高级英语课文翻译(上册)1
高级英语1 第三版 课文翻译和单词
高级英语（第三版）第一册课文译文和词汇张汉熙版Lesson 1 Face to Face with Hurricane Camille迎战卡米尔号飓风约瑟夫.布兰克小约翰。
柯夏克已料到，卡米尔号飓风来势定然凶猛。
就在去年8月17日那个星期天，当卡米尔号飓风越过墨西哥湾向西北进袭之时，收音机和电视里整天不断地播放着飓风警报。
柯夏克一家居住的地方一-密西西比州的高尔夫港--肯定会遭到这场飓风的猛烈袭击。
路易斯安那、密西西比和亚拉巴马三州沿海一带的居民已有将近15万人逃往内陆安全地带。
但约翰就像沿海村落中其他成千上万的人一样，不愿舍弃家园，要他下决心弃家外逃，除非等到他的一家人一-妻子詹妮丝以及他们那七个年龄从三岁到十一岁的孩子一一眼看着就要灾祸临头。
为了找出应付这场风灾的最佳对策，他与父母商量过。
两位老人是早在一个月前就从加利福尼亚迁到这里来，住进柯夏克一家所住的那幢十个房间的屋子里。
他还就此征求过从拉斯韦加斯开车来访的老朋友查理?希尔的意见。
约翰的全部产业就在自己家里(他开办的玛格纳制造公司是设计、研制各种教育玩具和教育用品的。
公司的一切往来函件、设计图纸和工艺模具全都放在一楼)。
37岁的他对飓风的威力是深有体会的。
四年前，他原先拥有的位于高尔夫港以西几英里外的那个家就曾毁于贝翠号飓风(那场风灾前夕柯夏克已将全家搬到一家汽车旅馆过夜)。
不过，当时那幢房子所处的地势偏低，高出海平面仅几英尺。
"我们现在住的这幢房子高了23英尺，，'他对父亲说，"而且距离海边足有250码远。
这幢房子是1915年建造的。
至今还从未受到过飓风的袭击。
我们呆在这儿恐怕是再安全不过了。
"老柯夏克67岁.是个语粗心慈的熟练机械师。
他对儿子的意见表示赞同。
"我们是可以严加防卫。
度过难关的，"他说?"一但发现危险信号，我们还可以赶在天黑之前撤出去。
" 为了对付这场飓风，几个男子汉有条不紊地做起准备工作来。
(完整word版)高级英语第一册课文翻译及词汇
高级英语第一册课文翻译及词汇第一课词汇(Vocabulary）1.Bazaar （n.) : （in Oriental countries)a market or street of shops and stalls(东方国家的)市场，2. cavern （n．) ：a cave，esp．a large cave洞穴,山洞(尤指大洞穴,大山洞）3. shadowy （adj.) ：dim；indistinct模糊的；朦胧的4. FONT style=”BACKGROUND-COLOR：cornflowerblue" color=white〉harmonious （adj．）：having musical tones combined to give a pleasing effect；consonant（音调）和谐的，悦耳的／harmoniously adv．5。
throng (n.) :a great number of people gathered together；crowd人群；群集6。
conceivable (adj。
）：that can be conceived，imagined 可想象的,想得到的7. din （n.) ：a loud，continuous noise喧闹声，嘈杂声8. would—be （adj．）: intended to be预期成为……的；将要成为……的9。
muted （adj。
) ：(of a sound)made softer than is usual(声音）减弱的10。
vaulted ( adj．) : having the form of a vault；arched穹窿形的；拱形的11。
sepulchral（n．) : suggestive of the grave or burial；dismal;gloomy坟墓般的;阴森森的13. guild （n．）：any association for mutual aid and the promotion of common interests互助会;协会14. trestle （n。
高英第一册课文翻译
第一课中东的集市中东的集市仿佛把你带回到了几百年、甚至几千年前的时代。
此时此刻显现在我脑海中的这个中东集市，其入口处是一座古老的砖石结构的哥特式拱门。
你首先要穿过一个赤日耀眼、灼热逼人的大型露天广场，然后走进一个凉爽、幽暗的洞穴。
这市场一直向前延伸，一眼望不到尽头，消失在远处的阴影里。
赶集的人们络绎不绝地进出市场，一些挂着铃铛的小毛驴穿行于这熙熙攘攘的人群中，边走边发出和谐悦耳的叮当叮当的响声。
市场的路面约有十二英尺宽，但每隔几码远就会因为设在路边的小货摊的挤占而变窄；那儿出售的货物各种各样，应有尽有。
你一走进市场，就可以听到摊贩们的叫卖声，赶毛驴的小伙计和脚夫们大着嗓门叫人让道的吆喝声，还有那些想买东西的人们与摊主讨价还价的争吵声。
各种各样的噪声此伏彼起，不绝于耳，简直叫人头晕。
随后，当往市场深处走去时，人口处的喧闹声渐渐消失，眼前便是清静的布市了。
这里的泥土地面，被无数双脚板踩踏得硬邦邦的，人走在上面几乎听不到脚步声了，而拱形的泥砖屋顶和墙壁也难得产生什么回音效果。
布店的店主们一个个都是轻声轻气、慢条斯理的样子；买布的顾客们在这种沉闷压抑的气氛感染下，自然而然地也学着店主们的榜样，变得低声细语起来。
中东集市的特点之一是经销同类商品的店家，为避免相互间的竞争，不是分散在集市各处，而是都集中在一块儿，这样既便于让买主知道上哪儿找他们，同时他们自己也可以紧密地联合起来，结成同盟，以便保护自己不受欺侮和刁难。
例如，在布市上，所有那 1些卖衣料、窗帘布、椅套布等的商贩都把货摊一个接一个地排设在马路两边，每一个店铺门面前都摆有一张陈列商品的搁板桌和一些存放货物的货架。
讨价还价是人们习以为常的事。
头戴面纱的妇女们迈着悠闲的步子从一个店铺逛到另一个店铺，一边挑选一边问价；在她们缩小选择范围并开始正儿八经杀价之前，往往总要先同店主谈论几句，探探价底。
对于顾客来说，至关重要的一点是，不到最后一刻是不能让店主猜到她心里究竟中意哪样东西、想买哪样东西的。
高级英语第一册 课文翻译及修辞
二课广岛——日本“最有活力”的城市(节选)雅各?丹瓦“广岛到了!大家请下车!”当世界上最快的高速列车减速驶进广岛车站并渐渐停稳时，那位身着日本火车站站长制服的男人口中喊出的一定是这样的话。
我其实并没有听懂他在说些什么，一是因为他是用日语喊的，其次，则是因为我当时心情沉重，喉咙哽噎，忧思万缕，几乎顾不上去管那日本铁路官员说些什么。
踏上这块土地，呼吸着广岛的空气，对我来说这行动本身已是一套令人激动的经历，其意义远远超过我以往所进行的任何一次旅行或采访活动。
难道我不就是在犯罪现场吗?这儿的日本人看来倒没有我这样的忧伤情绪。
从车站外的人行道上看去，这儿的一切似乎都与日本其他城市没什么两样。
身着和嘏的小姑娘和上了年纪的太太与西装打扮的少年和妇女摩肩接豫；神情严肃的男人们对周围的人群似乎视而不见，只顾着相互交淡，并不停地点头弯腰，互致问候：“多么阿里伽多戈扎伊马嘶。
”还有人在使用杂货铺和烟草店门前挂着的小巧的红色电话通话。
“嗨!嗨!”出租汽车司机一看见旅客，就砰地打开车门，这样打着招呼。
“嗨”，或者某个发音近似“嗨”的什么词，意思是“对”或“是”。
“能送我到市政厅吗?”司机对着后视镜冲我一笑，又连声“嗨!”“嗨!”出租车穿过广岛市区狭窄的街巷全速奔驰，我们的身子随着司机手中方向盘的一次次急转而前俯后仰，东倒西歪。
与此同时，这座曾惨遭劫难的城市的高楼大厦则一座座地从我们身边飞掠而过。
正当我开始觉得路程太长时，汽车嘎地一声停了下来，司机下车去向警察问路。
就像东京的情形一样，广岛的出租车司机对他们所在的城市往往不太熟悉，但因为怕在外国人面前丢脸，却又从不肯承认这一点。
无论乘客指定的目的地在哪里，他们都毫不犹豫地应承下来，根本不考虑自己要花多长时间才能找到目的地。
这段小插曲后来终于结束了，我也就不知不觉地突然来到了宏伟的市政厅大楼前。
当我出示了市长应我的采访要求而发送的请柬后，市政厅接待人员向我深深地鞠了一躬，然后声调悠扬地长叹了一口气。
《高级英语》课文逐句翻译（1）
Lesson One Rock Superstars 关于我们和我们的社会，他们告诉了我们些什么？ What Do They Tell Us About Ourselves and Our Society？ 摇滚乐是青少年叛逆的⾳乐。
——摇滚乐评论家约相？罗克韦尔 Rock is the music of teenage rebellion. —— John Rockwell， rock music critic 知其崇拜何⼈便可知其⼈。
——⼩说家罗伯特？佩恩？沃伦 By a man's heroes ye shall know him. —— Robert Penn Warren， novelist 1972年6⽉的⼀天，芝加哥圆形剧场挤满了⼤汗淋漓、疯狂摇摆的⼈们。
It was mid-June， 1972， the Chicago Amphitheater was packed， sweltering， rocking. 滚⽯摇滚乐队的迈克？贾格尔正在台上演唱“午夜漫步⼈”。
Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones was singing “Midnight Rambler.” 演唱结束时评论家唐？赫克曼在现场。
Critic Don Heckman was there when the song ended. 他描述道：“贾格尔抓起⼀个半加仑的⽔罐沿舞台前沿边跑边把⾥⾯的⽔洒向前⼏排汗流浃背的听众。
听众们蜂拥般跟随着他跑，急切地希望能沾上⼏滴洗礼的圣⽔。
“Jagger，” he said， “grabs a half-gallon jug of water and runs along the front platform， sprinkling its contents over the first few rows of sweltering listeners. They surge to follow him， eager to be touched by a few baptismal drops”。
高级英语第一册马克吐温课文翻译以及词汇
在大多数美国人的心目中，马克•吐温是位伟大作家，他描写了哈克•费恩永恒的童年时代中充满诗情画意的旅程和汤姆•索亚在漫长的夏日里自由自在历险探奇的故事。
的确，这位美国最受人喜爱的作家的探索精神、爱国热情、浪漫气质及幽默笔调都达到了登峰造极的程度。
但我发现还有另一个不同的马克•吐温——一个由于深受人生悲剧的打击而变得愤世嫉俗、尖酸刻薄的马克•吐温，一个为人类品质上的弱点而忧心忡忡、明显地看到前途是一片黑暗的人。
印刷工、领航员、邦联游击队员、淘金者、耽于幻想的乐天派、语言尖刻的讽刺家：马克•吐温原名塞缪尔•朗赫恩•克莱门斯，他一生之中有超过三分之一的时间浪迹美国各地，体验着美国的新生活，尔后便以作家和演说家的身分将他所感受到的这一切介绍给全世界。
他的笔名取自他在蒸汽船上做工时听到的报告水深为两口寻(12英尺)——意即可以通航的信号语。
他的作品中有二十几部至今仍在印行，其外文译本仍在世界各地拥有读者，由此可见他的享誉程度。
在马克•吐温青年时代，美国的地理中心是密西西比河流域，而密西西比河是这个年轻国家中部的交通大动脉。
龙骨船、平底船和大木筏载运着最重要的商品。
木材、玉米、烟草、小麦和皮货通过这些运载工具顺流而下，运送到河口三角洲地区，而砂糖、糖浆、棉花和威士忌酒等货物则被运送到北方。
在19世纪50年代，西部领土开发高潮到来之前，辽阔的密西西比河流域占美国已开发领土的四分之三。
1857年，少年马克•吐温作为蒸汽船上的一名小领航员踏人了这片天地。
在这个新的工作岗位上，他接触到的是各式各样的人物，看到的是一个多姿多彩的大干世界。
他完全地投身到这种生活之中，经常在操舵室里听着人们谈论民间争斗、海盗抢劫、私刑案件、游医卖药以及河边的一些化外民居的故事。
所有这一切，连同他那像留声机般准确可靠的记忆所吸收的丰富多彩的语言，后来都有机会在他的作品中得以再现。
蒸汽船的甲板上不仅挤满了富有开拓精神的人们，而且也载着一些娼妓、赌棍和歹徒等社会渣滓。
高级英语第一册课文翻译_unit1
高级英语第一册课文翻译_unit1中东的集市1．中东的集市仿佛把你带回到了几百年、甚至几千年前的时代。
此时此刻显现在我脑海中的这个中东集市，入口处是一座哥特式拱门，门上的砖石年代久远。
穿过耀眼、灼热的大型露天广场进入集市，仿佛走入了一个凉爽、幽暗的洞穴。
集市蜿蜒伸展，一眼望不到尽头，最后消失在远处的阴影里。
赶集的人们络绎不绝地进出市场，挂着铃铛的小毛驴穿行于熙熙攘攘的人群中，边走边发出和谐悦耳的叮当声。
集市的路面约有十二英尺宽，但每隔几码远就会因为设在路边的小货摊的挤占而变窄；那儿出售的货物各种各样，应有尽有。
你一走进市场，就可以听到摊贩们的叫卖声，赶毛驴的小伙计和脚夫们大着嗓门叫人让道的吆喝声，还有那些想买东西的人们与摊主讨价还价的争吵声。
各种各样的噪声此伏彼起，不绝于耳，简直叫人头晕。
2.随后，当你走人集市的深处，人口处的喧闹声渐渐消失，眼前便是清静的布市了。
这里的泥土地面，被无数双脚板踩踏得硬邦邦的，人走在上面几乎听不到脚步声了，而拱形的泥砖屋顶和墙壁也难得产生什么回音效果。
布店的店主们一个个都是轻声细语、慢条斯理的样子；买布的顾客们在这种沉闷压抑的气氛感染下，自然而然地也学着店主们的样子，低声细语地说话。
3.中东集市的特点之一是经销同类商品的店家，不是分散在集市各处以避免相互间的竞争，而是都集中在一块儿，这样既便于让买主知道上哪儿找他们，同时他们自己也可以紧密地联合起来，结成同盟，以便共同反对迫害和不公正待遇。
例如，在布市上，所有卖衣料、窗帘布、椅套布等的商贩都把货摊一个接一个地排设在马路两边，每一个店铺门面前都摆有一张陈列商品的搁板桌和一些存放货物的货架。
讨价还价是人们习以为常的事。
头戴面纱的妇女们迈着悠闲的步子从一个店铺逛到另一个店铺，一边挑选一边问价；在她们缩小选择范围并开始正儿八经杀价之前，往往总要先同店主谈论几句，探探价底。
4.对于顾客来说，不到最后一刻绝不能让店主猜到她心里究竟中意哪样东西、想买哪样东西，因为这是个关乎面子的事情。
高级英语第一册课文翻译
第一课中东的集市中东的集市仿佛把你带回到了几百年、甚至几千年前的时代。
此时此刻显现在我脑海中的这个中东集市，其入口处是一座古老的砖石结构的哥特式拱门。
你首先要穿过一个赤日耀眼、灼热逼人的大型露天广场，然后走进一个凉爽、幽暗的洞穴。
这市场一直向前延伸，一眼望不到尽头，消失在远处的阴影里。
赶集的人们络绎不绝地进出市场，一些挂着铃铛的小毛驴穿行于这熙熙攘攘的人群中，边走边发出和谐悦耳的叮当叮当的响声。
市场的路面约有十二英尺宽，但每隔几码远就会因为设在路边的小货摊的挤占而变窄；那儿出售的货物各种各样，应有尽有。
你一走进市场，就可以听到摊贩们的叫卖声，赶毛驴的小伙计和脚夫们大着嗓门叫人让道的吆喝声，还有那些想买东西的人们与摊主讨价还价的争吵声。
各种各样的噪声此伏彼起，不绝于耳，简直叫人头晕。
随后，当往市场深处走去时，人口处的喧闹声渐渐消失，眼前便是清静的布市了。
这里的泥土地面，被无数双脚板踩踏得硬邦邦的，人走在上面几乎听不到脚步声了，而拱形的泥砖屋顶和墙壁也难得产生什么回音效果。
布店的店主们一个个都是轻声轻气、慢条斯理的样子；买布的顾客们在这种沉闷压抑的气氛感染下，自然而然地也学着店主们的榜样，变得低声细语起来。
中东集市的特点之一是经销同类商品的店家，为避免相互间的竞争，不是分散在集市各处，而是都集中在一块儿，这样既便于让买主知道上哪儿找他们，同时他们自己也可以紧密地联合起来，结成同盟，以便保护自己不受欺侮和刁难。
例如，在布市上，所有那1些卖衣料、窗帘布、椅套布等的商贩都把货摊一个接一个地排设在马路两边，每一个店铺门面前都摆有一张陈列商品的搁板桌和一些存放货物的货架。
讨价还价是人们习以为常的事。
头戴面纱的妇女们迈着悠闲的步子从一个店铺逛到另一个店铺，一边挑选一边问价；在她们缩小选择范围并开始正儿八经杀价之前，往往总要先同店主谈论几句，探探价底。
对于顾客来说，至关重要的一点是，不到最后一刻是不能让店主猜到她心里究竟中意哪样东西、想买哪样东西的。
高级英语第一册课文翻译和词汇
高级英语（第三版）第一册课文译文和词汇张汉熙版Lesson 2 Hiroshima - The "Liveliest" City in Japan（experts）广岛--日本“最有活力”的城市(节选) 雅各•丹瓦“广岛到了!大家请下车!”当世界上最快的高速列车减速驶进广岛车站并渐渐停稳时，那位身着日本火车站站长制服的男人口中喊出的一定是这样的话。
我其实并没有听懂他在说些什么，一是因为他是用日语喊的，其次，则是因为我当时心情沉重，喉咙哽噎，忧思万缕，几乎顾不上去管那日本铁路官员说些什么。
踏上这块土地，呼吸着广岛的空气，对我来说这行动本身已是一套令人激动的经历，其意义远远超过我以往所进行的任何一次旅行或采访活动。
难道我不就是在犯罪现场吗?这儿的日本人看来倒没有我这样的忧伤情绪。
从车站外的人行道上看去，这儿的一切似乎都与日本其他城市没什么两样。
身着和嘏的小姑娘和上了年纪的太太与西装打扮的少年和妇女摩肩接豫;神情严肃的男人们对周围的人群似乎视而不见，只顾着相互交淡，并不停地点头弯腰，互致问候：“多么阿里伽多戈扎伊马嘶。
”还有人在使用杂货铺和烟草店门前挂着的小巧的红色电话通话。
“嗨!嗨!”出租汽车司机一看见旅客，就砰地打开车门，这样打着招呼。
“嗨”，或者某个发音近似“嗨”的什么词，意思是“对”或“是”。
“能送我到市政厅吗?”司机对着后视镜冲我一笑，又连声“嗨!”“嗨!”出租车穿过广岛市区狭窄的街巷全速奔驰，我们的身子随着司机手中方向盘的一次次急转而前俯后仰，东倒西歪。
与此同时，这座曾惨遭劫难的城市的高楼大厦则一座座地从我们身边飞掠而过。
正当我开始觉得路程太长时，汽车嘎地一声停了下来，司机下车去向警察问路。
就像东京的情形一样，广岛的出租车司机对他们所在的城市往往不太熟悉，但因为怕在外国人面前丢脸，却又从不肯承认这一点。
无论乘客指定的目的地在哪里，他们都毫不犹豫地应承下来，根本不考虑自己要花多长时间才能找到目的地。
高级英语第一册课文翻译_张汉熙版
高级英语第一册课文翻译第一课中东的集市中东的集市仿佛把你带回到了几百年、甚至几千年前的时代。
此时此刻显现在我脑海中的这个中东集市，其入口处是一座古老的砖石结构的哥特式拱门。
你首先要穿过一个赤日耀眼、灼热逼人的大型露天广场，然后走进一个凉爽、幽暗的洞穴。
这市场一直向前延伸，一眼望不到尽头，消失在远处的阴影里。
赶集的人们络绎不绝地进出市场，一些挂着铃铛的小毛驴穿行于这熙熙攘攘的人群中，边走边发出和谐悦耳的叮当叮当的响声。
市场的路面约有十二英尺宽，但每隔几码远就会因为设在路边的小货摊的挤占而变窄；那儿出售的货物各种各样，应有尽有。
你一走进市场，就可以听到摊贩们的叫卖声，赶毛驴的小伙计和脚夫们大着嗓门叫人让道的吆喝声，还有那些想买东西的人们与摊主讨价还价的争吵声。
各种各样的噪声此伏彼起，不绝于耳，简直叫人头晕。
随后，当往市场深处走去时，人口处的喧闹声渐渐消失，眼前便是清静的布市了。
这里的泥土地面，被无数双脚板踩踏得硬邦邦的，人走在上面几乎听不到脚步声了，而拱形的泥砖屋顶和墙壁也难得产生什么回音效果。
布店的店主们一个个都是轻声轻气、慢条斯理的样子；买布的顾客们在这种沉闷压抑的气氛感染下，自然而然地也学着店主们的榜样，变得低声细语起来。
中东集市的特点之一是经销同类商品的店家，为避免相互间的竞争，不是分散在集市各处，而是都集中在一块儿，这样既便于让买主知道上哪儿找他们，同时他们自己也可以紧密地联合起来，结成同盟，以便保护自己不受欺侮和刁难。
例如，在布市上，所有那 1些卖衣料、窗帘布、椅套布等的商贩都把货摊一个接一个地排设在马路两边，每一个店铺门面前都摆有一张陈列商品的搁板桌和一些存放货物的货架。
讨价还价是人们习以为常的事。
头戴面纱的妇女们迈着悠闲的步子从一个店铺逛到另一个店铺，一边挑选一边问价；在她们缩小选择范围并开始正儿八经杀价之前，往往总要先同店主谈论几句，探探价底。
对于顾客来说，至关重要的一点是，不到最后一刻是不能让店主猜到她心里究竟中意哪样东西、想买哪样东西的。
自考高级英语上册课文翻译
课文翻译(Translation of the text)第一课超级摇滚巨星——关于我们自己和我们的社会，他们告诉我们些什么？摇滚乐是青少年反叛的音乐。
一—摇滚乐评论家约翰·罗克韦尔由其崇拜的人即可知其人。
——小说家罗伯特·佩恩·沃伦1972年6月中旬的一天，芝加哥圆形露天剧场里观众如潮，群情激昂，狂摇猛摆。
台上，滚石乐队的米克·贾格尔正在演唱“午夜漫步人”。
演唱结束时评论家唐·赫克曼在现场。
他说：“贾格尔抓起一个装有半加伦水的罐子沿着舞台前沿跑动，把里面的水往前几排狂热的听众身上洒。
