a worn path 分析
A Worn Path《熟路》
坎 坷 之 路
Setting
• The action takes place in December, circa 1940, in southwestern Mississippi. The scene begins in the the wilderness and then shifts to the city of Natchez.
The plot of the story
• “A worn path”by Eudora Welty is a short story about an elderly AfricanAmerican woman named Phoenix Jackson who is walking through the woods into town. On her way she encounters many deterrents, like a large dog, barbed wire, and a hunter from whom she pockets a nickel that he drops, and a lady who ties her shoes along with many other obstacles. Her reason for going to Natchez is to pick up a supply of medicine for her grandson, who accidentally swallowed lye a few years before. It is implied that Pheonix Jackson has dementia for she sees hallucinations. Through numerous hints in the story it is also implied that the medicine she is picking up for grandson is not necessary because her grandson died many years ago. However she thinks that he is still alive due to her hallucinations. She tells the nurse in the hospital that that the damage to his throat never fully heals, and every so often his throat will begin to swell shut, which suggests that the grandson has died of suffocation. It is Old Phoenix's love for her grandson that causes her to face the trial of the journey to town, every time it is necessary, with no questions asked. At its heart, "A Worn Path" is a tale of undying love and devotion that pushes us toward a goal.
A Worn Path
熟路A WORN PATH[美]尤多拉·韦尔蒂（Eudora Welty）著黄梅译这是十二月里一个晴朗而又寒冽的清晨。
在僻远的乡下，有一位头上包着红布的黑人老太太，正在横穿松林的小路上走着。
她的名字叫菲尼克斯·杰克逊。
她身材矮小，老态龙钟，象祖父时代的旧钟的钟摆一样，左右摇晃着，不紧不慢地缓缓穿过阴幽的树影。
她拿着一支伞柄做的细小的手杖，不停地敲打着前边封冻的土地，在宁静的空气中发出持续的沉抑的响声，就象孤寂的小鸟的啼啭，情思冥邈。
她身穿一条拖到脚面的带黑条纹的长裙，系着同样长短的围裙。
围裙是用褪了色的糖口袋做的，兜里塞得鼓鼓囊囊。
她的衣着整齐、干净，可鞋带却没系上，每走一步都可能踩上拖散的鞋带而跌倒。
她直视着前方。
由于上了年纪，她目光黯淡，皮肤上布满无数纵横交错的皱纹，宛若前额上有一棵长满枝叉的小树。
不过，她的肤色却是黑里透着金黄，一抹黄色的光晕透过黑色皮肤映亮了她两颊的颧骨。
在红包头布下，尚未花白的纤细的黑发卷一直长到脖子那儿，散发出铜的气味。
密林中不时掠过一阵颤动。
老菲尼克斯说：“狐狸呀，猫头鹰呀，甲虫呀，野兔呀，浣熊呀，别的野兽们呀，你们统统都闪开吧！……别让小鹌鹑钻到我脚下……。
别让大野猪来挡我的道儿。
都别到我的路上来碍事。
我得赶老远老远的路呢。
”在她长着黑斑的小手里，手杖柔软得象赶车的皮鞭，她不时用它抽打灌木丛，仿佛是要惊走藏匿在那儿的野兽。
她向前走着。
松林浓密而静谧。
风摇动着树梢，松针在阳光照耀下闪闪夺目。
松果象羽毛一般轻飘飘地落下来。
深谷中野鸽在凄声哀鸣——对它来说，时间还不算太晚。
路伸延到一座小山上。
“走到这会儿，腿上就象拖着铁镣，”她用老人们在自言自语时惯用的争辩口吻说。
“不知什么东西总想把我拴在这山上，求我停下来。
”等她爬上山顶后，她转过身来，严厉地将她走过的路仔细打量了一番，半晌才说：“上山穿过了松树林，现在下山该过橡树林了。
”她睁圆了双眼，开始小心翼翼地向下走。
_A Worn Path_ Text[1]
![_A Worn Path_ Text[1]](https://img.taocdn.com/s3/m/fc09ea54804d2b160b4ec028.png)
English 10Mr. GunnarA Worn Pathby Eudora WeltyIt was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning. Far out in the country there was an old Negro woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from side to side in her steps, with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin, small cane made from an umbrella, and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her. This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air, that seemed meditative like the chirping of a solitary little bird.She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket: all neat and tidy, but every time she took a step she might have fallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age. Her skin had a pattern all its own of numberless branching wrinkles and as though a whole little tree stood in the middle of her forehead, but a golden color ran underneath, and the two knobs of her cheeks were illumined by a yellow burning under the dark. Under the red rag her hair came down on her neck in the frailest of ringlets, still black, and with an odor like copper.Now and then there was a quivering in the thicket. Old Phoenix said, "Out of my way, all you foxes, owls, beetles, jack rabbits, coons and wild animals!. . . Keep out from under these feet, little bob-whites.... Keep the big wild hogs out of my path. Don't let none of those come running my direction. I got a long way." Under her small black-freckled hand her cane, limber as a buggy whip, would switch at the brush as if to rouse up any hiding things.On she went. The woods were deep and still. The sun made the pine needles almost too bright to look at, up where the wind rocked. The cones dropped as light as feathers. Down in the hollow was the mourning dove—it was not too late for him.The path ran up a hill. "Seem like there is chains about my feet, time I get this far," she said, in the voice of argument old people keep to use with themselves. "Something always take a hold of me on this hill— pleads I should stay."After she got to the top she turned and gave a full, severe look behind her where she had come. "Up through pines," she said at length. "Now down through oaks."Her eyes opened their widest, and she started down gently. But before she got to the bottom of the hill a bush caught her dress.Her fingers were busy and intent, but her skirts were full and long, so that before she could pull them free in one place they were caught in another. It was not possible to allow the dress to tear. "I in the thorny bush," she said. "Thorns, you doing your appointed work. Never want to let folks pass, no sir. Old eyes thought you was a pretty little green bush."Finally, trembling all over, she stood free, and after a moment dared to stoop for her cane."Sun so high!" she cried, leaning back and looking, while the thick tears went over her eyes. "The time getting all gone here."At the foot of this hill was a place where a log was laid across the creek."Now comes the trial," said Phoenix.Putting her right foot out, she mounted the log and shut her eyes. Lifting her skirt, leveling her cane fiercely before her, like a festival figure in some parade, she began to march across. Then she opened her eyes and she was safe on the other side."I wasn't as old as I thought," she said.But she sat down to rest. She spread her skirts on the bank around her and folded her hands over her knees. Up above her was a tree in a pearly cloud of mistletoe. She did not dare to close her eyes, and when a little boy brought her a plate with a slice of marble-cake on it she spoke to him. "That would be acceptable," she said. But when she went to take it there was just her own hand in the air.So she left that tree, and had to go through a barbed-wire fence. There she had to creep and crawl, spreading her knees and stretching her fingers like a baby trying to climb the steps. But she talked loudly to herself: she could not let her dress be torn now, so late in the day, and she could not pay for having her arm or her leg sawed off if she got caught fast where she was.At last she was safe through the fence and risen up out in the clearing. Big dead trees, like black men with one arm, were standing in the purple stalks of the withered cotton field. There sat a buzzard."Who you watching?"In the furrow she made her way along."Glad this not the season for bulls," she said, looking sideways, "and the good Lord made his snakes to curl up and sleep in the winter. A pleasure I