CATTI二級筆譯日常練習(xí)：秋興

CATTI是學(xué)英語人的一塊試金石，平時(shí)都覺得自己英語學(xué)的還行，試過CATTI就知道自己是什么水平了。這里還是建議大家實(shí)踐為主，因?yàn)榉g這種東西，經(jīng)驗(yàn)和技巧太重要了。下面是小編整理的關(guān)于CATTI二級筆譯日常練習(xí)：秋興的內(nèi)容，希望對你有所幫助！

　　秋興

　　秋風(fēng)一天涼似一天。風(fēng)中桂花的幽香消散了，菊花的清香又飄起。窗外那棵老槐樹，不知什么時(shí)候有了黃葉，風(fēng)一緊，黃葉就飄到了窗臺上。在熱鬧的都市里，要想品味大自然的秋色，已經(jīng)不是一件容易的事情。在都市人的觀念中，季節(jié)的轉(zhuǎn)換，除了氣溫的變化，除了服裝的更替，似乎再也沒有別的什么了。

　　而我這個愛遙想的人，偏偏不愿意被四處逼來的鋼筋水泥囚禁了自己的思緒。聽著窗外的風(fēng)聲，我想著故鄉(xiāng)的遼闊透明的天空，想著長江邊上那一望無際的銀色蘆花，想著從蘆葦叢中撲楞著翅膀飛上天空的野鴨和大雁，想著由翠綠逐漸變成金黃色的田野……唉，可憐的都市人，就像關(guān)在籠子里的鳥，只能用可憐的回憶來想象奇妙的自然秋色了。

　　小時(shí)候，背過古人吟詠秋天的詩句：“秋風(fēng)起兮白云飛，草木黃落兮雁南歸”，“落霞與孤騖齊飛，秋水共長天一色”，“秋明不散霜飛晚，留得枯荷聽雨聲”，“落葉西風(fēng)時(shí)候，人共青山都疼’，“采菊東籬下，悠然見南山”……這些詩句使我對自然的秋色心馳神往。想起來，古人雖然住不進(jìn)現(xiàn)代都市的深院高樓，享受不到很多時(shí)髦便捷的現(xiàn)代化，但他們常常被奇妙的大自然陶醉，他們的心境常常和自然融為一體，世俗的喧囂和煩惱在青山綠水中煙消云散。這樣的境界，對久居都市的現(xiàn)代人來說，大概只能是夢境了。

　　年輕時(shí)代，我的生命也曾和大自然連成一體。在故鄉(xiāng)崇明島“插隊(duì)落戶”多年，日出而作，日落而息，曬黑了皮膚，磨硬了筋骨，聞慣了泥土的氣味，從外表上看，我曾經(jīng)和土生土長的鄉(xiāng)親們沒有了區(qū)別。然而骨子里的習(xí)性難改。當(dāng)我一個人坐在江邊的長堤上，面對著浩瀚的長江，面對著銀波蕩漾的蘆葦?shù)暮Ｑ?，傾聽著在天空中發(fā)出凄厲呼叫的雁群，我總是靈魂出竅，神思飛揚(yáng)。我曾經(jīng)想，在我們這個星球上，所有的生命都應(yīng)該是有知覺的，其中包括一滴水，一株蘆葦，一只大雁。我躺在濤聲不絕的江邊，閉上眼睛，幻想自己變成一滴水，在江海中自由自在地奔騰，變成一株蘆葦，搖動著銀色的頭顱，在秋風(fēng)中無拘無束地舞蹈，也變成一只大雁，拍動翅膀高飛在云天，去尋找遙遠(yuǎn)的目標(biāo)……我曾經(jīng)把自己的這些幻想寫在我的詩文里，這是對青春的謳歌，是對人生的憧憬，是對生命和自然天真直率的詰問。如今再回頭聆聽年輕時(shí)的心聲，我依舊怦然心動。當(dāng)年的濤聲、雁鳴、飛揚(yáng)的蘆花、摻雜著青草和野艾菊清香的潮濕的海風(fēng)、蕩漾著蟋蟀和紡織娘鳴唱的清涼的月光，仿佛仍在我的周圍飄動鳴響。故鄉(xiāng)啊，在你的身邊，這一切都還美妙一如當(dāng)年么?

　　然而一切都很遙遠(yuǎn)了。此刻，窗外流動的是都市的秋風(fēng)，沒有大自然清新遼遠(yuǎn)的氣息。今年夏天回故鄉(xiāng)時(shí)，我從長江邊采了幾枝未開放的蘆花，回來插在無水的盆中，它們居然都—一開出了銀色的花朵，使我欣喜不已。這些蘆花，把故鄉(xiāng)的秋色送到了我的面前。這些蘆花，也使我聯(lián)想到自己鬢邊頻生的白發(fā)，這是人生進(jìn)入秋季的象征，誰也無法阻擋這種進(jìn)程，就像無法阻擋秋天替代夏天，春天替代冬天一樣。不過我想，人的心靈和精神的四季，大概是可以由自己來調(diào)節(jié)的。當(dāng)生存的空間和生理的年齡像無情的網(wǎng)向你罩過來時(shí)，你的心靈卻可以脫穎而出，飛向你想抵達(dá)的任何境界，只要你有這樣的興致，有這樣的愿望，有這樣的勇氣。

　　是的，此刻，聆聽著秋聲，凝視著蘆花，我在問自己：你，還會不會變成一只大雁，到自由的天空中飛翔呢?

