The 20th Liang Shih-chiu Literary Award
Translation Contest in Verse
Translate the following poems into Chinese:
Nearing Again the Legendary Isle
Nearing again the legendary isle
Where sirens sang and mariners were skinned,
We wonder now what was there to beguile
That such stout fellows left their bones behind.
Those chorus-girls are surely past their prime,
Voices grow shrill and paint is wearing thin,
Lips hat sealed up the sense from gnawing time
Now beg the favour with a graveyard grin.
We have no flesh to spare and they can’t bite,
Hunger and sweat have stripped up to the bone;
A skeleton crew we toil upon the tide
And mock the theme-song meant to lure us on;
No need to stop the ears, avert the eyes
From purple rhetoric of evening skies.
C. Day Lewis (1904-1972)
On This Island
Look, stranger, on this island now
The leaping light for your delight discovers,
Stand stable here
And silent be,
That through the channels of the ear
May wander like a river
The swaying sound of the sea.
Here at a small field’s ending pause
When the chalk wall falls to the foam and its tall ledges
Oppose the pluck
And knock of the tide,
Andthe shingle scrambles after the suck-
-ing surf,
And a gull lodges
A moment on its sheer side.
Far off like floating seeds the ships
Diverge on urgent voluntary errands,
And the full view
Indeed may enter
And move in memory as nowthese clouds do,
That pass the harbour mirror
And all the summer through the water saunter.
W. H. Auden (1907-1974)
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The 20th Liang Shih-chiu Literary Award
Translation Contest in Prose
1. Translate the following passages into Chinese:
I have read many books on English prose, but have found it hard to profit by them; for the most part they are vague, unduly theoretical, and often scolding. But you cannot say this of Fowler’s Dictionary of Modern English Usage. It is a valuable work. Fowler liked simplicity, straightforwardness and common sense. He had a sound feeling that idiom was the backbone of a language and he was all for the racy phrase. He was no slavish admirer of logic and was willing enough to give usage right of way through the exact demesnes of grammar. English grammar is very difficult and few writers have avoided making mistakes in it. It is necessary to know grammar, and it is better to write grammatically than not, but it is well to remember that grammar is common speech formulated. Usage is the only test. I would prefer a phrase that was easy and unaffected to a phrase that was grammatical. Ihave given the matter of style a great deal of thought and have taken great pains. I have written few pages that I feel I could not improve and far too many that I have left with dissatisfaction. I cannot say of myself what Johnson said of Pope: “He never passed a fault unamended by indifference, nor quitted it by despair.” I do not write as I want to; I write as I can.
Anything is better than not to write clearly. There is nothing to be said against lucidity, and against simplicity only the possibility of dryness. This is a risk that is well worth taking when you reflect how much better it is to be bald than to wear a curly wig. But there is in euphony a danger that must be considered. It is very likely to be monotonous. I do not know how one can guard against this. I suppose the best chance is to have a more lively faculty of boredom than one’s readers so that one is wearied before they are. One must always be on the watch for mannerisms and when certain cadences come too easily to the pen ask oneself whether they have not become mechanical.
W. S. Maugham (1874-1965):
“How to Write Perfectly”
2. Translate the last three passages only. (The first passage is only for reference.)
Frederick is one of the founders of modern Germany, and Hitler has made a careful study of him. He plunged Europe into wars to advance his ambitions. He believed in force and fraud and cruelty, and in doing everything himself. He had a genius for organising, he preferred to employ inferior men, and he despised the human race. That is the dividing line between him and Voltaire. Voltaire believed in humanity. Frederick did not. “You don’t knowthis damned race of men,” he once exclaimed. “You don’t know them. I do.” He was a cynic, and having had a very unhappy childhood he felt till the end of his life that he had not been properly appreciated; and we know how dangerous such men can be, and what miseries they can bring upon themselves and others.
But there was another side to Frederick. He was a cultivated, sensitive gentleman. He was a good musician, he had read widely, and he had made a careful study of French. He even composed a number of French poems—they are not good, still they serve to show that to him German wasn’t everything. He was, in this way, more civilised than Hitler. There was no Nordic purity nonsense about him. He did not think that Germany was destined to rule the world: he knew that the world is a very complicated place, and that we have to live and let live in it; he even believed in freedom of speech. “People can say what theylike as long as I do what I like” was the way he put it. One day, as he went through Berlin he saw a caricature of himself on a wall, and all he said was: “Oh—hang it down lower so that it can be seen better.”
The visit began in a whirl of compliments. Voltaire called Frederick “The Solomon of the North,”Frederick declared that of all his victorious titles the most precious was Possessor of Voltaire. He made his guest a court official, housed him royally, gave him a handsome salary, and promised an extra salary to his niece, Madame Denis, if she would come to keep house for him. (We shall hear more of poor Madame Denis in a minute.) Witty conversation, philosophic discussion, delicious food—Frederickliked good food, though he was careful to get it cheap. Everything seemed perfect—but! Not long after his arrival, Voltaire wrote a letter to a friend in France in which the ominous little word “But”keeps occurring.
“The supper parties are delicious. The King is the life of the company. But, I have operas and comedies, reviews and concerts, my studies and books. But, but. Berlin is fine, the princesses charming, the maids of honour handsome. But.”
E. M. Forster (1879-1970):
“Voltaire and Frederick the Great”
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