don't see no two-headed snake coming around that tree, where it come once. It took a while to get by him, back in the summer."She passed through the old cotton and went into a field of dead corn. It whispered and shook and was taller than her head. "Through the maze now," she said, for there was no path.Then there was something tall, black, and skinny there, moving before her.At first she took it for a man. It could have been a man dancing in the field. But she stood still and listened, and it did not make a sound. It was as silent as a ghost."Ghost," she said sharply, "who be you the ghost of? For I have heard of nary death close by."But there was no answer--only the ragged dancing in the wind.She shut her eyes, reached out her hand, and touched a sleeve. She found a coat and inside that an emptiness, cold as ice."You scarecrow," she said. Her face lighted. "I ought to be shut up for good," she said with laughter. "My senses is gone. I too old. I the oldest people I ever know. Dance, old scarecrow," she said, "while I dancing with you."She kicked her foot over the furrow, and with mouth drawn down, shook her head once or twice in a little strutting way. Some husks blew down and whirled in streamers about her skirts.Then she went on, parting her way from side to side with the cane, through the whispering field. At last she came to the end, to a wagon track where the silver grass blew between the red ruts. The quail were walking around like pullets, seeming all dainty and unseen."Walk pretty," she said. "This the easy place. This the easy going."She followed the track, swaying through the quiet bare fields, through the little strings of trees silver in their dead leaves, past cabins silver from weather, with the doors and windows boarded shut, all like old women under a spell sitting there. "I walking in their sleep," she said, nodding her head vigorously.In a ravine she went where a spring was silently flowing through a hollow log. Old Phoenix bent and drank. "Sweet-gum makes the water sweet," she said, and drank more. "Nobody know who made this well, for it was here when I was born."The track crossed a swampy part where the moss hung as white as lace from every limb. "Sleep on, alligators, and blow your bubbles." Then the track went into the road.Deep, deep the road went down between the high green-colored banks. Overhead the live-oaks met, and it was as dark as a cave.A black dog with a lolling tongue came up out of the weeds by the ditch. She was meditating, and not ready, and when he came at her she only hit him a little with her cane. Over she went in the ditch, like a little puff of milkweed.Down there, her senses drifted away. A dream visited her, and she reached her hand up, but nothing reached down and gave her a pull. So she lay there and presently went to talking. "Old woman," she said to herself, "that black dog come up out of the weeds to stall you off, and now there he sitting on his fine tail, smiling at you."A white man finally came along and found her—a hunter, a young man, with his dog on a chain."Well, Granny!" he laughed. "What are you doing there?""Lying on my back like a June-bug waiting to be fumed over, mister," she said, reaching up her hand.He lifted her up, gave her a swing in the air, and set her down. "Anything broken, Granny?""No sir, them old dead weeds is springy enough," said Phoenix, when she had got her breath. "I thank you for your trouble.""Where do you live, Granny?" he asked, while the two dogs were growling at each other."Away back yonder, sir, behind the ridge. You can't even see it from here.""On your way home?""No sir, I going to town.""Why, that's too far! That's as far as I walk when I come out myself, and I get something for my trouble." He patted the stuffed bag he carried, and there hung down a little closed claw. It was one of the bob-whites, with its beak hooked bitterly to show it was dead. "Now you go on home, Granny!""I bound to go to town, mister," said Phoenix. "The time come around."He gave another laugh, filling the whole landscape. "I know you old colored people! Wouldn't miss going to town to see Santa Claus!"But something held old Phoenix very still. The deep lines in her face went into a fierce and different radiation. Without warning, she had seen with her own eyes a flashing nickel fall out of the man's pocket onto the ground."How old are you, Granny?" he was saying."There is no telling, mister," she said, "no telling."Then she gave a little cry and clapped her hands and said, "Git on away from here, dog! Look! Look at that dog!" She laughed as if in admiration. "He ain't scared of nobody. He a big black dog." She whispered, "Sic him!""Watch me get rid of that cur," said the man. "Sic him, Pete! Sic him!"Phoenix heard the dogs fighting, and heard the man running and throwing sticks. She even heard a gunshot. But she was slowly bending forward by that time, further and further forward, the lids stretched down over her eyes, as if she were doing this in her sleep. Her chin was lowered almost to her knees. The yellow palm of her hand came out from the fold of her apron. Her fingers slid down and along the ground under the piece of money with the grace and care they would have in lifting an egg from under a setting hen. Then she slowly straightened up, she stood erect, and the nickel was in her apron pocket. A bird flew by. Her lips moved. "God watching me the whole time. I come to stealing."The man came back, and his own dog panted about them. "Well, I scared him off that time," he said, and then he laughed and lifted his gun and pointed it at Phoenix.She stood straight and faced him."Doesn't the gun scare you?" he said, still pointing it."No, sir, I seen plenty go off closer by, in my day, and for less than what I done," she said, holding utterly still.He smiled, and shouldered the gun. "Well, Granny," he said, "you must be a hundred years old, and scared of nothing. I'd give you a dime if I had any money with me. But you take my advice and stay home, and nothing will happen to you.""I bound to go on my way, mister," said Phoenix. She inclined her head in the red rag. Then they went in different directions, but she could hear the gun shooting again and again over the hill.She walked on. The shadows hung from the oak trees to the road like curtains. Then she smelled wood-smoke, and smelled the river, and she saw a steeple and the cabins on their steep steps. Dozens of little black children whirled around her. There ahead was Natchez shining. Bells were ringing. She walked on.In the paved city it was Christmas time. There were red and green electric lights strung and crisscrossed everywhere, and all turned on in the daytime. Old Phoenix would have been lost if she had not distrusted her eyesight and depended on her feet to know where to take her.She paused quietly on the sidewalk where people were passing by. A lady came along