双语散文阅读《老人与海》节选.docx

双语散文阅读《老人与海》节选 《老人与海》的主人公桑地亚哥是一位老渔夫，他经过重重艰险，捕获了“一条不止一千五百磅重的大马林鱼”，但这条大马林鱼却被鲨鱼吃光了，桑地亚哥只拖回了一副鱼的骨架这部小说被称为是影响历史的百部经典之一;美国历史上里程碑式的32本书之一今天我们来欣赏《老人与海》的片段 The Old Man and the Sea He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boys parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and furled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat. The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert. Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated. “Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “I could go with you again. Weve made some money.” The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him. “No,” the old man said. “Youre with a lucky boat. Stay with them.” “But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks.” “I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.” “It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.” “I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal.” “He hasnt much faith.” “No,” the old man said. “But we have. Havent we?” “Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then well take the stuff home.” “Why not?” the old man said. “Between fishermen.” They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry. Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank, to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on a block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut into strips for salting. When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbor from the shark factory; but today there was only the faint edge of the odor because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace. “Santiago,” the boy said. “Yes,” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago. “Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?” “No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.” “I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you. I would like to serve in some way.” “You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man.” “How old was I when you first took me in a boat?” “Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to pieces. Can you remember?” “I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me.” “Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?” “I remember everything from when we first went together.” The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes. 老人与海 老人独自划着小船在墨西哥湾暖流钓鱼。

整整84天过去了，他还是一条鱼也没逮着头40天里，有个男孩一直跟着他可是过了40天，老人还没抓到一条鱼，孩子的父母就对孩子说，老人如今真是倒霉透顶了，这个男孩于是听从了他们的吩咐，上了另外一条船这条船在头一个礼拜捕到了三条大鱼看着老人每天回来时船总是空的，孩子感到很难过他总是走到岸边，帮老人拿成卷的渔线，或者渔钩和渔叉，还有绕在桅杆上的帆老人用面粉袋的布片在帆上打满补丁，帆收拢后看上去就像是一面永远失败的旗子 老人消瘦而憔悴，脖颈上布满了深深的皱纹肋帮上有些黄褐斑，一直从脸的两侧蔓延下去，这是老人长时间在热带海洋上捕鱼时受太阳反光照射形成的他的双手被绳索磨出了一条深深的伤疤，那是老人在对付大鱼时留下的但是这些伤疤中没有一块是新的，它们像是沙漠中枯裂的岩石 老人身上的一切都显得很苍老，除了他那双眼睛它们像海水一样蓝，总是透着股乐观向上、永不。