a dill pickle

A Dill PickleAnd then, after six years, she saw him again. He was seated at one of those little bamboo tables decorated with a Japanese vase of paper daffodils. He was peeling an orange.He must have felt that shock of recognition in her for looked up and met her eye! Incredible! He didn't know her. She smiled, he frowned. She came towards him. He closed his eyes an instant, but opening them his face lit up as though he had struck a match in a dark room. He laid down the orange and pushed back his chair."Vera!" he exclaimed. "How strange. Really, for a moment I didn't know you. Won't you sit down? Won't you have some coffee?""Yes, I'd like some coffee." And she sat down opposite him."You've changed. You've changed very much," he said, staring at her with eager, lighted look. "You look so well. I've never seen you look so well before.""Really?" She raised her veil and unbuttoned her high fur collar. "I don't feel very well. I can't bear this weather, you know.""Ah,no. You hate the cold...""Loathe it." She shuddered. "And the worst of it is that the older one grows..."He interrupted her. "Excuse me," and tapped on the table for waitress. "Please bring some coffee and cream." To her:" You are sure you won't eat anything?""No, thanks. Nothing.""Then that's settled." And smiling he took up the orange again. "You were saying--the older one grows--""The colder," she laughed. But she was thinking how well she remembered that trick of his--the trick of interrupting her--and of how it used to exasperate her six years ago."The colder," he echoed her words, laughing too. "Ah, ah. You still say the same things and there is another thing about you that is not changed at all-- your beautiful voice. I don't know what it is-- I've oftenwondered--that makes your voice such a --haunting memory... Do you remember that first afternoon we spent together at Kew Garden? You were so surprised because I did not know the names of any flowers. I am still just as ignorant for all your telling me. But whenever it's very fine and warm, and I see some bright colour I hear your voice saying:"Geranium, marigold, and verbena," You remember that afternoon?"" Oh,yes,very well." She drew a long, soft breath. Yet, what had remained in her mind of that particular afternoon was an absurd scene.A great many people taking tea in a Chinese pagoda, and he behaving like a maniac about the wasps--waving them away, flapping at them with his straw hat, serious and infuriated out of all proportion to the occasion. How she had suffered.But now, as he spoke, that memory faded. His was the truer.Yes, it had been a wonderful afternoon, full of flowers and --warm sunshine. Her thoughts lingered over the last two words. And in the warmth, as it were, another memory unfolded. She saw herself sitting on a lawn. He lay beside her, and suddenly, he rolled over and put his head in her lap."I wish," he said in a low, troubled voice," I wish that I had taken poison and were about to die-- here now!"She leaned over him."Ah, why do you say that?"But he gave a kind of soft moan, and taking her hand he held it to his cheek."Because I know I am going to love you too much. And I shall suffer so terribly, Vera, because you never, never will love me."He was certainly far better looking now than he had been then. He had lost all that dreamy vagueness and indecision. Now he had the air of a man who has found his place in life. He must have made money, too. His clothes were admirable, and at that moment he pulled a Russian cigarette case out of his pocket."Won't you smoke?""Yes, I will." She hovered over them. "They look very good.""I get them made for me by a little man in St James's Street. I don't smoke very much, but when I do, they must be delicious. Smoking isn't a habit with me; it's a luxury--like perfume. Are you still so fond of perfumes? Ah, when I in Russia..."She broke in:"You've really been to Russia?""Oh, yes. I was there for over a year. Have you forgotten how we used to talk of going there?""No, I've not forgotten."He gave a strange half laugh and leaned back in his chair."Isn't it curious? I have really carried out all those journeys that we planned. In fact, I have spent the last three years of my life travelling all the time. Spain, Corsica, Siberia, Russia, Egypt. The only country left is China, and I mean to go there, too, when the war is over."As he spoke, so lightly, tapping the end of his cigarette against the ashtray, she felt the strange beast that had slumbered so long within her bosom stir, stretch itself, yawn, prick up its ears, and suddenly bound to its feet, and fix its longing, hungry stare upon those far away places. But all she said was, smiling gently:"How I envy you.""It has been," he said, "Wonderful--especially Russia. I even spent some days on a river boat on the Volga. DO you remember that boatman's song that you used to play?""Yes." It began to play as she spoke."Do you even play it now?""No, I've no piano."He was amazed at that. "Bfut what has bee of your beautiful piano?"She made a little grimace."Sold. Ages ago.""But you were so fond of music," he wondered."I've no time for it now."said she.He