in the crowd, carrying an armful of red-, green- and silver-wrapped presents; she gave off perfume like the red roses in hot summer, and Phoenix stopped her."Please, missy, will you lace up my shoe?" She held up her foot."What do you want, Grandma?""See my shoe," said Phoenix. "Do all right for out in the country, but wouldn't look right to go in a big building.""Stand still then, Grandma," said the lady. She put her packages down on the sidewalk beside her and laced and tied both shoes tightly."Can't lace 'em with a cane," said Phoenix. "Thank you, missy. I doesn't mind asking a nice lady to tie up my shoe, when I gets out on the street."Moving slowly and from side to side, she went into the big building, and into a tower of steps, where she walked up and around and around until her feet knew to stop.She entered a door, and there she saw nailed up on the wall the document that had been stamped with the gold seal and framed in the gold frame, which matched the dream that was hung up in her head."Here I be," she said. There was a fixed and ceremonial stiffness over her body."A charity case, I suppose," said an attendant who sat at the desk before her.But Phoenix only looked above her head. There was sweat on her face, the wrinkles in her skin shone like a bright net."Speak up, Grandma," the woman said. "What's your name? We must have your history, you know. Have you been here before? What seems to be the trouble with you?"Old Phoenix only gave a twitch to her face as if a fly were bothering her."Are you deaf?" cried the attendant.But then the nurse came in."Oh, that's just old Aunt Phoenix," she said. "She doesn't come for herself—she has a little grandson. She makes these trips just as regular as clockwork. She lives away back off the OldNatchez Trace." She bent down. "Well, Aunt Phoenix, why don't you just take a seat? We won't keep you standing after your long trip." She pointed.The old woman sat down, bolt upright in the chair."Now, how is the boy?" asked the nurse.Old Phoenix did not speak."I said, how is the boy?"But Phoenix only waited and stared straight ahead, her face very solemn and withdrawn into rigidity."Is his throat any better?" asked the nurse. "Aunt Phoenix, don't you hear me? Is your grandson's throat any better since the last time you came for the medicine?"With her hands on her knees, the old woman waited, silent, erect and motionless, just as if she were in armor."You mustn't take up our time this way, Aunt Phoenix," the nurse said. "Tell us quickly about your grandson, and get it over. He isn't dead, is he?'At last there came a flicker and then a flame of comprehension across her face, and she spoke."My grandson. It was my memory had left me. There I sat and forgot why I made my long trip.""Forgot?" The nurse frowned. "After you came so far?"Then Phoenix was like an old woman begging a dignified forgiveness for waking up frightened in the night. "I never did go to school, I was too old at the Surrender," she said in a soft voice. "I'm an old woman without an education. It was my memory fail me. My little grandson, he is just the same, and I forgot it in the coming.""Throat never heals, does it?" said the nurse, speaking in a loud, sure voice to old Phoenix. By now she had a card with something written on it, a little list. "Yes. Swallowed lye. When was it?—January—two, three years ago?"Phoenix spoke unasked now. "No, missy, he not dead, he just the same. Every little while his throat begin to close up again, and he not able to swallow. He not get his breath. He not able to help himself. So the time come around, and I go on another trip for the soothing medicine.""All right. The doctor said as long as you came to get it, you could have it," said the nurse. "But it's an obstinate case.""My little grandson, he sit up there in the house all wrapped up, waiting by himself," Phoenix went on. "We is the only two left in the world. He suffer and it don't seem to put him back at all. He got a sweet look. He going to last. He wear a little patch quilt and peep out holding his mouth open like a little bird. I remembers so plain now. I not going to forget him again, no, the whole enduring time. I could tell him from all the others in creation.""All right." The nurse was trying to hush her now. She brought her a bottle of medicine. "Charity," she said, making a check mark in a book.Old Phoenix held the bottle close to her eyes, and then carefully put it into her pocket."I thank you," she said."It's Christmas time, Grandma," said the attendant. "Could I give you a few pennies out of my purse?""Five pennies is a nickel," said Phoenix stiffly."Here's a nickel," said the attendant.Phoenix rose carefully and held out her hand. She received the nickel and then fished the other nickel out of her pocket and laid it beside the new one. She stared at her palm closely, with her head on one side.Then she gave a tap with her cane on the floor."This is what come to me to do," she said. "I going to the store and buy my child a little windmill they sells, made out of paper. He going to find it hard to believe there such a thing in the world. I'll march myself back where he waiting, holding it straight up in this hand."She lifted her free hand, gave a little nod, turned around, and walked out of the doctor's office. Then her slow step began on the stairs, going down.。
从《秋思》不同译本的比较谈汉英诗歌翻译
从《秋思》不同译本的比较谈汉英诗歌翻译形合与意合是汉英对比研究中的一组最重要的对应关系，也是衡量英汉互译质量的重要标准之一。
《天净沙·秋思》是一首完全由意象组合而成的元曲，堪称经典的中国“意象派”诗歌。
本文将以英汉语中的形合与意合为理论依据，对马致远《天净沙·秋思》的多个译本，尤其是以许渊冲先生的英译本从选词、句式和音韵、意象传递等方面进行试探性的分析，为古诗英译的过程提供一定的参照依据。
标签：《天净沙·秋思》形合意合诗歌翻译一、诗歌翻译特点解析诗歌的翻译有别于翻译其他类型的文字，如小说、剧本、散文及字幕等，其英译有三个色彩鲜明的特点。
1.中国古诗尤重韵律美，“音美”是诗歌的第一考量。
一首流传之广的好诗首先要有朗朗上口的节奏感和韵律美。
很多中国古诗起初都是可以作为歌曲传唱的，所以悦耳尤为重要。
2.不同诗歌类型都有特色鲜明的句法，一般具有一字一音一意的特点。
诗歌语言力求短小精悍，寥寥数语便可描景抒意。
在写法上，中国古诗尤重意合，所以在句法上删减了连接词或逻辑词的使用，这一点和极重形合、行文上需要功能词辅佐的英文相比可谓大相径庭，此点是古诗英译中需要弥合的重点。
3.意境难描。
“画虎画皮难画骨”，译诗译形难译境。
立意深远，境界幽深是一首好诗的精髓和灵魂所在。
中国古典诗歌十分讲究意境的创造。
意境是中国古典诗歌美学中的一个重要范畴，它的本质特征在于情景交融、心物合一。
情与景能否妙合，成为能否构成意境的关键。
清王夫之《萱斋诗话》曰：“情景名为二，而实不可离。
神于诗者，妙合无垠。
”王国维《人间词话删稿》云：“一切景语皆情语也。
”。
然而，在翻译中鉴于中西方文化的差异，很多意象的文化内涵不同，直接翻译可能导致丢失原文中的意境美。
二、《天净沙·秋思》不同译文之比较本文选取了施文林（Wayne Schlepp），丁祖鑫和伯顿·拉夫尔（Burton Raffel），以及许淵冲四位大家共三个版本的英译，并对照汉诗英译的三个特点，对不同译法进行分析，以图找到可供借鉴的翻译方法。
A Worn Path《熟路》ppt
• A particularly tense episode occurs when she encounters a white hunter who appears friendly at first, but then makes a condescending suggestion that she is probably "going to town to see Santa Claus." When he inadvertently drops a nickel, Phoenix distracts him and manages to pick it up, feeling that she is stealing as she does so. The hunter suddenly points his gun at her, and while he may have seen her pick up the nickel, it is unclear what his actual motivation is for this threatening gesture. Phoenix, however, does not appear afraid; the hunter lowers his gun and she manages to continue on her way unharmed and without returning the nickel.