他们蜂拥地跟随他，热切地希望能淋上几滴这洗礼的圣水。
”1973年12月下旬的一天，大约一万四千名尖声叫喊的歌迷在华盛顿市外的首都中心剧场嘈杂地涌向台前。
美国的恐怖歌星艾利斯·库珀正要结束自己表演。
他借助断头台假装结束自己生命来结束表演。
他的“头”落人一个草篮中。
“啊！”一个穿黑衣服的女孩惊呼道，“啊，太了不起了！”十四岁的迈克·玻利也在场，但他的父母并不在。
“他们觉得他令人恶心，”迈克说，“他们对我说，‘你怎么能忍受那种东西？’”1974年1月下旬的一天，在纽约州尤宁代尔的拿骚体育馆里，鲍勃·狄伦和乐队正在为音乐会上用的乐器调音。
场外瓢泼大雨中，摇滚乐迷克利斯·辛格正等着入场。
“这是朝圣，”克利斯说，“我应该跪着爬进去。
”你是如何看待所有这些溢美之词与英雄崇拜？当米克·贾格尔迷们把他视为至高的神父或神明时，你是赞成他们还是反对他们？你和克利斯·辛格一样对鲍勃·狄伦怀有几乎是宗教般的崇敬吗？你认为他或狄伦步入歧途了吗？你是否嫌艾利斯·库珀表演恶心而不接受他？还是你莫名其妙地被这个怪异的小丑吸引，因为他表现了你最疯狂的幻想？这并非是些随便问问的问题。
有些社会学家认为，你对这些问题的回答，很能说明你在想些什么，社会在想些什么。
《高级英语（第一册）》课后翻译习题及答案
《高级英语（第一册）》课后翻译习题及答案Lesson 1 the Middle Eastern Bazaar1) Little donkeys thread their way among the throngs of people.little donkeys went in and out among the people and from one side to another2) Then as you penetrate deeper into the bazaar, the noise of the entrance fades away, and you come to the muted cloth-market.Then as you pass through a big crowd to go deeper into the market, the noise of the entrance gradually disappear, and you come to the much quieter cloth-market.3) they narrow down their choice and begin the really serious business of beating the price downthey drop some of items that they don't really want and begin to bargain seriously for a low price.4) he will price the item high, and yield little in the bargainingHe will ask for a high price for the item and refuse to cut down the price by any significant amount.5) As you approach it, a tinkling and banging and clashing begins to impinge on your earAs you get near it, a variety of sounds begin to strikeyour ear.X．1)一条蜿蜒的小路淹没在树荫深处A zig-zag path loses itself in the shadowy distance of the woods.2)集市上有许多小摊子，出售的货物应有尽有At the bazaar there are many stalls where goods of every conceivable kind are sold.3) 我真不知道到底是什么事让他如此生气。
高级英语第一册课文翻译及词汇
高级英语第一册课文翻译及词汇第一课中东的集市中东的集市仿佛把你带回到了几百年、甚至几千年前的时代。
此时此刻显现在我脑海中的这个中东集市，其入口处是一座古老的砖石结构的哥特式拱门。
你首先要穿过一个赤日耀眼、灼热逼人的大型露天广场，然后走进一个凉爽、幽暗的洞穴。
这市场一直向前延伸，一眼望不到尽头，消失在远处的阴影里。
赶集的人们络绎不绝地进出市场，一些挂着铃铛的小毛驴穿行于这熙熙攘攘的人群中，边走边发出和谐悦耳的叮当叮当的响声。
市场的路面约有十二英尺宽，但每隔几码远就会因为设在路边的小货摊的挤占而变窄；那儿出售的货物各种各样，应有尽有。
你一走进市场，就可以听到摊贩们的叫卖声，赶毛驴的小伙计和脚夫们大着嗓门叫人让道的吆喝声，还有那些想买东西的人们与摊主讨价还价的争吵声。
各种各样的噪声此伏彼起，不绝于耳，简直叫人头晕。
随后，当往市场深处走去时，人口处的喧闹声渐渐消失，眼前便是清静的布市了。
这里的泥土地面，被无数双脚板踩踏得硬邦邦的，人走在上面几乎听不到脚步声了，而拱形的泥砖屋顶和墙壁也难得产生什么回音效果。
布店的店主们一个个都是轻声轻气、慢条斯理的样子；买布的顾客们在这种沉闷压抑的气氛感染下，自然而然地也学着店主们的榜样，变得低声细语起来。
中东集市的特点之一是经销同类商品的店家，为避免相互间的竞争，不是分散在集市各处，而是都集中在一块儿，这样既便于让买主知道上哪儿找他们，同时他们自己也可以紧密地联合起来，结成同盟，以便保护自己不受欺侮和刁难。
例如，在布市上，所有那1些卖衣料、窗帘布、椅套布等的商贩都把货摊一个接一个地排设在马路两边，每一个店铺门面前都摆有一张陈列商品的搁板桌和一些存放货物的货架。
讨价还价是人们习以为常的事。
头戴面纱的妇女们迈着悠闲的步子从一个店铺逛到另一个店铺，一边挑选一边问价；在她们缩小选择范围并开始正儿八经杀价之前，往往总要先同店主谈论几句，探探价底。
对于顾客来说，至关重要的一点是，不到最后一刻是不能让店主猜到她心里究竟中意哪样东西、想买哪样东西的。
高级英语原文及翻译
高级英语原文及翻译第一课 1 John Koshak, Jr.,knew that Hurricane Camille would be bad. Radio and television warnings had sounded throughout that Sunday, last August 17, as Camille lashed northwestward across the Gulf of Mexico. It was certain to pummel Gulfport, Miss., where the Koshers lived. Along the coasts of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, nearly 150,000 people fled inland to safer 8round. But, like thousands of others in the coastal communities, john was reluctant to abandon his home unless the family -- his wife, Janis, and their seven children, abed 3 to 11 -- was clearly endangered.2 Trying to reason out the best course of action, he talked with his father and mother, who had moved into the ten-room house with the Koshaks a month earlier from California. He also consulted Charles Hill, a long time friend, who had driven from Las Vegas for a visit.3 John, 37 -- whose business was right there in his home ( he designed and developed educational toys and supplies, and all of Magna Products' correspondence, engineering drawings and art work were there on the first floor) -- was familiar with the power of a hurricane. Four years earlier, Hurricane Betsy had demolished undefined his former home a few miles west of Gulfport (Koshak had moved his family to a motel for the night). But that house had stood only a few feet above sea level. "We' re elevated 2a feet," he told his father, "and we' re a good 250 yards from the sea. The place has been here since 1915, and no hurricane has ever bothered it. We' II probably be as safe here as anyplace else."4 The elder Koshak, a gruff, warmhearted expert machinist of67, agreed. "We can batten down and ride it out," he said. "If we see signs of danger, we can get out before dark."5 The men methodically prepared for the hurricane. Since water mains might be damaged, they filled bathtubs and pails. A power failure was likely, so they checked out batteries for the portable radio and flashlights, and fuel for the lantern. John's father moved a small generator into the downstairs hallway, wired several light bulbs to it and prepared a connection to the refrigerator.6 Rain fell steadily that afternoon; gray clouds scudded in from the Gulf on the rising wind. The family had an early supper.A neighbor, whose husband was in Vietnam, asked if she and her two children could sit out the storm with the Koshaks. Another neighbor came by on his way in-land — would the Koshaks mind taking care of his dog?7 It grew dark before seven o' clock. Wind and rain now whipped the house. John sent his oldest son and daughter upstairs to bring down mattresses and pillows for the younger children. He wanted to keep the group together on one floor. "Stay away from the windows," he warned, concerned about glass flying from storm-shattered panes. As the wind mounted to a roar, the house began leaking- the rain seemingly driven right through the walls. With mops, towels, pots and buckets the Koshaks began a struggle against the rapidly spreading water. At 8:30, power failed, and Pop Koshak turned on the generator.8 The roar of the hurricane now was overwhelming. The house shook, and the ceiling in the living room was falling piece by piece. The French doors in an upstairs room blew in with an explosive sound, and the group heard gun- like reports as other upstairs windows disintegrated. Water rose above their ankles.9 Then the front door started to break away from its frame. John and Charlie put their shoulders against it, but a blast of water hit the house, flinging open the door and shoving them down the hall. The generator was doused, and the lights went out. Charlie licked his lips and shouted to John. "I think we' re in real trouble. That water tasted salty." The sea had reached the house, and the water was rising by the minute!10 "Everybody out the back door to the oars!" John yelled. "We' II pass the children along between us. Count them! Nine!"11 The children went from adult to adult like buckets in a fire brigade. But the cars wouldn't start; the electrical systems had been killed by water. The wind was too Strong and the water too deep to flee on foot. "Back to the house!" john yelled. "Count the children! Count nine!"12 As they scrambled back, john ordered, "Every-body on the stairs!" Frightened, breathless and wet, the group settled on the stairs, which were protected by two interior walls. The children put the oat, Spooky, and a box with her four kittens on the landing. She peered nervously at her litter. The neighbor's dog curled up and went to sleep.13 The wind sounded like the roar of a train passing a few yards away. The house shuddered and shifted on its foundations. Water inched its way up the steps as first- floor outside walls collapsed. No one spoke. Everyone knew there was no escape; they would live or die in the house.14 Charlie Hill had more or less taken responsibility for the neighbor and her two children. The mother was on the verge of panic. She clutched his arm and kept repeating, "I can't swim, I can't swim."15 "You won't have to," he told her, with outward calm. "It'sbound to end soon."16 Grandmother Koshak reached an arm around her husband's shoulder and put her mouth close to his ear. "Pop," she said, "I love you." He turned his head and answered, "I love you" -- and his voice lacked its usual gruffness.17 John watched the water lap at the steps, and felt a crushing guilt. He had underestimated the ferocity of Camille. He had assumed that what had never happened could not happen. He held his head between his hands, and silently prayed: "Get us through this mess, will You?"18 A moment later, the hurricane, in one mighty swipe, lifted the entire roof off the house and skimmed it 40 feet through the air. The bottom steps of the staircase broke apart. One wall began crumbling on the marooned group.19 Dr. Robert H. Simpson, director of the National Hurricane Center in Miami, Fla., graded Hurricane Camille as "the greatest recorded storm ever to hit a populated area in the Western Hemisphere." in its concentrated breadth of some 70 miles it shot out winds of nearly 200 m.p.h. and raised tides as high as 30 feet. Along the Gulf Coast it devastated everything in its swath: 19,467 homes and 709 small businesses were demolished or severely damaged. it seized a 600, 000-gallon Gulfport oil tank and dumped it 3 ~ miles