let it go at that." That river life," he went on, "is somethingquite special. After a day or two you can't realize that you have even known another. And it is not necessary to know the language-- the life of the boat creates a bond between you and the people that's more than sufficient. You eat with them, pass the day with them, and in the evening there is that endless singing."She shivered, hearing the boatman's song break out again loud and tragic, and seeing the boat floating on the darkening river with melancholy trees on either side..."You'd like almost everything about Russia life," he said warmly. "It's so informal, so impulsive, so free. And then the peasants are so splendid. I remember the evening some friends and I went for a picnic by the Black Sea. We took supper and champagne and ate and drank on the grass. And while we were eating the coachman came up."Have a dill pickle," he said. He wanted to share with us: That seemed to me so right, so --you know what I mean?"And she seemed at that moment to be sitting on the grass beside the mysteriously Black Sea, black as velvet, and rippling against the banks in silent, velvet waves. She saw the little group on the grass, their faces and hands white in the moonlight. Apart from them, with his supper in a cloth on his knees, sat the coachman. "Have a dill pickle," said he, and although she was not certain what a dill pickle was, she saw the greenish glass jar with a red chili like a parrot's beak."Yes, I know perfectly what you mean," she said.In the pause that followed they looked at each other. In the past when they had looked at each other like that they had felt that their souls had, as it were, put their arms round each other and dropped into the same tea, content, to be drowned, like mournful lovers. But now, he said:" What a marvelous listener you are. When you look at me with those wild eyes I feel that I could tell you things that I would never breathe to another human being."Was there just a hint of mockery in his voice? She could not be sure."How well I remember one night, the night that I brought you the little Christmas tree, telling you all about my childhood. And of how I was miserable that I ran away and lived under a cart in our yard for two days without being discovered. And you listened, and your eyes shone, and I felt that you had even made the little Christmas tree listen too, as in a fairy story.""The dog was called Bosun," she cried, delightedly.But he did not follow." What dog? Had you a dog?""No, no. I meant the yard dog when you were a little dog."He laughed and snapped the cigarette case to."Was he? Do you know I had recognized you today-- I had to take such a leap back to that time." He drummed on the table " I've often thought how I must have bored you. And now I understand so perfectly why you wrote to me as you did-- although at the time that letter nearly finished my life. I found it again the other day, and I couldn’t help laughing as I read it, It was so clever--such a true picture of me." He glanced up. " You're not going?"She had buttoned her collar again and drawn down her veil."Yes, I am afraid I must,"she said, and managed a smile."Ah, no,please,"he pleaded. "Don't go just for moment," and he caught up one of her gloves from the table and clutched at if as if that would hold her. "I see so few people to talk to nowadays, that I have turned into a sort of barbarian," he said."Have I said something to hurt you?""Not a bit." She lied. But as she watched him draw her glove through his fingers, gently, gently, her anger really did die down."What I really wanted then," he said softly,"was to be a sort of carpet-- for you to walk on so that you need not be hurt by the sharp stones and the mud you hated so. It was nothing more selfish than that. Only I did desire, eventually, to turn into a magic carpet and carry you away to all those lands you longed to see."As he spoke she lifted her head as though she drank something; the strange beast in her bosom began to purr . . ."I felt that you were more lonely than anybody else in the world," he went on, "and yet, perhaps, that you were the only person in the world who was really, truly alive.Ah, God! What had she done! How had she dared to throw away her happiness like this! This was the only man who had ever understood her.Was it too late? Could it be too late?"And then the fact that you had no friends and never had made friends with people. How I understood that, for neither had I. Is it just the same now?""Yes," she breathed. "Just the same. I am as alone as ever.""So am I," he laughed gently, "just the same."Suddenly with a quick gesture he handed her back the glove and scraped his chair on the floor. "But what seemed to me so mysterious then is perfectly plain to me now. And to you, too, of course. . . . It simply was that we were such egoists, so self-engrossed, so wrapped up in ourselves that we hadn't a corner in our hearts for anybody else. Do you know," he cried, naive and hearty.She had gone. He sat there, thunder-struck, astounded beyond words.。

a dill pickle读后感《A Dill Pickle》是加拿大著名作家Katherine Mansfield的一部短篇小说，小说以一个简单的故事展现了人性的脆弱和复杂。

