双语美文欣赏

2020-04-22 02:04 关键词:双语阅读,双语美文 分类:诗歌 阅读:349

双语美文欣赏所有的花儿都漂亮

  I grew up in a small town where the elementary school was a ten-minute walk from my house and in an age, not so long ago, when children could go home for lunch and find their mothers waiting。

  我在一个小镇上长大,在那儿,从我家步行到我就读的小学只要10分钟。在谁人期间――实在就是不久之前,小孩们可以回家吃午饭,母亲总在等着。

  At the time, I did not consider this a luxury , although today it certainly would be. I took it for granted that mothers were the sandwich-makers, the finger-painting appreciators and the homework monitors. I never questioned that this ambitious, intelligent woman, who had had a career before I was born and would eventually return to a career, would spend almost every lunch hour throughout my elementary school years just with me。

  但当时,我并没认识到这有多奢靡;现在,这肯定是一种奢望。可我当时还认为母亲就该做三明治,就该观赏手指画,就该检验家庭功课。不仅如斯,我还从没觉得有甚么错误:这个志向宏大、聪明伶俐的女人,在我出生前曾有一份本身的工作,有朝一日又将从新投身于本身的工作,却在我全部小学阶段,差不多天天的午饭时候都和我一同渡过。

  I only knew that when the noon bell rang, I would race breathlessly home. My mother would be standing at the top of the stairs, smiling down at me with a look that suggested I was the only important thing she had on her mind. For this, I am forever grateful。

  当时候,我只晓得中午下学的铃一响,我就会气喘吁吁朝家里跑去。母亲总会站在楼梯的上端,笑容满面地凝视着我,清楚在告知我:在她内心,我是唯一关键的。对此,我永久心存感动。

  Some sounds bring it all back: the high-pitched squeal of my mother’s teakettle, the rumble of the washing machine in the basement, the jangle of my dog’s license tags as she bounded down the stairs to greet me. Our time together seemed devoid of the gerrymandered schedules that now pervade my life。

  一些声音总能勾起我对旧事的回想,比如说:母亲的茶壶烧开水时收回的又长又尖的高声鸣叫,地下室里洗衣机收回的隆隆轰鸣声以及我的小狗欢跳着下楼驱逐我时脖子上的小牌收回的叮当声。当时可不像现在,现在我的糊口完全被各类日程安排所利用。

  One lunchtime when I was in the third grade will stay with me always. I had been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had painstakingly rehearsed my lines with me. But no matter how easily I delivered them at home, as soon as I stepped onstage, every word disappeared from my head。

  三年级时的一个午饭时候我将永志难忘。当时候,我在黉舍排练的一出话剧中被选中扮演公主。在那几个礼拜里,母亲省心地陪着我一遍又一各处排练台词。但是,不管我在家里把台词背得多纯熟,一上舞台,那些词儿就消逝得无影无踪了。

  Finally, my teacher took me aside. She explained that she had written a narrator’s part to the play, and asked me to switch roles. Her words, kindly delivered, still stung, especially when I saw my part go to another girl。

  最终,教员把我叫到一旁,向我诠释说,她为这出戏写了一个旁白的脚色,要我换成旁白。虽然她说得很委宛,但仍刺痛了我,特别是当我看到其它女孩庖代本身演公主的时候,我内心痛苦极了。

  I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home for lunch that day. But she sensed my unease, and instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to walk in the yard。

  那天中午回家用饭时,我没把这件事告知母亲,但她觉得到了我的不安。因而,她没有发起我们继承练台词,而是问我愿不情愿和她一同到院子里走一走。

  It was a lovely spring day and the rose vine on the trellis was turning green. Under the huge elm trees, we could see yellow dandelions popping through the grass in bunches, as if a painter had touched our landscape with dabs of gold。

  那是一个美妙的春日,棚架上的玫瑰枝条正在泛绿。魁岸的榆树下,一束束黄色的蒲公英从草丛中探出头来,好像是一位画家在我们的山水画上涂抹了点点金黄似的。

  I watched my mother casually bend down by one of the clumps, I think I’m going to dig up all these weeds, she said, yanking a blossom up by its roots. From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden。

  我瞥见母亲在一丛花旁魂不守舍地弯下腰。“我想我应当把这些野草全拔掉,” 她一边说一边将一蔸开得正茂盛的花儿连根拔起。“从今以后,我们的花园里只要玫瑰。”

  But I like dandelions, I protested. All flowers are beautifuleven dandelions。

  “但是,我喜好蒲公英啊,”我抗议道,“所有的花儿都漂亮――即便是蒲公英。”

  My mother looked at me seriously. Yes, every flower gives pleasure in its own way, doesn’t it? She asked thoughtfully. I nodded, pleased that I had won her over . And that is true of people too, she added. Not everyone can be a princess, but there is no shame in that。

