流动的盛宴 8.2分
读书笔记 中英对照 摘抄
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brief introduction:

Published posthumously, this account of Hemingway's early years as a struggling writer in Paris in the 1920s may well have undergone further revision had Hemingway not taken his own life. Yet it was the best and most heartfelt work he had done for years, a return to the form of the early stories and the first novels. It tells the story of the sweet innocence of his first years in the Rue Moufftard with his wife, the literary friendships, the cafes and the delight which he enjoyed: both in the city and in discovering his own voice. Anyone who loves Paris will enjoy it and anyone who has affection or respect for Hemingway's work will find it deeply moving. 1. If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast. 假如你有幸年轻时在巴黎生活过,那么你此后一生中不论去到哪里她都与你同在,因为巴黎是一场流动的盛宴。 2. Then there was the bad weather. It would come in one day when the fall was over. We would have to shut the windows in the night against the rain and the cold wind would strip the leaves from the trees in the Place Contrescarpe. 当时有的是坏天气。秋天一过,这种天气总有一天会来临。夜间,我们只得把窗子都关上,免得雨刮进来,而冷风会把壕沟外护墙广场上的树木的枯叶卷走。 3. The leaves lay sodden in the rain and wind drove the rain against the big green autobus at the terminal and the Café des Amateurs was crowded and the windows misted over from the heat and the smoke inside. 枯叶浸泡在雨水里,风驱赶着雨扑向停泊在终点站的巨大的绿色公共汽车,业余爱好者咖啡馆里人群拥挤,里面的热气和烟雾把窗子弄得模糊不清。 4. All of the sadness of the city came suddenly with the first cold rains of winter, and there were no more tops to the high white houses as you walked but only the wet blackness of the street and the high white houses as you walked but only the wet blackness of the street and the closed door of the small shops, the herb sellers, the stationary and the newspaper shops. 随着最初几场寒冷的冬雨,这座城市的一切令人沮丧的现象都突然出现了,高大的白色房子再也看不见顶端,你在街上走,看到的只是发黑的潮湿的路面,关了门的小店铺,卖草药的小贩,文具店和报亭。 5. I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil. 我见到了你,美人儿,不管你是在等谁,也不管我今后再不会见到你,你现在是属于我的,我想。你是属于我的,整个巴黎也是属于我的,而我属于这本笔记簿和这支铅笔。 6. I always work until I had something done and I always stopped when I knew what was going to happen next. That way I could be sure of going on the next day. But sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, “Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. ” So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that I knew, or had seen or had heard someone say. If I started to write elaborately, or like someone introducing or presenting something, I found that I could cut that scroliwork or ornament out and throw it away and start with the first true simple declarative sentence I had written. Up in that room I decided that I would write one story about each thing that I knew about. I was truing to do this all the time I was writing, and it was good and severe discipline. 我总要工作到干出了一点成绩方始罢休,我总要知道了下一步行将发生什么方始停笔。这样我才能有把握在第二天继续写下去。但有时我开始写一部崭新的小说,却没法进行下去,我就会坐在火炉前,把小橘子皮中的汁水挤在火焰的边缘,看这一来毕毕剥剥地窜起蓝色的火焰。我站在窗前眺望巴黎千家万户的屋顶,一面想,“别着急,你以前一直这样写来着,你现在也会写下去的,你只消写出一句真实的句子,然后就此写下去,这时就容易了。”因为总是有一句我知道的真实的句子,或者曾经看到过或听到有人说过如果我煞费苦心地写起来,像是有人在介绍或者推荐什么东西,我发现就能把那种华而不实的装饰删去扔掉,用我已写下的第一句简单真实的陈述句开始。在那间高踞顶层的房间里我决定要把我知道的每件事都写成一篇小说,我在写作时一直想这样做,这正是良好而严格的训练。 7. Now you were accustomed to the bare trees against the sky and you walked on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg gardens in the clear sharp wind. The trees were sculpture without their leaves when you were reconciled to them and the winter winds blew across the surfaces of the ponds and the fountains blew in the bright light. All the distances were short now since we had been in the mountains. 现在你已习惯于看到光秃秃的树木映衬着蓝天,你迎着清新料峭的风走在穿越卢森堡公园的刚被雨水冲洗过的砾石小径上。等你看惯了这些没有树叶的树木,他们显得像是雕塑,而冬天的风吹过池塘的水面,喷泉在明媚的阳光中喷涌。由于我们在山里待过,现在所有的远景,看起来都变得近了。 8. When I was writing, it was necessary for me to read after I had written. If you keep thinking about it, you would lose the thing that you were writing before you could go on with it the next day. It was necessary to get exercise, to be tired in the body, and it was very good to make love with whom you loved. That was better than anything. But afterwards, when you were empty, it was necessary to read in order not to think to worry about your work until you could to do it again. I had learned already never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it. 