第二部分：从汉语到英语 从汉语到英语
FromChineseintoEnglish
从汉语到英语
尽管我学习英语已经很多年，也翻译出版了几本英美小说，可是直到今天我对汉译英却还是十分谨慎的，对一些国外报刊的英文约稿从不敢轻易应允，更不敢主动把自己的文章译成英文发表。准确的英译汉要经过严格的训练才有可能做到，翻译文学作品就要有更深的功力了，而要把文学作品的汉译英做好，不仅要具备汉语和英语本身的坚实基础，还要有其他方面的深厚涵养。文学的汉译英决不是学过几年英语就能做到的，实际上这种翻译是译者的二度创作。
对于中国人，英译汉做得漂亮不容易，汉译英做得漂亮就更难了，因为在进行汉译英的置换时，我们很可能在潜意识里就把汉语习惯载入了英语。往往是这样，我们认为自己译得很好的英文，英语国家的人却会挑出很多毛病，小的，大的，甚至标点符号，还有的地方他们干脆就说看不懂。那种时候真让人很丧气，可是怎么办呢？
多年前，我经常把一篇篇自认为很好的汉译英文章寄给我的美国朋友Jerry，他看完又把修改后的文章寄回来，看着被他用红色圆珠笔修改得密密麻麻的地方，我总是很难过，也很奇怪，为什么我认为对的地方却是错的呢？有时候，我会一连几个小时，盯着那些被红笔划过的痕迹苦思冥想，一会儿好像恍然大悟，一会儿好像又绕进了文字的迷魂阵。我觉得汉译英太难了。不过，我还是鼓起勇气，继续学习，并且坚持每天都做一些汉译英的练习。
那时候，我读了一本《中诗英译探胜》，那本书让我爱不释手，里面是中外语言专家翻译的中国古代诗词，从《诗经》到《西厢记》。读那些诗歌，我体味到汉语诗词英译的困难，把意思表达准确是要下苦功的，而既忠实于原文，又表现出原文的意蕴，就需要付出更多的心血。有些古诗词被译成了英语，却品不出古诗词的意味了，但是，我仍然感受到译者对每一个句子，甚至每一个词的认真推敲。不过我想，也许任何一种外语都不能充分地表达意象万千的中国古诗词，因为它们独特魅力的光芒是别的语言不能与之争辉的。比如唐代孟浩然的《春晓》：
春眠不觉晓，
处处闻啼鸟。
夜来风雨声，
花落知多少？
罗伯特?佩恩（RobertPayne）是这样翻译的：
Isleptinspringnotconsciousofthedawn,
Butheardthegaybirdschatteringallaround,
Iremember,therewasastormatnight.
Pray,howmanyblossomshavefallendown?
许渊冲先生的译文是这样的：
ThismornofspringinbedI’mlying,
Nottoawaketillbirdsarecrying.
Afteronenightofwindandshowers,
Howmanyarethefallenflowers!
这种对比多么有趣啊！文学作品有多种多样的译法，因为人们对它有各种各样的理解和想象。我已经不能确切地回忆起那些日子是怎样度过的，只记得那本《中诗英译探胜》一直放在我的床头，每天夜晚我都要翻看，我喜欢书中那些英语国家的人翻译的每一首诗词，看他们怎样用英语来表现中国古代诗词，或是把它们变成一个个通俗的英语故事。读那本书我总是快乐的。
从那以后，我又给Jerry寄去文章，一篇又一篇，我发现，他在文章里做的红色修改印迹越来越少了。再后来，我就用e-mail给Jerry发去我的汉译英文章。有一次，我给Jerry发去一篇我翻译的自己的散文，他在回信中说：
Itwassobeautiful.Iloveit.Itwaswonderful.Haidi,thiswasajoytoreadandIwasexcitedtoreadeveryline.Yourimaginationissovividandthoughtful.Yes,rememberourconversations,“Whatisthemeaningoflife?”Well,youhaveaclearidea.Thosememorieslastforever.Theydo.Don’tthey?
（文章这么美，我喜欢它，写得很好。海迪，读这篇文章是一种快乐，读每一行文字都让我激动。你的想象是这样生动并且令人深思。是的，还记得我们的谈话吗？“生命的意义是什么？”啊，你的想法很明确。生命的记忆是持久的，肯定是持久的，不是这样吗？）
不过，Jerry的信并没有让我感到欣慰，我觉得Jerry作为美国人也许还不能透彻地理解我的本意，他只是读懂了这个故事。怎样才能让外国人真正理解这个故事呢？我继续修改文章，还请另一位美国朋友Margaret帮我提意见。我想，Margaret是女性，她也许会从另一个角度理解这个故事。在和他们讨论这篇文章的时候，我觉得自己对汉译英有了更大的兴趣——汉语和英语毕竟是两种语言，怎么才能译得更好呢？
下面是Jerry和Margaret帮我修改过的散文。我真希望有人能再将它译成中文，看看在别人的笔下它会变成一个什么样的故事：
Inasmalltown,Ilivedinaverylargecourtyard.Thecourtyardwassolargethatpeopleinbigcitiescouldnothaveimaginedthesize.Itwasaslargeastwofootballfields.Therewasarowofsingle-storyhouseswhereourtwofamilieslived.Thecourtyardwasbathedinbrightsunshine,somyneighborgrewvariouskindsofvegetables:cucumber,eggplant,haricotbean,tomatoes,andhotgreenpeppers.Inthesummertheopengroundwascolorful;thered,thegreen,thepurpleandtheorangeformedabeautifulpattern.Ourredroofhouseswithasharptowerreflectedthesunsbrightness,andthebigdoorsandwindowswerepaintedskyblueasifthehouseswerebuiltofcolorfultoybricksasinthefairytales.