　　1995年10月27日

　　Autumn Sentiments

　　Day by day the autumn wind gets colder. The quiet fragrance of osmanthus has dispersed, while the chrysanthemums begin to send out a delicate fragrance. The yellow leaves on the old locust tree outside my window – when did they turn yellow anyway? – drift onto my windowsill at every strong puff of the wind. In a big, bustling city, it is not an easy thing to indulge a leisurely appreciation of the natural scenery of autumn. What does the seasonal transition imply, a city dweller might argue, except the change in temperature and the replacement of garments?

　　As a person with a propensity for dreams and fantasies, however, I simply refuse to have my thoughts confined in the concrete cement that keeps pushing against me from all directions. Listening to the whistling wind outside, I see in my mind’s eye the vast and transparent sky in my hometown, the boundless fields of silvery reed catkins on the banks of the Yangtze River, the flocks of wild ducks and wild geese fluttering into the sky from the reed clusters, and the farmlands on a subtle shift from green to golden…Alas and alack for the poor city dwellers, who have to imagine the natural scenery of autumn with their haphazard memories like caged bird!

　　In my childhood, I was taught to recite the ancient poems about autumn:

　　“In rising winds white clouds pass;

　　Wild geese head south over withering grass.”

　　“A lone wild duck along the setting sun fly;

　　The autumn river mirrors the color of the sky.”

　　“Dark clouds never disperse and frosts descend late,

　　Leaving the ravaged lotus to the pattering rain.”

　　“As the west wind sweeps the fallen leaves,

　　Who’s lean, the green mountain or me?”

　　“I pluck hedge-side chrysanthemums with pleasure

　　And see the tranquil Southern Mount in leisure.”

　　How I craved for the natural scenery of autumn when reading these beautiful poems! In my opinion, the ancients, although unable to enjoy the benefits of today’ facilities and amenities in high-rise buildings of modern cities, could nevertheless indulge themselves in the wonderful landscapes and merge their sentiments with the natural environments, thus reducing all the noises and worries of the mundane world into clouds over green mountains and mists over limpid streams. Such transcendent experience must be well beyond the modern people who are used to an urban life!

　　In my youth, my life was one with the nature. When I lived and worked as an “Educated Youth” for many years in my hometown Chongming Island, as in the old saying “Sun up, I work; sun down, I rest,” I developed a robust physique as well as a hard tan, and grew so accustomed to the smell of the earth that I looked no different from a local farmer. Yet, my deep-rooted habits remained, even in such circumstances. When I sat on the dyke alone and faced the mighty Yangtze River, watching the silvery waves of reed catkins and listening to the shrill cries of wild geese flocks overhead, I often entertained some wild thoughts as if my soul just flew out of its shell. I once believed that all the life forms on the planet should be sentient, such as a drop of water, a stalk of reed, and a wild goose. Lying down by the boisterous and torrential river, I closed my eyes and imagined myself to be a drop of water traveling freely in rivers and seas, a stalk of reed swaying its silvery catkins in the autumn wind for a dance in unrestrained blitheness, or a wild goose flapping its wings across the sky in search of a distant target…I wrote down all these fantasies in my poems and essays in an effort to sing of my youth, to dream about future, and to raise naïve but frank questions on life and nature. Now, when I look back on these youthful queries and aspirations, I can’t help feeling a throb of heartwarming excitement as the past scenes are brought back to me: river tides, wild geese’s cries, dancing reed catkins, humid sea winds tinged with fresh smells of grasses and wild tansies, and the cool moonshine over a choir of chirping crickets and katydids…O my hometown, is everything as enchanting as in the old days?

　　All these are but distant memories, though. At this moment, breezing past my window is the city’s autumn wind, without the fresh and vast smells of nature. In a trip to my hometown this summer, I plucked several immature reed stalks at the bank of the Yangtze River. After I returned home, I inserted them in a waterless vase. To my great delight, they developed silvery catkins one by one, which brought the autumn senses of my hometown right before my eyes. The silvery catkins also reminded me of the locks of silver hair growing at my temples, a symbol of the advent of the autumn in my life. No one can stop the coming of the inevitable, as no one can prevent the fact that autumn follows summer and winter follows autumn. I do believe, however, that the seasons of one’s mind and spirit can be subject to self-regulation: When your living place and your physical age tend to trap you like a merciless net, you can still free your heart and let your imagination fly to any destination of your choosing, as long as you are enthusiastic enough, wishful enough, and courageous enough.

　　Right now, listening to the rustles in the autumn wind and looking at the reed catkins, I ask myself: Will you be a wild goose again to wing the free sky?

　　October 27, 1995

以上就是小編整理的關(guān)于CATTI二級筆譯日常練習(xí)：秋興的內(nèi)容，大家切記要經(jīng)常動手翻譯，堅(jiān)持一段時(shí)間，一定會獲益頗豐！