下载文档原格式
历届韩素音翻译大奖赛竞赛原文及译文历届韩素音翻译大奖赛竞赛原文及译文英译汉部分 (3)Hidden within Technology‘s Empire, a Republic of Letters (3)隐藏于技术帝国的文学界 (3)"Why Measure Life in Heartbeats?" (8)何必以心跳定生死？ (9)美(节选) (11)The Literature of Knowledge and the Literature of Power byThomas De Quincey (16)知识文学与力量文学托马斯.昆西 (16)An Experience of Aesthetics by Robert Ginsberg (18)审美的体验罗伯特.金斯伯格 (18)A Person Who Apologizes Has the Moral Ball in His Court by Paul Johnson (21)谁给别人道歉，谁就在道义上掌握了主动保罗.约翰逊 (21)On Going Home by Joan Didion (25)回家琼.狄迪恩 (25)The Making of Ashenden (Excerpt) by Stanley Elkin (28)艾兴登其人（节选）斯坦利.埃尔金 (28)Beyond Life (34)超越生命[美] 卡贝尔著 (34)Envy by Samuel Johnson (39)论嫉妒[英]塞缪尔.约翰逊著 (39)《中国翻译》第一届“青年有奖翻译比赛”（1986）竞赛原文及参考译文（英译汉） (41)Sunday (41)星期天 (42)四川外语学院“语言桥杯”翻译大赛获奖译文选登 (44)第七届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛获奖译文选登 (44)The Woods: A Meditation (Excerpt) (46)林间心语（节选） (47)第六届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛获奖译文选登 (50)第五届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛原文及获奖译文选登 (52)第四届“语言桥杯”翻译大赛原文、参考译文及获奖译文选登 (54) When the Sun Stood Still (54)永恒夏日 (55)CASIO杯翻译竞赛原文及参考译文 (56)第三届竞赛原文及参考译文 (56)Here Is New York (excerpt) (56)这儿是纽约 (58)第四届翻译竞赛原文及参考译文 (61)Reservoir Frogs (Or Places Called Mama's) (61)水库青蛙（又题：妈妈餐馆） (62)中译英部分 (66)蜗居在巷陌的寻常幸福 (66)Simple Happiness of Dwelling in the Back Streets (66)在义与利之外 (69)Beyond Righteousness and Interests (69)读书苦乐杨绛 (72)The Bitter-Sweetness of Reading Yang Jiang (72)想起清华种种王佐良 (74)Reminiscences of Tsinghua Wang Zuoliang (74)歌德之人生启示宗白华 (76)What Goethe's Life Reveals by Zong Baihua (76)怀想那片青草地赵红波 (79)Yearning for That Piece of Green Meadow by Zhao Hongbo (79)可爱的南京 (82)Nanjing the Beloved City (82)霞冰心 (84)The Rosy Cloud byBingxin (84)黎明前的北平 (85)Predawn Peiping (85)老来乐金克木 (86)Delights in Growing Old by Jin Kemu (86)可贵的“他人意识” (89)Calling for an Awareness of Others (89)教孩子相信 (92)To Implant In Our Children‘s Young Hearts An Undying Faith In Humanity (92)心中有爱 (94)Love in Heart (94)英译汉部分Hidden within Technology’s Empire, a Republic of Le tters 隐藏于技术帝国的文学界索尔·贝娄（1）When I was a boy ―discovering literature‖, I used to think how wonderful it would be if every other person on the street were familiar with Proust and Joyce or T. E. Lawrence or Pasternak and Kafka. Later I learned how refractory to high culture the democratic masses were. Lincoln as a young frontiersman read Plutarch, Shakespeare and the Bible. But then he was Lincoln.我还是个“探索文学”的少年时，就经常在想：要是大街上人人都熟悉普鲁斯特和乔伊斯，熟悉T.E.劳伦斯，熟悉帕斯捷尔纳克和卡夫卡，该有多好啊！后来才知道，平民百姓对高雅文化有多排斥。
第九届卡西欧杯翻译竞赛原文（英文组）来自: FLAA(《外国文艺》)Meansof Delive ryJoshua CohenSmuggl ing Afghan heroin or womenfrom Odessa wouldhave been morerepreh ensib le, but more logica l. Youknowyou’reafoolwhenwhatyou’redoingmakeseven the post office seem effici ent. Everyt hingI was packin g into thisunwiel dy, 1980s-vintag e suitca se was availa ble online. Idon’tmeanthatwhenIarrive d in Berlin I couldhave ordere dmoreLevi’s510s for next-day delive ry. I mean, I was packin g books.Not just any books— thesewere all the same book, multip le copies. “Invali d Format: An Anthol ogy of Triple Canopy, Volume 1”ispublis hed, yes, by Triple Canopy, an online magazi ne featur ing essays, fictio n, poetry and all variet y of audio/visualcultur e, dedica ted — click“About”—“toslowin g down the Intern et.”Withtheirbook, the firstin a planne d series, the editor s certai nly succee ded. They were slowin g me down too, just fine.“Invali d Format”collec ts in printthe magazi ne’sfirstfour issues and retail s, ideall y, for $25. But the 60 copies I was courie ring, in exchan ge for a couchand coffee-pressaccess in Kreuzb erg, wouldbe givenaway. For free.Untillately the printe d book change d more freque ntly, but less creati vely, than any othermedium. If you though t“TheQuotab le Ronald Reagan”wastooexpens ive in hardco ver, you couldwait a year or less for the same conten t to go soft. E-books, whichmade theirdebutin the 1990s, cut costseven more for both consum er and produc er, though as the Intern et expand ed thoserolesbecame confus ed.Self-publis hed book proper tiesbeganoutnum berin g, if not outsel ling, theirtradeequiva lents by the mid-2000s, a situat ion furthe r convol utedwhen the conglo merat es starte d“publis hing”“self-publis hed books.”Lastyear, Pengui n became the firstmajortradepressto go vanity: its Book Countr y e-imprin t will legiti mizeyour “origin al genrefictio n”forjustunder$100. Theseshifts make small, D.I.Y.collec tives like Triple Canopy appear more tradit ional than ever, if not just quixot ic — a word derive d from one of the firstnovels licens ed to a publis her.Kenned y Airpor t was no proble m, my connec tionat Charle s de Gaulle went fine. My luggag e connec ted too, arrivi ng intact at Tegel. But immedi ately afterimmigr ation, I was flagge d. A smalle r wheeli e bag held the clothi ng. As a custom s offici alrummag ed throug h my Hanes, I prepar ed for what came next: the larger case, caster s broken, handle rusted—I’mpretty sure it had alread y been Used when it was givento me for my bar mitzva h.Before the offici al couldopen the clasps and startpoking inside, I presen ted him with the docume nt the Triple Canopy editor, Alexan der Provan, had e-mailed me — the nightbefore? two nights before alread y? I’dbeenuponeofthosenights scouri ng New York City for a printe r. No one printe d anymor e. The docume nt stated, inEnglis h and German, that thesebookswere books. They were promot ional, to be givenaway at univer sitie s, galler ies, the Miss Read art-book fair at Kunst-Werke.“Allaresame?”theoffici al asked.“Allegleich,”Isaid.An olderguardcame over, prodde d a spine, said someth ingIdidn’tget. The younge r offici al laughe d, transl ated,“Hewantsto know if you read everyone.”At lunchthe next day with a musici an friend. In New York he played twicea month, ate food stamps. In collap singEuropehe’spaid2,000 eurosa nightto play aquattr ocent o church.“Whereare you handin g the booksout?”heasked.“Atanartfair.”“Whyanartfair?Whynotabookfair?”“It’sanart-bookfair.”“Asoppose d to a book-bookfair?”I told him that at book-book fairs, like the famous one in Frankf urt, they mostly gave out catalo gs.Taking trains and tramsin Berlin, I notice d: people readin g. Books, I mean, not pocket-size device s that bleepas if censor ious, on whicheven Shakes peare scanslike a spread sheet. Americ ans buy more than half of all e-bookssold intern ation ally—unless Europe ans fly regula rly to the United States for the sole purpos e ofdownlo ading readin g materi al from an Americ an I.P. addres s. As of the evenin g I stoppe d search ing the Intern et and actual ly went out to enjoyBerlin, e-booksaccoun ted for nearly 20 percen t of the salesof Americ an publis hers. In German y, howeve r, e-booksaccoun ted for only 1 percen t last year. I beganasking themultil ingua l, multi¬ethnic artist s around me why that was. It was 2 a.m., at Soho House, a privat eclubI’dcrashe d in the former Hitler¬jugend headqu arter s. One instal latio nistsaid, “Americ ans like e-booksbecaus ethey’reeasier to buy.”Aperfor mance artist said, “They’realsoeasier not to read.”Trueenough: theirpresen ce doesn’tremindyouofwhatyou’remissin g;theydon’ttake up spaceon shelve s. The next mornin g, Alexan der Provan and I lugged the booksfor distri butio n, gratis. Questi on: