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低调先生铁杆木虫 (小有名气)
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【求助】翻译此文Thoughts in Westminster Abbey 已有1人参与
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Thoughts in Westminster Abbey Joseph Addison (1672-1719) When I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey, where the gloominess of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. I yesterday passed a whole afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters, and the church, amusing myself with the tombstones and inscriptions that I met with in those several regions of the dead. Most of them recorded nothing else of the buried person, but that he was born upon one day, and died upon another: the whole history of his life being comprehended in those two circumstances, that are common to all mankind. I could not but look upon these registers of existence, whether of brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the departed persons; who had left no other memorial of them, but that they were born and that they died. They put me in mind of several persons mentioned in the battles of heroic poems, who have sounding names given them, for no other reason but that they may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the head. The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writ by “the path of an arrow,” which is immediately closed up and lost. Upon my going into the church, I entertained myself with the digging of a grave; and saw in every shovelful of it that was thrown up, the fragment of a bone or skull intermixt with a kind of fresh mouldering earth, that some time or other had a place in the composition of a human body. Upon this, I began to consider with myself what innumerable multitudes of people lay confused together under the pavement of that ancient cathedral; how men and women, friends and enemies, priests and soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass; how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness and deformity, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter. After having thus surveyed this great magazine of mortality, as it were, in the lump; I examined it more particularly by the accounts which I found on several of the monuments which are raised in every quarter of that ancient fabric. Some of them were covered with such extravagant epitaphs, that, if it were possible for the dead person to be acquainted with them, he would blush at the praises which his friends have bestowed upon him. There are others so excessively modest, that they deliver the character of the person departed in Greek or Hebrew, and by that means are not understood once in a twelve month. In the poetical quarter, I found there were poets who had no monuments, and monuments which had no poets. I observed indeed that the present war had filled the church with many of these uninhabited monuments, which had been erected to the memory of persons whose bodies were perhaps buried in the plains of Blenheim, or in the bosom of the ocean. I could not but be very much delighted with several modern epitaphs, which are written with great elegance of expression and justness of thought, and therefore do honour to the living as well as to the dead. As a foreigner is very apt to conceive an idea of the ignorance or politeness of a nation, from the turn of their public monuments and inscriptions, they should be submitted to the perusal of men of learning and genius, before they are put in execution. Sir Cloudesly Shovel’s monument has very often given me great offence: instead of the brave rough English Admiral, which was the distinguishing character of that plain gallant man, he is represented on his tomb by the figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a canopy of state. The inscription is answerable to the monument; for instead of celebrating the many remarkable actions he had performed in the service of his country, it acquaints us only with the manner of his death, in which it was impossible for him to reap any honour. The Dutch, whom we are apt to despise for want of genius, show an infinitely greater taste of antiquity and politeness in their buildings and works of this nature, than what we meet with in those of our own country. The monuments of their admirals, which have been erected at the public expense, represent them like themselves; and are adorned with rostral crowns and naval ornaments, with beautiful festoons of seaweed, shells, and coral. But to return to our subject. I have left the repository of our English kings for the contemplation of another day, when I shall find my mind disposed for so serious an amusement. I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds, and gloomy imaginations; but for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy; and can therefore take a view of nature in her deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this means I can improve myself with those objects, which others consider with terror. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow; when I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together. （补充：这是一篇比较经典的英文文章，求正式规范的译文。能帮忙者再加10金币。） [ Last edited by 低调先生 on 2010-4-15 at 20:40 ] |
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ruleiwang
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低调先生(金币+5):虽说不是很正式，而且没有翻译完，但是你还是很辛苦的的！！！给点~~ 2010-04-17 07:33
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Addison的《威斯敏斯特教堂遐思》 When I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey, where the gloominess of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building, and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. 心情不好的时候，我总是独自一人在威斯敏斯特教堂漫步，这个阴郁的地方，其用途、庄严的建筑物以及躺在里面的人的身世都容易让人有一种抑郁的感觉，或是让人思绪万千，这都让人感觉不舒服。 I yesterday passed a whole afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters, and the church, amusing myself with the tombstones and inscriptions that I met with in those several regions of the dead. 昨天整个下午我都用在教堂墓地、修道院以及教堂里了，以看这些地方已故人士的墓碑和墓志铭而自娱自乐。 Most of them recorded nothing else of the buried person, but that he was born upon one day, and died upon another: the whole history of his life being comprehended in those two circumstances, that are common to all mankind. 大部分人的墓碑上都只记录了其出生日期及死亡日期。而死者的生平大都大同小异。 I could not but look upon these registers of existence, whether of brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the departed persons; who had left no other memorial of them, but that they were born and that they died. 无论是铜的还是大理石的，看着这些墓碑上的墓志铭都似乎是对已故的人的一种嘲讽。因为他们给活着的亲人所留下的记忆除了生日和亡期别的什么也没有。 They put me in mind of several persons mentioned in the battles of heroic poems, who have sounding names given them, for no other reason but that they may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the head.The life of these men is finely described in Holy Writ by “the path of an arrow,” which is immediately closed up and lost. 这让我想起了英雄诗里面所提到的几位战场上的英雄，人们赋予他们平安美好的名字，并无他意，仅仅是因为他们可能会牺牲。他们庆贺着别无他由仅仅是相互敲头。这些人的生命在圣经里被颂扬为：“箭一般的生命“匆匆易逝。 Upon my going into the church, I entertained myself with the digging of a grave; and saw in every shovelful of it that was thrown up, the fragment of a bone or skull intermixt with a kind of fresh mouldering earth, that some time or other had a place in the composition of a human body. 当我去教堂的时候，我就喜欢看人们掘坟墓，每铲一铲子土就会看到夹杂着新鲜泥土的骨状物或是头骨，或者有时会人体的一部分。 Upon this, I began to consider with myself what innumerable multitudes of people lay confused together under the pavement of that ancient cathedral; 看到这些，我开始自顾自的想：无数的人都混杂不清的被埋在这座古老的教堂里。 how men and women, friends and enemies, priests and soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass; 男人和女人，朋友和敌人，神父和士兵，和尚和牧师是怎样蜷缩混杂在一起的。 how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness and deformity, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter. 美人、士兵、年轻人、老人、病人、残疾人都乱七八糟的混在一起。 [ Last edited by ruleiwang on 2010-4-15 at 23:50 ] |
2楼2010-04-15 23:46:39