《英汉翻译》练习题（2）夜大06英语本科Omission-pronoun1. He was thin and haggard and he looked miserable.2. But it's the way I am, and try as I might, I haven't been able to change it.3. They had ground him beneath their heel, they had taken the best of him, they hadmurdered his father, they had broken and wrecked his wife, they had crushed his whole family.4. Laura wished now that she was not holding that piece of bread-and-butter, but therewas nowhere to put it and she couldn't possibly throw it away.5. We live and learn.6. You can never tell.7. Everywhere you can find new types of men and objects in New China.8. Even as the doctor was recommending rest, he knew that this in itself was not enough,that one could never get real rest without a peaceful mind.9. The more he tried to hide his warts, the more he revealed them.10. She laid her hand lightly on his arm as if to thank him for it.11. In fact, Hitler's "blitz" carried him so far, to the very gate of Leningrad by September,a city he was never to seize.12. So the train came, he pinched his little sister lovingly, and put his great arms about hismother's neck and then was away.13. She went, with her neat figure, and her sober womanly step down the dark street.14. She felt the flowers were in her fingers, on her lips, growing in her breast.15. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing.16.Outside it was pitch dark and it was raining cats and dogs.17. He glanced at his watch; it was 7:15.18. It was just growing dark, as she shut the garden gate.19. It was only then that I began to have doubts whether my story would ever be told.20. It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house.Passive Voice21. The sense of inferiority that he acquired in his youth has never been totally eradicated.22. On their domestic stations events in the Middle East were dismissed briefly.23. By the end of the war 800 people had been saved by the organization, but at a cost of200 Belgian and French lives.24. It would be astonishing if that loss were not keenly felt.25. Mr. Billings cannot be deterred from his plan.Repetition26. They began to study and analyze the situation of the enemy.27. He became an oil baron - all by himself.28. This has been our position - but not theirs.29. The story of Jurgis is a story of groans and tears, of poor human beings destroyed bythe capitalist industrial machine.30. We see, therefore, how the modern bourgeoisie is itself the product of a long course ofdevelopment of a series of revolutions in the modes of production and of exchange. 31. We talked of ourselves, of our prospects, of the journey, of the weather, of each other -of everything but our host and hostess.32. And the body lay white and still beneath the pines, all bathed in sunshine and in blood.33. He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights,nor contests of strength.34. He supplied his works not only with biographies, but with portraits of their supposedauthors.35. But his wife kept dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruinhe was bringing on his family.36. They wanted to determine if he complied with the terms of his employment and hisobligations as an American.37. He wandered about in the chill rain, thinking and thinking,brooding and brooding.38. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace-but there is no peace.39. He demanded total loyalty, not loyalty in the traditional sense, not positive loyalty, buttotal loyalty, not just to office or party, or concept, but loyalty first and foremost to Lyndon Johnson.40. Blood must atone for blood.Diction41. He likes mathematics more than physics.42. In the sunbeam passing through the window there are fine grains of dust shining likegold,43. Like knows like.44. He is the last man to come.45. He is the last man to do it.46. He is the last person for such a job.47. He should be the last (man) to blame.48. He is the last man to consult.49.This is the last place where I expected to meet you.50.The arbiter will have the last say in resolving this dispute.Amplification51.In the films of those days, all too often it was the same one: boy tractor driver meetsgirl tractor driver; they fall in love and drive tractors together.52.He was fascinated by the political processes – the wheeling and dealing of presidentialpolitics, the manipulating, releasing and leaking of news, the public and private talks.53.Mary washed for a living after her husband died of acute pneumonia.54.Day after day he came to his work –sweeping, scrubbing, cleaning.55.First you borrow, then you beg.56.This typewriter is indeed cheap and fine.57. A new kind of aircraft - small, cheap, pilotless - is attracting increasing attention.58.He is a complicated man - moody, mercurial, with a melancholy streak.59. A red sun rose slowly from the calm sea.60.Into the dim clouds was swimming a crescent moon.Negation61.The first bombs missed the target.62.Such a chance was denied me.63.We may safely say so.64.A: The boy is quite clever. B: Exactly.65.The subversion attempts proved predictably futile.66.It would be most disastrous if even a rumor of it were given out.67.We arc watching the fluid situation with concern.68.The explanation is pretty thin.69.His refusal is not final70.This problem is above me.71.It was beyond his power to sign such a contract.72.These planes were held back to protect the enemy's home islands instead of being usedwhere they were badly needed.73.The guerrillas would fight to death before they surrendered.74.I will not go unless I hear from him.75.The decision has to come.Division76.He unselfishly contributed his uncommon talents and indefatigable spirit to thestruggle which today brings those aims within the reach of a majority of the human race.77.They are striving for the ideal which is close to the heart of every Chinese and forwhich, in the