•
The landscape as Phoenix perceives it becomes a primary focus of the vividly
evoked narrative; nature is depicted as alternately beautiful and as an impediment to
wardrop均衡原理
wardrop均衡原理朋友，今天咱们来唠唠这个Wardrop均衡原理。
你可能一听这名字，觉得特别高大上，有点晕乎乎的。
其实啊，这原理就像是交通世界里的一种小默契呢。
你想啊，在马路上，车来车往的。
每辆车的司机都有自己的小算盘，都想走最省时、最方便的路。
这就跟我们平常出门一样，要是有两条路能到同一个地方，一条堵得要死，一条比较顺畅，那咱肯定想走顺畅的呀。
Wardrop均衡原理说的就是这么个事儿，不过是从整体交通网络的角度来看的。
在这个原理里呢，有两种均衡情况。
一种叫用户均衡，就像是一群小伙伴去玩，每个人都按照自己觉得最舒服、最快捷的方式走。
比如说，早上大家都赶着去上班或者上学，那每个人都会选择自己觉得最不堵的路。
这时候呢，就会出现一种平衡状态，就是所有在路上的人都觉得，我换条路也不会更快啦，这就是用户均衡啦。
这就好像是大家在无形之中达成了一种默契，你走你的，我走我的，但是整体上就像被一只无形的手指挥着，达到了一种相对稳定的状态。
还有一种是系统最优均衡呢。
这就有点像有个超级聪明的交通指挥家在天上看着，他能看到整个交通网络的情况，然后让大家走的路，是能让整个交通系统最顺畅的。
这种情况下，可能有些车要牺牲一点自己的小利益，走一些相对不那么理想的路，但是这样能让整个交通网络的效率最高。
这就好比是大家为了集体的利益，稍微委屈一下自己。
你看啊，这Wardrop均衡原理在现实生活里可太常见了。
比如说在城市的交通高峰期，有的路突然车流量就大起来了，那就是因为很多司机都觉得这条路是个好选择，都往这儿挤。
这时候如果没有一些交通管制措施，就很容易乱套。
就像一群小蚂蚁都往一个小洞口挤，最后谁也走不了。
但是呢，这原理也不是完美的。
有时候它也会被一些突发情况打乱。
比如说路上突然出了个交通事故，那原本均衡的状态就被打破啦。
这时候那些按照均衡原理走的司机们就会开始重新找路，整个交通又会陷入一种混乱，然后再慢慢调整，重新寻找新的均衡。
浅析《天净沙·秋思》的两个英译版本的形合
《浅析《天净沙·秋思》的两个英译版本的形合》摘要：英语“以形统意”，“以形摄神”，“以形显义”而汉语“以意统形”，“以神摄形”“遗形写神”，traveler isstill at the end of the world.（1），译文把“夕阳西下，断肠人在天涯”与前一句“古道西风瘦马”结合在一起描绘，仍用主谓结构为主，辅以独立主格和分词结构，增加了许多表动作和状态的词语，如has to go on down，moaning，his groaning，trudging towards，farther and farther等章懿微摘要：就英语和汉语而言，在语言学上最重要的一个不同是形合和意合。
本文将根据意合文本转向形合文本的微妙之处，对比分析马致远《天净沙·秋思》的两个英译版本，从而探索出翻译过程中应该注意的问题。
关键词：形合;意合;《天净沙·秋思》;翻译一、形合和意合的不同以及对翻译的影响所谓形合，指的是词语或分句之间用语言形式手段（如关联词）连接起来，表达语法关系和逻辑关系。
英语造句主要采用形合法。
（1）所谓意合，指的是词语或分句之间用不同语言形式手段连接，其中的语法意义和逻辑关系通过词语或分句的含义表达。
美国翻译学家E·Nida（2）认为在英语以及大多数的英欧语言中，句子的从属关系大多是用连接词如if，although，because，when，in order that，so，so that等明确地表示出来的，但是，这同一概念，我们用意合的方法基本上也同样可以表达出来。
那就是说，将两个句子放在一起并没有连接词表明其相互关系，而从句子的本身体现出来。
王力指出：“西洋语的结构好像连环，虽则环与环都联络起来，毕竟有联络的痕迹;汉语的结构好像天衣无缝，只是一块一块的硬凑，凑起来还不让它有痕迹。
”（3）英语采用形合法。
英语造句常用各种形式手段连接词、语、分句或从句，注重显性衔接，注重句子形式、结构完整、以形显义。
从英汉对比研究角度赏析中国古诗歌《天净沙·秋思》的四个英译本
从英汉对比研究角度赏析中国古诗歌《天净沙•秋思》的四个英译本周丽江西财经大学摘要：中国文化博大精深，在几千年的历史长河之中涌现过很多诗词名家，产出过很多优秀精良的著作，很多作品在历史的变迁中遗失，而有些保存良好，被后代人世世传颂。
在世界一体化的大趋势下，中国文学作品受到国外的欣赏，但对于异国读者而言，阅读和理解极具中国传统文化气息的作品似乎困难了些。
这时，译者们对中国古诗歌的翻译就很重要了。
此文以中国古诗歌《天净沙•秋思》为例，从英汉对比研究的角度赏析四个不同的英译本的语言特色。
关键词：诗歌；翻译；英汉对比研究一、古代诗歌《天净沙•秋思》全文及释义“枯藤老树昏鸦；小桥流水人家；古道西风瘦马；夕阳西下，断肠人在天涯。
”诗歌原文用现今的白话来解释的话，意思就是：干枯的藤曼缠绕在久经衰老的树干上；几只黄昏归巢的乌鸦停足歇落在孱弱的树枝上。
树下有座小桥，溪水流淌着，零星几户人家散落在不远处的小山坡上。
古旧的道路上行人寥寥无几，只有秋风萧瑟，寒意阵阵。
一位孤单落寞的游子骑着一匹瘦骨嶙峋的马儿从旁边缓缓经过。
此时远处的夕阳慢慢淡出地平线，而远离故乡许久的游子却依旧是在天涯四处漂泊流浪。
二、诗歌语言用词特点及四个英译本这首诗歌由元朝马致远所作，篇幅极短，意境却极其深刻形象，简短几句，仅用了28个字便将凄凉落寞的一幅深秋思乡图勾勒而出，浮于纸上。
这首诗篇幅不长，用词极其精炼，大多数都是“二字名词”，28个字里就涉及了12个名词：“藤、树、鸦、桥、水、人家、道、风、马、夕阳、人、天涯”，而剩下的16个字皆是形容词来形容前文的这些名词物体和人。
这首诗歌获得了周德清和王国维的“秋思之祖”和“深得唐人绝句妙境”的高赞。
这28个字当真是体现了中华文化的博大精深，字字珠玑。
而在中国的文章里，这首诗歌采用了白描的描写手法，简洁精炼的词组短句就精妙绝伦地在读者面前勾勒出一幅生动的图景，即使是古时候的作品，现如今这么多年过去，读来亦是感受颇深。
a worn path精华版ppt part I 2
• A Worn Path was published on the Atlantic in January,1941,and won O’Henry Prize in thesame year.Since then,it has been frequently anthologized as a masterpiece into American textbooks. • A short story about an old Negro woman’ trip to town for some medicine for her grandson. On her way she encounters many deterrents, like a dog, heavy brush, and a hunter and so on.
