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第4章 A Fairy Tale Night 童话之夜(2)

Malia sat down and looked at him smiling. She nodded her head. As the two talked, he explained to her how she was anything but ugly, and how he had a crush on her since the day high school started. Malia had explained to him that she felt the same way.

"Will you come in and dance with me?" He asked.

Malia nodded and he took her hand and walked her in. As they began to dance, she told him of her dreams to meet her Prince Charming. And he asked her if he could be her Prince Charming. She looked at him and smiled. He spun her around to where he could hug her from behind her, and he whispered in her ear, "I've always wanted to be a Prince Charming. I just never thought it would be with a princess so beautiful."

Right at that moment, the tears started rolling down her face. He put his head on her shoulder, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. He, then, turned her around and her face fell with the embarrassment of her tears. He lifted her face up to his, and kissed her on the nose. He hugged her tight and whispered in her ear, "Everything will be all right. All of your troubles will soon go away."

agony n. 极大的痛苦

rejection n. 拒绝

have a crush on 迷恋(某人)

马莉娅是一名高中生,极度渴望能够像灰姑娘一样梦想成真。她梦想至少能和白马王子度过一个夜晚。马莉娅从来没有交过男朋友,而大多数同龄的女孩子都已经有过很多男朋友了。所以她很妒忌。虽然受欢迎,但马莉娅对交往的对象却很挑剔,这也是她从未交过男朋友的原因。许多男孩子都喜欢她,但谁也没跟她表白过,因为他们都怕被拒绝。他们不知道,她每晚都哭着入睡,她想有个男朋友拥抱她,安慰她说所有的烦恼很快就会过去。没有男孩子有勇气向她表白,所以她每晚都躺在床上发愁,觉得自己太丑了才找不到男朋友。马莉娅的女友们常常劝她用不着为男生而发愁,他们不过是个大麻烦,再说她这么漂亮,根本没有男生配得上她。朋友的建议对她而言根本不管用,所以她还是为以后担忧,觉得自己会孤独地过完下半辈子。

学校舞会快到了,马莉娅对一个要好的哥们儿说要和他一起参加舞会。她和他一起去是因为他们是好朋友。而她真正想邀请的男生已经被她最好的朋友捷足先登了。这情形很尴尬,因为她的朋友想和她邀请的男生一起去,而她则想和她朋友邀请的那个人一起去。

盛大的舞会到来了,当女孩们到场时,美丽的马莉娅成为所有男孩瞩目的焦点。她跟舞伴找到了他们的桌子,随后她的舞伴离开去和她最好的朋友跳舞去了。马莉娅坐在桌旁看着他们跳舞。舞伴扔下她去和她的好朋友跳舞让她沮丧透了。

大概过了20分钟,她没有看到好朋友的舞伴。她猜他是不是离开了,她也想走了。就在她拿起外套和钱包,走下舞厅的台阶时,她觉得衣服被拉了一下。她转身看到朋友的舞伴那张帅气的脸正吃惊地看着自己。

“你为什么要离开舞会?”他问她。他注视着她,似乎并不想她走。

“我的舞伴正和我的朋友在跳舞。”她回答,看起来一副为此沮丧,但接受朋友的选择的样子。

“你愿意留下来和我聊一会儿吗?”他问,生怕被拒绝。

马莉娅坐下来,微笑着看向他,点了点头。聊天时,他向马莉娅说明她一点儿也不难看,还说自己高中入学第一天就对她一见钟情了。马莉娅告诉他自己对他也一样。

“你愿意进去和我跳舞吗?”他问道。

马莉娅点了点头,他牵着她的手走进去。他们跳起舞,她说起了自己的白马王子梦。然后他问自己能否当她的白马王子。她看着他,笑了。他带着她旋转,从后面拥住她,在她耳边轻声说:“我一直想成为白马王子,只是从没想到会和这么美丽的公主在一起。”