If booksbecome mere art object s, do e-booksbecome concep tualart? Juxtap osing psychi atric case notesby the physic ian-noveli st RivkaGalche n with a dramat icall y illust rated invest igati on into the devast ation of New Orlean s, “Invali d Format”isamongthe most artful new attemp ts to reinve nt the Web by the codex, and the codexby the Web. Its texts“scroll”: horizo ntall y, vertic ally; titlepagesevoke“screen s,”refram ing conten t that follow s not unifor mly and contin uousl y but rather as a welter of column shifts and fonts. Its closes t predec essor s mightbe mixed-mediaDada (Ducham p’sloose-leafed, shuffl eable“GreenBox”); or perhap s“ICanHasCheezb urger?,”thebest-sellin g book versio n of the pet-pictur es-with-funny-captio ns Web site ICanHa sChee zburg ; or simila r volume s fromStuffW hiteP eople Like.com and Awkwar dFami lyPho . Theselatter booksare merely the kitsch iestproduc ts of publis hing’srecent enthus iasmfor“back-engine ering.”They’repseudo liter ature, commod ities subjec t to the samerevers ing proces s that for over a centur y has paused“movies”into“stills”— into P.R. photos and dorm poster s — and notate d pop record ingsfor sheetmusic.Admitt edlyIdidn’thavemuchtimetoconsid er the implic ation s of adapti ve cultur e in Berlin. I was too busy dancin gto“IchLiebeWie Du Lügst,”aka“LovetheWayYou Lie,”byEminem, and fallin g asleep during“Bis(s) zum Ende der Nacht,”aka“TheTwilig ht Saga: Breaki ng Dawn,”justafterthe dubbed Bellacriesover herunlike ly pregna ncy, “Dasistunmögl ich!”— indeed!Transl ating medium s can seem just as unmögl ich as transl ating betwee n unrela ted langua ges: therewill be confus ions, distor tions, techni cal limita tions. The Web ande-book can influe nce the printbook only in matter s of styleand subjec t — no links, of course, just theirmetaph or. “Theghostin the machin e”can’tbeexorci sed, onlyturned around: the machin e inside the ghost.As for me, I was haunte d by my suitca se. The extraone, the empty. My last day in Kreuzb erg was spentconsid ering its fate. My wheeli e bag was packed. My laptop was stowed in my carry-on. I wanted to leavethe pleath er immens ity on the corner of Kottbu sserDamm, down by the canal,butI’ve neverbeen a waster. I brough t it back. It sits in the middle of my apartm ent, unreve rtibl e, only improv able, hollow, its lid floppe d open like the coverof a book.传送之道约书亚·科恩走私阿富汗的海洛因和贩卖来自敖德萨的妇女本应受到更多的谴责，但是也更合乎情理。
第十一届“21世纪杯”全国英语演讲比赛冠军—曹丰Our Future: A Battle between Dreams and RealityGood afternoon, ladies and gentlemen:When I was in the primary school, I have a dream. I want to invent a device which could bring you from one place to another in no time at all. When I was in the secondary school, my dream was to study in my ideal university. And when eventually I got into the university, my dream was to graduate.How pathetic! When we grow up, we dream less and become more realistic. Why? Why do we have to change our dreams, so, so in order to let it be "fulfilled"? Why do we have to surrender to the so-called "reality"? What IS the reality actually?Ladies and gentlemen, the reality is not real. It is a barrier keeping us from all the possible fantasies. Flying, for example, had been a dream to mankind for thousands of years. A hundred years ago, "man could not fly" was still regarded as the "reality". Now if that was really the reality, what did the Wright brothers do? How did some of you get to Macau? Only when we believe that the reality is not real can we soar with our dreams.People say that our future is a battle between the reality and our dreams. And if, unfortunately, Mr. Reality wins this war, then I seeno future of mankind at all. AIDS will never be curable as this IS the reality; People living in the undeveloped countries will suffer from starvation forever as this IS the reality; 4)Disputes among different countries would never be settled as this misunderstandings and intolerance IS the reality.Ladies and gentlemen, how many of you have a dream of being able to make a lot of money? Please raise your hands. Oh, quite a number of you! Actually, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a dream, but a task. Every one of us has to make a living, right? Anyway I hope your task will be accomplished. How many of you think that you have already fulfilled your dream and that you don't dream anymore? Dear adjudicators, what do you think? C.S. Lewis once said, "You are never too old to dream a new dream." So for our future, please dream and be unrealistic.Now that I am a university student, my goal is to graduate with excellences. But at the same time, I have a dream deeply rooted in our future. One day, people living in the areas now sweltering with the horror of wars will be able to sit with their families and enjoy their every moment. One day, people from the rich countries are willing to share what they have with those from the poor countries and those from the poor countries will eventually be able to make their own happy living themselves. One day, different cultures inthis age of globalization will coexist with tolerance and the unfriendly confrontations among them will be 7)eliminated. One day, the globe will share the dream with me and we will all contribute to making our dream come true. One day, our dream will defeat the reality! Thank you very much.第十四届“21世纪杯”全国英语演讲比赛冠军—金璐What would you do if you had only one day left to live?“What would you do if you had only one day left to live?”I asked this question to my young students when teaching English this winter. What were their answers?“I would watch television!” the first answer. “I would play with the computer!” the second one. “I would play with computer TOO.” The girl finished her sentence perfectly with a serious smile. Indeed how cute and innocent that smile was, but how seriously my heart was hurt. I was too frightened to listen to more answers like that.Ten years ago, at their age, I had a different answer: I would spend the last day of my life gazing at the face of my dear grandmother until I inscribed every detail of it onto my mind.When grandmother was getting old and weak, my family bought hera telephone so I could save time and the trouble of traveling to her home by making phone calls instead. Later we bought her a television so she could watch modern dramas by herself. Then grandma must have been, we assumed, very contented and happy. But I never really knew how grandma felt. She silently passed away without a word one night. When I heard about her death, a chilling pain pierced my empty heart. The pain grew even sharper as I tried to remember in detail exactly how grandma looked and I failed completely! How could I remember? I had not visited her for ages—it seemed like a century! My memories of her dissolved into thin air and leaked away like water.Even though I have a telephone, can she hear me now?Even though I might be on television, can she see me now?Even though I have modern telecommunications, can she still communicate with me now?With all these “tele”s, I was powerless.Don’t people just love the word of “tele”, which means far away. Indeed this is how modern technology has changed our world. But please don’t forget this other word with “tele”: telepathy: which refers to human beings’ inborn ability to connect to our loved ones. Our minds are supposed to read each other’s minds; our hearts are supposed to feel each other’s hearts — and fulfill these without anyforms of tool!But the moment I desperately struggled to remember grandmother’s face, the telepathy between her and me had shut down forever. With the help of modern technology, I killed our telepathy.This shall never happen again! The “tele”s are great inventions. But “telepathy” gives them the warmth of a human face. Let’s harness the power of television to excite our kids to develop their telepathy with nature… so that they can read the secret language of flowers. Let’s make the telephone lines provoke us to preserve our tele pathy with each other, so we can connect in a warm and feeling way. Let technology keep our “telepathy” ALIVE! We need to wake up and make this happen.I told my grandma’s story to those young kids that day. They got very quiet. They asked me for a second chance to answer the question. They had come to a new understanding – that very moment they had made to me and to our future together, a dear promise. Thank you very much！。
第十届CASIO杯翻译竞赛英语组原文Humans are animals and like all animals we leave tracks as we walk:signs of passage made in snow,sand,mud,grass,dew,earth or moss.The language of hunting has a luminous word for such mark-making:‘foil’.A creature’s‘foil’is its track.We easily forget that we are track-makers,though,because most of our journeys now occur on asphalt and concrete–and these are substances not easily impressed.Always,everywhere,people have walked,veining the earth with paths visible and invisible,symmetrical or meandering,’writes Thomas Clark in his enduring prose-poem‘In Praise of Walking’.It’s true that,once you begin to notice them,you see that the landscape is still webbed with paths and footways–shadowing the modern-day road network,or meeting it at a slant or perpendicular.Pilgrim paths, green roads,drove roads,corpse roads,trods,leys,dykes,drongs,sarns,snickets–say the names of paths out loud and at speed and they become a poem or rite–holloways,bostles,shutes,driftways,lichways,ridings,halterpaths,cartways,carneys, causeways,herepaths.Many regions still have their old ways,connecting place to place,leading over passes or round mountains,to church or chapel,river or sea.Not all of their histories are happy.In Ireland there are hundreds of miles of famine roads,built by the starving during the1840s to connect nothing with nothing in return for little,unregistered on Ordnance Survey base maps.In the Netherlands there are doodwegen and spookwegen–death roads and ghost roads–which converge on medieval cemeteries. Spain has not only a vast and operational network of cañada,or drove roads,but also thousands of miles of the Camino de Santiago,the pilgrim routes that lead to the shrine of Santiago de Compostela.For pilgrims walking the Camino,every footfall is doubled,landing at once on the actual road and also on the path of faith.In Scotland there are clachan and rathad–cairned paths and shieling paths–and in Japan the slender farm tracks that the poet Bashōfollowed in1689when writing his Narrow Road to the Far North.The American prairies were traversed in the nineteenthcentury by broad‘bison roads’,made by herds of buffalo moving several beasts abreast,and then used by early settlers as they pushed westwards across the Great Plains.Paths of long usage exist on water as well as on land.The oceans are seamed with seaways–routes whose course is determined by prevailing winds and currents–and rivers are among the oldest ways of all.During the winter months,the only route in and out of the remote valley of Zanskar in the Indian Himalayas is along the ice-path formed by a frozen river.The river passes down through steep-sided valleys of shaley rock,on whose slopes snow leopards hunt.In its deeper pools,the ice is blue and lucid.The journey down the river is called the chadar,and parties undertaking the chadar are led by experienced walkers known as‘ice-pilots’,who can tell where the dangers lie.Different paths have different characteristics,depending on geology and purpose. Certain coffin paths in Cumbria have flat‘resting stones’on the uphill side,on which the bearers could place their load,shake out tired arms and roll stiff shoulders;certain coffin paths in the west of Ireland have recessed resting stones,in the alcoves of which each mourner would place a pebble.The prehistoric trackways of the English Downs can still be traced because on their close chalky soil,hard-packed by centuries of trampling,daisies flourish.Thousands of work paths crease the moorland of the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides,so that when seen from the air the moor has the appearance of chamois leather.I think also of the zigzag flexure of mountain paths in the Scottish Highlands,the flagged and bridged packhorse routes of Yorkshire and Mid Wales,and the sunken green-sand paths of Hampshire on whose shady banks ferns emerge in spring,curled like crosiers.The way-marking of old paths is an esoteric lore of its own,involving cairns, grey wethers,sarsens,hoarstones,longstones,milestones,cromlechs and other guide-signs.On boggy areas of Dartmoor,fragments of white china clay were placed to show safe paths at twilight,like Hansel and Gretel’s pebble trail.In mountain country,boulders often indicate fording points over rivers:Utsi’s Stone in the Cairngorms,for instance,which marks where the Allt Mor burn can be crossed toreach traditional grazing grounds,and onto which has been deftly incised the petroglyph of a reindeer that,when evening sunlight plays over the rock,seems to leap to life.Paths and their markers have long worked on me like lures:drawing my sight up and on and over.The eye is enticed by a path,and the mind’s eye also.The imagination cannot help but pursue a line in the land–onwards in space,but also backwards in time to the histories of a route and its previous followers.As I walk paths I often wonder about their origins,the impulses that have led to their creation, the records they yield of customary journeys,and the secrets they keep of adventures, meetings and departures.I would guess I have walked perhaps7,000or8,000miles on footpaths so far in my life:more than most,perhaps,but not nearly so many as others.Thomas De Quincey estimated Wordsworth to have walked a total of 175,000–180,000miles:Wordsworth’s notoriously knobbly legs,‘pointedly condemned’–in De Quincey’s catty phrase–‘by all…female connoisseurs’,were magnificent shanks when it came to passage and bearing.I’ve covered thousands of foot-miles in my memory,because when–as most nights–I find myself insomniac,I send my mind out to re-walk paths I’ve followed,and in this way can sometimes pace myself into sleep.‘They give me joy as I proceed,’wrote John Clare of field paths,simply.Me too.