[转帖]徐英才的《英译中国经典散文选》“故都的秋”英译文

作者:刘小曼  于 2016-1-14 20:02 发表于 最热闹的华人社交网络--贝壳村

作者分类:好文转贴|通用分类:英文分享|已有6评论

关键词:郁达夫, 中国, 经典, 散文

[转帖]徐英才的《英译中国经典散文选》“故都的秋”英译文

摘自徐英才的《英译中国经典散文选》

故都的秋1

郁达夫

秋天,无论在什么地方的秋天,总是好的2;可是啊,北国的秋,却特别地来得清,来得静,来得悲凉3。我的不远千里,要从杭州赶上青岛,更要从青岛赶上北平来的理由,也不过想饱尝一尝这“秋”,这故都的秋味4。

江南,秋当然也是有的;但草木雕得慢,空气来得润,天的颜色显得淡,并且又时常多雨而少风;一个人夹在苏州上海杭州,或厦门香港广州的市民中间,浑浑沌沌地过去,只能感到一点点清凉5,秋的味,秋的色,秋的意境与姿态,总看不饱,尝不透,赏玩不到十足。秋并不是名花,也并不是美酒,那一种半开, 半醉的状态,在领略秋的过程上,是不合适的。

不逢北国之秋,已将近十余年了6。在南方每年到了秋天,总要想起陶然亭的芦花,钓鱼台的柳影,西山的虫唱,玉泉的夜月,潭柘寺的钟声。在北平即使不出门去罢,就是在皇城人海之中,租人家一椽破屋来住着,早晨起来,泡一碗浓茶、向院子一坐,你也能看得到很高很高的碧绿的天色,听得到青天下驯鸽的飞声。从槐树叶底,朝东细数着一丝一丝漏下来的日光,或在破壁腰中,静对着象喇叭似的牵牛花(朝荣)的蓝朵,自然而然地也能够感觉到十分的秋意。说到了牵牛花,我以为以蓝色或白色者为佳,紫黑色次之,淡红色最下。最好,还要在牵牛花底,教长着几根疏疏落落的尖细且长的秋草,使作陪衬7。

北国的槐树,也是一种能使人联想起秋来的点缀。象花而又不是花的那一种落蕊8,早晨起来,会铺得满地。脚踏上去,声音也没有,气味也没有,只能感出一点点极微细极柔软的触觉。扫街的在树影下一阵扫后,灰土上留下来的一条条扫帚的丝纹,看起来既觉得细腻,又觉得清闲,潜意识下并且还觉得有点儿落寞,古人所说的梧桐一叶而天下知秋的遥想,大约也就在这些深沈的地方。

秋蝉的衰弱的残声,更是北国的特产9;因为北平处处全长着树,屋子又低,所以无论在什么地方,都听得见它们的啼唱。在南方是非要上郊外或山上去才听得到的。这秋蝉的嘶叫,在北平可和蟋蟀耗子一样,简直象是家家户户都养在家里的家虫。

还有秋雨哩,北方的秋雨,也似乎比南方的下得奇,下得有味,下得更象样。

在灰沈沈的天底下,忽而来一阵凉风,便息列索落地下起雨来了。一层雨过,云渐渐地卷向了西去,天又青了,太阳又露出脸来了;著着很厚的青布单衣或夹袄曲都市闲人,咬着烟管,在雨后的斜桥影里,上桥头树底下去一立,遇见熟人,便会用了缓慢悠闲的声调,微叹着互答着的说10:

“唉,天可真凉了─—”(这了字念得很高,拖得很长。)

“可不是么?一层秋雨一层凉了!”


北方人念阵字,总老象是层字,平平仄仄起来,这念错的歧韵,倒来得正好11。

北方的果树,到秋来,也是一种奇景。第一是枣子树;屋角,墙头,茅房边上12,灶房门口,它都会一株株地长大起来。象橄榄又象鸽蛋似的这枣子颗儿,在小椭圆形的细叶中间,显出淡绿微黄的颜色的时候,正是秋的全盛时期;等枣树叶落,枣子红完,西北风就要起来了,北方便是尘沙灰土的世界,只有这枣子、柿子、葡萄,成熟到八九分的七八月之交,是北国的清秋的佳日,是一年之中最好也没有的黄金季节。