away. It tore three large cargo ships from their moorings and beached them. Telephone poles and 20-inch-thick pines cracked like guns as the winds snapped them.20 To the west of Gulfport, the town of Pass Christian was virtually wiped out. Several vacationers at the luxurious Richelieu Apartments there held a hurricane party to watch the storm from their spectacular vantage point. Richelieu Apartments were smashed apart as if by a gigantic fist, and 26 people perished.21 Seconds after the roof blew off the Koshak house, john yelled, "Up the stairs -- into our bedroom! Count the kids." The children huddled in the slashing rain within the circle of adults. Grandmother Koshak implored, "Children, let's sing!" The children were too frightened to respond. She carried on alone fora few bars; then her voice trailed away.22 Debris flew as the living-room fireplace and its chimney collapsed. With two walls in their bedroom sanctuary beginning to disintegrate, John ordered, "Into the television room!" This was the room farthest from the direction of the storm.23 For an instant, John put his arm around his wife. Janis understood. Shivering from the wind and rain and fear, clutching two children to her, she thought, Dear Lord, give me the strength to endure what I have to. She felt anger against the hurricane. We won't let it win.24 Pop Koshak raged silently, frustrated at not being able to do anything to fight Camille. Without reason, he dragged a cedar chest and a double mattress from a bed-room into the TV room. At that moment, the wind tore out one wall and extinguished the lantern. A second wall moved, wavered, Charlie Hill tried to support it, but it toppled on him, injuring his back. The house, shuddering and rocking, had moved 25 feet from its foundations. The world seemed to be breaking apart.25 "Let's get that mattress up!" John shouted to his father. "Make it a lean-to against the wind. Get the kids under it. We can prop it up with our heads and shoulders!"26 The larger children sprawled on the floor, with the smaller ones in a layer on top of them, and the adults bent over all nine. The floor tilted. The box containing the litter of kittens slid off a shelf and vanished in the wind. Spooky flew off the top of asliding bookcase and also disappeared. The dog cowered with eyes closed. A third wall gave way. Water lapped across the slanting floor. John grabbed a door which was still hinged to one closet wall. "If the floor goes," he yelled at his father, "let's get the kids on this."27 In that moment, the wind slightly diminished, and the water stopped rising. Then the water began receding. The main thrust of Camille had passed. The Koshaks and their friends had survived.28 With the dawn, Gulfport people started coming back to their homes. They saw human bodies -- more than 130 men, women and children died along the Mississippi coast- and parts of the beach and highway were strewn with dead dogs, cats, cattle. Strips of clothing festooned the standing trees, and blown down power lines coiled like black spaghetti over the roads.29 None of the returnees moved quickly or spoke loudly; they stood shocked,trying to absorb the shattering scenes before their eyes. "What do we dot" they asked. "Where do we go?"30 By this time, organizations within the area and, in effect, the entire population of the United States had come to the aid of the devastated coast. Before dawn, the Mississippi National Guard and civil-defense units were moving in to handle traffic, guard property, set up communications centers, help clear the debris and take the homeless by truck and bus to refugee centers. By 10 a.m., the Salvation Army's canteen trucks and Red Cross volunteers and staffers were going wherever possible to distribute hot drinks, food, clothing and bedding.31 From hundreds of towns and cities across the country came several million dollars in donations; household and medicalsupplies streamed in by plane, train, truck and car. The federal government shipped 4,400,000 pounds of food, moved in mobile homes, set up portable classrooms, opened offices to provide low-interest, long-term business loans.32 Camille, meanwhile, had raked its way northward across Mississippi, dropping more than 28 inches of rain into West Virginia and southern Virginia, causing rampaging floods, huge mountain slides and 111 additional deaths before breaking up over the Atlantic Ocean.33 Like many other Gulfport families, the Koshaks quickly began reorganizing their lives, John divided his family in the homes of two friends. The neighbor with her two children went to a refugee center. Charlie Hill found a room for rent. By Tuesday, Charlie's back had improved, and he pitched in with Seabees in the worst volunteer work of all--searching for bodies. Three days after the storm, he decided not to return to Las Vegas, but to "remain in Gulfport and help rebuild the community."34 Near the end of the first week, a friend offered the Koshaks his apartment, and the family was reunited. The children appeared to suffer no psychological damage from their experience; they were still awed by the incomprehensible power of the hurricane, but enjoyed describing what they had seen and heard on that frightful night, Janis had just one delayed reaction.A few nights after the hurricane, she awoke suddenly at 2 a.m. She quietly got up and went outside. Looking up at the sky and, without knowing she was going to do it, she began to cry softly.35 Meanwhile, John, Pop and Charlie were picking through the wreckage of the home. It could have been depressing, but it wasn't: each salvaged item represented a little victory over the wrath of the storm. The dog and cat suddenly appeared at thescene, alive and hungry.36 But the blues did occasionally afflict all the adults. Once, in a low mood, John said to his parents, "I wanted you here so that we would all be together, so you could enjoy the children, and look what happened."37 His father, who had made up his mind to start a welding shop when living was normal again, said, "Let's not cry about what's gone. We' II just start all over."38 "You're great," John said. "And this town has a lot of great people in it. It' s going to be better here than it ever was before."39 Later, Grandmother Koshak reflected: "We lost practically all our possessions, but the family came through it. When I think of that, I realize we lostnothing important."第二课1 As the corpse went past the flies left the restaurant table ina cloud and rushed after it, but they came back a few minutes later.2 The little crowd of mourners -- all men and boys, no women--threaded their way across the market place between the piles of pomegranates and the taxis and the camels, walling a short chant over and over again. What really appeals to the flies is that the corpses here are never put into coffins, they are merely wrapped in a piece of rag and carried on a rough wooden bier on the shoulders of four friends. When the friends get to the burying-ground they hack an oblong hole a foot or two deep, dump the body in it and fling over it a little of the dried-up, lumpy earth, which is like broken brick. No gravestone, no name, no identifying mark of any kind. The burying-ground is merely a huge waste of hummocky earth, like a derelict building-lot. Aftera month or two no one can even be certain where his own relatives are buried.3 When you walk through a town like this -- two hundred thousand inhabitants of whom at least twenty thousand own literally nothing except the rags they stand up in-- when you see how the people live, and still more how easily they die, it is always difficult to believe that you are walking among human beings. All colonial empires are in reality founded upon this fact. The people have brown faces--besides, there are so many of them! Are they really the same flesh as your self? Do they even have names? Or are they merely a kind of undifferentiated brown stuff, about as individual as bees or coral insects? They rise out of the earth，they sweat and starve for a few years, and then they sink back into the nameless mounds of the graveyard and nobody notices that they are gone. And even the graves themselves soon fade back into the soil. Sometimes, out for a walk as you break your way through the prickly pear, you notice that it is rather bumpy underfoot, and only a certain regularity in the bumps tells you that you are walking over skeletons.4 I was feeding one of the gazelles in the public gardens.5 Gazelles are almost the only animals that look good to eat when they are still alive, in fact, one can hardly look at their hindquarters without thinking of a mint sauce. The gazelle I was feeding seemed to know that this thought was in my mind, for though it took the piece of bread I was holding out it obviously did not like me. It nibbled nibbled rapidly at the bread, then lowered its head and tried to butt me, then took another nibble and then butted again. Probably its idea was that if it could