‘My left hand hooks you round the waist,’declared Walt Whitman–companionably, erotically,coercively–in Leaves of Grass(1855),‘my right hand points to landscapes of continents,and a plain public road.’Footpaths are mundane in the best sense of that word:‘worldly’,open to all.As rights of way determined and sustained by use,they constitute a labyrinth of liberty,a slender network of common land that still threads through our aggressively privatized world of barbed wire and gates,CCTV cameras and‘No Trespassing’signs.It is one of the significant differences between land use in Britain and in America that this labyrinth should exist.Americans have long envied the British system of footpaths and the freedoms it offers,as I in turn envy the Scandinavian customary right of Allemansrätten(‘Everyman’s right’).This convention–born of a region that did not pass through centuries of feudalism,andtherefore has no inherited deference to a landowning class–allows a citizen to walk anywhere on uncultivated land provided that he or she cause no harm;to light fires;to sleep anywhere beyond the curtilage of a dwelling;to gather flowers,nuts and berries; and to swim in any watercourse(rights to which the newly enlightened access laws of Scotland increasingly approximate).Paths are the habits of a landscape.They are acts of consensual making.It’s hard to create a footpath on your own.The artist Richard Long did it once,treading a dead-straight line into desert sand by turning and turning about dozens of times.But this was a footmark not a footpath:it led nowhere except to its own end,and by walking it Long became a tiger pacing its cage or a swimmer doing lengths.With no promise of extension,his line was to a path what a snapped twig is to a tree.Paths connect.This is their first duty and their chief reason for being.They relate places in a literal sense,and by extension they relate people.Paths are consensual,too,because without common care and common practice they disappear:overgrown by vegetation,ploughed up or built over(though they may persist in the memorious substance of land law).Like sea channels that require regular dredging to stay open,paths need walking.In nineteenth-century Suffolk small sickles called‘hooks’were hung on stiles and posts at the start of certain wellused paths: those running between villages,for instance,or byways to parish churches.A walker would pick up a hook and use it to lop off branches that were starting to impede passage.The hook would then be left at the other end of the path,for a walker coming in the opposite direction.In this manner the path was collectively maintained for general use.By no means all interesting paths are old paths.In every town and city today, cutting across parks and waste ground,you’ll see unofficial paths created by walkers who have abandoned the pavements and roads to take short cuts and make asides. Town planners call these improvised routes‘desire lines’or‘desire paths’.In Detroit –where areas of the city are overgrown by vegetation,where tens of thousands of homes have been abandoned,and where few can now afford cars–walkers and cyclists have created thousands of such elective easements.第十届CASIO杯翻译竞赛英语组参考译文路[英]罗伯特·麦克法伦作侯凌玮译人是一种动物，因而和所有其他动物一样，我们行走时总会留下踪迹：雪地、沙滩、淤泥、草地、露水、土壤和苔藓上都有我们经过的痕迹。
作家们怎样打造品牌托尼·佩罗蒂提所有作家都清楚，如今写本书并不是什么难事了。
直到出版日期临近了，我们才不得不挽挽袖子开始真正的文学工作：狂热的自我推销。
在这之前的几周里，我们被逼得用有新意的电子邮件和脸谱网消息提醒对所有亲朋好友和认识的人进行宣传。
我们装饰自己的网站，改换年轻得让人生疑的照片，没完没了的写博客，发布推特状态，上传视频宣传片，企图把包括自己的阅读、签名、评论、谈话记录，还有电视演出（至少我们可以幻想得出）在内的一切通通告诉给一个已经被淹没了的世界。
在这个作家除了开印刷厂之外什么都可能做得出来的时代，自我推销已经太平常不过了，以至于我们几乎不用想。
然而，每次我有新书要出版，我就不得不驱除这种恼人的感觉，总觉得自己吸引公众注意力的做法不大体面。
因为有文学的高要求，像伟哥促销员一样挨户兜售自己的作品的做法仍然让我觉得奇怪。
每当产生这种疑惑时，我就回顾历史以求恢复信心。
令人欣慰的是很多伟大的作家曾使用过文学卖淫—我指的是自我推销—这种手段。
最受尊崇的法国作家巴尔扎克认识到公关的必要性。
“对艺术家而言，要解决的最大的问题是怎样让自己受到人们的关注”巴尔扎克在描写19世纪早期巴黎文学生活的《幻灭》中说道。
另一位大师司汤达在他的自传《一个利己主义者的回忆录》中评论说；“没有一定程度的厚脸皮，甚至江湖手段，想要取得大的成功是不可能的。
”这些话确实应该刻在作家协会的盾徽上。
海明威为创造性的自我宣传做出了极好的表率。
他的形象因在探险旅行、垂钓旅行和战区的照片造型而显得愈加光辉。
但他也为啤酒广告摆过造型。
1951年，美国《生活》杂志以两张版面登出了海明威签名的百龄坛麦芽威士忌广告，快照画面中的海明威在他的哈瓦那寓所中看起来很阳刚。
在马修·布鲁克林和朱蒂斯·鲍曼编辑的《海明威和声誉机制》中详细地记述了海明威骄傲地出现在为泛美航空公司和派克钢笔公司做的广告中。
他极其热情地把自己的名字卖给了今天的詹妮弗·洛佩斯或勒布朗·詹姆斯。
Means of DeliveryJoshua CohenSmuggling Afghan heroin or women from Odessa would have been more reprehensible, but more logical. You know you’re a fool when what you’re doing makes even the post office seem efficient. Everything I was packing into this unwieldy, 1980s-vintage suitcase was available online. I don’t mean that when I arrived in Berlin I could have ordered more Levi’s 510s for next-day delivery. I mean, I was packing books.Not just any books — these were all the same book, multiple copies. “Invalid Format: An Anthology of Triple Canopy, Volume 1” is published, yes, by Triple Canopy, an online magazine featuring essays, fiction, poetry and all variety of audio/visual culture, dedicated — click “About” — “to slowing down the Internet.” With their book, the first in a planned series, the editors certainly succeeded. They were slowing me down too, just fine.“Invalid Format” collects in print the magazine’s first four issues and retails, ideally, for $25. But the 60 copies I was couriering, in exchange for a couch and coffee-press access in Kreuzberg, would be given away. For free.Until lately the printed book changed more frequently, but less creatively, than any other medium. If you thought “The Quotable Ronald Reagan” was too expensive in hardcover, you could wait a year or less for the same content to go soft. E-books, which made their debut in the 1990s, cut costs even more for both consumer and producer, though as the Internet expanded those roles became confused. Self-published book properties began outnumbering, if not outselling, their trade equivalents by the mid-2000s, a situation further convoluted when the conglomerates started “publishing” “self-published books.” Last year, Penguin became the first major trade press to go vanity: its Book Country e-imprint will legitimize your “original genre fiction” for just under $100. These shifts make small, D.I.Y. collectives like Triple Canopy appear more traditional than ever, if not just quixotic — a word derived from one of the first novels licensed to a publisher.Kennedy Airport was no problem, my connection at Charles de Gaulle went fine. My luggage connected too, arriving intact at Tegel. But immediately after immigration, I was flagged. A smaller wheelie bag held the clothing. As a customs official rummaged through my Hanes, I prepared for what came next: the larger case, casters broken, handle rusted — I’m pretty sure it had already been Used when it was given to me for my bar mitzvah.Before the official could open the clasps and start poking inside, I presented him with the document the Triple Canopy editor, Alexander Provan, had e-mailed me — the night before? two nights before already? I’d been up one of those nights scouringNew York City for a printer. No one printed anymore. The document stated, in English and German, that these books were books. They were promotional, to be given away at universities, galleries, the Miss Read art-book fair at Kunst-Werke.“All are same?” the official asked.“Alle gleich,” I said.An older guard came over, prodded a spine, said something I didn’t get. The younger official laughed, translated, “He wants to know if you read every one.”At lunch the next day with a musician friend. In New York he played twice a month, ate food stamps. In collapsing Europe he’s paid 2,000 euros a night to play a quattrocento church.“Where are you handing the books out?” he asked.“At an art fair.”“Why an art fair? Why not a book fair?”“It’s an art-book fair.”