有些批评家说,中国的文人学士,尤其是诗人,都带着很浓厚的颓废色彩,所以中国的诗文里,颂赞秋的文字特别的多。但外国的诗人,又何尝不然? 我虽则外国诗文念得不多,也不想开出账来,做一篇秋的诗歌散文钞,但你若去翻一翻英德法意等诗人的集子,或各国的诗文的An-thology来,总能够看到许多关于秋的歌颂与悲啼。

各著名的大诗人的长篇田园诗或四季诗里,也总以关于秋的部分写得最出色而最有味。足见有感觉的动物,有情趣的人类,对于秋,总是一样的能特别引起深沈,幽远,严厉,萧索的感触来的。不单是诗人,就是被关闭在牢狱里的囚犯,到了秋天,我想也一定会感到一种不能自己的深情;秋之于人,何尝有国别,更何尝有人种阶级的区别呢?不过在中国,文字里有一个“秋士”的成语,读本里又有着很普遍的欧阳子的《秋声》与苏东坡的《赤壁赋》等,就觉得中国的文人,与秋的关系特别深了。可是这秋的深味,尤其是中国的秋的深味,非要在北方,才感受得到底。

南国之秋,当然是也有它的特异的地方的,比如廿四桥的明月,钱塘江的秋潮,普陀山的凉雾,荔枝湾的残荷等等,可是色彩不浓,回味不永。比起北国的秋来,正象是黄酒之与白干,稀饭之与馍馍,鲈鱼之与大蟹,黄犬之与骆驼。

秋天,这北国的秋天,若留得住的话,我愿把寿命的三分之二折去,换得一个三分之一的零头。

Autumn in My Old Capital

Yu Dafu

Autumn, no matter where it happens, is always appealing, but autumn in Northern China, especially, is less diluted, quieter, and more melancholy. It is merely for the purpose of fully tasting these “flavors”—the autumnal flavors of my old capital—that I braved the long trip from Hangzhou to Qingdao and then to Peiping.

Autumn, of course, also happens in the south, but in a southern autumn, the flora is slower to wither, the air is denser with moisture, the sky is lighter in color, and it is more often rainy than windy. Muddling along as a loner, engulfed among the residents of the near southern cities like Suzhou, Shanghai, or Hangzhou, or the far southern ones like Xiamen, Hong Kong, or Guangzhou, I can only feel a little bit of the pureness and melancholy of autumn. There, I have never seen enough of the views of autumn, tasted enough of flavors of autumn, or explored enough of the poetic imagery of autumn. Autumn is neither a famous flower nor a luscious wine. That state of half-blooming and half-intoxication is not appropriate to the understanding of the season.

It has been more than a decade since I last experienced autumn in the north. In the south, every year when autumn came, I would always miss the reed catkins at the Joyous Pavilion, the willow silhouettes by the Fishing Tower, the chirping of insects in the West Hills, the midnight moon above the Jade Spring, and the chiming of the bells from the Poolside Mulberry Temple. In Beijing, however, even though you stay at home—say, you reside in a dilapidated rented house in the imperial city, with a sea of inhabitants, and you get up in the morning, making a bowl of strong tea, and sit in a spot facing the entire yard—you can also see the azure color high in the sky and hear the noise the domesticated pigeons make when they fly under the blue sky. From beneath a locust tree, counting strip after strip of sunbeams dripping down from the east through the foliage or quietly looking at the blue flowers of trumpet-shaped morning glories rooted in the middle of a broken wall, you will also automatically get a deep sense of autumn. Speaking of morning glories, I think the blue or white flowers are the best, the purple-blacks come next, and the light-reds rank last. If there are a few long, thin autumn grasses loosely spread out under them to set them off, so much the better.

The northern locust tree is yet another scenic element that would make people think of autumn. When you get up in the morning, you will see stamens and pistils—which look like flowers, but are actually not—all over the ground. When you step on them, you don’t hear anything or smell anything; you only have an extremely light and soft feeling of contact. After the street cleaner sweeps the tree-shaded ground, you will see strip after strip of sweeping marks on the earth. They look delicate and inspire a sense of leisure, and your subconscious mind will even register a little feeling of desolation. This is perhaps where lies the profound meaning of the ancient poetic line that “A falling leaf from a Chinese parasol manifests the arrival of autumn.”

