(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
SHIRLEY GRIFFITH: Now, the Special English program, AMERICAN STORIES.
(MUSIC)
Our story this week is called "Bartleby." It was written by Herman Melville, one of America's best-known writers. Here is Shep O'Neal to tell you the story in Special English.
(MUSIC)
SHEP O'NEAL: I am an old lawyer, and I have three men working for me. My business continued to grow and so I decided to get one more man to help write legal papers.
I have met a great many people in my days, but the man who answered my advertisement was the strangest person I have ever heard of or met.
He stood outside my office and waited for me to speak. He was a small man, quiet and dressed in a clean but old suit of clothes. I asked him his name. It was Bartleby.
At first Bartleby almost worked himself too hard writing the legal papers I gave him. He worked through the day by sunlight, and into the night by candlelight. I was happy with his work, but not happy with the way he worked. He was too quiet. But, he worked well...like a machine, never looking or speaking.
One day, I asked Bartleby to come to my office to study a legal paper with me. Without moving from his chair, Bartleby said: "I do not want to."
I sat for a short time, too surprised to move. Then I became excited.
"You do not want to. What do you mean, are you sick? I want you to help me with this paper."
"I do not want to."
His face was calm. His eyes showed no emotion. He was not angry. This is strange, I thought. What should I do? But, the telephone rang, and I forgot the problem for the time being.
A few days later, four long documents came into the office. They needed careful study, and I decided to give one document to each of my men. I called and all came to my office. But not Bartleby.
"Bartleby, quick, I am waiting."
He came, and stood in front of me for a moment. "I don't want to," he said then turned and went back to his desk.
I was so surprised, I could not move. There was something about Bartleby that froze me, yet, at the same time, made me feel sorry for him.
As time passed, I saw that Bartleby never went out to eat dinner. Indeed, he never went anywhere. At eleven o'clock each morning, one of the men would bring Bartleby some ginger cakes.
"Umm. He lives on them," I thought. "Poor fellow!" He is a little foolish at times, but he is useful to me.
"Bartleby," I said one afternoon. "Please go to the post office and bring my mail."
"I do not want to."
I walked back to my office too shocked to think. Let's see, the problem here is...one of my workers named Bartleby will not do some of the things I ask him to do. One important thing about him though, he is always in his office.
One Sunday I walked to my office to do some work. When I placed the key in the door, I couldn't open it. I stood a little surprised, then called, thinking someone might be inside. There was. Bartleby. He came from his office and told me he did not want to let me in.
The idea of Bartleby living in my law office had a strange effect on me. I slunk away much like a dog does when it has been shouted at...with its tail between its legs.
Was anything wrong? I did not for a moment believe Bartleby would keep a woman in my office. But for some time he must have eaten, dressed and slept there. How lonely and friendless Bartleby must be.
I decided to help him. The next morning I called him to my office.
"Bartleby, will you tell me anything about yourself?"
"I do not want to."
I sat down with him and said, "You do not have to tell me about your personal history, but when you finish writing that document...
"I have decided not to write anymore," he said. And left my office.
What was I to do? Bartleby would not work at all. Then why should he stay on his job? I decided to tell him to go. I gave him six days to leave the office and told him I would give him some extra money. If he would not work, he must leave.
On the sixth day, somewhat hopefully, I looked into the office Bartleby used. He was still there.
The next morning, I went to the office early. All was still. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Bartleby's voice came from inside. I stood as if hit by lightening. I walked the streets thinking. "Well, Bartleby, if you will not leave me, I shall leave you."
I paid some men to move all the office furniture to another place. Bartleby just stood there as the men took his chair away.
"Goodbye Bartleby, I am going. Goodbye and God be with you. Here take this money." I placed it in his hands. It dropped to the floor; and then, strange to say, I had difficulty leaving the person I wanted to leave me.
A few days later, a stranger visited me in my new office. "You are responsible for the man you left in your last office," he said. The owner of the building has given me a court order which says you must take him away. We tried to make him leave, but he returned and troubles the others there.
I went back to my old office and found Bartleby sitting on the empty floor.
"Bartleby, one of two things must happen. I will get you a different job, or you can go to work for some other lawyer."
He said he did not like either choice.
"Bartleby, will you come home with me and stay there until we decide what you will do?"
He answered softly, "No, I do not want to make any changes."
I answered nothing more. I fled. I rode around the city and visited places of historic interest, anything to get Bartleby off my mind.
When I entered my office later, I found a message for me. Bartleby had been taken to prison.
I found him there, and when he saw me he said: "I know you, and I have nothing to say to you."
"But I didn't put you here, Bartleby." I was deeply hurt. I told him I gave the prison guard money to buy him a good dinner.
"I do not want to eat today, he said. I never eat dinner."
