暴风雨来了！

随即响起了一声霹雳，我不禁跳了起来，雷声震得窗户格格作响，吓得狗儿三抓两爬钻到床底下。第二道闪电离得更近，我惊得寒毛倒竖，不由得从窗边后退了一步。

这时，雨下得简直是倾盆如注，狂风吹得雨水飘摇不定。风雨交加，恣意地抽打树木，夷平草地。雨水从屋顶奔流而下，漫出了排水管，不停地泼洒在窗户上，使我什么也看不清楚。眼前只有水。这么多雨水，怎么能下得这么急？云层怎么能承受得住这么巨大的重量？大地怎么能经受得起这样的冲击？

我在屋里踱来踱去，从一个窗口走到另一个窗口。室外的景色使我瞠目结舌，惊叹不已。瞧，在暴风雨的袭击下，丁香折弯了腰，萱草倒伏在地，山坡上的石阶小道变成了一帘新辟的瀑布！这时突然下起冰雹，乒乒乓乓地砸在屋顶上。顷刻间草地上银珠纷飞，水洼里水花四溅。我开始担心园里的蔬菜、果树，还有田里的庄稼；不过，谢天谢地，冰雹个头不大，数量也不多，还不足以造成什么实际损失。至少这次是不会了。

因为这场暴风雨即将过去，紧张的气氛缓和了，从雨幕中透出更多的亮光。暴风雨已耗去了大部分的精力，还有一点余威只能到东边的乡间中去施展了。

雨仍在淅淅沥沥地下着，我却忍不住走到室外。环境是那么清新宜人。我深深地呼吸着新鲜空气，仰望那穿云而出的道道阳光。有一束阳光恰巧映射在屋檐边的水珠上，我便看到一条细细的、微微颤动的七色彩带——一条供我个人观赏的彩虹。

我小心翼翼地穿过那湿漉漉的草地，双脚不时陷入雨水浸透的土壤中。河谷里的小溪满载着浑浊的泥水奔流而去，但那些小水洼和小水坑里的水已渗入地下，都不见了踪影。每片树叶和草叶，每块砖头和卵石都冲洗得纤尘不染，熠熠发光。

像大地一样，我也焕然一新，心灵得到了净化。我感到无比的平静。一时间全然忘掉了以往郁积在心头的烦恼与忧愁。它们都已被这辉煌壮丽的暴风雨荡涤得干干净净。

（第六届“韩素音青年翻译奖”获奖作品）

参考译文赏析

“Glories of the Storm”是一篇写景抒情散文。全文细致描写了风雨交加的过程，以及雨过天晴的景象，且融入了作者的心情和感受。原文文笔流畅，结构紧凑，看似简单易懂，但在翻译时有很多需要注意的地方。

一、散文节奏的把握

“Glories of the Storm”无疑是一篇优美的散文，层次非常清晰。前四段描写雨前的闷热和天空的变化，节奏较慢。5—9段刻画出了暴风雨来临，并逐渐变强的过程，节奏紧促。最后四段写出了风雨过后，作者心灵得到净化，文章节奏放缓。汉译文很好地表现了节奏感的变化，前四段和后四段按照原文的句式翻译，多用长句，节奏较缓，中间5—9段多用短句，表现狂风暴雨的急促有力。译文行文有急有缓，引领着读者体会天气的变化和作者情感的起伏。

二、多种修辞的运用

写景抒情的散文通常会运用多种修辞，此文运用排比、隐喻、拟声等修辞手法表现疾风骤雨，要准确理解并翻译出这些修辞是本文汉译的一个难点。

第二段最后一句“…cloud has piled on cloud to form a ridge of mammoth white towers，rearing against blue sky.”运用了隐喻的修辞。作者把重叠的云层比成错落的白塔，翻译这句话时要理解作者的意图，“form”不能直译成“形成了”，因为这只是作者的想象，并不是真正的景象。准确的译文为“……云层重重叠叠，就像一排嵯峨的白塔，高耸在蓝天之上。”另一个隐喻出现在第三段，此段描写了风雨来临前云彩的变化。第二句话“Soon the marshmallow rims flatten to anvil tops”把云边的形状比作棉花糖和平展的铁砧，翻译时要领会比喻的修辞并翻译出来，译文“棉花糖状的云边变得像铁砧一样平展”准确贴切。

