中英文雙語美文
中英文雙語美文
教師引導(dǎo)學(xué)生閱讀經(jīng)典的美文,欣賞有價(jià)值的作品,激發(fā)學(xué)生閱讀的興趣,提高寫作能力,促進(jìn)語文教學(xué)質(zhì)量的提高。下面是學(xué)習(xí)啦小編帶來的英漢雙語美文欣賞，歡迎閱讀!
英漢雙語美文欣賞篇一
Selling My Mother's Dresses母親的遺物
I like to think that a bit of her laughter, sense of wonder and fun travels with them and that any tears or sadness are long since washed away.
I moved from Chicago to Brooklyn in July of 2004, just in time to watch my mother die. That wasn't why I moved back. She was supposed to be getting better; the chemo was working. I came because I'd rented an apartment with Jay, this cute guy I'd started dating, who was originally from New York too. But a week after pulling up in a U-Haul, I found myself cleaning out my childhood home with my siblings. Our parents were both gone now; anything that we couldn't take with us had to fit in a 20-cubic-yard Dumpster.
I could barely squeeze the little I saved into the one-bedroom Jay and I shared. I didn't even try to unpack the boxes of my parents' books, the bags of my mom's dresses. Jay (who held me up at the funeral and painted our place all my favorite colors and quickly proved to be much more than just a cute guy) had to shimmy sideways to get between my father's easy chair and my mother's broken desk. I was claustrophobic from the mountains of photos and misplaced knickknacks, and yet I found myself drawn to someone else's castoffs. We hadn't lived there more than a month and already I was claustrophobic from the mountains of photos and misplaced knickknacks. So it made no sense when, out walking one Saturday later that summer, something caught my eye — a pale green scrap of fabric — and suddenly I was steering Jay toward someone else's castoffs. My first stoop sale.
Laid out on the pavement was a batik scarf with dangling earrings, glass candle-holders, a small wooden jewelry box, books from Heidegger to Nora Ephron, a videotape of "Risky Business." Draped on the wrought iron fence behind: a tan knit shawl, a few pairs of jeans, a green cotton dress with buttons that looked like the inside of a seashell. I'd never owned anything green, but I had to feel those buttons between my fingers, the cotton so thin it was maybe two washes away from disintegration.
"You can try it on if you want. There's a mirror over by the tree."
I looked up to find her face. I'd inspected all of her things without even saying hello.
I saw a smile that was working hard. Her skin was pale; her shoulders thin and her hair cut very short. Or was it new peach fuzz, just growing in?
I was at once embarrassed and humbled. I'd thought people who hosted stoop sales just had too many clothes or were looking to cash in on some scratched records. But there was something else happening here. This woman looked like she was getting rid of a past she didn't need or want. A dress that was too big for her. A chest of drawers that took up too much space, space she needed, maybe, to heal or grow.
"Thanks," I whispered. I wasn't planning on buying anything really, but now I needed to, to show her that I appreciated her things and would give them a safe home. I paid her 20 bucks for her green dress, her wooden jewelry box and her blue candle-holder.
From that day on, I became devoted to stoop sales. Some of my favorite things — including the sundress I'm wearing today and the Winnie the Pooh car that Jay is pushing our daughter in — are from someone else's life. I find no joy in shopping at regular stores anymore. I've been known to break down in cranky tears by the checkout of Ikea. I'd love to say I'm trying to speak out against sweatshop conditions or conserve thread. But it's much more selfish than that. I love trying to sniff out a memory from a bud vase or a favorite song from a case of L.P.'s. The stains and broken switches, the bend in the knee of an old pair of jeans. Sometimes I just want to look at how many Mason jars one person can collect and imagine what they might've held. It's comforting to know that someone has breathed and laughed inside a sweater before me. That I am part of a continuum.
I have great respect for people who organize stoop sales. It must be an emotional way to spend your weekend. Arranging your history on a card table so strangers can snoop and evaluate. There's also a certain freedom and recklessness to putting a price tag on an ex's mix CD or "The Marx-Engels Reader" you never read in college and are finally ready to admit you never will.