小说的主题是关于爱情和时间的流逝，以及人们在感情中的困惑和迷茫。

小说中的角色和情节都展现了作者对人性的深刻洞察和对生活的独特理解。

小说的故事发生在一个咖啡馆里，男主人公George和女主人公Nancy在这里重逢。

他们曾经是恋人，但现在已经分手多年。

在咖啡馆里，他们开始回忆起过去的美好时光，然而这种美好的回忆却被现实的残酷打破。

他们之间的感情已经不复存在，时间的流逝让他们的爱情变得苍白无力。

小说以一个腌黄瓜的形象来暗示着他们之间的感情已经不再新鲜，而是变得酸涩和无味。

读完《A Dill Pickle》给我留下了深刻的印象。

小说中的情节虽然简单，但却展现了作者对人性的深刻洞察。

George和Nancy之间的感情变得苍白无力，时间的流逝让他们的爱情变得酸涩。

这种对爱情的描绘让我深深地感到了人性的脆弱和复杂。

在现实生活中，我们也常常会遇到类似的情况，时间的流逝让曾经的美好变得苍白无力，让人感到无奈和迷茫。

另外，小说中的情节也让我深刻地思考了时间的流逝。

时间是无情的，它不会停下脚步等待任何人。

George和Nancy曾经是深爱着对方的恋人，然而时间的流逝让他们的感情变得苍白无力。

这让我深刻地感受到了时间的无情和残酷，让我更加珍惜眼前的人和事，不要让时间的流逝让我们的美好变得苍白无力。

总的来说，读完《A Dill Pickle》给我留下了深刻的印象。

小说中的情节虽然简单，但却展现了作者对人性和时间的深刻洞察。

小说让我深刻地思考了人性的脆弱和复杂，以及时间的流逝。

这让我更加珍惜眼前的人和事，不要让时间的流逝让我们的美好变得苍白无力。

希望能够通过阅读更多的文学作品，让自己更加深刻地理解人性和时间的流逝。

dillpickle课文翻译资料
a dill pickle翻译是莳萝泡菜。

英语常用的翻译方法有增译法、减译法、英译汉时词类转换的核心、定语位置的调整、状语位置的调整、拆句法及合并法。

On the Narrative Strategies in A Dill Pickle by Katherine Mansfield.
曼斯菲尔德《莳萝泡菜》的叙事策略。

Analysis of the Authorial Voice, Distance and Value Judgement of A Dill Pickle.
A Dill Pickle的叙述声音、距离及判断。

Meals feature regional specialties like crawfish and fried dill pickles.三餐以地方特产像小龙虾和炸腌黄瓜为主。

Must a country buy from its own defence suppliers?This is one of the questions in Washington in the disbute over a dill was at least thirty-five billion dollars.是不是国家必须从自己的防御供给里购买东西呢？现在华盛顿一个超过350亿的大买卖引起了广泛的争论。

a dill pickle文本解读
《A Dill Pickle》是一篇由Katherine Mansfield所写的短篇小说，讲述了一对失散多年的情人在重逢后的交流经历。

