开学三个礼拜， 语言学伴说他们的阅读进度到了可卿的葬礼那边； 截至目前为止，他还满喜欢红楼的故事的， 他说一来翻译翻得不错，所以阅读起来的流畅性很高， 二来他觉得宝玉看事情的观点很有"娱乐性"... ^^" (他花了一番时间才了解说在中国主仆观念里宝玉对下人的体贴有多麽不寻常。) (然後他也同样花了一番时间才明白说为什麽凤姐儿在可卿葬礼里是"大展长才"。) 上这堂课的老师是一名台美混血儿， 基本上阅读进度是学生自己要顾的， 老师总之就是藉由红楼的故事来分析中国文化以及中国历史； 像之前宝黛初相见、熙凤出场， 他们的老师就有提到中国的五行元素， 说熙凤是火，黛玉是木...(耸肩，这一块的红学我一点都不懂~~XDXD) 然後像现在关於可卿的葬礼这里， 就有提到说中国文化里色彩的意义(白色是用在丧事上...等等)， 前天上的课还分析了晴雯和袭人的反差性， 同时还因为风月宝监提到"镜子"在佛教文化里的意象。 回到有趣的企鹅出版社翻译版， 翻译者David Hawkes很有趣的把主角的名字都直接音译了， 却把仆人们的名字意译， 所以袭人变成Aroma，晴雯变成Skybright，紫鹃便成Nightingale... 是说除了这点我觉得比较囧以外，大抵来说翻译者的工作真的做的不错。 小朋友借了我第二册的Story of the Stone， 从27回到53回， 话说回数也都是直接翻译啊! 像27回回目在英文里就变成了: Beauty Perspiring sports with butterflies by the Raindrop Pavilion; And Beauty Suspiring weeps for fallen blossoms by the Flowers' Grave 这几回目里大家有想看哪几首诗词的英文翻译的话，我可以po上来给大家看~~ 我今天还陪他去了一趟学校图书馆， 有不少大陆来的简体红楼研究可借阅。 (是的，我看到周汝昌先生的"红楼夺目红"了，囧") (我们学校中文系是繁体简体字都教，然後大二时可以选择一种继续学下去；) (Again，小朋友在我的怂恿下学了繁体字，) (不过现在看来他红楼的期末报告想找繁体的参考书目会很困难了...Orz) 最後附上葬花词的英文翻译。 The blossoms fade and falling fill the air, Of fragrance and bright hues bereft and bare. Floss drifts and flutters round the Maiden's bower, Or softly strikes against her curtained door. The Maid, grieved by these signs of spring's decease, Seeking some means her sorrow to express, Has rake in hand into the garden gone, Before the fallen flowers are trampled on. Elm-pods and willow-floss are fragrant too; Why care, Maid, where the fallen flowers blew? Next year, when peach and plum-tree bloom again, Which of your sweet companions remain? This spring the heartless swallow built his nest Beneath the eaves of mud with flowers compressed. Next year the flowers will blossom as before, But swallow, nest, and Maid will be no more. The hundred and three-score the year's full tale: From swords of frost and from the slaughtering gale How can the lovely flowers long stay intact, Or, once loosed, from their drifting face draw back? Blooming so steadfast, fallen so hard to find! Besides the flowers' grave, with sorrowing mind, The solitary Maid sheds many a tear, Which on the boughs as bloody drops appear. At twilight, when the cuckoo sings no more, The Maiden with her rake goes in at door And lays her down between the lamplit walls, While a chill rain against the window falls. I know not why mt heart's so strangely sad, Half grieving for the spring yet half glad: Glad that it came, grieved it so soon was spent. So soft it came, so silently it went! Last night, outside, a mournful sound was heard: The spirits of the flowers and of the bird. But neither bird nor flowers would long delay, Bird. And when I wished that I had wings to fly After the drifting flowers across the sky: Across the sky to the world's farthest end, The flowers' last fragrant resting-place to find. But better their remains in silk to lay And bury underneath the wholesome clay, Pure substances the pure earth to enrich, Than leave to soak and stink in some foul ditch. Can I, that these flowers' obesequies attend, Divine how soon or late my life will end? Let others laugh flower-burial to see: Another year who will be burrying me? As petals drop and spring begins to fail, The bloom of youth, too, sickens and turns pale. One day, when spring has gone and youth has fled, The Maiden and the flowers will both be dead. -- 未若锦囊收艳骨，一坏净土掩风流。 --

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