除了隐喻，原文最大的特点是拟声的运用。作者用拟声词表现出风驰雨骤的效果，例如“splat”、“plink”、“plunk”。这些英文词汇单个词就可以表达出敲打的声响，而汉语的单一词语“打”或“敲”等就不够生动了，因此汉译文加上了很多形象的拟声词汇，如“扑扑地打在尘土里”，“敲得叮叮当当”，“打得噼噼啪啪”，准确又生动地表现了雨中的景象，使读者仿佛可以听到风吹雨打的声响。

三、作者情感的表现

这篇散文不仅写景而且抒情，作者借助风雨的描写表达了内心从不安到惊叹再到宁静的变化过程，风雨的洗礼也是一场灵魂的净化。翻译时要在适当的地方明确表达出作者的心情跌宕。

第九段中的“open-mouthed wonder”翻译为“窗外的景色使我瞠目结舌，惊叹不已”，突出了作者对暴风雨的惊叹。“I think of the vegetable garden”改译成“我开始担心园里的蔬菜”，把风雨来临时的心情表露无遗。然而译文也有不尽如人意的地方。译文将第二段中的“move”变译成“信步”，而“信步”通常表示悠闲随意地散步，在此文中用来表达作者烦躁不安的心情是不恰当的。

总体来说，抒情散文翻译最难的是对写作手法的理解和原文韵味的再现。参考译文通过句式的变化准确呈现了原文的节奏，保留了原文的神韵，准确理解了多种修辞手法，遣词造句生动地表现了作者的感情。

翻译理论学习

散文汉译的审美效果

第一单元中，我们提到，受宗教、历史和文学运动的影响，英语散文形成了两种文体，较随意的文体（primarily informal）和较正式的文体（primarily formal）。较为随意的文体中，作者发挥写作特色，或表达个人的情感、信念，或描述外部景物，情景交融。较正式的文体更多地触及较严肃的、批判性的主题。无论哪种文体，文章的艺术魅力都通过语言呈现出来，为读者带来鲜明独特的审美感受。散文，区别于韵文语体，其感染力来自文字内涵的创造。散文虽然行文自由，但饱含作者浓厚的情感。如若在翻译过程中没有很好地再现原文的美学色彩，读者便只会感到“散”，而体会不到神韵。如何保留甚至更好地反映原文的审美特色，是散文译者必须思考的问题。概括来说，散文的译文是否具有感染力和审美效果，取决于风格的传达、语言的清晰度和对文化意蕴的阐释。

1.风格的传达

对于风格的可译性，翻译界历来有争议，但大多数学者认为风格要素是可以传达的。作品的风格是整体的有机组成，又可以加强语义效果，所以风格的传译是可能而必要的（周玉忠，2007：129-130）。风格既是指一篇文章的特点，也指作者在长期创作中形成的文风，散文取材的丰富性及表现手法的自由性形成了散文多样化的风格。翻译散文作品时大到对作家立场、情感的整体把握，小到对字、句、语段的理解都决定了对原作风格的处理和再现。好的译文能够通过恰当的遣词造句自然准确传达出作品独有的风格，而不会影响甚至破坏原文的情绪。

2.语言的清晰度

散文语言是否清晰能造成不同的审美氛围，影响读者的审美体验。很多人认为复杂之美高于单纯之美，所以一些译者在翻译散文时倾向用复杂甚至晦涩的语言来表现文字的含义，这样做似乎增加了译入语读者对原作的敬畏心理，然而复杂的文本很难积聚读者的情感（胡平，1995：172-181）。散文语言最大的特色是自然和实用，所以在翻译时使语言适度的简洁、凝练，例如长段切分，长句变成短句等方式，可以使译文更加错落有致，富于节奏，也便于读者把握文字的内涵。这里需要强调的是“适度”，过高或过低的语言清晰度都不利于审美的再现。