我在写作时,总得在停笔后读一些书。如果你继续考虑着写作,你就会失去你在写的东西的头绪,第二天就会写不下去。必须锻炼锻炼身体,使身体感到疲劳,如果能够跟你所爱的人做爱,那就更好了。那比干什么都强。但是在这以后,当你心里感到空落落的,就必须读点书,免得在你能重新工作以前想到写作,或者为写作而烦恼。我已经学会绝不要把我的写作之井汲空,而总要在井底深处还留下一些水的时候停笔,并让那给井供水的源泉在夜里把井重新灌满。 9. With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed. 城里有那么多树木,你每天都能看到春天在来临,直到一夜暖风突然在一个早晨把它带来了。 有时一阵阵寒冷的大雨会又把它打回去,这样一来似乎它再也不会来了,而你的生活中将失去一个季节。在巴黎这是唯一真正叫人悲哀的时刻,因为这是违反自然的。在秋天感到悲哀是你意料之中的。每年叶子从树上掉落,光秃的树枝迎着寒风和凛冽的冬天的阳光,这时你身子的一部分就死去了。但是你知道春天总会来到,正如你知道河水冰洁了又会流淌一样。当冷雨不停地下,扼杀了春天的时候,这就仿佛一个年轻人毫无道理地夭折了。然而在那些日子里,春天最后总是来临,但是使人心惊的是它差一点来不了。 10. The windows were open wide and the cobbles of the street were drying after the rain. The sun was drying the wet faces of the houses that faced the window. The shops were still shuttered. The goatherd came up the street blowing his pipes and a woman who lived on the floor above us came out onto the sidewalk with a big pot. 窗子都敞开着,街上夜雨淋湿的鹅卵石路面正在干燥起来。太阳正在把窗子对面那些房子的潮湿的门面晒干。店铺还没有开门。山羊倌吹着笛子从街上走来,住在我们上面一层楼的一个女人提着一把大壶从屋里走上人行道。 11. Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight. 巴黎市一座非常古老的城市,而我们却很年轻,这里什么都不简单,甚至贫穷,意外所得的钱财,月光、是非以及那在月光下谁在你身边的人的呼吸,都不简单。 12. When I stopped working on the races I was glad but it left an emptiness. By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptinessfilled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better. 我不再去赌赛马了,这时我感到很高兴,但是它留下了一种空虚之感,那是我懂得了不论是好事还是坏事一旦停止了,总会留下一种空虚之感。如果那是坏事,这空虚之感就会自己填补起来,而如果那是好事,你就只能找一个更好的来填补。 13. You could go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were sharpened and clearer and more beautiful if you were bully-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way. 如果你腹内空空、饿得发慌,你可以走进卢森堡博物馆,那些名画全部显得更加鲜明,更加清晰也更加美了。正是在饥饿的时候,我学会更深刻地理解塞尚,真正弄明白他是怎样创作那些风景画的。我曾经时常想知道他画画的时候是否也是挨着饿的,但我想可能他只是忘记吃饭罢了。这正是当你失眠或饥饿的时候才有的一种不健康但颇有启发性的想法。后来我想,塞尚大概是在一种不同的方面感到饥饿吧。 14. In Dostoyevsky there were things believable and not to be believed, but some so true they changed you as you read them; frailty and madness, wickedness and saintliness, and the insanity of gambling were there to know as you knew the landscape and the roads in Turgenev, and the movement of troops, the terrain and the officers and the men and the fighting in Tolstoi. 陀思妥耶夫斯基的作品里有些东西可信也有些不可信,但是有些作品写得那么真实,你读着读着会改变你;脆弱和疯狂、邪恶和圣洁以及赌博的疯狂性,都摆在那里由你去了解,就像你在屠格涅夫的作品中了解哪些如花的风景和大路,在托尔斯泰的作品中了解部队的调动、地形、军官、士兵和战斗等等。 15. I walked down the street between the high, stained and streaked white houses and turned to the right at the open, sunny end and went into the sun-striped dusk of the Lilas. 我在两旁高耸着沾有条条点点污迹的刷过白粉的房屋的大街上向前走去,在开阔的向阳的街口向右转弯,走进幽暗中有缕缕阳光的丁香园咖啡馆。 16. His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damage wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless. 菲茨杰拉德的才能像一只粉蝶翅膀上的粉末构成的图案那样地自然。有一个时期,他对此并不比粉蝶所知更多,他也不知道这图案是什么时候给擦掉或损坏的。后来他才意识到翅膀受了损伤,并了解它们的构造,于是学会了思索,他再也不会飞了,因为对飞翔的爱好已经消失,他只能回忆往昔毫不费力地飞翔的日子。 17. Since I had started to break down all my writing and get rid of all facility and try to make instead of describe, writing had been wonderful to do. But it was very difficult, and I did not know how I would ever write anything as long as a novel. It often took me a full morning of work to write a paragraph. 因为我已着手打破原来的那一套写作方式,摒弃一切技巧,竭力用塑造来代替描述,写作便成了一件干起来非常奇妙的事情。但是这样做非常困难,我不知道究竟是否能写出一部像长篇小说那样的作品来。我写一段常常要劳作一个上午。 18. During our last year in the mountains new people came deep into our lives and nothing was ever the same again. The winter of the avalanches was like a happy and innocent winter in childhood compared to the next winter, a nightmare winter disguised as the greatest fun of all, and the murderous summer that was to fellow. 我们在山区的最后一年,有些新来的人深深地打进我们的生活,从此一切都与往昔不同了。那个多雪崩的冬季与翌年冬季相比,像是童年时代的一个快乐而天真的冬季,而后者是却是一个伪装成最最饶有趣味的时刻的梦魇般的冬季,随之而来的是个杀气腾腾的夏季。 19. After writing a story I was always empty and both sad and happy, and I was sure this was a very good story although I would not know truly how good until I read it over the next day. 我没写好一篇小说,总感到空落落的,既悲伤又快活,而我肯定这次准是一篇很好的小说,尽管还不能确切知道好到什么程度,那要到第二天通读一遍之后才知道。 20. There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy. 巴黎永远没个完,每一个在巴黎住过的人的回忆与其他人的都不相同。我们总会回到那里,不管我们是什么人,她怎么变,也不管你到达那儿有多困难或者多容易。巴黎永远是值得你去的,不管你带给了她什么,你总会得到回报。不过这乃是我们还十分贫穷但也十分幸福的早年时代巴黎的情况。

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