故事的主要情节发生在一个咖啡馆里。

女主角要离开，正在走路的时候发现前男友来到了咖啡馆。

他们之间的对话交流中，女主角感到了自己对前男友的强烈感情，然而她的前男友却表现出感情冷漠和疏离。

在对话中，女主角还向前男友询问了他的生活和作品的情况。

前男友很坦率的告诉她自己生活得十分孤独，作品方面也没有获得太大的成就。

然而他对自己的失意和寂寞却不表现出任何情感，使得女主角感到十分失望和沮丧。

整个故事虽然看似简单，但是通过对情感的描写和处理，深刻地反映了人们对彼此的感情和交往方式的特点和问题。

在这篇小说中，失落和不屑配合着叙事方式，让读者产生了一种对人性的深层领悟和思考。

原文A-Dill-Pickle英文版A Dill PickleAnd then, after six years, she saw him again. He was seated at one of those little bamboo tables decorated with a Japanese vase of paper daffodils. He was peeling an orange.He must have felt that shock of recognition in her for looked up and met her eye! Incredible! He didn't know her. She smiled, he frowned. She came towards him. He closed his eyes an instant, but opening them his face lit up as though he had struck a match in a dark room. He laid down the orange and pushed back his chair."Vera!" he exclaimed. "How strange. Really, for a moment I didn't know you. Won't you sit down? Won't you have some coffee?""Yes, I'd like some coffee." And she sat down opposite him."You've changed. You've changed very much," he said, staring at her with eager, lighted look. "You look so well. I've never seen you look so well before.""Really?" She raised her veil and unbuttoned her high fur collar. "I don't feel very well. I can't bear this weather, you know.""Ah,no. You hate the cold...""Loathe it." She shuddered. "And the worst of it is that the older one grows..."He interrupted her. "Excuse me," and tapped on the table for waitress. "Please bring some coffee and cream." To her:" You are sure you won't eat anything?""No, thanks. Nothing.""Then that's settled." And smiling he took up the orange again. "You were saying--the older one grows--""The colder," she laughed. But she was thinking how well she remembered that trick of his--the trick of interrupting her--and of how it used to exasperate her six years ago."The colder," he echoed her words, laughing too. "Ah, ah. You still say the same things and there is another thing about you that is not changed at all-- your beautiful voice. I don't know what it is-- I've often wondered--that makes your voice such a --haunting memory... Do you remember that first afternoon wespent together at Kew Garden? You were so surprised because I did not know the names of any flowers. I am still just as ignorant for all your telling me. But whenever it's very fine and warm, and I see some bright colour I hear your voice saying:"Geranium, marigold, and verbena," Y ou remember that afternoon?"" Oh,yes,very well." She drew a long, soft breath. Yet, what had remained in her mind of that particular afternoon was an absurd scene. A great many people taking tea in a Chinese pagoda, and he behaving like a maniac about the wasps--waving them away, flapping at them with his straw hat, serious and infuriated out of all proportion to the occasion. How she had suffered.But now, as he spoke, that memory faded. His was the truer.Yes, it had been a wonderful afternoon, full of flowers and --warm sunshine. Her thoughts lingered over the last two words. And in the warmth, as it were, another memory unfolded. She saw herself sitting on a lawn. He lay beside her, and suddenly, he rolled over and put his head in her lap."I wish," he said in a low, troubled voice," I wish that I had taken poison and were about to die-- here now!"She leaned over him."Ah, why do you say that?"But he gave a kind of soft moan, and taking her hand he held it to his cheek."Because I know I am going to love you too much. And I shall suffer so terribly, Vera, because you never, never will love me."He was certainly far better looking now than he had been then. He had lost all that dreamy vagueness and indecision. Now he had the air of a man who has found his place in life. He must have made money, too. His clothes were admirable, and at that moment he pulled a Russian cigarette case out of his pocket."Won't you smoke?""Yes, I will." She hovered over them. "They look very good.""I get them made for me by a little man in St James's Street. I don't smoke very much, but when I do, they must be delicious. Smoking isn't a habit with me; it's a luxury--like perfume. Are you still so fond of perfumes? Ah, when I in Russia..."She shivered, hearing the boatman's song break out again loud and tragic, and seeing the boat floating on the darkening river with melancholy trees on either side..."You'd like almost everything about Russia life," he said warmly. "It's so informal, so impulsive, so free. And then the peasants are so splendid. I remember the evening some friends and I went for a picnic by the Black Sea. We took supper and champagne and ate and drank on the grass. And while we were eating the coachman came up."Have a dill pickle," he said. He wanted to share with us: That seemed to me so right, so --you know what I mean?"And she seemed at that moment to be sitting on the grass beside the mysteriously Black Sea, black as velvet, and rippling against the banks in silent, velvet waves. She saw the little group on the grass, their faces and hands white in the moonlight. Apart from them, with his supper in a cloth on his knees, sat the coachman. "Have a dill pickle," said he, and although she was not certain what a dill pickle was, she saw the greenish glass jar with a red chili like a parrot's beak."Yes, I know perfectly what you mean," she said.In the pause that followed they looked at each other. In the past when they had looked at each other like that they had felt that their souls had, as it were, put their arms round each other and dropped into the same tea, content, to be drowned, like mournful lovers. But now, he said:" What a marvelous listener you are. When you look at me with those wild eyes I feel that I could tell you things that I would never breathe to another human being."Was there just a hint of mockery in his voice? She could not be sure."How well I remember one night, the night that I brought you the little Christmas tree, telling you all about my childhood. And of how I was miserable that I ran away and lived under a cart in our yard for two days without being discovered. And you listened, and your eyes shone, and I felt that you had even made the little Christmas tree listen too, as in a fairy story.""The dog was called Bosun," she cried, delightedly.But he did not follow." What dog? Had you a dog?""No, no. I meant the yard dog when you were a little dog."He laughed and snapped the cigarette case to."Was he? Do you know I had recognized you today-- I had to take such aleap back to that time." He drummed on the table " I've often thought how I must have bored you. And now I understand so perfectly why you wrote to me as you did-- although at the time that letter nearly finished my life. I found it again the other day, and I couldn’t help laughing as I read it, It was so clever--such a true picture of me." He glanced up. " You're not going?"She had buttoned her collar again and drawn down her veil."Yes, I am afraid I must,"she said, and managed a smile."Ah, no,please,"he pleaded. "Don't go just for moment," and he caught up one of her gloves from the table and clutched at if as if that would hold her. "I see so few people to talk to nowadays, that I have turned into a sort of barbarian," he said."Have I said something to hurt you?""Not a bit." She lied. But as she watched him draw her glove through his fingers, gently, gently, her anger really did die down."What I really wanted then," he said softly,"was to be a sort of carpet-- for you to walk on so that you need not be hurt by the sharp stones and the mud you hated so. It was nothing more selfish than that. Only I did desire, eventually, to turn into a magic carpet and carry you away to all those lands you longed to see."As he spoke she lifted her head as though she drank something; the strange beast in her bosom began to purr . . ."I felt that you were more lonely than anybody else in the world," he went on, "and yet, perhaps, that you were the only person in the world who was really, truly alive.Ah, God! What had she done! How had she dared to throw away her happiness like this! This was the only man who had ever understood her. Was it too late? Could it be too late?"And then the fact that you had no friends and never had made friends with people. How I understood that, for neither had I. Is it just the same now?""Yes," she breathed. "Just the same. I am as alone as ever.""So am I," he laughed gently, "just the same."Suddenly with a quick gesture he handed her back the glove and scraped his chair on the floor. "But what seemed to me so mysterious then is perfectly plainto me now. And to you, too, of course. . . . It simply was that we were such egoists, so self-engrossed, so wrapped up in ourselves that we hadn't a corner in our hearts for anybody else. Do you know," he cried, naive and hearty.She had gone. He sat there, thunder-struck, astounded beyond words.。