drive me away the bread would somehow remain hanging in mid-air.6 An Arab navvy working on the path nearby lowered hisheavy hoe and sidled slowly towards us. He looked from the gazelle to the bread and from the bread to the gazelle, with a sort of quiet amazement, as though he had never seen anything quite like this before. Finally he said shyly in French: "1 could eat some of that bread."7 I tore off a piece and he stowed it gratefully in some secret place under his rags. This man is an employee of the municipality.8 When you go through the Jewish Quarters you gather some idea of what the medieval ghettoes were probably like. Under their Moorish Moorishrulers the Jews were only allowed to own land in certain restricted areas, and after centuries of this kind of treatment they have ceased to bother about overcrowding. Many of the streets are a good deal less than six feet wide, the houses are completely windowless, and sore-eyed children cluster everywhere in unbelievable numbers, like clouds of flies. Down the centre of the street there is generally runninga little river of urine.9 In the bazaar huge families of Jews, all dressed in the long black robe and little black skull-cap, are working in dark fly-infested booths that look like caves. A carpenter sits crosslegged at a prehistoric lathe, turning chairlegs at lightning speed. He works the lathe with a bow in his right hand and guides the chisel with his left foot, and thanks to a lifetime of sitting in this position his left leg is warped out of shape. At his side his grandson, aged six, is already starting on the simpler parts of the job.10 I was just passing the coppersmiths' booths when somebody noticed that I was lighting a cigarette. Instantly, from the dark holes all round, there was a frenzied rush of Jews, many of them old grandfathers with flowing grey beards, all clamouring for a cigarette. Even a blind man somewhere at theback of one of the booths heard a rumour of cigarettes and came crawling out, groping in the air with his hand. In about a minute I had used up the whole packet. None of these people, I suppose, works less than twelve hours a day, and every one of them looks on a cigarette as a more or less impossible luxury.11 As the Jews live in self-contained communities they follow the same trades as the Arabs, except for agriculture. Fruitsellers, potters, silversmiths, blacksmiths, butchers, leather-workers, tailors, water-carriers, beggars, porters -- whichever way you look you see nothing but Jews. As a matter of fact there are thirteen thousand of them, all living in the space of a few acres. A good job Hitlet wasn't here. Perhaps he was on his way, however. You hear the usual dark rumours about Jews, not only from the Arabs but from the poorer Europeans.12 "Yes vieux mon vieux, they took my job away from me and gave it to a Jew. The Jews! They' re the real rulers of this country, you know. They’ve got all the money. They control the banks, finance -- everything."13 "But", I said, "isn't it a fact that the average Jew is a labourer working for about a penny an hour?"14 "Ah, that's only for show! They' re all money lenders really. They' re cunning, the Jews."15 In just the same way, a couple of hundred years ago, poor old women used to be burned for witchcraft when they could not even work enough magic to get themselves a square meal. square meal16 All people who work with their hands are partly invisible, and the more important the work they do, the less visible they are. Still, a white skin is always fairly conspicuous. In northern Europe, when you see a labourer ploughing a field, you probablygive him a second glance. In a hot country, anywhere south of Gibraltar or east of Suez, the chances are that you don't even see him. I have noticed this again and again. In a tropical landscape one's eye takes in everything except the human beings.。
高级英语原文及翻译
第一课 1 John Koshak, Jr.,knew that Hurricane Camille would be bad. Radio and television warnings had sounded throughout that Sunday, last August 17, as Camille lashed northwestward across the Gulf of Mexico. It was certain to pummel Gulfport, Miss., where the Koshers lived. Along the coasts of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama, nearly 150,000 people fled inland to safer 8round. But, like thousands of others in the coastal communities, john was reluctant to abandon his home unless the family -- his wife, Janis, and their seven children, abed 3 to 11 -- was clearly endangered.2 Trying to reason out the best course of action, he talked with his father and mother, who had moved into the ten-room house with the Koshaks a month earlier from California. He also consulted Charles Hill, a long time friend, who had driven from Las Vegas for a visit.3 John, 37 -- whose business was right there in his home ( he designed and developed educational toys and supplies, and all of Magna Products' correspondence, engineering drawings and art work were there on the first floor) -- was familiar with the power of a hurricane. Four years earlier, Hurricane Betsy had demolished undefined his former home a few miles west of Gulfport (Koshak had moved his family to a motel for the night). But that house had stood only a few feet above sea level. "We' re elevated 2a feet," he told his father, "and we' re a good 250 yards from the sea. The place has been here since 1915, and no hurricane has ever bothered it. We' II probably be as safe here as anyplace else."4 The elder Koshak, a gruff, warmhearted expert machinist of 67, agreed. "We can batten down and ride it out," he said. "If we see signs of danger, we can get out before dark."5 The men methodically prepared for the hurricane. Since water mains might be damaged, they filled bathtubs and pails. A power failure was likely, so they checked out batteries for the portable radio and flashlights, and fuel for the lantern. John's father moved a small generator into the downstairs hallway, wired several light bulbs to it and prepared a connection to the refrigerator.6 Rain fell steadily that afternoon; gray clouds scudded in from the Gulf on the rising wind. The family had an early supper. A neighbor, whose husband was in Vietnam, asked if she and her two children could sit out the storm with the Koshaks. Another neighbor came by on his way in-land — would the Koshaks mind taking care of his dog?7 It grew dark before seven o' clock. Wind and rain now whipped the house. John sent his oldest son and daughter upstairs to bring down mattresses and pillows for the younger children. He wanted to keep the group together on one floor. "Stay away from the windows," he warned, concerned about glass flying from storm-shattered panes. As the wind mounted to a roar, the house began leaking- the rain seemingly driven right through the walls. With mops, towels, pots and buckets the Koshaks began a struggle against the rapidly spreading water. At 8:30, power failed, and Pop Koshak turned on the generator.8 The roar of the hurricane now was overwhelming. The house shook, and the ceiling in the living room was falling piece by piece. The French doors in an upstairs room blew in with an explosive sound, and the group heard gun- like reports as other upstairs windows disintegrated. Water rose above their ankles.9 Then the front door started to break away from its frame. John and Charlie put their shoulders against it, but a blast of water hit the house, flinging open the door and shoving them down the hall. The generator was doused, and the lights went out. Charlie licked his lips and shouted to John. "I think we' re in real trouble. That water tasted salty." The sea had reached the house, and the water was rising by the minute!10 "Everybody out the back door to the oars!" John yelled. "We' II pass the children along between us. Count them! Nine!"11 The children went from adult to adult like buckets in a fire brigade. But the cars wouldn't start; the electrical systems had been killed by water. The wind was too Strong and the water too deep to flee on foot. "Back to the house!" john yelled. "Count the children! Count nine!"12 As they scrambled back, john ordered, "Every-body on the stairs!" Frightened, breathless and wet, the group settled on the stairs, which were protected by two interior walls. The children put the oat, Spooky, and a box with her four kittens on the landing. She peered nervously at her litter. The neighbor's dog curled up and went to sleep.13 The wind sounded like the roar of a train passing a few yards away. The house shuddered and shifted on its foundations. Water inched its way up the steps as first- floor outside walls collapsed. No one spoke. Everyone knew there was no escape; they would live or die in the house.14 Charlie Hill had more or less taken responsibility for the neighbor and her two children. The mother was on the verge of panic. She clutched his arm and kept repeating, "I can't swim, I can't swim."15 "You won't have to," he told her, with outward calm. "It's bound to