Usuallythecourtyardwasquiet,andsometimesitwassoquietthatyoucouldfeelthatitwassospacious,yetempty.Ilovedreadinginthecourtyardwherethesunshinewasmildandtheairwasfresh.Isatunderabigtreewheretheleavesbreathedperfumeofgreennessandtenderness.
Therewasablackdog,hewasabigwatchdog.TomehewasfriendlyandwhenIwasreadinghewouldalwaysliebesidemywheelchair.SometimesIfeltthebookwasdull,soIwouldraisemyheadandwantedtotalktosomebody.Butatthosetimesnoonewastheretalkingtome.Intheeveningwhenthesunwassetting,thecourtyardwasbathedingoldenredlight.Peoplecominghomefromworkbroughtlifetothecourtyard.Menandwomenchatteredwhendrawingwaterfromthewell.Afterschoolchildrenplayedcatchinggamesaroundthecourtyard,astheywererunningandlaughingtheblackdogranafterthemjoyfullybarking.Everydaythesceneappearedasthesame.
Duringthedaytherewasnotonlytheblackdogandmeinthecourtyard,therewasalsoaGrannywhowasovereighty-yearsold.Shewasmyneighborandutterlyblind.Mostofthetimeshestayedinherhouse,sittinginanoldarmchair.Sometimesthearmchairwasmovedtothefrontofthedoorandshesatthereawholeafternooninsilence.NosoundwasheardfromhersoIoftenforgotherexistenceandinmyconsciousnesstherewasonlytheblackdogandmeinthecourtyard;butinrealitytherewastheblackdog,meandGranny.
OnedayIagainsatunderthebigtree,readingDieWeltraetsel(TheMysteryoftheUniverse)byErnstHaeckel,aGermanbiologist.ThechapterIwasreadingrelatedtothelifeprocessesofhumanbeings.Haeckelsaid,theprocessesoflifeinthenaturewereflowingliketheloquaciousstream,theblazingfire,thefitfulbreezesandthecollapsingofrocksfrommountainsIcouldn’thelpthinkingofGranny.Iturnedmyheadandlookedather.Isawthatshewassittinginherarmchairnotfarfromme.Sheheldadragonstickwithbothhandsinfrontofherchest.Herheaddrooped,andtheskinonherfacewasflabby.Hereyeswereslightlyclosedandshemadenosoundasifshewasasleep.Shewasalwayssoquietandserene.Whatwasshethinkingabout?Wastheriverofherconsciousnessstillflowing?Iwantedverymuchtoaskherifshefeltlonely?Iftherewereanyotherfeelingsinhermind?
Iturnedmywheelchairtohersideandaskedherloudly,areyouasleepGranny?
No,Idon’tfeelsleepy,Grannyanswered.
So,whatareyouthinkingabout?Iasked.
IwasrecallingthedayswhenIwasayounggirlandIwasmadeamatch,shereplied.
Iwassosurprised;Iopenedmyeyeswideasifarainbowsuddenlyappearedbeforeme.
WithhereyesstillslightlyclosedGrannysaid,whenIwasyoungmatchmakerswenttomyhomeoneafteranother.Myfacewassofair;Ialwaysworeaflowerpatternedcotton-paddedcoatandmywaistwasonlytwospans.Myhairwasbeautiful,too;Ialwayswashedmyhairwithsesameflowersoreggwhites.MyplaitwassothickandblackthatwhenIwalkedtheendswayedbehindmyback.AttheendofmyplaitIalwaystiedafive-inchlongbundlewithapieceofredstring
What,aGrannyofovereighty-yearsoldwasrecallinghermaidenyears!Iwasreallysurprised.Infact,theoldpeoplestillkeeptheirmindyoung,whichtheyoungsterscannotimagine.
UnderthebiggreentreeIwentonreadingTheMysteryoftheUniverse.Duringmyreadingthewingsofduskcamequietlyshadingthesettingsun.Inthatmoment,IalmostforgotthatinthecourtyardtherewasGranny,theblackdog,andme.