“As opposed to a book-book fair?”I told him that at book-book fairs, like the famous one in Frankfurt, they mostly gave out catalogs.Taking trains and trams in Berlin, I noticed: people reading. Books, I mean, not pocket-size devices that bleep as if censorious, on which even Shakespeare scans like a spreadsheet. Americans buy more than half of all e-books sold internationally — unless Europeans fly regularly to the United States for the sole purpose of downloading reading material from an American I.P. address. As of the evening I stopped searching the Internet and actually went out to enjoy Berlin, e-books accounted for nearly 20 percent of the sales of American publishers. In Germany, however, e-books accounted for only 1 percent last year. I began asking the multilingual, multiethnic artists around me why that was. It was 2 a.m., at Soho House, a private club I’d crashed in the former Hitlerjugend headquarters. One installationist said, “Americans like e-books because they’re easier to buy.” A performance artist said, “They’re also easier not to read.” True enough: their presence doesn’t remind you of what you’re missing; they don’t take up space on shelves. The next morning, Alexander Provan and I lugged the books for distribution, gratis. Question: If books become mere art objects, do e-books become conceptual art?Juxtaposing psychiatric case notes by the physician-novelist Rivka Galchen with a dramatically illustrated investigation into the devastation of New Orleans, “Invalid Format” is among the most artful new attempts to reinvent the Web by the codex, and the codex by the Web. Its texts “scroll”: horizontally, vertically; title pages evoke “screens,” reframing content that follows not uniformly and continuously but rather as a welter of column shifts and fonts. Its closest predecessors might be mixed-media Dada (Duchamp’s loose-leafed, shuffleable “Green Box”); or perhaps “I Can HasCheezburger?,” the best-selling book version of the pet-pictures-with-funny-captions Web site ; or similar volumes from and . These latter books are merely the kitschiest products of publishing’s recent enthusiasm for “back-engineering.” They’re pseudoliterature, commodities subject to the same reversing process that for over a century has paused “movies” into “stills” — into P.R. photos and dorm posters — and notated pop recordings for sheet music.Admittedly I didn’t have much time to consider the implications of adaptive culture in Berlin. I was too busy dancing to “Ich Liebe Wie Du Lügst,” a k a “Love the Way You Lie,” by Eminem, and falling asleep during “Bis(s) zum Ende der Nacht,” a k a “The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn,” just after the dubbed Bella cries over her unlikely pregnancy, “Das ist unmöglich!” — indeed!Translating mediums can seem just as unmöglich as translating between unrelated languages: there will be confusions, distortions, technical limitations. The Web ande-book can influence the print book only in matters of style and subject — no links, of course, just their metaphor. “The ghost in the machine” can’t be exorcised, only turned around: the machine inside the ghost.As for me, I was haunted by my suitcase. The extra one, the empty. My last day in Kreuzberg was spent considering its fate. My wheelie bag was packed. My laptop was stowed in my carry-on. I wanted to leave the pleather immensity on the corner of Kottbusser Damm, down by the canal, but I’ve never been a waster. I brought it back.It sits in the middle of my apartment, unrevertible, only improvable, hollow, its lid flopped open like the cover of a book.。
How Writers Build the BrandBy Tony PerrottetAs every author knows, writing a book is the easy part these days. It’s when thepublication date looms that we have to roll up our sleeves and tackle the real literarylabor: rabid self-promotion. For weeks beforehand, we are compelled to bombardevery friend, relative and vague acquaintance with creative e-mails and Facebookalerts, polish up our Web sites with suspiciously youthful author photos, and, in anorgy of blogs, tweets and YouTube trailers, attempt to inform an already inundatedworld of our every reading, signing, review, interview and (well, one can dream!) TV appearance.In this era when most writers are expected to do everything but run the printingpresses, self-promotion is so accepted that we hardly give it a second thought. And yet, whenever I have a new book about to come out, I have to shake the unpleasantsensation that there is something unseemly about my own clamor for attention.Peddling my work like a Viagra salesman still feels at odds with the high calling ofliterature.In such moments of doubt, I look to history for reassurance. It’s always comforting tobe reminded that literary whoring — I mean, self-marketing — has been practiced bythe greats.The most revered of French novelists recognized the need for P.R. “For artists, thegreat problem to solve is how to get oneself noticed,” Balzac observed in “LostIllusions,” his classic novel about literary life in early 19th-century Paris. As anothermaster, Stendhal, remarked in his autobiography “Memoirs of an Egotist,” “Greatsuccess is not possible without a certain degree of shamelessness, and even ofout-and-out charlatanism.” Those words should be on the Authors Guild coat of arms. Hemingway set the modern gold standard for inventive self-branding, burnishing hisimage with photo ops from safaris, fishing trips and war zones. But he also posed forbeer ads. In 1951, Hem endorsed Ballantine Ale in a double-page spread in Lifemagazine, complete with a shot of him looking manly in his Havana abode. Asrecounted in “Hemingway and the Mechanism of Fame,” edited by Matthew J.Bruccoli and Judith S. Baughman, he proudly appeared in ads for Pan Am and Parkerpens, selling his name with the abandon permitted to Jennifer Lopez or LeBron Jamestoday. Other American writers were evidently inspired. In 1953, John Steinbeck alsobegan shilling for Ballantine, recommending a chilled brew after a hard day’s labor inthe fields. Even Vladimir Nabokov had an eye for self-marketing, subtly suggesting to photo editors that they feature him as a lepidopterist prancing about the forests in cap,shorts and long socks. (“Some fascinating photos might be also taken of me, a burlybut agile man, stalking a rarity or sweeping it into my net from a flowerhead,” he enthused.) Across the pond, the Bloomsbury set regularly posed for fashion shoots inBritish Vogue in the 1920s. The frumpy Virginia Woolf even went on a “PrettyWoman”-style shopping expedition at French couture houses in London with themagazine’s fashion editor in 1925.But the tradition of self-promotion predates the camera by millenniums. In 440 B.C.or so, a first-time Greek author named Herodotus paid for his own book tour aroundthe Aegean. His big break came during the Olympic Games, when he stood up in thet emple of Zeus and declaimed his “Histories” to the wealthy, influential crowd. In the12th century, the clergyman Gerald of Wales organized his own book party in Oxford,hoping to appeal to college audiences. According to “The Oxford Book of Oxford,”edited by Jan Morris, he invited scholars to his lodgings, where he plied them withgood food and ale for three days, along with long recitations of his golden prose. Butthey got off easy compared