I am very big on purging my own things. Every few weeks I drop off a load of clothes at the resale shop around the corner or cart a stack of books to the curb. The more I read about Buddhism while the stock market dips and flips, the more I feel like I have to practice non-attachment. Maybe it has to do with losing my parents at a young age. Maybe I can't bond with anyone or anything without also seeing us eventually separated. Whatever the cause, I know that once I love a scarf or shirt too dearly, it needs to find a new home. Even that green dress — which I turned into a blouse after deciding it made me look like a celery stalk — is long gone by now.
The one thing I haven't been able to do is manage my own stoop sale. I've come close. A few weeks ago, I carried the last of my mother's dresses to a friend's stoop. These were Mom's best items — strong taffetas and feathered collars, cream brocade and lavender chiffon. My mother was elegant, whether she was in a tailored suit or her limp blue bathrobe. I tried to remind myself of this as I watched, from the park across the way, for hours, those dresses wilt on the cement stair. The sidewalks were crowded with iced coffees and farmers' market gladioluses. Nobody even glanced at my mother's finery.
"C'mon," I finally said to my 2-year-old daughter. I pulled her out of the swings. "I'm going to show you Grandma Joanie's dresses."
Grandma Joanie is just a name to my daughter. Even when I show her pictures, there is no perfumed hug or ice cream afternoon to make her a real person. And those dresses were equally meaningless to her. Empty pieces of hot fabric that were once worn by the most important person in my life. For all my hours with Thich Nhat Hanh's teachings on letting go, I still hold on tightly sometimes, whether I want to or not. I still think her stuff is as sacred as her memory.
I did not buy back my mother's things.
I did not pick up her skirt that was dusting the sidewalk.
Instead, I bought a new/used raincoat for , put my daughter on my shoulders, and walked us a new route home.
英漢雙語美文欣賞篇二
Happy marriage幸福的婚姻
A man and his girlfriend were married. It was a large celebration.
All of their friends and family came to see the lovely ceremony and to partake of the festivities and celebrations. All had a wonderful time. The bride was gorgeous in her white wedding gown and the groom was very dashing in his black tuxedo. Everyone could tell that the love they had for each other was true.
A few months later, the wife came to the husband with a proposal, "I read in a magazine, a while ago, about how we can strengthen our marriage," she offered. "Each of us will write a list of the things that we find a bit annoying with the other person. Then, we can talk about how we can fix them together and make our lives happier together."
The husband agreed. So each of them went to a separate room in the house and thought of the things that annoyed them about the other. They thought about this question for the rest of the day and wrote down what they came up with. The next morning, at the breakfast table, they decided that they would go over their lists.
"I'll start," offered the wife. She took out her list. It had many items on it, enough to fill three pages. In fact, as she started reading the list of the little annoyances, she noticed that tears were starting to appear in her husband's eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing," the husband replied, "keep reading your list."
The wife continued to read until she had read all three pages to her husband. She neatly placed her list on the table and folded her hands over the top of it.
"Now, you read your list and then we'll talk about the things on both of our lists," she said happily.
Quietly the husband stated, "I don't have anything on my list. I think that you are perfect the way that you are. I don't want you to change anything for me. You are lovely and wonderful and I wouldn't want to try and change anything about you." The wife, touched by his honesty and the depth of his love for her and his acceptance of her, turned her head and wept.
In life, there are enough times when we are disappointed, depressed and annoyed. We don't really have to go looking for them. We have a wonderful world that is full of beauty, light and promise. Why waste time in this world looking for the bad, disappointing or annoying when we can look around us, and see the wondrous things before us?
