(学生版)笔译(I)课外练习题.docx

(Passage 1)September is more than a month, really; it is a season, an achievement in itself. It begins with August’s leftovers and it ends with October’s preparations, but along the way it achieves special satisfactions. After summer’s heat and haste, the year consolidates itself. Deliberate September—in its own time and tempo--begins to sum up another summer.With September comes a sense of autumn. It creeps in on a misty dawn and vanishes in the hot afternoon. It tiptoes through the treetops, rouging a few leaves, then rides a tuft of thistledown across the valley and away. It sits on a hilltop and hoots like an October owl in the dusk. It plays tag with the wind. September is as challenging busy as a squirrel in a hickory tree, idle as a languid brook. It is summer’s ripeness and richness fulfilled.Some of the rarest days of the year come in the September season days when it is comfortably cold but pulsing with life, when the sky is clear and clean, the air crisp, the wind free of dust. Meadows still smell of hay and the sweetness of cut grass. September flowers are less varied than those of May but so abundant that they make September another flowery month.(Passage 2)Why do they pull down and do away with the Crooked Streets, I wonder, which are my delight, and hurt no man living? Every day the wealthier nations are pulling down one or another in their capitals and their great towns: they do not know why they do it; neither do I. It ought to be enough, surely, to drive the great broad ways which commerce needs and which are the life-channels of a modern city, without destroying all the history and all the humanity in between: the islands of the past. For note you, the Crooked Streets are packed with human experience and reflect in a lively manner all the chances and misfortunes and expectations and domesticity and wonderment of men. One marks a boundary, another the kennel of an ancient stream, a third the track some animal took to cross a field hundreds upon hun