3.文化因素的阐释

散文译文的可读性和审美效果的另一个决定因素是文化因素的传达。散文，特别是叙事和写景抒情散文，往往包含了较多的本土文化色彩，融合了当地的历史、风俗、思维方式等文化因素，这些丰富的文化意蕴很大程度上增强了散文的美学特征。所以，准确而合理地传达文化意蕴成为译者的重要工作。作者与译入语读者分处不同的文化氛围，原文和译文的时空交错更决定了文化因素的不对等性（辜正坤，2010：446-455）。因此，散文译者必须先弄清原作和译作的时空关系，再决定用直译、意译或是增译、删减等手段来翻译文化因素，从而保护和再现文化因素的审美效果。

翻译练习

练习一

Nature and Art

James Whistler

Nature contains the elements，in colour and form，of all pictures，as the keyboard contains the notes of all music.

But the artist is born to pick，and choose，and group with science，these elements，that the result may be beautiful—as the musician gathers his notes，and forms his chords，until he brings forth from chaos glorious harmony.

To say to the painter，that Nature is to be taken as she is，is to say to the player，that he may sit on the piano…

The dignity of the snow-capped mountain is lost in distinctness，but the joy of the tourist is to recognize the traveller on the top.The desire to see，for the sake of seeing，is，with the mass，alone the one to be gratified，hence the delight in detail.

And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry，as with a veil，and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky，and the tall chimneys become campanili，and the warehouses are palaces in the night，and the whole city hangs in the heavens，and fairy-land is before us—then the wayfarer hastens home； the working man and the cultured one，the wise man and the one of pleasure，cease to understand，as they have ceased to see，and Nature，who，for once，has sung in tune，sings her exquisite song to the artist alone，her son and her master—her son in that loves her，her master in that he knows her.

To him her secrets are unfolded，to him her lessons have become gradually clear.He looks at her flower，not with the enlarging lens，that may gather facts for the botanist，but with the light of the one who sees in her choice selection of brilliant tones and delicate tints，suggestions of future harmonies.

He does not confine himself to purposeless copying，without thought，each blade of grass，as commended by the inconsequent，but，in the long curve of the narrow leaf，corrected by the straight tall stem，he learns how grace is wedded to dignity.How strength enhances sweetness，that elegance shall be the result.

In the citron wing of the pale butterfly，with its dainty spots of orange，he sees before him the stately halls of fair gold，with their slender saffron pillars，and is taught how the delicate drawing high upon the walls shall be traced in tender tones of orpiment，and repeated by the base in notes of graver hue.

In all that is dainty and lovable he finds hints for his own combinations，and thus is Nature ever his resource and always at his service，and to him is naught refused.

Through his brain，as through the last alembic，is distilled the refined essence of that thought which began with the Gods，and which they left him to carry out.

Set apart by them to complete their works，he produces that wondrous thing called the masterpiece，which surpasses in perfection all that they have contrived in what is called Nature； and the Gods stand by and marvel，and perceive how far away more beautiful is the Venus of Melos than was their own Eve.

翻译提示

作者詹姆斯·惠斯勒，美国著名画家。其绘画作品突出色彩的表现力，代表作有《灰色与黑色的交向》等。著有论辩文《温柔的树敌艺术》。本文探讨了大自然与艺术和艺术家之间的关系。译者要特别注意文字所蕴含的艺术性，特别是修辞的表现手法，力求传达出原文的审美感受。

练习二

July

Alice Meynell

One has the leisure of July for perceiving all the differences of the green of leaves.It is no longer a difference in degrees of maturity，for all the trees have darkened to their final tone，and stand in their differences of character and not of mere date.Almost all the green is grave，not sad and not dull.It has a darkened and a daily colour，in majestic but not obvious harmony with dark grey skies，and might look，to inconstant eyes，as prosaic after spring as eleven o’clock looks after the dawn.