end soon."16 Grandmother Koshak reached an arm around her husband's shoulder and put her mouth close to his ear. "Pop," she said, "I love you." He turned his head and answered, "I love you" -- and his voice lacked its usual gruffness.17 John watched the water lap at the steps, and felt a crushing guilt. He had underestimated the ferocity of Camille. He had assumed that what had never happened could not happen. He held his head between his hands, and silently prayed: "Get us through this mess, will You?"18 A moment later, the hurricane, in one mighty swipe, lifted the entire roof off the house and skimmed it 40 feet through the air. The bottom steps of the staircase broke apart. One wall began crumbling on the marooned group.19 Dr. Robert H. Simpson, director of the National Hurricane Center in Miami, Fla., graded Hurricane Camille as "the greatest recorded storm ever to hit a populated area in the Western Hemisphere." in its concentrated breadth of some 70 miles it shot out winds of nearly 200 m.p.h. and raised tides as high as 30 feet. Along the Gulf Coast it devastated everything in its swath: 19,467 homes and 709 small businesses were demolished or severely damaged. it seized a 600, 000-gallon Gulfport oil tankand dumped it 3 ~ miles away. It tore three large cargo ships from their moorings and beached them. Telephone poles and 20-inch-thick pines cracked like guns as the winds snapped them.20 To the west of Gulfport, the town of Pass Christian was virtually wiped out. Several vacationers at the luxurious Richelieu Apartments there held a hurricane party to watch the storm from their spectacular vantage point. Richelieu Apartments were smashed apart as if by a gigantic fist, and 26 people perished.21 Seconds after the roof blew off the Koshak house, john yelled, "Up the stairs -- into our bedroom! Count the kids." The children huddled in the slashing rain within the circle of adults. Grandmother Koshak implored, "Children, let's sing!" The children were too frightened to respond. She carried on alone for a few bars; then her voice trailed away.22 Debris flew as the living-room fireplace and its chimney collapsed. With two walls in their bedroom sanctuary beginning to disintegrate, John ordered, "Into the television room!" This was the room farthest from the direction of the storm.23 For an instant, John put his arm around his wife. Janis understood. Shivering from the wind and rain and fear, clutching two children to her, she thought, Dear Lord, give me the strength to endure what I have to. She felt anger against the hurricane. We won't let it win.24 Pop Koshak raged silently, frustrated at not being able to do anything to fight Camille. Without reason, he dragged a cedar chest and a double mattress from a bed-room into the TV room. At that moment, the wind tore out one wall and extinguished the lantern. A second wall moved, wavered, Charlie Hill tried to support it, but it toppled on him, injuring his back. The house, shuddering and rocking, had moved 25 feet from its foundations. The world seemed to be breaking apart.25 "Let's get that mattress up!" John shouted to his father. "Make it a lean-to against the wind. Get the kids under it. We can prop it up with our heads and shoulders!"26 The larger children sprawled on the floor, with the smaller ones in a layer on top of them, and the adults bent over all nine. The floor tilted. The box containing the litter of kittens slid off a shelf and vanished in the wind. Spooky flew off the top of a sliding bookcase and also disappeared. The dog cowered with eyes closed. A third wall gave way. Water lapped across the slanting floor. John grabbed a door which was still hinged to one closet wall. "If the floor goes," he yelled at his father, "let's get the kids on this."27 In that moment, the wind slightly diminished, and the water stopped rising. Then the water began receding. The main thrust of Camille had passed. The Koshaks and their friends had survived.28 With the dawn, Gulfport people started coming back to their homes. They saw human bodies -- more than 130 men, women and children died along the Mississippi coast- and parts of the beach and highway were strewn with dead dogs, cats, cattle. Strips of clothing festooned the standing trees, and blown down power lines coiled like black spaghetti over the roads.29 None of the returnees moved quickly or spoke loudly; they stood shocked,trying to absorb the shattering scenes before their eyes. "What do we dot" they asked. "Where do we go?"30 By this time, organizations within the area and, in effect, the entire population of the United States had come to the aid of the devastated coast. Before dawn, the Mississippi National Guard and civil-defense units were moving in to handle traffic, guard property, set up communications centers, help clear the debris and take the homeless by truck and bus to refugee centers. By 10 a.m., the Salvation Army's canteen trucks and Red Cross volunteers and staffers were going wherever possible to distribute hot drinks, food, clothing and bedding.31 From hundreds of towns and cities across the country came several million dollars in donations; household and medical supplies streamed in by plane, train, truck and car. The federal government shipped 4,400,000 pounds of food, moved in mobile homes, set up portable classrooms, opened offices to provide low-interest, long-term business loans.32 Camille, meanwhile, had raked its way northward across Mississippi, dropping more than 28 inches of rain into West Virginia and southern Virginia, causing rampaging floods, huge mountain slides and 111 additional deaths before breaking up over the Atlantic Ocean.33 Like many other Gulfport families, the Koshaks quickly began reorganizing their lives, John divided his family in the homes of two friends. The neighbor with her two children went to a refugee center. Charlie Hill found a room for rent. By Tuesday, Charlie's back had improved, and he pitched in with Seabees in the worst volunteer work of all--searching for bodies. Three days after the storm, he decided not to return to Las Vegas, but to "remain in Gulfport and help rebuild the community."34 Near the end of the first week, a friend offered the Koshaks his apartment, and the family was reunited. The children appeared to suffer no psychological damage from their experience; they were still awed by the incomprehensible power of the hurricane, but enjoyed describing what they had seen and heard on that frightful night, Janis had just one delayed reaction. A few nights after the hurricane, she awoke suddenly at 2 a.m. She quietly got up and went outside. Looking up at the sky and, without knowing she was going to do it, she began to cry softly.35 Meanwhile, John, Pop and Charlie were picking through the wreckage of the home. It could have been depressing, but it wasn't: each salvaged item represented a little victory over the wrath of the storm. The dog and cat suddenly appeared at the scene, alive and hungry.36 But the blues did occasionally afflict all the adults. Once, in a low mood, John said to his parents, "I wanted you here so that we would all be together, so you could enjoy the children, and look what happened."37 His father, who had made up his mind to start a welding shop when living was normal again, said, "Let's not cry about what's gone. We' II just start all over."38 "You're great," John said. "And this town has a lot of great people in it. It' s going to be better here than it ever was before."39 Later, Grandmother Koshak reflected: "We lost practically all our possessions, but the family came through it. When I think of that, I realize we lostnothing important."