The lingering, weak chirping of the autumnal harvest flies is even more characteristic of the north. Because there are trees everywhere and the houses are not very tall in Peiping, you can hear the harvest flies wherever you go. But in the south, you won’t be able to hear anything unless you go to the suburbs or take a trip into the hills. In Peiping, harvest flies, which are as common as crickets or mice, are like house pets for every family.

Don’t forget the autumnal rain! The autumnal rain in the north seems to fall in a way more distinctive, more flavorsome, and more akin to rain than that in the south.

Under the grey sky, after an abrupt cool wind comes the pitter-patter of rain. Soon after the brisk rain is over, the clouds begin to slowly roll to the west, the sky starts to turn blue again, and the sun pops its face out once more. A tobacco pipe between his lips, a leisurely townsman, clad in a thick lined jacket or a dark blue padded coat, would step out of the shade of the rain-washed skew bridge and stand under a bridgehead tree; when he sees someone he knows, he would let out a light sigh and say, in a slow and leisurely tone,

“Gosh, it’sss really getting chilly—” (Emphasizing the progressive “s” by highly pitching and dragging it.)

“Exactly! Hence, the saying ‘Each burstr of autumnal rain adds a burstr of chilliness!’”

When northerners pronounce the word “burst,” it always sounds like “burstr.” But, in terms of cadence, this distortion in pronunciation has the benefit of creating an accidental rhyme.

When autumn comes, the fruit trees in the north also boast of an unusual scene. The date trees should be the first kind. They grow everywhere—around the corners of houses, on walls, by outhouses, next to kitchen cabins. When the dates, like olives or pigeon eggs, begin to show their light-green and light-yellow colors amid the small oval-shaped leaves, the autumn season has reached its prime. By the time the leaves have fallen and the dates themselves have finished turning red, the northwest wind will start to blow, and this will then make the north a dusty and muddy world. The best period of an undiluted autumn in the north is at the transitional period between July and August, when dates, persimmons, and grapes are almost completely ripe. These are the golden days of the year.

Some critics say that all Chinese scholars, men of letters, and especially poets, have a strong propensity for decadence and that’s why quite a number of Chinese poems eulogize autumn. But don’t foreign poets do the same? I have neither delved much into foreign poetry nor want to make a list that will turn my pure prose into a piece of quotation-riddled lyric prose about autumn, but if you flip through a collection of poetry from Britain, Germany, France, Italy, etc. or through a poetry anthology from each of these countries, you are bound to see much eulogizing and bemoaning of the season.

The best-written and most exquisite parts of the voluminous idyllic pastoral poetry or of the verses on the four seasons produced by famous poets are those that describe autumn. This clearly reveals that all sentient animals and appreciative humans share an identical mentality toward the autumn season, which always gives them a deep, remote, serious, serious, and melancholic feeling. I believe that when autumn comes, not only poets, but even prison inmates, have deep, uncontrollable emotions. When it comes to autumn, no differences exist between nations, ethnicities or social classes. Since there is a term “autumnal scholar” in the Chinese language and some popular “autumnal verses” such as Ode to Autumnal Sounds by Ouyang Xiu and Ode to the Red Cliff by Su Shi, one would feel that the Chinese literati have a more profound relationship with autumn than their western counterparts. But this profound flavor of autumn, especially the profound flavor of a Chinese autumn, can only be tasted in the north.

Autumn in the south, of course, also has its special characteristics. Take, for instance, the bright moon over the Twenty-fourth Bridge, the autumnal tides in the Qiantang River, the cool mist on Mount Putuo, the late lotus in the Litchi Fruit Bay, etc. But none of these is deep in color, and none leaves a permanent aftertaste. Comparing a southern autumn to a northern autumn is like comparing yellow wine to white spirits, rice gruel to steamed bread, perch to big crab, or dogs to camels.

If I could keep autumn—this autumn of northern China—from leaving, I would trade two thirds of my lifetime for a life only a third as long but spent entirely in autumn.