a path of the eternal love between families and people a path that the black fight for freedom and equality a path of human suvival
情简介
•
《熟路》的情节是一段旅程，一名孱弱的老妪 在寒冷的冬日行走于山径，为的是能进城替患白 喉病的小孙子取药。为了医治孙儿的病，这位老 祖母仍然不顾险阻进城取药。菲尼克斯这一路上， 穿过了荆棘，湍急的溪流，锋利的铁丝网和迷宫 般的田地，但她似乎并没有被困难吓倒，反而很 享受她的旅途。
about the theme
A Worn Path
Eudora Welty
Eudora Welty's House
Apr 13th,1909-July 23rd,2001 A Southern American Writer
a worn path 主题分析
表达了菲尼克斯对孙子的永不磨灭的爱。
She does dot come for herself----she makesthese trips just as regular as clockwork.Shelives away back off the Old Natchez Trace.她不是自己来看病的——她有个小孙子。
她每隔一段时间来一趟，像钟表一样有规律。
她住在纳齐兹古道那边很远很远的地方。
I remember so plain now.I not going to forget him agai n,no,the whole enduring time.I could tell him from all the others in creation现在我记得一清二楚。
我再不会忘记他。
只要我活着，就再不会忘记。
我能从所有的人中认出他来。
面对困难险阻的无所畏惧，勇往直前的决心和坚持不懈的精神。
Trembling all over,she stood free,and after a m oment dared to stoop for her cane."Sun so high !"she cried,leaning back and looking,while the thick tears went over her eyes."The time getting all gone here.最后，她终于摆脱了荆棘，浑身哆嗦着，站了一会儿之后，才敢俯身去拾手杖。
“太阳已经这么高了!”她叫道，向后仰身望着天空，厚厚一层泪水涌进眼眶，“时间都白白耗在这儿了。
菲尼克斯这一路上，穿过了荆棘，湍急的溪流，锋利的铁丝网和迷宫般的田地，但她并没有被困难吓倒，反而很享受她的旅程。
”乐观积极的心态以及心中对生活充满的希望。
每当她遇到障碍物时，她总是用幽默诙谐的语言来打趣自己，她一路自言自语，警告小动物们别来打扰他赶路。
也谈《天净沙·秋思》英译本的赏析
也谈《天净沙秋思》英译本的赏析苏进德【摘要】被誉为“秋思之祖”的元曲《天净沙·秋思》可谓脍炙人口,意境深远,千年传诵,因此也出现了多种英译本以传译其艺术魅力.并且有很多学者也从各种不同的视角赏析比较各译本的优劣,可谓仁者见仁,智者见智.笔者查阅了多种译本,并搜集了40余篇对这些译本赏析的论文,在此基础上,试图总结比较各译本及对其赏析的多种不同的视角,以得出一些共性的认识,并试图从作画的角度对译本作一评析,提出新的鉴赏视角,以与各位共享交流.【期刊名称】《齐鲁师范学院学报》【年(卷),期】2013(028)002【总页数】4页(P141-144)【关键词】源语分析;视角汇总;共识;作画【作者】苏进德【作者单位】莱芜职业技术学院,山东莱芜271100【正文语种】中文【中图分类】H315.9“元曲四大家”之一马致远的《天净沙·秋思》，素有“秋思之祖”的美誉，字字千金，令人回味。
许多译者试图将其艺术魅力更好的传译出来，便出现了不同的译本，后来，许多学者从不同视角评析比较各译本的优劣，试图提出新的观点，精益求精，以求出现完美的译本。
可谓仁者见仁，智者见智。
为此，笔者查阅了多种译本，并搜集了大量对译本赏析的论文，试图总结比较一下各译本及对其的赏析，以得出一些共识，并试图从作画这一新的角度对译本做一探讨评析。
1 源语分析天净沙·秋思枯藤老树昏鸦，小桥流水人家，古道西风瘦马。
夕阳西下，断肠人在天涯。
此元曲中，作者选取了十个典型意象，叠加勾勒出一副秋天萧索凄凉的画面，将天涯游子怀才不遇、漂泊天涯的愁思表现得淋漓尽致。
“枯藤老树昏鸦，小桥流水人家，古道西风瘦马”，18个字，9个名词词组，简短但意境深远。
枯藤缠树，暮鸦归林，而小桥流水，庭院安闲，对比鲜明，跃然纸上。
“古道西风瘦马”承上启下，西风冷落，古道瘦马独行，这种飘泊不定的羁旅生涯，让人深感人生的迷惘。
是古道而非喧闹繁华的大道，是瘦马而非肥马，景色荒凉，一切景语皆情语。
课文a worn path中的literary knowledge
课文a worn path中的literary knowledge摘要：1.课文《A Worn Path》的文学知识概述2.文学作品中的象征主义3.角色描绘与故事情节4.作品的历史背景与社会意义正文：1.课文《A Worn Path》的文学知识概述《A Worn Path》是美国著名作家Eudora Welty 的一篇短篇小说。
该作品讲述了一位年迈的非洲裔美国女性，为了给生病的孙子送药，不惧艰辛，沿着一条熟悉的小路穿越森林的故事。
这篇小说以其独特的叙事手法和深刻的人文关怀，展示了美国南部非洲裔美国人的生活现状以及他们面临的种种困难。
2.文学作品中的象征主义在《A Worn Path》中，作者Eudora Welty 运用了象征主义手法，通过一些具体的事物和场景，来传达更深层次的意义。
例如，故事中的那条小路象征着主人公的坚定信念和毅力，而森林则象征着生活中的种种困难与挑战。
这些象征元素使得作品的内涵更加丰富，也让读者在阅读过程中产生更多的共鸣。
3.角色描绘与故事情节《A Worn Path》的主人公是一位年迈的非洲裔美国女性。
作者通过对她的外貌、言行举止以及心理活动的描绘，成功地塑造了一个勇敢、善良、坚定的形象。
故事情节紧凑，沿着主人公送药的旅程展开，通过一系列具体的事件，展现了她不屈不挠的精神。
4.作品的历史背景与社会意义《A Worn Path》发表于1939 年，正值美国经济大萧条时期，非洲裔美国人面临着严重的种族歧视和不公正待遇。
作品通过描绘主人公的生活，反映了当时非洲裔美国人的生存现状，呼吁社会关注这一群体的权益问题。
同时，作品也展示了人类面对困境时的坚韧和勇敢，具有深刻的社会意义。
课文a worn path中的literary knowledge
课文a worn path中的literary knowledge摘要：1.课文简介2.文学知识分析3.主题探讨4.写作技巧分析5.总结正文：【课文简介】《A Worn Path》是美国作家秦瑞·卡罗尔（Eudora Welty）创作的一篇短篇小说。
故事讲述了年迈的黑人妇女菲律宾·杰克逊（Phoenix Jackson）为了给孙子买药，不惧艰辛，穿越森林走过的熟悉道路。
在这个过程中，她遇到了各种困难，但都凭借坚定的信念和聪明才智克服。
故事以生动的细节和深刻的情感展示了杰克逊夫人坚强、善良、聪明的形象，以及对家庭和生活的热爱。
【文学知识分析】在这篇文章中，作者运用了象征、比喻、悬念等文学手法。
象征体现在道路的象征意义，它既代表了杰克逊夫人的生命历程，也象征着生活中的困境与挑战。
比喻则表现在人物形象的塑造上，如杰克逊夫人犹如凤凰涅槃，历经磨难仍能坚韧不拔。
悬念则体现在故事情节的发展过程中，让读者好奇杰克逊夫人究竟能否完成任务。
【主题探讨】《A Worn Path》的主题是关于生存、母爱和人性。
通过杰克逊夫人的形象，作者展示了生活中普通人物面对困境时的勇敢和智慧。
母爱在这里表现为杰克逊夫人为了孙子不惜一切代价，突显了母爱的伟大。
此外，故事还揭示了人性的善良，如杰克逊夫人在困境中得到陌生人的帮助，以及她自己也在帮助他人。
【写作技巧分析】在这篇文章中，作者运用了细腻的描绘手法，生动地展现了杰克逊夫人走过的道路和她所遇到的困境。
同时，通过内心独白和对话等方式，展现了人物丰富的内心世界。
此外，故事情节的安排也展现了作者的巧妙构思，使读者在阅读过程中产生共鸣。
【总结】《A Worn Path》是一篇充满象征、比喻和悬念的短篇小说，通过讲述杰克逊夫人的故事，展示了生存、母爱和人性主题。
作者运用生动的描绘和细腻的情感，让读者对这位勇敢面对生活的黑人妇女产生敬意。
a worn path读后感
a worn path读后感《A Worn Path》是美国著名作家欧亨利的一部短篇小说，讲述了一个老奶奶为了给孙子买药物而踏上了一条险象环生的旧路的故事。
小说通过老奶奶的坚韧和毅力，展现了人性的顽强和勇敢，同时也揭示了社会对弱势群体的不公和歧视。
读完这篇小说，我深受触动，对人性和社会的思考也更加深刻。
首先，小说中的老奶奶给我留下了深刻的印象。
她年迈但依然坚韧，为了孙子不顾一切地前行。
在旧路上，她克服了种种困难和危险，包括蛇、沼泽和破旧的桥梁。
她的坚韧和毅力让我深受感动，也让我对生活中的困难和挑战有了更加深刻的理解。
在现实生活中，我们也会面对各种各样的困难和挑战，但是只要我们有坚定的信念和毅力，就一定能够克服一切困难，实现自己的目标。
其次，小说中也揭示了社会对弱势群体的不公和歧视。
老奶奶是一个黑人，她在旧路上遇到了一些白人，他们对老奶奶的态度并不友好，甚至有些歧视。
这让我深感不满和愤慨。
在现实生活中，我们也经常看到社会对于弱势群体的歧视和不公，这让我对社会的公平和正义有了更加深刻的思考。
我们应该努力去消除这种不公和歧视，让每个人都能够得到公平的对待和机会。
最后，小说中的情节和人物形象也给我留下了深刻的印象。
作者通过生动的描写和细腻的情感，让我仿佛身临其境，感受到了老奶奶的坚韧和毅力，也感受到了她对孙子的深沉的爱。
这让我对人性和情感有了更加深刻的理解，也让我更加珍惜身边的亲人和朋友。
总的来说，读完《A Worn Path》让我受益匪浅。
通过这个故事，我深刻地体会到了人性的坚韧和毅力，也对社会的不公和歧视有了更加深刻的认识。
这部小说让我对生活和社会有了更加深刻的思考，也让我对自己的人生目标有了更加明确的认识。
我相信，只要我们有坚定的信念和毅力，就一定能够克服一切困难，实现自己的目标，也一定能够创造一个更加美好的社会。
awornpath译文
awornpath译文
"A Worn Path"的译文可以是"一条磨损的路径"。
这个短篇小说是美国作家Eudora Welty创作的，讲述了一个年迈的非洲裔美国妇女——菲尼克斯·杰克逊，为了给孙子买药而艰难跋涉的故事。
故事中，菲尼克斯穿越了一条磨损的路径，象征着她经历了许多艰辛和困难的旅程。
这个译文传达了故事中主要元素的含义，即菲尼克斯经历了许多困难和挑战，但她坚持不懈地前行。
这条"磨损的路径"也可以被视为一种象征，代表着人生中的困境和挑战，以及为了追求目标而不断努力的坚韧精神。
这个译文传达了故事的主题和情感，同时保留了原文的意义和象征性。
它准确地描述了菲尼克斯在故事中所经历的旅程，以及她所展现的坚韧和毅力。
希望这个译文能够满足你的需求。
如果你有任何其他问题，请随时提问。
一条承载着历史记忆的马路英语作文
全文分为作者个人简介和正文两个部分：作者个人简介：Hello everyone, I am an author dedicated to creating and sharing high-quality document templates. In this era of information overload, accurate and efficient communication has become especially important. I firmly believe that good communication can build bridges between people, playing an indispensable role in academia, career, and daily life. Therefore, I decided to invest my knowledge and skills into creating valuable documents to help people find inspiration and direction when needed.正文：一条承载着历史记忆的马路英语作文全文共3篇示例，供读者参考篇1A Winding Path Through TimeAs I make my way down the old cobblestone road near my village, I can't help but feel a deep connection to the generations who have traversed this very path before me. This humblestretch of road, worn smooth by countless footsteps, is more than just a means of getting from one place to another. It's a living tapestry woven with the threads of our collective history, every stone bearing witness to the triumphs, struggles, and everyday moments that have shaped our community over centuries.With each step, I feel the weight of the past settle upon my shoulders, a comforting embrace that reminds me of my place in the grand narrative of this land. The very existence of this road is a testament to the resilience and determination of our ancestors, who carved it out of the rugged terrain with little more than their bare hands and unwavering spirits.I can almost hear the echo of their labored breaths as they toiled under the unforgiving sun, breaking the earth with pickaxes and shovels, driven by the desire to connect our isolated hamlet to the wider world. Each stone they laid was a act of defiance against the harsh realities of their time, a declaration that our people would not be confined by the boundaries of geography.As my gaze traces the winding