第二课1 As the corpse went past the flies left the restaurant table in a cloud and rushed after it, but they came back a few minutes later.2 The little crowd of mourners -- all men and boys, no women--threaded their way across the market place between the piles of pomegranates and the taxis and the camels, walling a short chant over and over again. What really appeals to the flies is that the corpses here are never put into coffins, they are merely wrapped in a piece of rag and carried on a rough wooden bier on the shoulders of four friends. When the friends get to the burying-ground they hack an oblong hole a foot or two deep, dump the body in it and fling over it a little of the dried-up, lumpy earth, which is like broken brick. No gravestone, no name, no identifying mark of any kind. The burying-ground is merely a huge waste of hummocky earth, like a derelict building-lot. After a month or two no one can even be certain where his own relatives are buried.3 When you walk through a town like this -- two hundred thousand inhabitants of whom at least twenty thousand own literally nothing except the rags they stand up in-- when you see how the people live, and still more how easily they die, it is always difficult to believe that you are walking among human beings. All colonial empires are in reality founded upon this fact. The people have brown faces--besides, there are so many of them! Are they really the same flesh as your self? Do they even have names? Or are they merely a kind of undifferentiated brown stuff, about as individual as bees or coral insects? They rise out of the earth，they sweat and starve for a few years, and then they sink back into the nameless mounds of the graveyard and nobody notices that they are gone. And even the graves themselves soon fade back into the soil. Sometimes, out for a walk as you break your way through the prickly pear, you notice that it is rather bumpy underfoot, and only a certain regularity in the bumps tells you that you are walking over skeletons.4 I was feeding one of the gazelles in the public gardens.5 Gazelles are almost the only animals that look good to eat when they are still alive, in fact, one can hardly look at their hindquarters without thinking of a mint sauce. The gazelle I was feeding seemed to know that this thought was in my mind, for though it took the piece of bread I was holding out it obviously did not like me. It nibbled nibbled rapidly at the bread, then lowered its head and tried to butt me, then took another nibble and then butted again. Probably its idea was that if it could drive me away the bread would somehow remain hanging in mid-air.6 An Arab navvy working on the path nearby lowered his heavy hoe and sidled slowly towards us. He looked from the gazelle to the bread and from the bread to the gazelle, with a sort of quiet amazement, as though he had never seen anything quite like this before. Finally he said shyly in French: "1 could eat some of that bread."7 I tore off a piece and he stowed it gratefully in some secret place under his rags. This man is an employee of the municipality.8 When you go through the Jewish Quarters you gather some idea of what the medieval ghettoes were probably like. Under their Moorish Moorishrulers the Jews were only allowed to own land in certain restricted areas, and after centuries of this kind of treatment they have ceased to bother about overcrowding. Many of the streets are a good deal less than six feet wide, the houses are completely windowless, and sore-eyed children cluster everywhere in unbelievable numbers, like clouds of flies. Down the centre of the street there is generally running a little river of urine.9 In the bazaar huge families of Jews, all dressed in the long black robe and little black skull-cap, are working in dark fly-infested booths that look like caves. A carpenter sits crosslegged at a prehistoric lathe, turning chairlegs at lightning speed. He works the lathe with a bow in his right hand and guides the chisel with his left foot, and thanks to a lifetime of sitting in this position his left leg is warped out of shape. At his side his grandson, aged six, is already starting on the simpler parts of the job.10 I was just passing the coppersmiths' booths when somebody noticed that I was lighting a cigarette. Instantly, from the dark holes all round, there was a frenzied rush of Jews, many of them old grandfathers with flowing grey beards, all clamouring for a cigarette. Even a blind man somewhere at the back of one of the booths heard a rumour of cigarettes and came crawling out, groping in the air with his hand. In about a minute I had used up the whole packet. None of these people, I suppose, works less than twelve hours a day, and every one of them looks on a cigarette as a more or less impossible luxury.11 As the Jews live in self-contained communities they follow the same trades as the Arabs, except for agriculture. Fruitsellers, potters, silversmiths, blacksmiths, butchers, leather-workers, tailors, water-carriers, beggars, porters -- whichever way you look you see nothing but Jews. As a matter of fact there are thirteen thousand of them, all living in the space of a few acres. A good job Hitlet wasn't here. Perhaps he was on his way, however. You hear the usual dark rumours about Jews, not only from the Arabs but from the poorer Europeans.12 "Yes vieux mon vieux, they took my job away from me and gave it to a Jew. The Jews! They' re the real rulers of this country, you know. They’ve got all the money. They control the banks, finance -- everything."13 "But", I said, "isn't it a fact that the average Jew is a labourer working for about a penny an hour?"14 "Ah, that's only for show! They' re all money lenders really. They' re cunning, the Jews."15 In just the same way, a couple of hundred years ago, poor old women used to be burned for witchcraft when they could not even work enough magic to get themselves a square meal. square meal16 All people who work with their hands are partly invisible, and the more important the work they do, the less visible they are. Still, a white skin is always fairly conspicuous. In northern Europe, when you see a labourer ploughing a field, you probably give him a second glance. In a hot country, anywhere south of Gibraltar or east of Suez, the chances are that you don't even see him. I have noticed this again and again. In a tropical landscape one's eye takes in everything except the human beings.It takes in the dried-up soil, the prickly pear, the palm tree and the distant mountain, but it always misses the peasant hoeing at his patch. He is the same colour as the earth, and a great deal less interesting to look at.17 It is only because of this that the starved countries of Asia and Africa are accepted as tourist resorts. No one would think of running cheap trips to the Distressed Areas. But where the human beings have brown skins their poverty is simply not noticed. What does Morocco mean to a Frenchman? An orange grove or a job in Government service. Or to an Englishman? Camels, castles, palm trees, Foreign Legionnaires, brass trays, and bandits. One could probably live there for years without noticing that for nine-tenths of the people the reality of life is an endless back-breaking struggle to wring a little food out of an eroded soil.18 Most of Morocco is so desolate that no wild animal bigger than a hare can live on it. Huge areas which were once covered with forest have turned into a treeless waste where the soil is exactly like broken-up brick. Nevertheless a good deal of it is cultivated, with frightful labour. Everything is done by hand. Long lines of women, bent double like inverted capital Ls, work their way slowly across the fields, tearing up the prickly weeds with their hands, and the peasant gathering lucerne for fodder pulls it up stalk by stalk instead of reaping it, thus saving an inch or two on each stalk. The plough is a wretched wooden thing, so frail that one can easily carry it on one's shoulder, and fitted underneath with a rough iron spike which stirs the soil to a depth of about four inches. This is as much as the strength of the animals is equal to. It is usual to plough with a cow and a donkey yoked together. Two donkeys would not be quite strong enough, but on the other hand two cows would cost a little more to feed. The peasants possess no narrows, they merely plough the soil several times over in different directions, finally leaving it in rough furrows, after which the whole field has to be shaped with hoes into small oblong patches to conserve water. Except for a day or two after the rare rainstorms there is never enough water. A long the edges of the fields channels are hacked out to a depth of thirty or forty feet to get at the tiny trickles which run through the subsoil.19 Every afternoon a file of very old women passes down the road outside my house, each carrying a load of firewood. All of them are mummified with age and the sun, and all of them are tiny. It seems to be generally the case in primitive communities that the women, when they get beyond a certain age, shrink to the size of children. One day poor creature who could not have been more than four feet tall crept past me under a vast load of wood. I stopped her and put a five-sou sou piece ( a little more than a farthing into her hand. She answered with a shrill wail, almost a scream, which was partly gratitude but mainly surprise. I suppose that from her point of view, by taking any notice of her, I seemed almost to be violating a law of nature. She accept- ed her status as an old woman, that is to say as a beast of burden. When a family is travelling it is quite usual to see a father and a grown-up son riding ahead on donkeys, and an old woman following on foot, carrying the baggage.20 But what is strange about these people is their invisibility. For several weeks, always at about the same time of day, the file of old women had hobbled past the house with their firewood, and though they had registered themselves on my eyeballsI cannot truly say that I had seen them. Firewood was passing -- that was how I saw it. It was only that one day I happened to be walking behind them, and the curious up-and-down motion of a load of wood drew my attention to the human being beneath it. Then for