with those invited to the “Funeral Supper” of the18th-century French bon vivant Grimod de la Reynière, held to promote his opus “Reflections on Pleasure.” The guests’ curiosity turned to horror when they found themselves locked in a candlelit hall with a catafalque for a dining table, and wereserved an endless meal by black-robed waiters while Grimod insulted them as anaudience watched from the balcony. When the diners were finally released at 7 a.m.,they spread word that Grimod was mad — and his book quickly went through three - printings.Such pioneering gestures pale, however, before the promotional stunts of the 19thcentury. In “Crescendo of the Virtuoso: Spectacle, Skill, and Self-Promotion in ParisDuring the Age of Revolution,” the historian Paul Metzner notes that new technologyled to an explosion in the number of newspapers in Paris, creating an array ofpublicity options. In “Lost Illusions,” Balzac observes that it was standard practice inParis to bribe editors and critics with cash and lavish dinners to secure review space,while the city was plastered with loud posters advertising new releases. In 1887, Guyde Maupassant sent up a hot-air balloon over the Seine with the name of his latestshort story, “Le Horla,” painted on its side. In 1884, Maurice Barrès hired men towear sandwich boards promoting his literary review, Les Taches d’Encre. In 1932,Colette created her own line of cosmetics sold through a Paris store. (This firstventure into literary name-licensing was, tragically, a flop).American authors did try to keep up. Walt Whitman notoriously wrote his ownanonymous reviews, which would not be out of place today on Amazon. “An American bard at last!” he raved in 1855. “Large, proud, affectionate, eating, drinkingand breeding, his costume manly and fre e, his face sunburnt and bearded.” Butnobody could quite match the creativity of the Europeans. Perhaps the mostastonishing P.R. stunt — one that must inspire awe among authors today — wasplotted in Paris in 1927 by Georges Simenon, the Belgian-born author of the InspectorMaigret novels. For 100,000 francs, the wildly prolific Simenon agreed to write anentire novel while suspended in a glass cage outside the Moulin Rouge nightclub for72 hours. Members of the public would be invited to choose th e novel’s characters,subject matter and title, while Simenon hammered out the pages on a typewriter. A newspaper advertisement promised the result would be “a record novel: record speed,record endurance and, dare we add, record talent!” It was a marke ting coup. As Pierre Assouline notes in “Simenon: A Biography,” journalists in Paris “talked of nothingelse.”As it happens, Simenon never went through with the glass-cage stunt, because the newspaper financing it went bankrupt. Still, he achieved huge publicity (and got topocket 25,000 francs of the advance), and the idea took on a life of its own. It wassimply too good a story for Parisians to drop. For decades, French journalists would describe the Moulin Rouge event in elaborate detail, as if they had actually attended it. (The British essayist Alain de Botton matched Simenon’s chutzpah, if not quite his glamour, a few years ago when he set up shop in Heathrow for a week and became the airport’s first “writer in residence.” But then he actually got a book out of it, along with prime placement in Heathrow’s bookshops.)What lessons can we draw from all this? Probably none, except that even the most egregious act of self-promotion will be forgiven in time. So writers today should take heart. We could dress like Lady Gaga and hang from a cage at a Yankees game — if any of us looked as good near-naked, that is.On second thought, maybe there’s a reason we have agents to rein in ou r P.R. ideas.。
历届韩素音翻译大奖赛竞赛原文及译文英译汉部分 (3)Beauty (excerpt) (3)美(节选) (3)The Literature of Knowledge and the Literature of Power byThomas De Quincey (8)知识文学与力量文学托马斯.昆西 (8)An Experience of Aesthetics by Robert Ginsberg (11)审美的体验罗伯特.金斯伯格 (11)A Person Who Apologizes Has the Moral Ball in His Court by Paul Johnson (14)谁给别人道歉，谁就在道义上掌握了主动保罗.约翰逊 (14)On Going Home by Joan Didion (18)回家琼.狄迪恩 (18)The Making of Ashenden (Excerpt) by Stanley Elkin (22)艾兴登其人（节选）斯坦利.埃尔金 (22)Beyond Life (28)超越生命[美] 卡贝尔著 (28)Envy by Samuel Johnson (33)论嫉妒[英]塞缪尔.约翰逊著 (33)中译英部分 (37)在义与利之外 (37)Beyond Righteousness and Interests (37)读书苦乐杨绛 (40)The Bitter-Sweetness of Reading Yang Jiang (40)想起清华种种王佐良 (43)Reminiscences of Tsinghua Wang Zuoliang (43)歌德之人生启示宗白华 (45)What Goethe's Life Reveals by Zong Baihua (45)怀想那片青草地赵红波 (48)Yearning for That Piece of Green Meadow by Zhao Hongbo (48)可爱的南京 (51)Nanjing the Beloved City (51)霞冰心 (53)The Rosy Cloud byBingxin (53)黎明前的北平 (54)Predawn Peiping (54)老来乐金克木 (55)Delights in Growing Old by Jin Kemu (55)可贵的“他人意识” (58)Calling for an Awareness of Others (58)教孩子相信 (61)To Implant In Our Children’s Young Hearts An Undying Faith In Humanity (61)英译汉部分Beauty (excerpt)美(节选)Judging from the scientists I know, including Eva and Ruth, and those whom I've read about, you can't pursue the laws of nature very long without bumping撞倒; 冲撞into beauty. “I don't know if it's the same beauty you see in the sunset,”a friend tells me, “but it feels the same.”This friend is a physicist, who has spent a long career deciphering破译(密码), 辨认(潦草字迹) what must be happening in the interior of stars. He recalls for me this thrill on grasping for the first time Dirac's⑴equations describing quantum mechanics, or those of Einstein describing relativity. “They're so beautiful,” he says, “you can see immediately they have to be true. Or at least on the way toward truth.” I ask him what makes a theory beautiful, and he replies, “Si mplicity, symmetry .对称(性); 匀称, 整齐, elegance, and power.”我结识一些科学家（包括伊娃和露丝），也拜读过不少科学家的著作，从中我作出推断：人们在探求自然规律的旅途中，须臾便会与美不期而遇。
历届全国英语演讲大赛冠军演讲稿第十一届“21世纪·澳门之星杯”全国英语演讲比赛冠军- 清华大学曹丰演讲稿our future: a battle between dreams and reality good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen: when i was in the primary school, i have a dream. i want to invent a device whichcould bring you from one place to another in no time at all. when i was in the secondaryschool, my dream was to study in my ideal university. and when eventually i got intothe university, my dream was to graduate. ladies and gentlemen, the reality is not real. it is a barrier keeping us fromall the possible fantasies. flying, for example, had been a dream to mankind forthousands of years. a hundred years ago, man could not fly was still regarded as thereality. now if that was really the reality, what did the wright brothers do? howdid some of you get to macau? only when we believe that the reality is not real canwe soar with our dreams. people say that our future is a battle between the reality and our dreams. andif, unfortunately, mr. reality wins this war, then i see no future of mankind at all.aids will never be curable as this is the reality; people living in the undevelopedcountries will suffer from starvation forever as this is the reality; 4) disputesamong different countries would never be settled as this misunderstandings andintolerance is the reality. ladies and gentlemen, how many of you have a dream of being able to make a lotof money? please raise your hands. oh, quite a number of you! actually, ladies andgentlemen, this is not a dream, but a