Gravity is the word—not solemnity as towards evening，nor menace as at night.The daylight trees of July are signs of common beauty，common freshness，and a mystery familiar and abiding as night and day.In childhood we all have a more exalted sense of dawn and summer sunrise than we ever fully retain or quite recover； and also a far higher sensibility for April and April evenings—a heartache for them，which in riper years is gradually and irretrievably consoled.

But，on the other hand，childhood has so quickly learned to find daily things tedious，and familiar things importunate，that it has no great delight in the mere middle of the day，and feels weariness of the summer that has ceased to change visibly.The poetry of mere day and of late summer becomes perceptible to mature eyes that have long ceased to be sated，have taken leave of weariness，and cannot now find anything in nature too familiar； eyes which have，indeed，lost sight of the further awe of midsummer daybreak，and no longer see so much of the past in April twilight as they saw when they had no past； but which look freshly at the dailiness of green summer，of early afternoon，of every sky of any form that comes to pass，and of the darkened elms.

Not unbeloved is this serious tree，the elm，with its leaf sitting close，unthrilled.Its stature gives it a dark gold head when it looks alone to a late sun.But if one could go by all the woods，across all the old forests that are now meadowlands set with trees，and could walk a county gathering trees of a single kind in the mind，as one walks a garden collecting flowers of a single kind in the hand，would not the harvest be a harvest of poplars? A veritable passion for poplars is a most intelligible passion.The eyes do gather them，far and near，on a whole day’s journey.Not one is unperceived，even though great timber should be passed，and hill-sides dense and deep with trees.The fancy makes a poplar day of it.Immediately the country looks alive with signals； for the poplars everywhere reply to the glance.The woods may be all various，but the poplars are separate.

All their many kinds (and aspens，their kin，must be counted with them) shake themselves perpetually free of the motionless forest.It is easy to gather them.Glances sent into the far distance pay them a flash of recognition of their gentle flashes； and as you journey you are suddenly aware of them close by.Light and the breezes are as quick as the eyes of a poplar-lover to find the willing tree that dances to be seen.

No lurking for them，no reluctance.One could never make for oneself an oak day so well.The oaks would wait to be found，and many would be missed from the gathering.But the poplars are alert enough for a traveller by express； they have an alarum aloft，and do not sleep.From within some little grove of other trees a single poplar makes a slight sign； or a long row of poplars suddenly sweep the wind.They are salient everywhere，and full of replies.They are as fresh as streams.

It is difficult to realize a drought where there are many poplars.And yet their green is not rich； the coolest have a colour much mingled with a cloud-grey.It does but need fresh and simple eyes to recognize their unfaded life.When the other trees grow dark and keep still，the poplar and the aspen do not darken—or hardly—and the deepest summer will not find a day in which they do not keep awake.No waters are so vigilant，even where a lake is bare to the wind.

When Keats said of his Dian that she fastened up her hair “with fingers cool as aspen leaves，” he knew the coolest thing in the world.It is a coolness of colour，as well as of a leaf which the breeze takes on both sides—the greenish and the greyish.The poplar green has no glows，no gold； it is an austere colour，as little rich as the colour of willows，and less silvery than theirs.The sun can hardly gild it； but he can shine between.Poplars and aspens let the sun through with the wind.You may have the sky sprinkled through them in high midsummer，when all the woods are close.

Sending your fancy poplar-gathering，then，you ensnare wild trees，beating with life.No fisher’s net ever took such glancing fishes，nor did the net of a constellation’s shape ever enclose more vibrating Pleiades.

翻译提示

作者艾丽丝·梅内尔，英国女诗人、散文家，出版大量诗文、随笔，代表作有散文集《生命的色彩》等。《七月》以优美的笔法描绘季节交替的自然风光并借景抒情，表达人生感悟，特别赋予白杨以主观感受。翻译时要用贴切的语言、恰当的翻译手法表现出原文的意境和风格，传达出作者的情感。