the first time I noticed the poor old earth-coloured bodies, bodies reduced to bones and leathery skin, bent double under the crushing weight. Yet I suppose I had not been five minutes on Moroccan soil before I noticed the overloading of the donkeys and was infuriated by it. There is no question that the donkeys are damnably treated. The Moroccan donkey is hardly bigger than a St. Bernard dog, it carries a load which in the British Army would be considered too much for a fifteen-hands mule, and very often its packsaddle is not taken off its back for weeks together. But what is peculiarly pitiful is that it is the most willing creature on earth, it follows its master like a dog and does not need either bridle or halter . After a dozen years of devoted work it suddenly drops dead, whereupon its master tips it into the ditch and the village dogs have torn its guts out before it is cold.21 This kind of thing makes one's blood boil, whereas-- on the whole -- the plight of the human beings does not. I am not commenting, merely pointing to a fact. People with brown skins are next door to invisible. Anyone can be sorry for the donkey with its galled back, but it is generally owing to some kind of accident if one even notices the old woman under her load of sticks.22 As the storks flew northward the Negroes were marching southward -- a long, dusty column, infantry , screw-gun batteries, and then more infantry, four or five thousand men in all, winding up the road with a clumping of boots and a clatter of iron wheels.23 They were Senegalese, the blackest Negroes in Africa, so black that sometimes it is difficult to see whereabouts on their necks the hair begins. Their splendid bodies were hidden in reach-me-down khaki uniforms, their feet squashed into boots that looked like blocks of wood, and every tin hat seemed to be a couple of sizes too small. It was very hot and the men had marched a long way. They slumped under the weight of their packs and the curiously sensitive black faces were glistening with sweat.24 As they went past, a tall, very young Negro turned and caught my eye. But the look he gave me was not in the least the kind of look you might expect. Not hostile, not contemptuous, not sullen, not even inquisitive. It was the shy, wide-eyed Negro look, which actually is a look of profound respect. I saw how it was. This wretched boy, who is a French citizen and has therefore been dragged from the forest to scrub floors and catch syphilis in garrison towns, actually has feelings of reverence before a white skin. He has been taught that the white race are his masters, and he still believes it.25 But there is one thought which every white man (and in this connection it doesn't matter twopence if he calls himself a socialist) thinks when he sees a black army marching past. "How much longer can we go on kidding these people? How long before they turn their guns in the other direction?"26 It was curious really. Every white man there had this thought stowed somewhere or other in his mind. I had it, so had the other onlookers, so had theofficers on their sweating chargers and the white N. C. Os marching in the ranks. It was a kind of secret which we all knew and were too clever to tell; only the Negroes didn't know it. And really it was like watching a flock of cattle to see the long column, a mile or two miles of armed men, flowing peacefully up the road, while the great white birds drifted over them in the opposite direction, glittering like scraps of Paper. 第三课1 Conversation is the most sociable of all human activities. And it is an activity only of humans. However intricate the ways in which animals communicate with each other, they do not indulge in anything that deserves the name of conversation.2 The charm of conversation is that it does not really start from anywhere, and no one has any idea where it will go as it meanders or leaps and sparkles or just glows. The enemy of good conversation is the person who has "something to say." Conversation is not for making a point. Argument may often be a part of it, but the purpose of the argument is not to convince. There is no winning in conversation. In fact, the best conversationalists are those who are prepared to lose. Suddenly they see the moment for one of their best anecdotes, but in a flash the conversation has moved on and the opportunity is lost. They are ready to let it go.3 Perhaps it is because of my up-bringing in English pubs that I think bar conversation has a charm of its own. Bar friends are not deeply involved in each other's lives. They are companions, not intimates. The fact that their marriages may be on the rooks, or that their love affairs have been broken or even that they got out of bed on the wrong side is simply not a concern. They are like the musketeers of Dumas who, although they lived side by side with each other, did not delve into,each other's lives or the recesses of their thoughts and feelings.4 It was on such an occasion the other evening, as the conversation moved desultorily here and there, from the most commonplace to thoughts of Jupiter, without any focus and with no need for one, that suddenly the alchemy of conversation took place, and all at once there was a focus. I do not remember what made one of our companions say it--she clearly had not come into the bar to say it, it was not something that was pressing on her mind--but her remark fell quite naturally into the talk.5 "Someone told me the Other day that the phrase, 'the King's English' was a term of criticism, that it means language which one should not properly use."6 The glow of the conversation burst into flames. There were affirmations and protests and denials, and of course the promise, made in all such conversation, that we would look it up on the morning. That would settle it; but conversation does not need to be settled; it could still go ignorantly on.7 It was an Australian who had given her such a definition of "the King's English," which produced some rather tart remarks about what one could expect from the descendants of convicts. We had traveled in five minutes to Australia. Of course, there would be resistance to the King's English in such a society. There is always resistance in the lower classes to any attempt by an upper class to lay down rules for "English as it should be spoken."。
高级英语第三版第一册课文翻译重点
Lesson 1 Face to Face with Hurricane Camille迎战卡米尔号飓风约瑟夫.布兰克小约翰。
柯夏克已料到，卡米尔号飓风来势定然凶猛。
就在去年8月17日那个星期天，当卡米尔号飓风越过墨西哥湾向西北进袭之时，收音机和电视里整天不断地播放着飓风警报。
柯夏克一家居住的地方一-密西西比州的高尔夫港--肯定会遭到这场飓风的猛烈袭击。
路易斯安那、密西西比和亚拉巴马三州沿海一带的居民已有将近15万人逃往内陆安全地带。
但约翰就像沿海村落中其他成千上万的人一样，不愿舍弃家园，要他下决心弃家外逃，除非等到他的一家人一-妻子詹妮丝以及他们那七个年龄从三岁到十一岁的孩子一一眼看着就要灾祸临头。
为了找出应付这场风灾的最佳对策，他与父母商量过。
两位老人是早在一个月前就从加利福尼亚迁到这里来，住进柯夏克一家所住的那幢十个房间的屋子里。
他还就此征求过从拉斯韦加斯开车来访的老朋友查理?希尔的意见。
约翰的全部产业就在自己家里(他开办的玛格纳制造公司是设计、研制各种教育玩具和教育用品的。
公司的一切往来函件、设计图纸和工艺模具全都放在一楼)。
37岁的他对飓风的威力是深有体会的。
四年前，他原先拥有的位于高尔夫港以西几英里外的那个家就曾毁于贝翠号飓风(那场风灾前夕柯夏克已将全家搬到一家汽车旅馆过夜)。
不过，当时那幢房子所处的地势偏低，高出海平面仅几英尺。
"我们现在住的这幢房子高了23英尺，，'他对父亲说，"而且距离海边足有250码远。
这幢房子是1915年建造的。
至今还从未受到过飓风的袭击。
我们呆在这儿恐怕是再安全不过了。
"老柯夏克67岁.是个语粗心慈的熟练机械师。
他对儿子的意见表示赞同。
"我们是可以严加防卫。
度过难关的，"他说?"一但发现危险信号，我们还可以赶在天黑之前撤出去。
" 为了对付这场飓风，几个男子汉有条不紊地做起准备工作来。
高级英语第三版第一册课文 翻译和词汇1-6
高级英语（第三版）第一册课文译文和词汇张汉熙版Lesson 1 Face to Face with Hurricane Camille迎战卡米尔号飓风约瑟夫.布兰克小约翰。
柯夏克已料到，卡米尔号飓风来势定然凶猛。
就在去年8月17日那个星期天，当卡米尔号飓风越过墨西哥湾向西北进袭之时，收音机和电视里整天不断地播放着飓风警报。
柯夏克一家居住的地方一-密西西比州的高尔夫港--肯定会遭到这场飓风的猛烈袭击。
路易斯安那、密西西比和亚拉巴马三州沿海一带的居民已有将近15万人逃往内陆安全地带。
但约翰就像沿海村落中其他成千上万的人一样，不愿舍弃家园，要他下决心弃家外逃，除非等到他的一家人一-妻子詹妮丝以及他们那七个年龄从三岁到十一岁的孩子一一眼看着就要灾祸临头。
为了找出应付这场风灾的最佳对策，他与父母商量过。
两位老人是早在一个月前就从加利福尼亚迁到这里来，住进柯夏克一家所住的那幢十个房间的屋子里。
他还就此征求过从拉斯韦加斯开车来访的老朋友查理?希尔的意见。
约翰的全部产业就在自己家里(他开办的玛格纳制造公司是设计、研制各种教育玩具和教育用品的。
公司的一切往来函件、设计图纸和工艺模具全都放在一楼)。
37岁的他对飓风的威力是深有体会的。
四年前，他原先拥有的位于高尔夫港以西几英里外的那个家就曾毁于贝翠号飓风(那场风灾前夕柯夏克已将全家搬到一家汽车旅馆过夜)。
不过，当时那幢房子所处的地势偏低，高出海平面仅几英尺。
"我们现在住的这幢房子高了23英尺，，'他对父亲说，"而且距离海边足有250码远。
这幢房子是1915年建造的。
至今还从未受到过飓风的袭击。
我们呆在这儿恐怕是再安全不过了。
"老柯夏克67岁.是个语粗心慈的熟练机械师。
他对儿子的意见表示赞同。
"我们是可以严加防卫。
度过难关的，"他说?"一但发现危险信号，我们还可以赶在天黑之前撤出去。
" 为了对付这场飓风，几个男子汉有条不紊地做起准备工作来。
【高级英语第一册课文翻译】高级英语第一册课文