past, many Chinese have laid down their lives.78.They would have had to live the rest of their lives under the stigma that he hadrecklessly precipitated an action which wrecked the Summit Conference and conceivably could have launched a nuclear war.79.The president said at a press conference dominated by questions on yesterday'selection results that he could not explain why the Republicans had suffered such a widespread defeat, which in the end would deprive the Republican Party of long-held superiority in the House.80."Nixon decided he wanted meetings held to a bare minimum," recalled GeneralAlexander Haig, Jr., who served as Kissinger's deputy on the NSC staff before being promoted in late 1972 to be Vice Chief of Staff of the Amy and in mid-1973 to be Haldeman's successor as Chief of Staff at the White House.Translation: Translation is the linguistic activity of using one language to express accurately and completely the content of thought that is originally expressed in another language.Prayer: Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.Selected PoemsShall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?William Shakespeare 1564-1616 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds ofMay,And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;But thy eternal summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.She Walks in BeautyGeorge Gordon Byron乔治·拜伦1788-1824She walks in beauty, like the nightOf cloudless climes and starry skies;And all that 's best of dark and brightMeet in her aspect and her eyes:Thus mellow'd to that tender lightWhich heaven to gaudy day denies.One shade the more, one ray the less,Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,Or softly lightens o'er her face;Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,The smiles that win, the tints that glow,But tell of days in goodness spent,A mind at peace with all below,A heart whose love is innocent!How do I love thee Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) 英国勃朗宁夫人How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of everyday'sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with a passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.The wreck of the HesperusHenry Wadsworth Longfellow亨利·沃兹沃思·朗费罗1807-1882It was the schooner Hesperus,That sailed the wintry sea;And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company.Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,Her cheeks like the dawn of day,And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May.The Skipper he stood beside the helm,His pipe was in his mouth,And he watched how the veering flaw did blowThe smoke now West, now South.Then up and spake an old Sailor,Had sailed the Spanish Main,"I pray thee, put into yonder port,For I fear a hurricane."Last night the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!"The skipper, he blew whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.Colder and louder blew the wind,A gale from the Northeast,The snow fell hissing in the brine,And the billows frothed like yeast.Down came the storm, and smote again The vessel in its strength;She shuddered and paused, like a frightened steed,Then leaped her cable's length."Come hither! come hither! my littledaughter,And do not tremble so;For I can weather the roughest galeThat ever wind did blow."He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast;He cut a rope from a broken spar,And bound her to the mast."O father! I hear the church bells ring, Oh, say, what may it be?""Tis a fog-bell on a rock bound coast!" -- And he steered for the open sea."O father! I hear the sound of guns;Oh, say, what may it be?"Some ship in distress, that cannot liveIn such an angry sea!" "O father! I see a gleaming light.Oh say, what may it be?"But the father answered never a word,A frozen corpse was he.Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,With his face turned to the skies,The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snowOn his fixed and glassy eyes.Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayedThat saved she might be;And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave,On the Lake of Galilee.And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Through the whistling sleet and snow,Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel sweptTow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe.And ever the fitful gusts betweenA sound came from the land;It was the sound of the trampling surf,On the rocks and hard sea-sand.The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck,And a whooping billow swept the crewLike icicles from her deck.She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool,But the cruel rocks, they gored her sideLike the horns of an angry bull.Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board;Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,Ho! ho! the breakers roared!At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,A fisherman stood aghast,To see the form of a maiden fair,Lashed close to a drifting mast.The salt sea was frozen on her breast,The salt tears in her eyes;And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise.Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,In the midnight and the snow!Christ save us all from a death like this,On the reef of Norman's Woe!I sit and look outWalt Whitman沃尔特·惠特曼1819-1892I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of theworld, and upon all oppression andshame;I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men,at anguish with themselves, remorsefulafter deeds done;I see, in low life, the mother misused by herchildren, dying, neglected, gaunt,desperate;I see the wife misused by her husband--I seethe treacherous seducer of youngwomen;I mark the ranklings of jealousy andunrequited love, attempted to be hid--Isee these sights on the earth;I see the workings of battle, pestilence,tyranny--I see martyrs and prisoners;I observe a famine at sea--I observe the sailorscasting lots who shall be kill'd, topreserve the lives of the rest;I observe the slights and degradations cast byarrogant persons upon laborers, the poor,and upon negroes, and the like;All these--All the meanness and agonywithout end, I sitting, look out upon, See, hear, and am silent.America for meHenry Van Dyke 1852 – 1933Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and downAmong the famous palaces and cities of renown,To admire the crumply castles and the statues of the kings,But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.So it's home again, and home again, America for me!My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air;And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study in RomeBut when it comes to living there is just no place like home.I like the German fir-woods, in greenbattalions drilled,I like the gardens of Versailles with flashingfountains filled;But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a dayIn the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way!I know that Europe's wonderful, yetsomething seems to lack:The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.Oh, its's home again, and home again,America for me!I want a ship that's westward bound to ploughthe rolling sea,To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.When you are oldWilliam Butler Yeats叶芝1865-1939When you are old and gray and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true; But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how love fledAnd paced upon the mountains overhead, And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.The Road Not TakenRobert Frost罗伯特·弗罗斯特1874-1963Two roads diverged in a yellow woodAnd sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowthThen took the other, as just as fairAnd having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the sameAnd both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden blackOh, I kept the first for another dayYet knowing how way leads on to wayI doubted if I should ever come backI shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages henceTwo roads diverged in a wood, and I —I took the one less traveled byAnd that has made all the differenceWe Real CoolTHE POOL PLAYERS.SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.We real cool. WeLeft school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. WeSing sin. We Thin gin. WeJazz June. WeDie soon.IfIf you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to,broken,And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,If all men count with you, but none too much;If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!DevotionThe heart can think of no devotionGreater than being shore to the ocean--Holding the curve of one position,Counting an endless repetition.Stopping by woods on a snowy evening Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound's the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.The woods are lovely, dark and deep.But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.Annabel Lee安娜贝尔·李Edgar Allan Poe埃德加·爱伦·坡1809-1849 It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE;And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.I was a child and she was a child,In this kingdom by the sea;But we loved with a love that was more than love-I and my Annabel Lee;With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.And this was the reason that, long ago,In this kingdom by the sea,A wind blew out of a cloud, chillingMy beautiful Annabel Lee;So that her highborn kinsman cameAnd bore her away from me,To shut her up in a sepulchreIn this kingdom by the sea.The angels, not half so happy in heaven,Went envying her and me-Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,In this kingdom by the sea)That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we-Of many far wiser than we-And neither the angels in heaven above,Nor the demons down under the sea,Can ever dissever my soul from the soulOf the beautiful Annabel Lee.For the moon never beams without bringing me dreamsOf the beautiful Annabel Lee;And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride, In the sepulchre there by the sea,In her tomb by the sounding sea.LeisureWhat is this life if, full of care,We have no time to stand and stare.No time to stand beneath the boughsAnd stare as long as sheep or cows.No time to see, when woods we pass,Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.No time to see, in broad daylight,Streams full of stars, like skies at night.No time to turn at Beauty's glance,And watch her feet, how they can dance.No time to wait till her mouth canEnrich that smile her eyes began.A poor life this if, full of care,We have no time to stand and stare.Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding夜大06英语本科《英汉翻译》练习题（2）sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, Ipray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.SongChristina Georgena Rossetti 1830-1894When I am dead, my dearest,Sing no sad songs for me;Plant thou no roses at my head,Nor shady cypress tree;Be the green grass above meWith showers and dewdrops wet;And if thou wilt, remember,And if thou wilt, forget.I shall not see the shadows,I shall not feel the rain;I shall not hear the nightingaleSing on, as if in pain;And dreaming through the twilightThat doth not rise nor set,Haply I may remember,And haply may forget.RequiemUnder the wide and starry skyDig the grave and let me lie:Glad did I live and gladly die,And I laid me down with a will.This be the verse you ‘grave for me:Here he lies where he long’d to be;Home is the sailor, home from the sea,And the hunter home from the hill.26。