path ahead, I can't help but imagine the countless souls who have trodden upon these very stones. Merchants laden with exotic wares from distant lands,their voices mingling with the clatter of wagon wheels and the gentle lowing of beasts of burden. Soldiers marching off to distant battlefields, their faces etched with a grim resolve that belied the uncertainty of their fates. Pilgrims seeking solace and spiritual enlightenment, their weary feet carrying them towards sacred sites shrouded in mystery.With every passing century, this road has borne witness to the ebb and flow of human existence, a silent observer to the grand tapestry of life that has unfolded within its humble confines. It has seen the birth of new generations, their tentative first steps upon its weathered surface heralding the dawn of new hopes and dreams. It has mourned the passing of the old, as solemn processions carried the departed to their final resting places, leaving behind a legacy etched into the very fabric of our community.Yet, for all its historical significance, this road remains a living, breathing entity, its purpose ever-evolving to meet the changing needs of our times. Where once it was traversed by foot and hoof, it now plays host to the rhythmic hum of motor vehicles, their tires tracing the same paths as their predecessors, yet propelled by the ingenuity of modern technology.As I continue my journey, I can't help but marvel at the juxtaposition of old and new that coexists along this timeless path. Ancient stone walls, their surfaces textured by the elements, stand sentinel alongside modern streetlamps that cast their artificial glow upon the road. Quaint cottages, their thatched roofs a nod to bygone eras, nestle alongside sleek, contemporary dwellings, their architectural lines a bold statement of progression.It is in this delicate balance, this seamless melding of past and present, that the true essence of our community resides. For even as we embrace the march of progress, we remain tethered to our roots, our spirits intertwined with the very stones that have borne witness to our collective journey.As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue upon the road, I can't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for this humble path that has endured through the ages. It is a living embodiment of our shared heritage, a testament to the indomitable spirit of our ancestors, and a constant reminder that even in the face of change, there are some things that remain steadfast and true.With each step, I carry the weight of history upon my shoulders, a responsibility to honor the sacrifices and triumphsof those who came before me. For this road is not merely a means of getting from one place to another; it is a bridge that spans the chasm of time, connecting us to our past while guiding us towards an ever-evolving future.And as I gaze upon the winding path ahead, I can't help but wonder what stories these ancient stones will bear witness to in the years to come. What new chapters will be woven into the tapestry of our community's narrative? What triumphs and struggles will be etched into the collective memory of this timeless road?Only time will tell. But one thing is certain: this humble stretch of cobblestone will endure, a silent witness to theever-unfolding saga of human existence, carrying the weight of our history and the promise of our future with every step we take.篇2A Road Paved with MemoriesThe road stretching before me is not just a mundane path of asphalt and concrete. No, this well-trodden avenue holds a tapestry of stories woven through generations, each footstep echoing with the whispers of those who came before. As I stridealong its sun-baked surface, I can't help but feel a profound connection to the past, an invisible thread binding me to the rich tapestry of our collective history.This road, known affectionately as Main Street, has been the heartbeat of our small town for as long as anyone can remember. Its origins can be traced back to the early days of settlement, when hardy pioneers forged their way through the untamed wilderness, determined to carve out a new life in this rugged land. With each passing year, the road evolved, adapting to the changing tides of progress, yet stubbornly clinging to its essence as a place where lives intertwined and memories took root.As my gaze wanders, I can almost envision the horse-drawn carriages that once clattered along these very cobblestones, their iron-shod hooves striking a rhythmic cadence against the unyielding stone. I can picture the bustling market days of old, when farmers from nearby homesteads would flock to town, their wagons piled high with the bounty of the earth, ready to trade their wares for the necessities of life.My footsteps carry me past the stately facades of buildings that have stood as silent sentinels for centuries, their weathered bricks a testament to the enduring spirit of our community. The old general store, with its creaking wooden floors and the faintaroma of spices lingering in the air, beckons me to step inside and lose myself in the timeless ambiance. I can almost hear the jovial banter of the shopkeepers, their voices mingling with the clink of glass bottles and the rustle of paper bags as they exchanged pleasantries with their loyal customers.Further down the road, the iconic town square unfolds before me, a verdant oasis of tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Here, generations of townsfolk have gathered for celebrations, protests, and solemn moments of remembrance. The weathered gazebo at its center has borne witness to countless speeches, concerts, and even the occasional proposal, its ornate ironwork a silent observer to the ebb and flow of human emotion.As I continue my stroll, I can't help but wonder about the countless lives that have intersected on this very path. I imagine the young lovers who once strolled hand in hand, basking in the warm glow of newfound affection, their footsteps dancing in perfect synchronicity. I envision the weary soldiers returning from distant battlefields, their faces etched with the weight of untold sacrifices, their boots leaving imprints that forever marked this road as a pathway to and from the frontlines of history.Even the cracks and fissures that spider across the pavement hold stories untold, each one a reminder of the relentless march of time and the unyielding forces of nature that have shaped our world. The deep ruts carved by wagon wheels and the faded remnants of painted lines whisper tales of bygone eras, inviting me to ponder the ever-changing landscape of human civilization.As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the