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兔灰灰的小窝

每天进步一点点

 
 
 

日志

 
 

小说:永别了,武器  

2013-07-13 12:03:54|  分类: 原著欣赏 |  标签: |举报 |字号 订阅

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      A Farewell to Arms

                  by Ernest Hemingway

小说:永别了,武器 - 兔灰灰 - 兔灰灰的小窝

 

He doesn't want to see peasants. Let him go to centres of culture and civilization. 

 

Outside the window it was a lovely spring morning. There was that beginning of a feeling of dryness in the nose that meant the day would be hot later on. 

 

"There isn't always an explanation for everything." 

 

"Let's drop the war."

"It's very hard. There's no place to drop it."

"Let's drop it anyway."

"All right."

 

We were supposed to wear steel helmets even in Gorizia but they were uncomfortable and too bloody theatrical in a town where the civilian inhabitants had not been evacuated.

 

Please let's not lie when we don't have to.

Still I would probably have been killed. Not in this ambulance business. Yes, even in the ambulance business.

The sun was going down and the day was cooling off.

The priest was good but dull. The officers were not good but dull. The King was good but dull. The wine was bad but not dull. It took the enamel off your teeth and left it on the roof of your mouth.


       "There is nothing worse than war."

"Defeat is worse."

 

"We think. We read. We are not peasants. We are mechanics. But even the peasants know better than to believe in a war.

Every day I learn to do things smoother and better.

I drank the cognac and felt it warm all the way down.

You are really an Italian. All fire and smoke and nothing inside.


While he talked you had the impression that he was not looking at you or that he mistook you for some one else.

 

"Wouldn't you like me to have some more exalted rank?"

"No, darling. I only want you to have enough rank so that we're admitted to the better restaurants."

"That's just the rank I have."

We were talking softly out on the balcony. The moon was supposed to rise but there was a mist over the town and it did not come up and in a little while it started to drizzle and we came in.

He said the fighting was over for the year down here and that the Italians had bitten off more than they could chew.

Then cheerily, "Every sort of luck!" There was a great contrast between his world pessimism and personal cheeriness.

But life isn't hard to manage when you've nothing to lose."

"How do you mean?"

"Nothing. I was only thinking how small obstacles seemed that once were so big."

 

"Because you're too brave. Nothing ever happens to the brave."

"They die of course."

"But only once."

"I don't know. Who said that?"

"The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one?"


       "Don't you want a drink?"

"No. It always makes you happy, darling, and it only makes me dizzy."

 

Pity is something that is wasted on you."


      "Wine is a grand thing," I said. "It makes you forget all the bad."


       "I am the snake. I am the snake of reason."

"You're getting it mixed. The apple was reason."

"No, it was the snake."

He was more cheerful.

"You are better when you don't think so deeply," I said.

 

"Right away. We'll drink once more for your liver's sake."

"Like Saint Paul."

"You are inaccurate. That was wine and the stomach. Take a little wine for your stomach's sake."

"Whatever you have in the bottle," I said. "For any sake you mention."

 

What's the use of not being wounded if they scare you to death?"

Something is wrong somewhere.

I did not say anything. I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain.

We walked along together all going fast against time.

 

"You see," Piani said. "That is brains. Why haven't you brains, anarchist?"

"If I had brains I wouldn't be here," Bonello said.

The Italians were even more dangerous. They were frightened and firing on anything they saw.

That was one of those things you always heard in the war. It was one of the things the enemy always did to you.

The hay smelled good and lying in a barn in the hay took away all the years in between.

They had kept it too long and it had gone to pieces and lost its quality and color.

"You can't tell anything by a man's being married.

I saw how their minds worked; if they had minds and if they worked.

It smelled of early morning, of swept dust, spoons in coffee-glasses and the wet circles left by wine-glasses.

The clouds were down over the lake but it would be beautiful with the sunlight.

I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started.

If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.


        "My life used to be full of everything," I said. "Now if you aren't with me I haven't a thing in the world."

I detect signs of age now.

 

"If you ever live to be as old as I am you will find many things strange."

"You never seem old."

"It is the body that is old. Sometimes I am afraid I will break off a finger as one breaks a stick of chalk. And the spirit is no older and not much wiser."

"You are wise."

"No, that is the great fallacy; the wisdom of old men. They do not grow wise. They grow careful."

"Perhaps that is wisdom."

"It is a very unattractive wisdom. What do you value most?"

"Some one I love."

"With me it is the same. That is not wisdom. Do you value life?"

"Yes."

"So do I. Because it is all I have. And to give birthday parties," he laughed. "You are probably wiser than I am. You do not give birthday parties."

We both drank the wine.

"What do you think of the war really?" I asked.

"I think it is stupid."

"Who will win it?"

"Italy."

"Why?"

"They are a younger nation."

"Do younger nations always win wars?"

"They are apt to for a time."

"Then what happens?"

"They become older nations."

"You said you were not wise."

"Dear boy, that is not wisdom. That is cynicism."

"It sounds very wise to me."

Perhaps I have outlived my religious feeling.

I do not think they believed a word of the story and I thought it was silly but it was like a law-court. You did not want something reasonable, you wanted something technical and then stuck to it without explanations. But we had passports and we would spend the money. So they gave us provisional visas.

All the advertisements were blacked out, supposedly to prevent communication in that way with the enemy. The papers were bad reading. Everything was going very badly everywhere.

"We live in a country where nothing makes any difference.

Good whiskey was very pleasant. It was one of the pleasant parts of life.

 

第一次看海明威的作品,喜欢他的写作风格,简洁明快,大多用简单句常用词,很少有晦涩难懂的长句和花里胡哨的形容词堆积,适合我等英文功力不深的人。

新华书店买的正版书,印刷质量尚可,但书中有一些拼写错误,也许只是印刷错误,有些出乎意料。因为前面看的几本D版书到没发现有拼写错误的地方。

 

(2013-07)

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