生活中有許多幸福的片斷，只是我們經(jīng)常忽視。兩個(gè)人的相處需要無盡的包容，當(dāng)生氣的時(shí)候，多想想對(duì)方的好，想想幸福的點(diǎn)滴，一切困難都算不了什么。
一個(gè)男人和他的女朋友結(jié)婚，舉行了一場(chǎng)盛大的結(jié)婚慶典。
所有的朋友和家人都來到結(jié)婚典禮上參加歡宴和慶?；顒?dòng)。大家都過得很開心。穿著白色婚紗的新娘漂亮迷人，穿著黑色禮服的新郎英俊瀟灑。每個(gè)人都能看出他們彼此的愛是真誠的。
幾個(gè)月后，妻子走近丈夫提議說：“我剛才在雜志上看到一篇文章，說的是怎樣鞏固婚姻。”她說：“我們兩個(gè)人都各自把對(duì)方的小毛病列在一張紙上，然后我們商量一下怎樣解決，以使我們的生活更幸福。”
丈夫同意了。于是他們各自走向不同的房間去想對(duì)方的缺點(diǎn)。那一天余下的時(shí)間里，他們都在思考這個(gè)問題，并且把他們想到的都寫下來。第二天早上，吃早飯的時(shí)候，他們決定談?wù)劚舜说娜秉c(diǎn)。
“我先開始吧。”妻子說。她拿出她的單子，上面列舉了很多條，事實(shí)上，足足寫滿了三頁。當(dāng)她開始念的時(shí)候，她注意到丈夫眼里含著淚花。
“怎么啦?”她問。“沒什么，”丈夫答道，“繼續(xù)念吧。”
妻子又接著念。整整三頁都念完之后她把單子整齊地放在桌上，兩手交叉放在上面。
“現(xiàn)在該你念了，然后我們談?wù)勊信e的缺點(diǎn)。”她高興地說。
丈夫平靜地說：“我什么也沒寫，我覺得像你這樣就很完美了，我不想讓你為我改變什么。你很可愛迷人，我不想讓你改變。”妻子被丈夫的誠實(shí)和對(duì)她深深的愛和接納感動(dòng)了，她轉(zhuǎn)過頭去哭起來。
生命中我們有很多的失望、沮喪和煩惱，我們根本不需要尋找。我們美妙的世界充滿了美麗、光明、希望。但是，當(dāng)我們放眼四周時(shí)，為什么浪費(fèi)時(shí)間尋找不快、失望和煩惱，而看不到我們面前的美好事物呢?
英漢雙語美文欣賞篇三
Life is like a cup of coffee生活就像杯中的咖啡
A group of graduates got together to visit their old university professor.
The conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and a variety of cups—porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain-looking, some expensive, some exquisite—telling them to help themselves to the coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said,
“If you have noticed, all the nice-looking expensive cups have been taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. "
"Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. "
"What all of you really want is coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other’s cups.
“Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee. Savor the coffee, not the cups! Don’t let the cups drive you ... enjoy the coffee instead.”
【中文譯文】：
一群畢業(yè)生，各自在事業(yè)上都已有所建樹，相約一起去看望他們年老的大學(xué)教授。談話一會(huì)兒就變成了各自對(duì)工作和生活壓力的抱怨。在用咖啡招待這些客人時(shí)，教授去廚房端來一大壺咖啡，并拿出各式各樣的咖啡杯——陶瓷的、塑料的、玻璃的、水晶的，有看上去普通的、有價(jià)值不菲的、有做工精細(xì)的——讓他們自己倒咖啡喝。
當(dāng)所有學(xué)生手中都端了一杯咖啡后，教授發(fā)話了：
“如果你們注意一下，就會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)所有好看的昂貴的杯子都被挑走了，剩下的只是那些普通的和便宜的。當(dāng)然，每個(gè)人都只想擁有最好的，這很正常，但這也是你們的問題和壓力的根源所在。”
“可以肯定的是，杯子本身與咖啡質(zhì)量毫無關(guān)系。在很多時(shí)候，杯子讓咖啡更昂貴，某些時(shí)候，甚至讓我們看不清我們要喝的是什么。”
“其實(shí)你們真正想要的是咖啡，而不是杯子，但你們卻又都下意識(shí)去挑選最好的杯子，并觀察別人拿到的杯子。”
“現(xiàn)在設(shè)想一下：如果生活是杯中的咖啡，工作、財(cái)富和社會(huì)地位就是那些杯子。他們只是維持生活的工具而已，并不改變生活質(zhì)量。有時(shí)候，我們?cè)谶^于關(guān)注杯子的同時(shí)卻忘記了去品味上帝賜予的咖啡。所以，不要成為杯子的奴隸……好好品味杯中的咖啡。”
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