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中国经典文化走向世界丛书:三:III:散文卷:Essay

中国经典文化走向世界丛书:三:III:散文卷:Essay

1星价 ¥43.5 (7.5折)
2星价¥43.5 定价¥58.0
图文详情
  • ISBN:9787544651585
  • 装帧:一般胶版纸
  • 册数:暂无
  • 重量:暂无
  • 开本:24cm
  • 页数:286页
  • 出版时间:2018-07-01
  • 条形码:9787544651585 ; 978-7-5446-5158-5

内容简介

  "Cherish one's own beauty, respect other's beauty, and when both beauties are respected and cherished, the world will become one", said Fei Xiaotong, a famous Chinese sociologist at a cerebration party in honor of his eightieth birthday about thirty years ago. In a time of growing interest in intercultural communication today, these words sound especially wise and far-sighted. Translation, as one of the most important means for cultural communication, is usually done into one's mother tongue from other languages by native translators. This largely guarantees the quality of translated text, so far as the linguistic readability is concerned. However, this method implies a one-sidedness in correspondence, as only the translator's "respect for other's beauty" is concerned, regardless, though not completely, of how the local people look upon and cherish their own beauty. It should be compensated by translations on the other way, that is, works selected, interpreted, and translated by the local people themselves into languages other than their own. This approach may go directly against the prevalent views in modern translation theories but, in my opinion, is worthy of practicing. It is perhaps an even more effective way to bring about successful communication in cultures, and the beauties ofthe world can really be shared by the world's people. It is with such understanding that the Shanghai Foreign Languages Education Press is organizing a new series of books, entitled Readings of Chin.ese Culture, to introduce Chinese culture, past and present, to the world, with works selected and translated by the Chinese scholars and translators.

目录

Snow
An Autumn Night
The Cicada
The Wild Wood in Spring
Pear Blossoms
Claver on Sojourning in the Hills of Florence
Rain
Winter Scenes of the South
I Have Run Head-on into Autumn
Greenness
A Lotus Pool in the Moonlight
A Red Leaf
Evening and Morning Views from a Ferry
Lamplights
Myriad Stars
The Hen
The Pavilion of Cherished Dusk
Before the Rain Arrives
Ode to Camellias
The Beach on a Midsummer Night
A Humorous Analogy for Prose
Buddhist Pilgrims——Travelogues of Mount Tai in the Old Days
Story One
Nuorilang Falls in the Morning and at Dusk
The Backs of the Best Musical Conductors
The Lily in My Heart
Perception of Spring
The Eagle in My Heart
The Sea in My Eyes
In the Hometown of the Daffodils
The Many-Hued (Two Supplementary Chapters).
The Parable of the Hillock
Haloes
Family, Night, and the Sun
The Moon over Mount Orchid
Journals from America (Excerpts)
An Afternoon's Sporadic Clarinet Chanting
When Summer Is Here
Lights
A Hometown Visit
The Expected Return Home
The Old House
A Life That Never Matures
Watching Stars from a Roof
A Clipping about Winter
In Honor of Moonlight
The Autumn Rain and the Mountain Forest
Lifelong Lament
Going North
Anxiety Pacified
展开全部

节选

  《中国经典文化走向世界丛书(散文卷3 英文版)》:  From my backyard, I can see two trees beyond the wall-one is a date tree, and the other, also a date tree.  The night sky above the yard looks alien and high-so alien and so high that I have never seen anything like it. It looks as if it were pulling away from this world so that nobody can see the sky anymore when looking up. But it is very blue at the moment, and flashing in it are dozens of stars that look like eyes-cold eyes. At the corner of its mouth, it wears a smile, which seems to reveal a self-flattering inwardness, as it spreads its heavy frost over the plants and weeds in my yard.  I do not know the official names of the plants in the yard, nor do I know their common names, but I still remember that tiny pink flower, now still in bloom, but timer. She huddles in the chilly night air, and dreams. She dreams of the arrival of spring, of the arrival of autumn, and of a skinny poet who sheds his tears on the last of her petals, telling her that after autumn and winter, it will be spring again, when the butterflies will dance here and there and the honeybees will sing vernal lyrics. That makes her smile. Although huddling in the freezing cold, she turns pitifully red.  As for the date trees, they have lost all their leaves. Earlier, they saw one or two children come to knock from them the dates left behind by others, but now, none of the dates is left, and none of the leaves is even left. They know about the dream of the tiny pink flower-after autumn, it will be spring; they also know about the dream of the fallen leaves-after spring, it will be autumn. They have simply lost all their leaves, so only their bare branches remain. After recovering from the bending position earlier, when they were laden with dates and leaves, they now enjoy a comfortable stretch. But a few of the branches remain curved downward, to protect the bruises inflicted by the date-knocking rods, while the straightest and longest of the branches, like silent iron, have already pointed themselves directly toward the high and alien sky, making it flash like a ghost, and directly toward the full-orbed moon, making it look embarrassingly pale.  The sky with the ghostly flashing eyes is now far bluer. It looks uneasy and as if it wants to pull away from this world, escaping from the pointing of the date trees, only to leave the moon behind. But the moon has also snuck to the east corner. Only the branches of the date trees that have nothing left on them are still pointing, like silent iron, directly toward the high and alien sky, as if they are determined to prod it to death, ignoring its various wicked, flashing eyes.  "Caw -!" With a screech, an evil nocturnal raven flies past.  Suddenly, in the dead of night, a laugh tickles my ears, in such a tittering voice that it seems reluctant to wake the sleeping people, but the air all around seems to laugh in response. I immediately recognize that the laughter comes from my own mouth, because nobody else is around at such a late hour, and driven by it, I immediately return to my room. Once I am in, I immediately turn up the kerosene burner.  There are tinkling noises on the glass of the rear window, as many tiny flying insects strike against it. Before long, a few of them get in, perhaps through the holes in the window's paper panel. Once they are in, they begin to go for the chimney of the glass lamp, making more tinkling noises. One ofthem has gotten into the chimney, and has therefore come into contact with the flame-I believe that it is a real flame. About two or three of them recline on the paper lampshade to catch their breath. That lampshade is a replacement made last night, with snow-white paper folded into a wave-like pattern and a spray of scarlet-colored gardenia painted on one of its corners.  ……

作者简介

  徐英才,原上海复旦大学英语教师,在复旦任职十多年,曾于1984年被派往加拿大麦克马斯特大学授课并研读加拿大文学。上世纪90年代初,赴美国德堡大学留学,研读英美文学,毕业后留校工作。目前教学课程包括“汉英英汉翻译实践与理论”“中国书法实践与理论”“中国电影史”“中国当代文学”等。已出版的译著有《英译唐宋八大家散文精选》《英译中国当代美文选》《英译中国经典散文选》等。

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