He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated. “Santiago,“ the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “I could go with you again. We’ve made some money.“

The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him. “No,“ the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.“

“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks.““I remember,“ the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.““It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.““I know,“ the old man said. “It is quite normal.““He hasn’t much faith.“他沒多大的信心。”“No,“ the old man said. “But we have. Haven’t we? “Yes,“ the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.“Why not?“ the old man said. “Between fishermen.”

They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry. Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank, to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on a block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut into strips for salting.

 廈門文獻翻譯,廈門文學(xué)翻譯,廈門藝術(shù)翻譯，廈門期刊雜志翻譯，廈門權(quán)威翻譯公司 品質(zhì)保證 馬上咨詢：英文小說《老人與?！贩g經(jīng)典開頭第一部分

他是個獨自在灣流中一條小船上釣魚的老人，至今已去了八十四天，一條魚也沒逮住。頭四十天里，有個男孩子跟他在一起?？墒?，過了四十天還沒捉到一條魚，孩子的父母對他說，老人如今準是十足地“倒了血霉”，這就是說，倒霉到了極點，于是孩子聽從了他們的吩咐，上了另外一條船，頭一個禮拜就捕到了三條好魚。孩子看見老人每天回來時船總是空的，感到很難受，他總是走下岸去，幫老人拿卷起的釣索，或者魚鉤和魚叉，還有繞在桅桿上的帆。帆上用面粉袋片打了些補丁，收攏后看來象是一面標志著永遠失敗的旗子。

他身上的一切都顯得古老，除了那雙眼睛，它們象海水一般藍，是愉快而不肯認輸?shù)摹?ldquo;圣地亞哥，”他們倆從小船停泊的地方爬上岸時，孩子對他說。“我又能陪你出海了。我家掙到了一點兒錢。”

老人教會了這孩子捕魚，孩子愛他。“不，”老人說。“你遇上了一條交好運的船。跟他們待下去吧。”

“不過你該記得，你有一回八十七天釣不到一條魚，跟著有三個禮拜，我們每天都逮住了大魚。” “我記得，”老人說。“我知道你不是因為沒把握才離開我的。” “是爸爸叫我走的。我是孩子，不能不聽從他。”

 ““是啊，”老人說。“可是我們有。可不是嗎？”

 “對，”孩子說。“我請你到露臺飯店去喝杯啤酒，然后一起把打魚的家什帶回去。”“那敢情好，”老人說。“都是打魚人嘛。”　　

他們坐在飯店的露臺上，不少漁夫拿老人開玩笑，老人并不生氣。另外一些上了些年紀的漁夫望著他，感到難受。不過他們并不流露出來，只是斯文地談起海流，談起他們把釣索送到海面下有多深，天氣一貫多么好，談起他們的見聞。當天打魚得手的漁夫都已回來，把大馬林魚剖開，整片兒排在兩塊木板上，每塊木板的一端由兩個人抬著，搖搖晃晃地送到收魚站，在那里等冷藏車來把它們運往哈瓦那的市場。逮到鯊魚的人們已把它們送到海灣另一邊的鯊魚加工廠去，吊在復(fù)合滑車上，除去肝臟，割掉魚鰭，剝?nèi)ネ馄?，把魚肉切成一條條，以備腌制。