注释

1.      标题《故都的秋》”里的“故都” 意思是“我从前的京城”,这就象“故乡”的意思是“我从前的家乡” 一样,因此本文把这个标题译作Autumn in My Old Capital

2.      “秋天,无论在什么地方的秋天,总是好的”里的这个“好的”看似容易,其实很难译。用good,太笼统,因此难以捉摸;用endearing(惹人爱、可爱的),太片面,秋不仅仅是endearing。本文用appealing(引发兴趣的)把这段文字译作Autumn, no matter where it happens, is always appealing。

3.       “可是啊,北国的秋,却特别地来得清,来得静,来得悲凉”这个句子是整篇散文的主题句(theme line),它概括了整篇散文的主题思想,告诉读者本文将要叙述的就是概括在这里的这几点,即北国的秋特别清,特别静,特别悲凉,因此,这三个字的翻译至关重要,译错了,整篇译文就不知所云。但这几个词不那么好译,因为常识告诉我们,北国的秋不可能比南国的秋来得“清”;再说,整篇散文,没有一处说北国的秋是“清” 的!其实,这个“清”不是“清晰”或者“清澈”的意思,它是“清纯”、“不混杂”的意思,也就是说,北国的秋是真正的、地道的、标标准准的秋!事实上,这点明了作者对故国之秋的这份感觉,正是他对故国之秋的感情,使他产生了这么执拗的感觉。所以,我们绝对不能把这个“清”译作clear或者limpid。本文把它译作less diluted(相对南方来说更少混杂的,也即更地道的)。这个句子的译文是...but autumn in Northern China, especially, is less diluted, quieter, and more melancholy.

4.      “我的不远千里,要从杭州赶上青岛,更要从青岛赶上北平来的理由,也不过想饱尝一尝这“秋”,这故都的秋味”译作It is merely for the purpose of fully tasting these “flavors”—the autumnal flavors of my old capital—that I braved the long trip from Hangzhou to Qingdao and then to Peiping。注意,原文里的“这故都的秋味”是对前面那个“秋”的特意重复,修辞上叫Amplification(扩大)。Amplification修辞手法是通过扩大来加强某个字、某个词或者某个短语的意思,这里是要加强“秋”这个字,因此,我们在翻译时不宜把这两个“秋”合在一起来译,从而弱化了原文特意要加强的意思。所以,本译文在flavors后面用破折号重复了这个flavors,即--the autumnal flavors of my old capital。

5.      “一个人夹在苏州上海杭州,或厦门香港广州的市民中间,浑浑沌沌地过去,只能感到一点点清凉”这个句子是通过对南方诸城市的对比来重申和加强文章的主题思想的,即南方的秋天不纯,不地道,在那里“只能感到一点点清凉”。言下之意,北方的秋天就是地地道道的秋天。因为这个句子是对整篇文章主题思想的重复,所以对其中的关键字“一点点清凉”的处理就必须准确。我们把这个句子译作Muddling along as a loner, engulfed among the residents of the near southern cities like Suzhou, Shanghai, or Hangzhou, or the far southern ones like Xiamen, Hong Kong, or Guangzhou, I can only feel a little bit of the pureness and melancholy of autumn。注意,译文没有象处理上面那个主题句那样用less diluted(见注解3),而用了a little bit of the pureness。这是因为,一般情况下英语忌讳同词重复,特别是在比较临近的地方。因此,这里改用了pureness。

另外注意译文在罗列Suzhou, Shanghai, or Hangzhou前增译了the near southern cities,在罗列Xiamen, Hong Kong, or Guangzhou前增译了the far southern ones。这样处理,是因为原文是写给中国人看的,中国人一般都知道作者为什么要把“苏州上海杭州”跟“厦门香港广州”分开来说,会自然理解将这六个城市分而列之是因为它们的地理位置不同,前者属于near southern cities,后者属于far southern cities。而译文是要给英语读者看的,他们可能完全不知道其中的奥秘,故有必要点明。如不点明,对英语读者来说,这样分而言之就有点莫名其妙了。

6.      把“不逢北国之秋,已将近十余年了”译成It has been almost more than a decade since I last saw autumn in the north没有译作 It has been almost more than a decade since I last experienced autumn in the north好,因为autumn是季节,是无形的,是视之不能见的,能见的只是它的景象,而不是它本身,故不能用saw。

7.      把“最好,还要在牵牛花底,教长着几根疏疏落落的尖细且长的秋草,使作陪衬”的“最好”译成it is better或者 it is desirable等没有译作so much the better来得好。So much the better的意思是“如果那样,就更好了”。这里,作者并不是一定要牵牛花下有稀疏的秋草来陪衬,但如果有,那就更好了。本文把这段文字译作If there are a few long, thin autumn grasses loosely spread out under them to set them off, so much the better.

