2014.12.01【英译中】王爾德計劃--Picture of Dorian Gray (Chapter 1)

发表于:2014-12-01 03:20 [只看楼主] [划词开启]

1. The studio was filled with the rich odor of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.


2. Form the corner of the divan of Persian saddlebags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-colored blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame-like as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore (tussoresˈtəsôr罗缎) -silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid jade-faced painters of Tokio who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion.

3. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the strangling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive.

4. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

5. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement, and gave rise to so many storage conjectures.

6. As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skillfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger here.

7. But he suddenly started up, and, closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake.

8. “It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done,” and Lord Henry, languidly.

9~11. “You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar.  When ever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse.  The Grosvenor is really the only place."
“明年你一定要把它送到格罗夫纳(注1)。画院太大太俗了。每次我去那儿,不是人太多害得我没法好好看画— 这真叫人害怕— 就是画太多弄得我不能好好看人,这种情况更糟。相比起来,格罗夫纳实在是唯一之选。”

12. “I don’t think I shall send it anywhere,” Hallward answered, tossing his head back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford. 

13. “No: I won’t send it anywhere."

14. Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows, and looked at him in amazement through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls from his heavy opium-tainted cigarette.

15-21. “Not send it anywhere?
             My dear fellow, why?
             Have you any reason?
             What odd chaps you painters are!
             You do anything in the world to gain a reputation.
            As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw it away.
            It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.


22. “A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men are ever capable of any emotion."


23. “I know you will laugh at me,” he replied, “but I really can’t exhibit it.
       I have put too much of myself into it."

24. Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed.

25.”Yes, I knew you would,” cried Hallward, “but it is quite true, all the same."
26~41. “Too much of yourself in it!
        Upon my word, Basil, I didn’t know you were so vain! And I really, can’t see any resemblance between, with your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves.
       Why, my dear Basil, his is a Narcissus, and you—well, of course you have an intellectual expression, and all that
       But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. 
       Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face.
       The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid.
       Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions.
       How perfectly hideous they are !
       Except, of course, in the Church.
       But then in the Church they don’t think.
       A bishop keeps on saying at the age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, and as a natural consequence the always looks absolutely delightful.
      Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, never thinks.
       I feel quite sure of that.
       He is some brainless creature, who should be always here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in summer when we want something to chill our intelligence.
      Don’t flatter yourself, Basil: you are not in the least like him.
       “你有太多的自我在里面!我的天,巴塞尔,我不知道你自我感觉有这么好!在你顽固木强的脸和煤黑色头发,与这位象牙和玫瑰做成的安东尼之间,我真的看不到任何的相似之处。我亲爱的巴塞尔,他是纳西索斯,而你—当然,你有着知性的外貌,以及其他的一切。但是美,真正的美,完结在理智开始的地方。理智本身是一种夸张;它能让任何一张脸失去和谐。当一个人坐下来思考,他就只剩下鼻子,或者额头,或者别的什么讨厌东西。看看那些知识行业的成功人士们,他们无与伦比地令人恶心!当然,教会人士除外。但是教会人士不思考。一个八十岁的神父还在讲那些他十八岁时被教导的东西,自然而然,他们因此看起来非常愉快。我很确定一点:你那神秘的年轻朋友— 你还没告诉我他的名字— 从不思考。他是某种不用脑子的生物,在我们无花可赏的冬天,他应该常在这里;夏天,当我们想让发热的头脑冷一冷时,他也该常在这里。巴塞尔,别自我吹捧了,你一点儿也不像他。”

42.  “You don’t understand me, Harry,” answered the artist.

最后编辑于:2014-12-03 07:16
分类: 英语
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