aged bricks and cobblestones, I can't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for this road and the countless lives it has cradled. It is a living museum, a tapestry woven from the threads of our collective past, a constant reminder that we are but transient visitors in the grand scheme of existence.With each step, I am humbled by the realization that this road has witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of dreams, and the unfolding of countless human dramas. It has stood as a silent observer, bearing witness to the triumphs and tragedies that have shaped our world, offering solace and sanctuary to those who have trodden its well-worn path.As I reach the end of my journey, I pause for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds that have become so familiar, yet forever imbued with a sense of wonder and reverence. This road,this humble stretch of pavement and cobblestone, has become a living embodiment of our shared history, a testament to the resilience and tenacity of the human spirit.With each passing year, new layers of memory will be etched into its surface, new stories will unfold, and new generations will walk in the footsteps of those who came before. And as I turn to leave, I can't help but feel a profound sense of responsibility to carry these memories forward, to honor the lives that have graced this road, and to ensure that its legacy endures for generations yet to come.篇3A Road Carrying Historical MemoriesAs I stroll down the winding path of Old Town Road, my footsteps seem to echo with the whispers of generations past. This humble street, nestled in the heart of our quaint little town, has borne witness to countless tales and tribulations, etching itself into the collective memory of our community.With each step, I can almost envision the ghosts of those who walked these cobblestones before me. Merchants peddling their wares, children chasing each other through the alleys, and townsfolk gathering to exchange the latest gossip – the sightsand sounds of bygone eras linger in the air, like invisible companions accompanying me on my journey.The buildings that line the road stand as silent sentinels, their weathered facades bearing the scars of time. Peeling paint and crumbling bricks speak volumes of the countless storms they have endured, reminding us of the resilience and perseverance that have shaped our town's character.One particular edifice catches my eye – the old bookshop at the corner. Its window displays, faded but still inviting, beckon passersby to step into a world of literary treasures. As I peer through the dusty glass, I can almost make out the silhouettes of scholars and intellectuals from ages past, huddled around flickering candles, engrossed in heated debates and philosophical discourses.Farther down the road, I pass by the remnants of the old blacksmith's forge. The sound of hammers striking hot metal echoes faintly in my mind, conjuring images of burly men toiling over glowing embers, their sweat-soaked brows a testament to the arduous labor that once defined our town's industrial spirit.Woven into the fabric of Old Town Road are the stories of those who came before us – the immigrants who sought refuge and opportunity on these very streets, the soldiers who marchedoff to distant wars, and the activists who fought for justice and equality in the face of oppression. Their struggles, triumphs, and sacrifices have left an indelible mark on the soul of our community, reminding us of the strength and resilience that lies within us all.As I continue my walk, I can't help but marvel at the way this road has adapted and evolved over time. Once a hub of commerce and industry, it has transformed into a cultural and artistic haven, attracting artists, musicians, and bohemians from near and far. The once-bustling storefronts have given way to quaint cafes, galleries, and performance spaces, each one a vibrant tapestry of creativity and self-expression.Yet, despite the changes, Old Town Road remains a living, breathing link to our heritage. The cobblestones beneath my feet, worn smooth by generations of footsteps, serve as a constant reminder of the rich tapestry of stories that have unfolded here. Each crack, each divot, holds the imprint of those who came before, their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and struggles, all woven into the very fabric of this ancient path.As the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the old buildings, I find myself filled with a profound sense of gratitude and reverence. For it is here, on this unassumingstretch of pavement, that the essence of our community's soul resides – a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of memory.Old Town Road is more than just a physical space; it is a living, breathing archive of our collective history, a repository of the stories that have shaped us and the dreams that will guide us into the future. Each step I take is a celebration of those who came before, a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifices they made and the legacies they left behind.As I turn the corner, the familiar sight of the old oak tree greets me, its gnarled branches reaching skyward like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the past. Beneath its shade, I pause for a moment, allowing the echoes of history to wash over me, whispering tales of triumph and tragedy, love and loss, hope and despair.In that fleeting instant, I realize that Old Town Road is not merely a byway to be traversed; it is a sacred text, written in the language of cobblestones and weathered bricks, each chapter a testament to the indomitable spirit of our town and its people.As I continue on my way, the memories and stories of this hallowed road will forever be etched into my soul, a constant reminder of the rich tapestry of experiences that have woventogether the fabric of our community. For it is here, on these ancient stones, that the past and present converge, ensuring that the echoes of history will reverberate through the generations to come.。
a-worn-path
A Worn Pathby Eudora WeltyIt was December—a bright frozen day in the early morning。
Far out in the country there was an old Negro woman with her head tied in a red rag, coming along a path through the pinewoods. Her name was Phoenix Jackson. She was very old and small and she walked slowly in the dark pine shadows, moving a little from side to side in her steps，with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grandfather clock. She carried a thin，small cane made from an umbrella，and with this she kept tapping the frozen earth in front of her。