  母亲神色严厉地望着我,若有所思地说:“不错。每一种花都以本身的体式格局给我们带来美的享用,岂非不是吗?”我点了颔首,很雀跃本身压服了她。“实在,人也是如斯,”她弥补道,“并不是每小我都可以成为公主,这没甚么可丢人的。”

  Relieved that she had guessed my pain, I started to cry as I told her what had happened. She listened and smiled reassuringly 。

  本来,她早就猜到了我的懊恼。我哭了起来,梗咽着把所发作的事告知了她。她一边凝听一边浅笑着抚慰我。

  But you will be a beautiful narrator, she said, reminding me of how much I loved to read stories aloud to her, The narrator’s part is every bit as important as the part of the princess。

  “但是,你会成为一个精彩的旁白的。旁白的脚色实在和公主一样关键。”她还提示我说之前我是那么喜好高声给她朗诵故事。

  Over the next few weeks, with her constant encouragement, I learned to take pride in the role. Lunchtimes were spent reading over my lines and talking about what I would wear。

  随后的几个礼拜,在母亲的持续勉励下,我慢慢对这一脚色觉得骄傲。而在那些午饭时候里,我们不是排练我的台词,就是辩论上演时我该穿甚么服装。

  Backstage the night of the performance, I felt nervous. A few minutes before the play, my teacher came over to me. Your mother asked me to give this to you, she said, handing me a dandelion. Its edges were already beginning to curl and it flopped lazily from its stem. But just looking at it, knowing my mother was out there and thinking of our lunchtime talk, made me proud。

  上演那天晚上,我在背景觉得很紧急。就在开演前的几分钟,教员向我走了过来。“你母亲让我把这个交给你,”她一边说一边把一朵蒲公英递给我。它的边沿处曾经可以卷曲,花叶从茎杆上耷拉下来。就是这长久的一瞥,我就晓得我的母亲现在坐在台下,想起我们午饭时候的发言,一种骄傲感不由情不自禁。

  After the play, I took home the flower I had stuffed in the apron of my costume. My mother pressed it between two sheets of paper toweling in a dictionary, laughing as she did it that we were perhaps the only people who would press such a sorry-looking weed。

  上演竣事后,我把那朵蒲公英塞进了我上演服的口袋里带回了家。母亲把它压在两张纸巾之间再夹进字典里,笑着说,这世上或许只要我们两人情愿把这么一株不起眼的野草战战兢兢地夹起来。

  I often look back on our lunchtimes together, bathed in the soft midday light. They were the commas in my childhood, the pauses that told me life is not savored in pre-measured increments , but in the sum of daily rituals and small pleasures we casually share with loved ones. Over peanut-butter sandwiches and chocolate-chip cookies, I learned that love, first and foremost, means being there for the little things。

  现在,洗澡在中午暖和的阳光里,我常回想起我们一同渡过的那些午饭时候。它们就像是我童年光阴里的小逗点儿。这些平息告知我,生命不是在预先量好的增额中来体会的,而是要在天天的糊口杂事以及不经意中和所爱的人同享的很多小兴趣中去细细体会的。吃着花生酱三明治和巧克力曲奇条,我熟悉到:爱,开始而且最关键地,意味着存眷那些微乎其微的小事。

  A few months ago, my mother came to visit. I took off a day from work and treated her to lunch. The restaurant bustled with noontime activity as businesspeople made deals and glanced at their watches. In the middle of all this sat my mother, now retired, and I. From her face I could see that she relished the pace of the work world。

  几个月前,母亲来看我。我请了一天假陪她吃午饭。中午的餐馆冷冷清清,一些贩子在用饭,时不时地瞟一眼腕上的腕表。在这些劳碌的人群中,我和现已退休的母亲坐在那边。从她脸上,我看得出她十分倾慕上班族的工作节拍。

  Mom, you must have been terribly bored staying at home when I was a child, I said。

  “母亲,我小时候您呆在家里关照我时,肯定觉得十分腻烦吧?”我问道。

  Bored? Housework is boring. But you were never boring。

  “腻烦?家务活确切让人觉得腻烦,但你永久也不会让我觉得腻烦。”

  I didn’t believe her so I pressed. Surely children are not as stimulating as a career。

  我有些不信赖,因而又说:“关照小孩肯定不像工作那么具有挑战性。”

  A career is stimulating, she said. I’m glad I had one. But a career is like an open balloon. It remains inflated only as long as you keep pumping. A child is a seed. You water it. You care for it the best you can. And then it grows all by itself into a beautiful flower。

  “工作确切十分具有挑战性,"她说,”我很雀跃我有过一份工作。不外,工作就像是一个敞开口的气球,你只要不断给它充气,它才会维持收缩。但小孩就像是一粒种子,你给它浇水,尽本身最大勤奋来庇护它。然后,它会本身发展起来,酿成一朵漂亮的花儿。"

  本文选自《爱思网》新浪博客,点击检察原文。

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