一、引言在《a dill pickle》这篇课文中，作者Katherine Mansfield通过细腻的笔触和深刻的刻画，展现了一个女性在偶然间发现的一片香脆的腌菜上所引发的丰富情感和人生思考。

在本文中，我将以从简到繁、由浅入深的方式来探讨这篇课文的结构划分，以便你更深入地理解这个主题。

二、表面结构分析在这篇课文中，作者通过女主人公的视角，将故事分为三个部分：发现腌菜、回忆从前、情感起伏。

这种结构的分割在情感和心理描写上十分细腻，读者可以清晰地感受到主人公内心的跌宕起伏和情感的阵阵涌动。

在文章的这三个部分中，作者通过对细节的刻画，将主人公的情感变化展现得淋漓尽致，也为读者展开了一幅生动的心灵画卷。

三、深层结构分析除了表面结构外，这篇课文还有着更深层的结构划分。

通过对故事情节和人物内心的深入刻画，可以将课文分为起承转合四个部分。

首先是起始部分，主人公在偶然间发现腌菜这一细节，勾起了她对过去的回忆；其次是故事的承接部分，通过主人公的回忆，展现了她与前男友的爱情经历；接着是故事的转折部分，主人公在情感的起伏中产生了对自己和过去的反思；最后是故事的终结部分，主人公通过腌菜这一细节，重新审视了自己的人生和情感。