This made a grave and persistent noise in the still air that seemed meditative，like the chirping of a solitary little bird.She wore a dark striped dress reaching down to her shoe tops, and an equally long apron of bleached sugar sacks, with a full pocket：all neat and tidy，but every time she took a step she might have fallen over her shoelaces, which dragged from her unlaced shoes. She looked straight ahead. Her eyes were blue with age。
语境与文学翻译——a worn path的理解与翻译
语境与文学翻译——a worn path的理解与翻译"A Worn Path" 是美国作家Eudora Welty所写的一篇名篇。
这篇短篇小说讲述了一个老黑奶奶名叫菲尼克斯·杰克逊的故事。
她积极地踏上一条沿途又困难重重的路，去城里为了她孙子的药钱找医生。
路途遥远，菲尼克斯需要翻越多个小山丘以及横跨小河。
她在旅途中遇到了许多障碍，包括一只不善良的獾和一位白人猎人以及工具与服装的缺乏等等。
然而，菲尼克斯的意志坚强，她通过坚持不懈，终于到达了城里，得到了孙子的药品，然后又开始了同样艰辛的旅程回家。
这个故事让我们看到了生命的坚韧，奋斗的韧性以及对亲情的信仰。
翻译："A Worn Path" is a masterpiece written by American author Eudora Welty. This short story tells the story of an old black woman named Phoenix Jackson. She actively sets out on adifficult road to the city to find a doctor for her grandson's medicine. The journey is long, and Phoenix needs to climb over several hills and cross a small river. She encounters many obstacles, including an unkind badger, a white hunter, and alack of tools and clothing on her journey. However, Phoenix'swill is strong. She persists and finally reaches the city, gets her grandson's medicine, and then begins the same arduousjourney back home. This story shows us the toughness of life,the toughness of struggle, and the belief in family.。
worn的用法及搭配
worn的用法及搭配一、Worn的用法解析"Worn"是一个常见的英语单词，它作为形容词时，表示物品或衣物因长时间使用而磨损、旧化，甚至有些破损。
同时，它也可作为动词或过去分词形式来使用，表示被穿戴或使用过。
二、Worn的常见用法1. 形容词用法当我们描述某物已经被过度使用或经历了长时间的磨损时，可以使用"worn"来表达这种状态。
例如：- The chair I'm sitting on is worn and needs to be replaced.（我坐在的椅子很破旧，需要更换。
）- She always wears a worn-out pair of shoes when she goes hiking.（她外出远足时总是穿着一双破旧的鞋子。
）2. 过去分词用法"Worn"可以作为过去分词来修饰现在完成时态的句子，并且与主语形成逻辑上的被动关系。
例如：- I am worn out after working for twelve hours straight.（连续工作十二个小时后，我筋疲力尽。
）- The children were worn down by the long hike in the mountains.（孩子们因在山上长时间徒步而感到筋疲力尽。
）3. 动词用法"Worn"也可以作为动词使用，表示穿戴或使用过某物。
例如：- She worn a beautiful dress to the party.（她在晚会上穿了一件漂亮的裙子。
）三、Worn的搭配1. Worn clothes/accessories用于描述衣物和配饰时，我们常使用"worn"来表达它们的状况。
比如：- Her worn-out coat was patched in several places.（她的破旧大衣有几处被修补过。
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Love and devotion
---a enteral topic Phoenix takes a dangerous journey through the woods. She does not flinch becase she has to take care of her grandson who is the only person left.
• Also it is similar to the story of Odysseus who faces many trials along his journey. Miss Welty herself said it was a story about how a writer works.
Part 3
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Her reason for going to Natchez is to pick up a supply of medicine for her grandson, who accidentally swallowedlye a few years before. The damage to his throat never fully heals, and every so often his throat will begin to swell shut.It is Old Phoenix's love for her grandson that causes her to face the trial of the journey to town, every time Part 3 it is necessary, with no questions asked.
Conflict
What emotions does this story evoke in you? What is your reaction to the ending of the story? Would you prefer to know that Phoenix Jackson’s grandson isPart 4 alive? Why or why not?
Similes
• Every work of fiction has some kind of conflict, and most obvious one in "A Worn Path" is Phoenix's struggle against nature and the landscape. • The conflict with the office attendant serves to show another Part 4 side of Phoenix, her dignity in the face of racial and age
Symbolism
• The most obvious symbol in the story is Phoenix Jackson's comparison to the mythological bird, the phoenix. Part 4
Welty has been praised from early on for her use of language. In using similes, she makes vivid comparisons that help the reader form a mind's eye picture of the action. Similes are direct Part 4 comparisons that use words such as "like" or "as" to link the two
Character analysis
The hero:an elderly African-American woman named Phoenix Jackson who is walking through the woods into town. On her way she encounters many deterrents, like a dog, heavy brush, and a hunter who threatens her with a gun, among many other things.
Back
The plot of the story
"A Worn Path" is a story of perseverance, love and dedication. Eudora Welty uses the protagonist, Phoenix Jackson, to show strength and determination in the face of hardship. The choice of names for Part 2 the main character is quite fitting. A phoenix is a mythological bird that is said to live 500 or more years, die in
Phoenix is a poor, uneducated Negro woman who faces many struggles in life. One knows she is poor because her apron was made of bleached sugar sacks and her umbrella made into a cane. Back Throughout her life she stays perseverant strong and noble, no matter
A Worn Path
---by Shi Li Liao Guangjing Mu Hudaer Liu Yangjian Zhang Jianyong
Let's Part 1 go Part 2
Part 3 Part 4
This is a worn path..... The end
Part 5
• Welty's first short story, "Death of a Traveling Salesman", was published in 1936. • Her work attracted the attention of author Katherine Anne Porter, who became a mentor to Welty and wrote the foreword to Welty's first short story collection, A Curtain of Green, nix bird has a cycle of life, death, and rebirth, Phoenix takes a dangerous journey through the woods. She falls, gets back up and keeps on toward the goal of getting her grandson's medicine. She has many obstacles in her way such as her old age, the cold weather, ditches and hills, thorns, wild animals and a hunter with a gun. She does not Part 2 in the face of these flinch potentially dangerous situations because of her love and dedication to her sick grandson.
• Supporting rule:Young white hunter, He is contemptuous of grandma, also draw a gun. • The young nurse: She was very warm, He knew the old granny Back why come.
Point of "A Worn Path" is told from a thirdView person limited point of view. This
allows the reader to empathize with Phoenix, because her thoughts and actions are shown. Yet, in thirdperson, the reader 4 allowed to view Part is Phoenix from a distance, and thereby see her as others see her.
•
Why do you think Phoenix does not immediately respond to the questions of the nurse and the attendant? Back • What does Phoenix’s ’
*show strength and determination *Love and devotion
Eudora Alice Welty
Part 1
(April 13, 1909 – July 23, 2001)
• Eudora Welty was born in Jackson, Mississippi on April 13, 1909, the daughter of Christian Webb Welty (1879–1931) and Mary Chestina (Andrews) Welty (1883– 1966). She grew up with younger brothers Edward Jefferson and Walter Andrews. Eudora’s mother was a schoolteacher. Part 1