8.      “象花而又不是花的那一种落蕊,早晨起来,会铺得满地”里的“落蕊”不能仅译成pistils。Pistil仅指雌性的花蕊,仅用pistil未免有些偏狭,我们还得补上stamen(雄性花蕊),因为下落的花蕊未必都是雌的。本文把这段文字译作When you get up in the morning, you will see stamens and pistils—which look like flowers, but are actually not—all over the ground。

9.      我们把“秋蝉的衰弱的残声,更是北国的特产”译作The lingering, weak chirping of the autumnal harvest flies is even more characteristic of the north。注意译文里增加的autumnal一字。Harvest flies本身就已经表示“秋蝉”的意思了,为什么还要画蛇添足地增加一个autumnal呢?这个增译是至关重要的,而要了解它的重要性,我们首先必须要读懂原文,了解原文的写作思路。原文在其首段里用“可是啊,北国的秋,却特别地来得清,来得静,来得悲凉”一句来点名全文的主题思想,告诉读者,本文要说的是:北国的秋天特别象秋天,特别清净,特别悲凉”。在接下来的第二段里,作者又通过“一个人夹在苏州上海杭州,或厦门香港广州的市民中间,浑浑沌沌地过去,只能感到一点点清凉,秋的味,秋的色,秋的意境与姿态,总看不饱,尝不透,赏玩不到十足”这段话来加强上面所说的那个主题思想。接下来的一段,也就是第三段,说他十多年住在南方是多么地怀念北方的秋天。这告诉我们,北国的秋天究竟是不是象他所说的那样属于纯秋,清净,悲凉并不重要,重要的是他思乡情急。从第四段开始,每一段都以话题句(topic sentence)开头,每个话题句里的都有一个“秋”字,都跟“秋”有关,以此来加强作者在开篇第一段里所说的主题思想,即北国的秋特别地清(无参杂,属地道的秋),特别地静,特别的悲凉。因此,这些话题句(topic sentence)的翻译也就必须要带有“秋”这个字,不然,读者就可能看不出其中的关系。

我们把第四段的话题句“国的槐树,也是一种能使人联想起秋来的点缀”译作The northern locust tree is yet another scenic element that would make people think of autumn,译文带“秋”,跟主题有关;

我们把第六段的话题句“还有秋雨哩,北方的秋雨,也似乎比南方的下得奇,下得有味,下得更象样”译作Don’t forget the autumnal rain! The autumnal rain in the north seems to fall in a way more distinctive, more flavorsome, and more similar to rain than that in the south,译文带“秋”,跟主题有关,

等等。

而第五段的话题句“秋蝉的衰弱的残声,更是北国的特产”里的“秋蝉”英语是harvest fly,如果我们就这么把整个话题译成The lingering, weak chirping of the harvest flies is even more characteristic of the north,译文里没有一个文字明确地提到“秋”,那么译文跟主题的关系就不那么分明了,这就影响了译文的明澈性。故我们增加了autumnal一词, 把这个话题句译作The lingering, weak chirping of the harvest flies is even more characteristic of the north。

10.      本文把“遇见熟人,便会用了缓慢悠闲的声调,微叹着互答着的说”译作When he sees someone he knows, he would let out a light sigh and say, in a slow and leisurely tone。注意,译文没有把原文里的“说”译成say,而用了let out。这里用let out比say要形象,因为say只表达了一个“说”字,而let out则给人以“那话早就含在嘴里了,所以他一看到熟人那话就蹦了出来”的感觉。

11.      “‘唉,天可真凉了—’(这了字念得很高,拖得很长。)
‘可不是么?一层秋雨一层凉了!’
北方人念阵字,总老象是层字,平平仄仄起来,这念错的歧韵,倒来得正好”

上面这段文字的翻译必须要译出两个言外之意,一个是“天可真凉了--”里的“了”,另一个是“一层秋雨一层凉了”里的“层”字。翻译这个“了”字,必须要表达出原文在随后的解说里说到的那个效果:即“这了字念得很高,拖得很长”,翻译这个“层”字,也必须要表达出原文在随后的解说里说到的那个效果:即“北方人念阵字,总老象是层字,平平仄仄起来,这念错的歧韵,倒来得正好”。本文是这样处理的:

“Gosh, it’sss really getting chilly—” (Emphasizing the progressive “s” by highly pitching and dragging it.)