Icontinuedtoreadmybooksinthecourtyardasusual.OnedayIwenttoaverydullpageandmyeyesstayedstubbornlyonaline.IraisedmyeyesandsawGrannysittingquietlyinthesunlightwithagushofwindblowinghersilverhair.Iturnedmywheelchairtohersideandheldherhands,whichwerecoolish,soft,flabbybutgentle.Iaskedher,doyoufeelboredallalone,Granny?No,Idon’tfeelbored,sheanswered.IsithereasifIsitontheroadsideattheedgeofmyhomevillagelikewhenIwasyoung.Livelypeoplearecomingandgoingbeforemyeyes.Thedaywhenmyhusbandmarriedmewasverylively.MyheadwascoveredwitharedheadkerchiefandIworearedcoatandaredskirtmadeofsilk.Thatdayabigcartcamedecoratedwithredsilkandwaspulledbyamuleandtwohorses.Itwasthetwelfthmoon;theroadwascoveredbythicksnow.ThewheelspressedtwodeepgroovesintothegroundbehindmycartGrannymurmuredveryslowlywithherharshvoice.SheraisedherheadalittleandinhereyesIsawshehadmemorieslingeringfromayearlongago.
Itsuddenlycametometheawarenessofanothermeaningoflife.OnceIhadthoughtthatGrannysittinginthesolitudewaswaitingsilentlyforherdeathtocomeandhadnoanyexpectation.Ihadalsoconsideredhowboredandbittershewouldfeelinherlonelinessanddarkness.But,actuallyshewasspendingherdaysunderthesunlightinsocalmamood.Beforehereyesthehandsoftheclockturnedbackward.Thelivesofthepastwerecomingbacknearerandnearer.Shefoundthelostyearsandgotfromthemnewcomfortandpleasure.Thereallifeisthelifeinone’smemory,andthelifeinthememoryismorevividthanitisinreality.Lifelastsforeverinthememory.
OnedayGrannyfellillandwassenttothehospital;Ifeltverysorry.Peoplesaidthatperhapsshecouldnotgetoversuchanillness,andperhapsshewouldneverbebacktothecourtyard.WhenIwasaloneinthecourtyardIalwaysrecalledthedayswhentherehadbeenGranny,theblackdogandme.Ifeltlonelyandsad.EverydayIaskedtheonewhosentfoodtothehospitalabouttheconditionofGranny.OnedaysomeonetoldmethatGrannycouldeatagain,andwhensheopenedhereyesshecouldclearlytellthestoriesofherancestorsandperhapsshewouldcomebacksoon.
GrannydidcomebacktothecourtyardagainandIwasdeeplymovedbyherstrongvitality.IthenhighlyvaluedeachdayIspentwithherinthecourtyard.EachdayGrannysattherebathinginthewarmsunshineandponderingoverherpastwithherheadleanedlowasbefore.
Thatautumnshewasvisiblyweakenedandsatfewerandfewerhoursinthecourtyard.Onedayshetoldme,IknewIwouldcomeback;Imustbebackandwaitforhimathome.Shesaiditwasanautumnday,adayliketoday,leavesfellrustlingeverywhere,whenmyhusbandleftearlyinthemorning.Hewasagoodironsmith,andworeacoatandcarriedacloth-wrapperonhisback.Atthedoorhesaid,you’dbetternotgooutofthecourtyard,forthebaby’sjustamonthold.WhenIearnmoneyI’llsurelybeback.Hesaidifhecouldnotearnmoneyhewouldbebackbeforetheendoftheyear.Imadeanewcottoncoatforhim,buthehasn’tcomebackyet.SincethatdayImadeanewcottoncoatforhimeveryautumn,buthestillhasn’tcomeback.Now,Icannotmakeacoat;Ican’tseeanything,andifhecomesbackIcannotmakeoutwhatheisreallylike
IcaressedGranny’shandslightly;theywereverycool.Afewdeadleavescamewhirlingfromthebaretreesandthreadsofcoldrainoflateautumnfellfromthesky.Grannysuddenlyshiveredwithcoldandherhandsshookalittle.Shesaid,Ifeelbadtoday.Itisgettingcolderagain,butwhyhasn’thecomebackyet?Inmurmuringso,tearsrolledslowlydownfromherdimeyes.
ThenextdayGrannywasgone.Peopleofherfamilysaidthatshegotupinthemiddleofthenightandmadeherwaytothemiddleofthecabinet,andrummagedoutofitthecoatshehadmadeforherhusband.Shesaiditwascold,andsheshouldgoandsendittohim.Shethenfellasleepwiththecoatinherarms.Shelookedverycalm,andpeoplesaidshehadgonewithoutanysuffering.
Thatleftonlytheblackdogandmeinthecourtyard.Itsnowedheavilythatwinter.ThewhitesnowburiedGranny’slongandperseveringexpectations.Inmyobscuremeditationtherewasoftenaquietandabitharshvoiceleisurelytellingalongstory,whichhadnoending.ThefigureofGrannyhadgonewiththewind,buthermemorystilllivesoninthegreenleavesoflife.
WhatcanIrecallwhenIamoldwithmyhairsilver,Iaskedmyself.
在这里，我期待着陌生朋友们的译文，我愿和你们一起分享汉译英、英译汉的快乐。