就在那一刻,她的眼泪滑过脸庞。他把头靠在她的肩上,探过去吻她的脸颊。接着他把她转过来,她的脸因为挂着泪痕而现出窘色。他托起她的脸,亲了亲她的鼻尖。他紧紧拥住她,在她耳边低语:“一切都会好起来的。你的所有烦恼很快就会消失。”

Love Your Life 热爱生活

亨利·大卫·梭罗

However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is re flected from the windows of the almhouse as brightly as from the rich man's abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace. The town's poor seem to me often to live the most independent lives of any. Maybe they are simply great enough to receive without misgiving. Most think that they are above being supported by the town; but it oftener happens that they are not above supporting themselves by dishonest means, which should be more disreputable. Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage.

shun v. 有意回避

glorious adj. 美好的

misgiving n. 担心,疑虑

disreputable adj. 名声不好的

poverty n. 贫穷

不管你的生活如何卑微,你都得面对并好好过下去;不要逃避,也不要诅咒。它不像你想象的那样糟。你富有时,它却显得最不幸。挑剔的人在天堂也能挑出缺点。即使贫穷,也要热爱生活。即使在济贫院,你也可能有快乐、振奋与美好的时光。夕阳照在救济院窗子上的反光与照在富人豪宅上的一样耀目,两者门前的积雪一样在早春融化。我只知道平和宁静的人居于陋室也能像住在宫殿一样过得快乐满足。在我看来,城中的贫民往往过得最自由无拘。或许因为他们能够坦然接受生活,这很了不起。大多数人都认为自己无需依赖城镇的供养,然而常常是他们得靠不诚实的手段养活自己,这其实更不体面。像智者那样,视贫穷如园中的花草慢慢地培养吧。

August 八月之美

查尔斯·狄更斯

There is no month in the whole year in which nature wears a more beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring has many beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but the charms of this time of year are enhanced by their contrast with the winter season. August has no such advantage. It comes when we remember nothing but clear skies, green fields, and sweet-smelling flowers-when the recollection of snow, and ice, and bleak winds, has faded from our minds as completely as they have disappeared from the earth, -and yet what a pleasant time it is! Orchards and corn- fields ring with the hum of labour; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the corn, piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it wooed the sickle, tinges the landscape with a golden hue. A mellow softness appears to hang over the whole earth; the in fluence of the season seems to extend itself to the very wagon, whose slow motion across the well-reaped field, is perceptible only to the eye, but strikes with no harsh sound upon the ear.

bleak adj. 寒冷的

woo v. 求爱

sickle n. 镰刀

tinge v. 染色

hue n. 色调

perceptible adj. 看得见的

在一年之中,没有任何一个月比八月更美。春天多姿多彩,五月明媚清新、繁花盛开,但这时节正是因为冬日的衬托才更迷人。八月没有这样的优势。它到来时,我们只记得晴空、绿野,还有芬芳的花朵——对冰雪和寒风的记忆已经如它们自身一样消失无踪——然而八月是多么让人愉悦啊!果园和麦田到处充溢着忙碌劳作的声响;累累果实把果树压弯了腰,枝条沉甸甸地垂到地面;还有麦穗,有的码成漂亮的谷堆,有的在微风中摇摆,仿佛在向镰刀求爱,它们给周围的景致染上一层金色。整个大地笼罩在一种醺醺然的柔和气氛中;这秋季的气氛似乎也感染了马车,只见它慢悠悠地穿过收割过的田野,车轮却轻悄无声。

The Land of the Exile 流放的地方

Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what the time is.

There is no fun in my play, so I have come to you. It is Saturday, our holiday.

Leave off your work, mother; sit here by the window and tell me where the desert of Tep ntar in the fairy tale is?

The shadow of the rains has covered the day from end to end.

The fierce lightning is scratching the sky with its nails.

When the clouds rumble and it thunders, I love to be afraid in my heart and cling to you.