【高级英语第一册课文翻译】高级英语第一册课文高级英语第一册课文The Middle Eastern bazaar takes you back hundreds __ even thousands __ of years. The one I am thinking of particularly is entered by a - arched gateway of aged brick and stone. You pass from the heat and glare of a big, open square into a cool, dark which extends as far as the eye can see, losing itself in the shadowy distance. Little donkeys with bells thread their way among the of people entering and leaving the bazaar. The roadway is about twelve feet wide, but it is narrowed every few yards by little where goods of every kind are sold. The of the stall-holder; crying their wares, of donkey-boys and porters clearing a way for themselves by shouting vigorously, and of would-be purchasers arguing and is continuous and makes you .Then as you penetrate deeper into the bazaar, the noise of the entrance fades away, and you e to the cloth-market. The earthen floor, beaten hard by countless feet, deadens the sound of footsteps, and the mud-brick walls and roof have hardly anysounds to . The shop-keepers speak in slow, measured tones, and the buyers, by the atmosphere, follow .One of the of the Eastern bazaar is that shopkeepers dealing in the same kind of goods do not scatter themselves over the bazaar, in order to avoid petition, but collect in the same area, so that purchasers can know where to find them, and so that they can form a closelyagainst or . In the cloth-market, for instance, all the sellers of material for clothes, curtains, chair covers and so on line the roadway on both sides, each open-fronted shop having a trestle for display and shelves for storage. Bargaining is the order of the cay, and veiled women move at a pace from shop to shop, selecting, pricing and doing a little bargaining before they narrow down their choice and begin the really serious business of beating the price down.It is a point of honour with the customer not to let the shopkeeper guess what it is she really likes and wants until the last moment. If he does guess correctly, he will price the item high, and yield little in the bargaining. The seller, on the other hand, makes a point of protesting that the price he is charging is all profit, and that he is sacrificing this because of his personal regard for the customer. Bargaining can go on the whole day, or evenseveral days, with the customer ing and going . One of the most and impressive parts of the bazaar is the copper-smiths' market. As you approach it, a tinkling and banging and clashing begins to on your ear. It grows louder and more distinct, until you round a corner and see aof dancing flashes, as the copper catches the light of lamps and. In each shop sit the apprentices – boys and youths, some of them incredibly young –hammering away at copper vessels of all shapes and sizes, while the shop-owner instructs, and sometimes takes a hand with a hammer himself. In the background, a tiny apprentice blows a bi-, charcoal fir e with a huge leather worked by a string attached to his big toe __ the red of the live coals glowing, bright and then dimming to the strokes of the bellows.Here you can find beautiful pots and bowls engrave with delicate and traditional designs, or the simple, everyday kitchenware used in this country, pleasing in form, but undecorated and strictly functional. Elsewhere there is the carpet-market, with its profusion of rich colours, varied textures and regional designs __ some bold and simple, others unbelievably detailed and yet harmonious. Then there is the spice-market, with its and smells; and the food-market, where you can buyeverything you need for the most dinner, or sit in a tiny restaurant with porters and apprentices and eat your humble bread and cheese. The dye-market, the pottery-market and the carpenters' market lie elsewhere in theof vaulted streets which this bazaar. Every here and there, a doorway gives a glimpse of a sunlit courtyard, perhaps before a or a , where camels lie chewing their hay, while the great bales of merchandise they have carried hundreds of miles across the desert lie beside them. Perhaps the most unforgettable thing in the bazaar, apart from its general atmosphere, is the place where they make oil. It is a vast, cavern of a room, some thirty feet high and sixty feet square, and so thick with the dust of centuries that the mudbrick walls and vaulted roof are only dimly visible. In this cavern are three massive stone wheels, each with a huge pole through its centre as an axle. The pole is attached at the one end to an upright post, around which it can revolve, and at the other to a blind-foldedcamel, which walks constantly in a circle, providing the motive power to turn the stone wheel. This revolves in a circular stone channel, into which an attendant feeds linseed. The stone wheel crushes it to a ,which is then pressed to the oil .The camels are the largestand finest I have ever seen, and in condition –, massive and stately.The pressing of the linseed pulp to extract the oil is done by a vast apparatus of beams and ropes and which towers to the vaulted ceiling and the camels and their stone wheels. The machine is operated by one man, who shovels the linseed pulp into a stone vat, climbs up to a dizzy height to fasten ropes, and then throws his weight on to a great beam made out of a tree trunk to set the ropes and pulleys in motion. Ancient girders and , ropes tighten and then a of oil oozes down a stone into a used petrol can. Quickly the trickle es a flood of glistening linseed oil as the beam sinks earthwards, and protesting, its creaks blending with the and of the grinding-wheels and the occasional and sighs of the camels.(from Advanced Comprehension and Appreciation pieces, 1962 )。
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对于决心寻求更加可行的方法改造社会，而不是通过武装革命的理想主义者来说，还有另外一种选择。
四、力图逐渐改变世界，一次改造一点
乍一看，这一途径毫无吸引力。它缺乏魅力，收效不快。它依靠的工具是恼人的、不可靠的说服与民主决策。它需要耐心，而人们往往缺乏耐心。这种方法唯一的长处是有时真起作用——在一个特定的时间和地点，与其他可选的策略相比，它可以改善世界上一些倒行逆施的行为。
这一解决方式的问题在于它已不能大规模地加以实践。令人遗憾的是我们的星球上高尚的野蛮人与未被法污的自然风光越来越少。除了极地地区，未开发的地方已无处可觅。少数特别富有的乡绅还能遁入田园生活，但是总的说来迁移的潮流是在向相反的方向流动，即从乡村流向城市。
三、策划革命
对无法容忍民主决策过程的单调沉闷的运作方式，或者相信只有武力才能改变基本
但是政治并不是六十年代强硬派摇滚乐所辩论的唯一主题。情感，作为任何音乐表现中常有的部分，也是一个重要题目。詹妮丝·乔普林歌唱自己的悲哀。甲壳虫乐队唱出爱与恨之间一系列感受。以后又出现了狄伦的摇滚乐队，他们把乡村音乐和西部音乐所表现的较为传统的观念与强硬派摇滚乐的较为激进的“都市”观念融合在一起。霍洛威茨认为这一乡村音乐的成份有助于为听众表达“逃避现实”，“回到往昔”的强烈愿望。当前最能说明霍洛威茨观点的例子之一是约翰·丹佛。他最著名的歌曲“阳光照在我肩上”、“高高的落基山”和“乡间小路”把民间摇滚乐的音乐气魄与力量结合了起来，而歌词则赞美了“美好往昔”的淳朴和欢乐。
因此吉姆·宾斯这一代人肩负着极其艰巨的任务，但我认为这并不是无法完成的任务。过去的事实证明，可以用以前对付困难问题的同样方法来处理这个问题——通过许多人的不懈努力，一点一点地，注重实效地加以解决。
第三课 强制就医
威廉·卡洛斯·威廉斯
他们是我的新病人，我所知道的就是这个名字，奥尔逊。请您尽快到我家来，我的女儿病得很厉害。
当然，我并不是说革命都一无所成，有些革命（美国革命，法国革命）确实使事物有所改进。我要说的只是无论成败与否，干革命的理想主义者注定要失望，因为即使在最好的情况下，他们胜利的曙光也从未照耀在他们梦想的，清除了人类一切卑鄙行经的灿烂的新世界上，而是洒在一个熟悉的，平凡庸碌的地方，仍需要食品杂货和污水处理的地方。无论在什么样的政治标签下，革命的国家也得由营销，卫生工程，官僚机构的行家们去治理，而不是由那些激进的浪漫主义者们去治理。
课文翻译 (Translation of the text)
第一课 超级摇滚巨星
—— 关于我们自己和我们的社会，他们告诉我们些什么？
摇滚乐是青少年反叛的音乐。
பைடு நூலகம் 一— 摇滚乐评论家约翰·罗克韦尔
由其崇拜的人即可知其人。
诸如此类的例子不胜枚举。这些摇滚乐音乐家和所有的艺术家一样，反映出时代的感情和信念，我们可以借此认识并形成自己的情感与信念。
我们用什么来回报他们呢？当然是掌声与赞扬。在1972年的一次全国性民意测验中，中学里百分之十以上的男生，百分之二十以上的女生说他们最崇拜的人是超级摇滚巨星。我们还给他们金钱以回报。一份名为《福布斯》的商业杂志说：“当今成为百万富翁的最快捷的途径是当摇滚歌星。”
作曲家兼演唱家托德·伦德格伦同意这个看法。他说：“摇滚乐与其说是一种音乐力量，不如说是一种社会心理的表现。甚至连艾尔维斯·普雷斯利也并非真正是一种伟大的音乐力量，只不过是艾尔维斯体现出了五十年代青少年那种失落的精神状态。”当然普雷斯利震动了美国的成人世界。报纸发表社论抨击他，电视网禁止播放他的节目。但艾尔维斯也许证实了霍洛威茨和伦德格伦的看法。当他通过埃德·沙利文主持的星期日晚间娱乐节目出现在千百万观众面前时，一场“大辩论”就展开了。大多数成年观众皱眉不满，而多数年轻观众则拍手欢呼。
小孩用冷漠的，坚定的目光上下使劲地打量我，她的脸上没有任何表情。她没有动，内心显得很平静，是个出奇漂亮的小东西，从外表上看她壮得像头小母牛。但是她的脸色通红，呼吸急促，我意识到她在发高烧。她长着满头漂亮的金发，就和经常出现在广告插页或周日报纸的图片版上的图片娃娃一样漂亮可爱。
第二课 年轻人的四种选择
斯坦福大学毕业班班主席吉姆·索斯怨他毕业化不久给我写了一封信，谈了他的一些疑虑。信上说：“我们这一代比其他任何一代人都更加以怀疑的态度来看待这个成人世界……而且也越来越倾向于完全否定那个世界。”
很显然他的话代表了他的许多同龄人的看法。在过去他几年中，我倾听过大学内外许多个年轻人的谈话，他们对成人世界同样感到不安。大致说来，他们的态度可以归纳如下：“这个世界一片混乱，充满了不公正，贫穷和战争。对此承担责任的应该是那些一直在掌管大事的成年人。如果他们做得不好，他们又能拿什么来教育我们这一代人呢？我们不需要这类教导也行。”
摇滚乐评论家们说，从艾尔维斯到艾丽斯，许多摇滚歌星帮助我们的社会阐述了其信仰与态度。鲍勃·狄伦触动了不满的神经，他唱到民权，核扩散物以及孤独，他唱到变革和老一代人的迷惑。他唱道：“这里正发生着什么事，你却不知道是什么事，是不是，琼斯先
生？”
其他人也加人到辩论中来。霍洛威茨说，甲壳虫乐队借助幽默，可能还有麻醉品的微弱之力来敦促和平与虔诚。滚石乐队，傲慢的街头斗士，则要求革命。杰斐逊飞机乐队演唱的“我们能够联合”和“志愿者（来一场革命）”则是激进青年的进一步的声明。
我到达时，一脸惊恐的母亲迎接我，她衣着整洁，怀着歉意，只问了一声，您是医生吧，便把我让进了屋。在房子的里间，她又说，请原谅，医生，我们让孩子呆在厨房里，那里很暖和，屋里有时很潮湿。
孩子穿得很严实，坐在离餐桌不远处父亲的大腿上。父亲试图站起来，但我示意他不必了。我脱了外衣开始检查。我能看得出他们都很紧张，用怀疑的眼光上下打量着我。通常在这种情况下，除非必须，他们不会对我讲得太多，得由我来告诉他们，这就是他们为什么付给我三美元检查费的原因。
二、逃避现实
这种策略也有其古老的先例。自从有了文明以来，就有许多人试图逃离文明世界，希望能找到一种比较朴素的。宣言田园风俗的，更安宁的生活。与脱离社会者不同，他们不是寄生者，他们愿意自食其力，并为集体做出点贡献，但是他们就是不喜欢文明的世界，也就是说不喜欢那充满丑恶与紧张的大城市。
当今的英雄们一—至少他们中的一部分人一—告诉我们，他们喜欢所得的报偿。“我暗自嘲笑这些先生们和女士们，他们从没想到过我们会成为拥有亿万财富的宠儿。”那位独特的“文化英雄”艾利斯·库柏这样唱道。
可是重大问题仍然是：为什么他成为文化英雄？他，或者当前其他任何成功的摇滚歌星，他们会让我们对他们的歌迷们有些什么了解？对我们自己和我们的社会有些什么了解？我们的社会现在怎样，过去怎样；将来又会怎样？
—— 小说家罗伯特·佩恩·沃伦
1972年6月中旬的一天，芝加哥圆形露天剧场里观众如潮，群情激昂，狂摇猛摆。台上，滚石乐队的米克·贾格尔正在演唱“午夜漫步人”。演唱结束时评论家唐·赫克曼在现场。他说：“贾格尔抓起一个装有半加伦水的罐子沿着舞台前沿跑动，把里面的水往前几排狂热的听众身上洒。他们蜂拥地跟随他，热切地希望能淋上几滴这洗礼的圣水。”
1974年1月下旬的一天，在纽约州尤宁代尔的拿骚体育馆里，鲍勃·狄伦和乐队正在为音乐会上用的乐器调音。场外瓢泼大雨中，摇滚乐迷克利斯·辛格正等着入场。“这是朝圣，”克利斯说，“我应该跪着爬进去。”
你是如何看待所有这些溢美之词与英雄崇拜？当米克·贾格尔迷们把他视为至高的神父或神明时，你是赞成他们还是反对他们？你和克利斯·辛格一样对鲍勃·狄伦怀有几乎是宗教般的崇敬吗？你认为他或狄伦步入歧途了吗？你是否嫌艾利斯·库珀表演恶心而不接受他？还是你莫名其妙地被这个怪异的小丑吸引，因为他表现了你最疯狂的幻想？
我觉得这些结论是合情合理，至少以他们的观点来看是这样。对于成长中的一代人来说，与此相关的问题不是我们的社会是不是不完美（我们可以视此为理所当然），而是如何来对待它。尽管这个社会严酷且不合理，但它毕竟是我们所拥有的唯一的世界。因此年青人所要做的第一个决定就是选择一种策略来对付这个世界，通常这也是他们一生中最重要的一个决定。就我所能看到的，只有四种基本选择：
至少历史上的证据似乎证明了这一点。在我大学毕业的时候，我们那一代人也发现世界一团糟，几乎在所有的地方经济体制崩溃。整个国家，大约有四分之一的人口失业，一场大战似乎在所难免。当时我作为大学报纸的编辑，也像今天的学生积极分子一样，强烈反对这一切。
同时，我们那一代人也逐渐发现，改造世界就像在亚平宁山区打仗，你刚占领一条山脉，另一条山脉又在你面都赫然耸现。三十年代的大问题刚刚有所控制，新的问题又取而代之：富裕社会中出现的新问题，如种族平等、保持城市适于居住、对付在陌生的伪装下的战争等问题。最令人不安的是我们发现的人口爆炸问题。我们突然间明白了在我们所居住的尤如一艘小小的宇宙飞船的星球上，乘客数目大约每四十年翻一番。只要地球上的人口不停地以这种似癌细胞增长的速度增加，那么其它一切问题便根本无法解决。我们的城市将继续变得更加拥挤喧嚣，景色将变得更加混乱，空气和水变得更脏。对每个人来说，生活质量都可能会持续恶化。而如果过多的人不得不为不断减少的食物份额与生存空间进行斗争的话，那么战争的升级看来是不可避免的。
在我最好的朋友中有些是革命者，其中一些人过着心满意足的生活。这些人的革命并未成功，他们还可以继续兴致勃勃地策划他们的屠杀，直到老朽。还有些人英年早逝，死在监狱里，或暴尸街头。但最不幸的是那些革命成功的人，他们活在幻想的破灭之中，看到他们建立新机构与他们所推翻的旧机构一样冷酷无情，死气沉沉。
这并非是些随便问问的问题。有些社会学家认为，你对这些问题的回答，很能说明你在想些什么，社会在想些什么。换句话说，可以说明你和社会的态度。“音乐表现其时代，”社会学家欧文·霍洛威茨说。霍洛威茨把摇滚乐的舞台视为一个辩论的论坛，一个各种思想交锋的场所。他把它看作是一个美国社会努力为自己的情感与信念进行解释与再解释的场所。他说：“重新解释是一项只有青年人才能完成的任务。是他们将创造与夸张．理性与行动，文字与声音，音乐与政治结合起来。”