“Exactly! Hence, the saying ‘Each burstr of autumnal rain adds a burstr of chilliness!’”

When northerners pronounce the word “burst,” it always sounds like “burstr.” But, in terms of cadence, this distortion in pronunciation has the benefit of creating an accidental rhyme.

我们在it后三次重复“s”,把它译作it’sss来加强这个表示进行的助词,以此来对应原文里“念得很高,拖得很长”的“了”字;我们用北方人喜欢卷舌的习惯,把burst译作burstr来对应北方人把“阵”字念成“层”字的特点,使尾韵多增加一个半韵tr,这就吻合了原文里所说的“平平仄仄起来,这念错的歧韵,倒来得正好”的说法。

12.      “茅房”即厕所。本文没有把这个“厕所”译成表示厕所的英文字bathroom,restroom等等,而译作thatched huts。这里用的是“委婉语”(euphemism)修辞法。所谓“委婉语”,就是把某东西说得好听些。比如把school说成academy,把fat说成 chubby或者plump,把homeless说成 on the streets等等。译文在这里采取委婉语是不想把枣子这种水果跟厕所联系起来,从而给读者一个不雅的联想。

 

Books by Xu Yingcai:

【英译中国当代美文选(汉英对照)】是我计划要读的:http://nxtmarket.info/item/520814806971  

【英译中国经典散文选(汉英对照)】链接:http://nxtmarket.info/item/520814806971   http://www.amazon.cn/%E5%9B%BE%E4%B9%A6/dp/B00MTI5CKO

【英译唐宋八大家散文精选(汉英对照)】链接: http://www.amazon.cn/%E8%8B%B1%E ... 80%89/dp/B0060RVC2M


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发表评论 评论 (6 个评论)

3 回复 徐福男儿 2016-1-15 00:46
翻译是绝难的一桩事儿,有时候甚至难过原创。而文学作品,尤其是诗歌和散文,其实是不宜翻译的,因为那原文的神韵实在无法精确地传达出来。徐英才先生的译作当然已经是上乘的了,第一句“总是好的”用了appealing,足见用心之深。但是第二句开头的“可是啊”三字,当然只能译作but,但是原文“啊”字所表达的那种淡淡的惆怅情绪,在译文中却无法再现。所以我一向认为,文学作品最好是读原文。小说还可以试试翻译,科技材料、官方文件则没有这个问题。浅见求教于小曼姐。
0 回复 刘小曼 2016-1-15 00:46
多谢徐先生支持! 我不敢当“姐”,之前几个贴,多谢各位前辈不吝赐教。
我把徐英才先生的译文也放到这个英语社区的网站
http://www.writingforums.com/forums/11-Prose-Writers-Workshop

http://www.writingforums.com/threads/162848-Autumn-in-My-Old-Capital在这个站里基本上没有中国作家/诗人
的汉英译文。我观察到外国人对中国文学好像知道的不多。前两天放了方壶斋先生的诗文,反应不错。 多谢你的支持,回头我仔细阅读徐先生的博客。祝你愉快!~~
7 回复 刘小曼 2016-1-15 01:17
钱钟书先生的翻译理论的“诱”我的理解是,首先得译出来才能去诱。 去如果西方文学没有被翻译成汉英,很多人不会去学英语,去读原文。反之亦然。
0 回复 秋收冬藏 2016-1-15 01:43
常常感觉,诗词是有国界的,因为诗词是把深意凝入极为简洁的句式之中,翻译时往往会顾此失彼,极难把作者的原意表达完善。再加上音韵,更是无法周全。所以看译诗得朦胧着看个大概,若真心喜爱,不如去用心啃原诗得原味。
4 回复 刘小曼 2016-1-15 02:40
谢谢秋收冬藏网友留言! 所言有理,关于诗词翻译, 我欣赏方壶斋先生提出的意在词缺的理论(我在学习中)。
如果是异化直译,洋人读者不买账,他们宁可读机器翻译。
0 回复 刘小曼 2016-1-15 03:13
多谢徐福男儿先生提出的语气问题。 我的理解是这样,因为英语里没有啊,吧等语气词,所以翻译成汉语的时候,译者得要感受原作者的感情,译文中就加上语气词。 因为英语里没有这样的语气词,译者就得让英语读者在字里行间里捕捉这个感觉。

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