task. every one of us has to make a living,right? anyway i hope your task 第十届“21世纪·外教社杯”全国英语演讲比赛冠军-南京大学夏鹏演讲稿from walls to bridges im studying in a city famous for its walls. all visitors to my city are amazedby the imposing sight of the city walls, silhouetted by the setting sun with goldand shining lines. with old, cracked bricks patched with lichen, the walls areweather-beaten guards, standing still for centuries in protecting the city. our ancestors liked to build walls. they built walls in beijing, xian, nanjingand many other cities, and they built the great wall, which snakes through half ofour country. they built walls to ward off enemies and evil spirits. this traditionhas been maintained to this day as we still have many parks and schools walled offfrom the public. i grew up at the foot of the city walls, and ive loved them sincemy childhood. for a long time, walls were one of the most natural things in the world. my perception, however, changed after a hiking trip to the eastern suburbs, ascenic area of my city. my classmates and i were walking with some internationalstudents. as we walked out of the city, we found ourselves flanked by taller and tallertrees, which formed a huge canopy above our heads. suddenly an international studentasked me, where is the entrance to the eastern suburbs? were already in the eastern suburbs, i replied.he seemed taken aback, i thought you chinese have walls for everything. his remarkset off a heated debate. at one point, he likened our walled cities to jails, whilei insisted that the eastern suburbs were one of the many places in china that hadno walls.that debate had no winners, but i did learn a lot from this international student.for instance, he told me that universities like oxford and cambridge were notsurrounded by walls; the campuses were just part of the cities. i have to admit thatwe do have many walls in china, and as we are developing our country, we must carefullyexamine them, whether they are physical or intangible. we will keep some walls buttear down those that impede chinas篇二：3-5分钟英语演讲稿(30篇) 最好英语演讲稿汇总3——5分钟英语演讲稿汇总（30篇）六、周怡雪，19岁，上海i believe in our futurehonorable judges, fellow students: good afternoon!recently, ther is a heated debate in our society. the college students are thebeneficiaries of a rare privilege, who receive exceptional education at extraordinary places. but will we be able to face the challenge and supportourselves against all odds? will we be able to better the lives of others? will webe able to accept the responsibility of building the future of our country? the cynics say we care for nothing other than grades; and we neglect the needfor character cultivation. but again, the cynics are wrong. we care deeply for eachother, we cherish freedom, we treasure justice, and we seek truth. last week,thousands of my fellow students had their blood type tested in order to make acontribution for the children who suffer from blood cancer. as college students, we are adolescents at the critical turning point in our lives.we all face a fundamental choice: cynicism or faith, each will profoundly impact ourfuture, or even the future of our country. i believe in all my fellow classmates.though we are still inexperienced and even a little bit childish. i believe that wehave the courage and faith to meet any challenge and take on our responsibilities.we are preparing to assume new responsibilities and tasks, and to use the educationwe have received to make our world a better place. i believe in our future.我对未来充满信心尊敬的评委，各位同学：下午好！最近，社会上有一场很激烈的争论。
第11届“21世纪(精选多篇)第一篇：第11届“21世纪·澳门之星杯”全国英语演讲比赛亚军(点击视频中央的箭头，开始播放英语演讲视频)第11届“21世纪·澳门之星杯”全国英语演讲比赛亚军吴相臣第二篇：第16届21世纪杯全国英语演讲比赛亚军演讲稿第16届21世纪杯全国英语演讲比赛亚军演讲稿张小洁：广东外语外贸大学，acoupleofweeksago,whenilearnedthethemeoftoday?scompetitio n,iaskedsomeofmyroommates:“whatdoes?faith?meantoyou?”justcomingbackfrom aphilosophyclass,thegirlswereinapoeticmood:“faithiswhatjohnl ennonhadwhenhewrotethelegendarysong?imagine?anddreamedof?worl dpeace?”,“faithiswhatthehebrewshadwhentheyfollowedmosesthro ughtheredseainsearchoftheirfreedom.”“a ndfaithiswhatthepilgr imshadwhentheyjourneyedtothatstrangelandonmayflower,and startedtheirpursuitofanewlife.”thanksforthehistorylessongirls,butiwasnotaskingforagreat, historiceventwherefaithmighthavealteredtheentirecourseofhumanity.alliaskedwas“whatdoesfait hmeantoyou,tous,theindividualst oilingwithlife?shardchoiceseachday?”personallyspeaking,faith islikeoxygen:ididn?tknowhowpreciousitwasuntilirantheriskoflosingit.myheartstirsstilleverytimememorybringsmebacktothreeyearsa go,whenthedevastatingearthquakeengulfedourcountry.asoneofthefewcitiesthattookt hehitthehardestthatday,myhometownwassuddenlydevouredbyablackh oleofdepression.havingforsakenourworldlypossessions,myfamilyj oinedthearmyoftentseverynight,holdingourbreathandwaitingforda ybreak;havingabandonedthecomfortofhome,wemanagedtoliftourselv esup,alongwithneighborsandfriends,wheneachafter-shockthreatenedtotearusdown.asapoliticianonceputit,inthefaceo fdisaster,we?reremindedthatlifecanbeunimaginablycruel,butit?salsointhesemoments,thatweredisco verourcommonfaithinlife.indeed,duringthosedarkhours,faithblazedinthecourageofmyma thteacherms.liu,whenshestayedbehindinashakingbuildinguntilshe madesurethatthelaststudenthadsafelyevacuated;faithradiatedfro mthepersistenceofmydadwhenhekepthiseyeswideopeneverysinglenight,sothatmymomandicouldhaveagoodnight?ssleep;faithwasignitedf romtheempathyofmynext-doorneighbor,whenshetookastrangerthatwasinshockintoherarmsand consoledhimwithherwarmembrace.intheend,faithwasrekindledinthe passionofmeandmyfellowclassmates,whoimmediatelygotbacktoprepa ringforourcollegeentranceexaminationtheverynextday,withgritte dteeth,diesandgentlemen,thisi swhatfaithmeanstome.it?sthesmallvoiceinourearsthatsays:bestro ng,begood,anddon?tgiveupwheneverwe?refrustratedbylife.that'sw hyafterthreeyears,myfriendsandfamilyhavepickedthemselvesup,du stedthemselvesoffandwithtougherspirits,begunagaintheirjourney towardsabetterfuture.atlast,totwistthelyricsoflastyear?scharitysong,icalluponm yfellowyoungfriendstochanttogetherwithme,inthenameoffaith,for allthosewhoarestillsufferinginhaiti,japanandmyanmar:whenigeto lder,iwillbestronger,they?llcallmefaith,justlikeawavingflag.l etuscarryaboveourheadsthewavingflagcalledfaith,andletitsmanyinspirationsliftusupfromwhereweb elong.第三篇：第16届21世纪杯全国英语演讲比赛冠军演讲稿第16届21世纪杯全国英语演讲比赛冠军演讲稿许吉如：清华大学haveyoueverboughtanyfoodonthetrain?anddoyouaskfortherecei ptafterbuyingit?nowadays,alltrainsinchinaprovideitspassengers withreceiptsforcommodities,but7yearsago,thingswerequitediffer ent.on13thofoctober,2014,thetraint109frombeijingtoshanghaiwas speedingontherailway.agraduatestudentboughtasausageat1yuanont hetrain,thenaskedforareceipt.“areyoukidding?it?sjustoneyuan!”thecrewmemberwassurpris ed.thestudent,however,answeredinadeterminedvoice,“ipaidthem oney,soideservethereceipt.”