When the heavy rain patters for hours on the bamboo leaves, and our windows shake and rattle at the gusts of wind, I like to sit alone in the room, moter, with you, and hear you talk about the desert of Tep ntar in the fairy tale.

Where is it, mother, on the shore of what sea, at the foot of what hills, in the kingdom of what king?

There are no hedges there to mark the fields, no footpath across it by which the villagers reach their village in the evening, or the woman who gathers dry sticks in the forest can bring her load to the market. With patches of yellow grass in the sand and only one tree where the pair of wise old birds have their nest, lies the desert of Tep ntar.

I can imagine how, on just such a cloudy day, the young son of the king is riding alone on a grey horse through the desert, in search of the princess who lies imprisoned in the giant's palace across that unknown water.

When the haze of the rain comes down in the distant sky, and lightning starts up like a sudden fit of pain, does he remember his unhappy mother, abandoned by the king, sweeping the cow-stall and wiping her eyes, while he rides through the desert of Tep ntar in the fairy tale?

See, mother, it is almost dark before the day is over, and there are no travellers yonder on the village road.

The shepherd boy has gone home early from the pasture, and men have left their fields to sit on mats under the eaves of their huts, watching the scowling clouds.

Mother, I have left all my books on the shelf-do not ask me to do my lessons now.

When I grow up and am big like my father, I shall learn all that must be learnt.

But just for to-day, tell me, mother, where the desert of Tep ntar in the fairy tale is?

fierce adj. 强烈的

rattle v. 发出格格声

fit n. 爆发

yonder adv. 那边

妈妈,天空上的光成了灰色了;我不知道是什么时候了。

我玩得怪没劲儿的,所以到你这里来了。这是星期六,是我们的休息日。

放下你的活计,妈妈;坐在靠窗的一边,告诉我童话里的特潘塔沙漠在什么地方?

雨的影子遮掩了整个白天。

凶猛的电光用它的爪子抓着天空。

当乌云在轰轰地响着,天打着雷的时候,我总爱心里带着恐惧爬伏到你的身上。

当大雨倾泻在竹叶子上好几个钟头,而我们的窗户被狂风震得格格发响的时候,我就爱独自和你坐在屋里,妈妈,听你讲童话里的特潘塔沙漠的故事。

它在哪里,妈妈,在哪一个海洋的岸上,在哪些个山峰的脚下,在哪一个国王的国土里?

田地上没有此疆彼壤的界石,也没有村人在黄昏时走回家的,或妇人在树林里捡拾枯枝而捆载到市场上去的道路。沙地上只有一小块一小块的黄色草地,只有一株树,就是那一对聪明的老鸟儿在那里做窝的,那个地方就是特潘塔沙漠。

我能够想象得到,就在这样一个乌云密布的日子,国王的年轻的儿子,怎样地独自骑着一匹灰色马,走过这个沙漠,去寻找那被囚禁在不可知的重洋之外的巨人宫里的公主。

当雨雾在遥远的天空下降,电光像一阵突然发作的痛楚的痉挛似的闪射的时候,他可记得他的不幸的母亲,为国王所弃,正在扫除牛棚,眼里流着眼泪,当他骑马走过童话里的特潘塔沙漠的时候?

看,妈妈,一天还没有完,天色就差不多黑了,那边村庄的路上没有什么旅客了。

牧童早就从牧场上回家了,人们都已从田地里回来,坐在他们草屋的檐下的草席上,眼望着阴沉的云块。

妈妈,我把我所有的书本都放在书架上了——不要叫我现在做功课。

当我长大了,大得像爸爸一样的时候,我将会学到必须学的东西的。

但是,今天你可得告诉我,妈妈,童话里的特潘沙漠在什么地方?

In Search of Lost Time 追忆似水年华

马塞尔·普鲁斯特

Can it really be sixty-two years ago that I first saw you?

It is truly a lifetime, I know. But as I gaze into your eyes now, it seems like only yesterday that I first saw you, in that small cafe in Hanover Square.

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