这样的深层结构使整个故事更加丰富和有层次感。

四、个人观点和理解在我看来，这篇课文的结构划分非常精妙，通过对表面和深层结构的分析，读者可以更加深入地理解主人公的情感起伏和心理变化。

这种结构的划分也为读者提供了更多的思考空间，让我们可以更加全面、深刻和灵活地理解主题。

而且，作者通过这种结构的划分，也展现了自己对人性和生活的独特见解，使整个故事更加丰富和深刻。

五、总结与回顾通过对《a dill pickle》这篇课文的结构划分的全面评估，我们可以看到作者在故事构思和写作上的精湛技巧。

她通过细腻的笔触和深刻的刻画，将一个女性在偶然间发现的一片腌菜上所引发的丰富情感和人生思考展现得淋漓尽致。

这种结构划分也为读者提供了更多的思考空间，让我们可以更加全面、深刻和灵活地理解主题。

《A Dill Pickle》赏析
《A Dill Pickle》是爱丽丝·华蒂的一篇短篇小说，由当代美国新闻学、女性主义者及社会活动家艾丽丝·华蒂著名作家于1910年发表。

本文描写了年轻女孩维纳斯在爱尔兰和英国传统家庭背景下追求自己的幸福和自由的故事。

本文以维纳斯为主人公，一步一步去探索自我，从她身边的人、风土人情、婚姻的理解等社会概念中去感悟生活的另一种可能。

她对更大的世界有着强烈的渴望，并以此抵抗父母的强势管教和传统观念，重新定义自己为独立女性。

如此一来，维纳斯不再受父母支配，而是可以自由行动。

本文中，她拒绝接受家庭抚养，以自己的方式去探索婚姻。

维纳斯也在工作中尝试了许多新事物，有时也走出婚姻限制的界限，尽力实现自己的理想。

而婚姻本身也未必是她的一个崇高的目标，她视它为维持生活的一种手段。

《A Dill Pickle》，从多层次揭示维纳斯的个性特征，向读者展示出追求自我价值的思想，启发人们去拥有独立的思想和坚定的信念，追求自定的幸福。

在爱尔兰流传的典故里，，维纳斯领悟了当你能把自己的心紧紧抓住，它会把你包围着，让你可以在自由而又幸福地生活。

这也正是《A Dill Pickle》想传达的含义：在生活中不停地探索，当追求自我价值时，便有可能实现最大的幸福。

故事讲述了女主人公薇拉在与男友分手六年后仍孑然一身,男友却春风得意,过着讲究的生活,而薇拉因生活窘迫,不得不把心爱的钢琴变卖了。

六年前因为男友的虚浮不实离开了他,六年之后再次相逢,他还是那么爱夸夸其谈,随意打断薇拉的话。

当他听到薇拉以一句“我现在没有时间弹”来解释为什么卖掉了心爱的钢琴后,他却并没有追问下去,只一味炫耀般地讲述着薇拉曾也那么向往的俄国风情,作者在此讽刺了男主人公的自私与无情。

她起身要走,他却极力挽留。

接下来的一番话几乎使薇拉砰然心动:“I felt that you were more lonely than anybody else in the world he went on, and yet, perhaps, that you were the only person in the world who was really, truly alive.”接下来他却突然笑起来,说道“It simply was that we were such egoists, so self-engrossed, so wrapped up in ourselves that we hadn't a corner in our hearts for anybody else”，薇拉心中对他仅存的一丝希望彻底幻灭了,他依然是六年前那么自私自大,只关心自己的人,于是又一次决然地离开了他。

两位主人公的出场是的环境描写，对人物性格也有极大的暗示。

文中出现了“a Japanese vase of paper daffodils”，水仙花的花语是“自我陶醉,自我欣赏”,预示着男主人公的自恋自大,注重自我享受的性格特点。

而薇拉刚出场时把自己包裹在高领皮衣、面纱、手套中则象征着六年的寻寻觅觅,苦苦谋生使薇拉将自己保护在层层伪装下,见到男主人公后,薇拉暂时卸下了心理的戒备,揭开了高领皮衣的衣领,揭起了面纱,摘下了手套。