“butwenevergivereceipts onthetrain.?asaresult,hisfurtherr equestwasturneddownbyacoldshoulder.severaldayslater,thestudentsuedthenationalrailwayministry ,fornotprovidingreceiptsforpassengers.tohisdismay,thecourtturneddownthecaseforlackofevidence.bu the,whomajoredinlawatthattime,believedlawasamostpowerfulweapo n,sohedidnotgiveup.instead,hebeganhisjourneyofcollectingfirst-handevidencebytakingtrainsandbuyingcommoditiesaboard.whenhisc lassmateswereplayingsoccer,hewastakingthetrain;whenhisclassma teswerebuyingfoodatmcdonald?s,hewasbuyingfoodonthetrain;whenh isclassmateswereaskinggirlsout,hewasaskingforthereceipts.ashe joked,?iwaseithertakingthetrainoronthewaytotakethetrain.?onemonthlater,heappearedinthecourtagain,withnewly-collectedevidenceandastrongerconfidence.andiguess,ladiesandge ntlemen,youwillallcheerfortheresultbecausethistime,thestudentwonthecase.verysoon,aregulation aboutreceiptsonthetraincameout.andwhateverwebuyonthetrainnow, there?sareceiptforus.outsidethecourt,thestudentwasasked,“how doyoumakeittotheend?”hesaid,“asalawstudent,irootmyfa ithinla w.ibelievethatlawisthere,toprotecteverypersonwithnoexception, andtoensureeverypersonhasasay.”hiswordsspreadastrongfaithinlaw,whichisnotonlyadoctrineof alawstudent,butalsoabeliefthatallcitizensoughttohold.itisthis faiththatinitiatesthestudenttoresorttolawforatinyissue;itisth isfaiththatsupportshimtoendurealltheexhaustingtripswhencollec tingevidence;itisthisfaiththatmakesaseemingly“ridiculous”receiptrequestlegalandrightful.itisthisfaiththathelpstochangeou rlife,enhanceourjudicialsystemandbringsocialjustice.tomany,areceiptof1yuanistoosmalltomention,howeverrightsar etoberespectedandlawistobebelievedin.itallstartswithatinyrece iptof1yuan,butwegetamonumentalcase,anewregulationandabumperha rvestinsocialjustice.thebridgethatleadsatinystarttoabumperhar vestisfaith,thefaithinlaw,rightfulandstrong.第四篇：第15届“21世纪杯”全国英语演讲比赛章程_1_张院长：您好！今年第十七届“21世纪杯英语演讲”具体的题目和评分标准还没出来，我发了09年的资料给您，您可以参考下。
第十一届CASIO杯翻译竞赛原文（英语组）To evoke the London borough of Diston, we turn to the poetry of Chaos:Each thing hostileTo every other thing: at every pointHot fought cold, moist dry, soft hard, and the weightlessResisted weight.So Des lived his life in tunnels. The tunnel from flat to school, the tunnel (not the same tunnel) from school to flat. And all the warrens that took him to Grace, and brought him back again. He lived his life in tunnels … And yet for the sensitive soul, in Diston Town, there was really only one place to look. Where did the eyes go? They went up, up.School –Squeers Free, under a sky of white: the weakling headmaster, the demoralised chalkies in their rayon tracksuits, the ramshackle little gym with its tripwires and booby traps, the Lifestyle Consultants (Every Child Matters), and the Special Needs Coordinators (who dealt with all the ‘non-readers’). In addition, Squeers Free set the standard for the most police call-outs, the least GCSE passes, and the highest truancy rates. It also led the pack in suspensions, expulsions, and PRU ‘offrolls’; such an offroll –a transfer to a Pupil Referral Unit –was usually the doorway to a Youth Custody Centre and then a Young Offender Institution. Lionel, who had followed this route, always spoke of his five and a half years (on and off) in a Young Offender Institution (or Yoi, as he called it) with rueful fondness, like one recalling a rite of passage – inevitable, bittersweet. I was out for a month, he would typically reminisce. Then I was back up north. Doing me Yoi.* * *On the other hand, Squeers Free had in its staff room an exceptional Learning Mentor – a Mr Vincent Tigg.What’s going on with you, Desmond? You were always an idle little sod. Now you can’t get enough of it. Well, what next?I fancy modern languages, sir. And history. And sociology. And astronomy. And –You can’t study everything, you know.Yes I can. Renaissance boy, innit.… You want to watch that smile, lad. All right. We’ll see about you. Now off you go.And in the schoolyard? On the face of it, Des was a prime candidate for persecution. He seldom bunked off, he never slept in class, he didn’t assault the teachers or shoot up in the toilets – and he preferred the company of the gentler sex (the gentler sex, at Squeers Free, being quite rough enough). So in the normal courseof things Des would have been savagely bullied, as all the other misfits (swats, wimps, four-eyes, sweating fatties) were savagely bullied – to the brink of suicide and beyond. They called him Skiprope an d Hopscotch, but Des wasn’t bullied. How to explain this? To use Uncle Ringo’s favourite expression, it was a no-brainer. Desmond Pepperdine was inviolable. He was the nephew, and ward, of Lionel Asbo.It was different on the street. Once a term, true, Lionel escorted him to Squeers Free, and escorted him back again the same day (restraining, with exaggerated difficulty, the two frothing pitbulls on their thick steel chains). But it would be foolish to suppose that each and every gangbanger and posse-artist (and every Yardie and jihadi) in the entire manor had heard tell of the great asocial. And it was different at night, because different people, different shapes, levered themselves upward after dark … Des was fleet of foot, but he was otherwise unsuited to life in Diston Town. Second or even first nature to Lionel (who was pronounced ‘uncontrollable’ at the age of eighteen months), violence was alien to Des, who always felt that violence – extreme and ubiquitous though it certainly seemed to be –came from another dimension.So, this day, he went down the tunnel and attended school. But on his way home he feinted sideways and took a detour. With hesitation, and with deafening self-consciousness, he entered the Public Library on Blimber Road. Squeers Free had a library, of course, a distant Portakabin with a few primers and ripped paperbacks scattered across its floor … But this: rank upon rank of proud-chested bookcases, like lavishly decorated generals. By what right or title could you claim any share of it? He entered the Reading Room, where the newspapers, firmly clamped to long wooden struts, were apparently available for scrutiny. No one stopped him as he approached.He had of course seen the dailies before, in the corner shop and so on, and there were G ran’s Telegraph s, but his experience of actual newsprint was confined to the Morning Lark s that Lionel left around the flat, all scrumpled up, like origami tumbleweeds (there was also the occasional Diston Gazette). Respectfully averting his eyes from the Times, the Independent, and the Guardian, Des reached for the Sun, which at least looked like a Lark, with its crimson logo and the footballer’s fiancée on the cover staggering out of a nightclub with blood running down her neck. And, sure enough, on page three (News in Briefs) there was a hefty redhead wearing knickers and a sombrero.But then all resemblances ceased. You got scandal and gossip, and more girls, but also international news, parliamentary reports, comment, analysis … Until now he had accepted the Morning Lark as an accurate reflection of reality. Indeed, he sometimes thought it was a local paper (a light-hearted adjunct to the Gazette), such was its fidelity to the customs and mores of his borough. Now, though, as he stood there with the Sun quivering in his hands, the Lark stood revealed for what it was – a daily lads’ mag, perfunctorily posing as a journal of record.The Sun, additionally to recommend it, had an agony column presided over not by the feckless Jennaveieve, but by a wise-looking old dear called Daphne, who dealt sympathetically, that day, with a number of quite serious problems and dilemmas, and suggested leaflets and helplines, and seemed genuinely …。