Days passed, and I went to see Bartleby again. I was told he was sleeping in the prison yard outside.
Sleeping? The thin Bartleby was lying on the cold stones. I stooped to look at the small man lying on his side with his knees against his chest. I walked closer and looked down at him. His eyes were open. He seemed to be in a deep sleep.
"Won't he eat today, either, or does he live without eating?" the guard asked.
"Lives without eating," I answered...and closed his eyes.
"Uh...he is asleep isn't he?" the guard said.
"With kings and lawyers," I answered.
One little story came to me some days after Bartleby died. I learned he had worked for many years in the post office. He was in a special office that opened all the nation's letters that never reach the person they were written to. It is called the dead letter office. The letters are not written clearly, so the mailmen cannot read the addresses.
Well, poor Bartleby had to read the letters, to see if anyone's name was written clearly so they could be sent. Think of it. From one letter a wedding ring fell, the finger it was bought for perhaps lies rotting in the grave. Another letter has money to help someone long since dead. Letters filled with hope for those who died without hope.
Poor Bartleby! He himself had lost all hope. His job had killed something inside him.
Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!
(MUSIC)
SHIRLEY GRIFFITH: You have heard an AMERICAN STORY called "Bartleby." It was written by Herman Melville. Your storyteller was Shep O'Neal. This is Shirley Griffith.
重点解析
1.work for 效劳
I still do a certain amount of work for them.
我仍然为他们做一些工作。
2.heard of 听说过
I had a feeling it would be the last I heard of him.
我有一种感觉，这将是我最后一次听到他的消息。
3.help with 帮助
They may be able to help with childcare so that you can have a break
他们可以帮忙照料孩子，这样你就可以歇一歇了。
4.A few days later, four long documents came into the office.
几天后，办公室收到了四份冗长的文件。
come into 进入
It's an unrestricted journey, and rules of any sort don't come into it.
这是一次没有任何限制的旅行，所有的规则都不起作用。
5.He came, and stood in front of me for a moment.
他走了过来，站到我面前。
in front of 在面前
I’ll meet you in front of/outside your hotel.
我在你的旅馆前面 / 外面接你。
6.He lives on them.
他就靠它们过活。
live on 过活
I live on an invalidity pension.
我靠伤残养老金过活。
参考译文
雪莉·格里菲思：现在为您演播，美国之音慢速英语节目，美国故事。
本周我们的故事叫做《巴特尔比》，作者美国著名作家赫尔曼·梅尔维尔。演播谢普·奥尼尔。
谢普·奥尼尔：老夫年事已高，做着律师行当，仨人为我打工。由于生意红火，我决定再找个人来，专门撰写法律文件。
之前我见过不少人，许许多多、形形色色，而前来应聘的这位颇为奇特，令我闻所未闻，见所未见。
他站在我办公室门外，等着我先开口。他个子不高，沉默寡言，穿着一套干净却略显老旧的衣服。我问了他名字。他叫巴特尔比。
起初，巴特尔比极尽努力地处理着我交给他的法律文件，不辞劳苦。白天日光相佐，晚上烛光相伴。我对他的工作十分满意，但我并不喜欢他的工作方式。他太过讷口少言。但工作做得很好，就像机器一样，一言不发，从不东张西望。
有一天，我请巴特尔比到我办公室来研究一份法律文件。巴特尔比一动没动，说了句：“我不想去。”
.
我惊坐片刻，然后突然变得激动起来。
“你不想来。你是什么意思，你病了吗？我想让你来帮我写这篇文书。
“我不想写。”
他面不改色。目光空洞。他没生气。我觉得这很奇怪。我该怎么办？但是，电话铃响了，我暂时把这个问题抛到了脑后。
几天后，办公室收到了四份冗长的文件。需要仔细研究，我决定给我的每名雇员派发一份。我打电话请大家到我办公室来。只有巴特尔比纹丝未动。
“巴特尔比，快点，我在等你。”
他走了过来，站到我面前。“我不想做，”他说，然后转身回到了办公桌前。
我惊得一动不动。有一些关于巴特尔比的事情使我感到害怕，但同时也让我为他感到难过。
日子一天一天过去，我从没见过巴特尔比出去吃过晚饭。事实上，他从未去过任何地方。每天早上十一点，有人会给巴特尔比送来一些姜饼。
“嗯。“他就靠它们过活，”我想。可怜的家伙！”他有时有点傻，但他对我来说，还有用武之地。
“巴特尔比，”有一天下午，我对他说：“请到邮局帮我取下邮件。”
“我不想去。”
我回到办公室，惊得呆如木鸡。让我们看看，问题在于：我有个叫巴特尔比的雇员，他不听我话。但有一件事颇为重要，他总在办公室里，片刻不离。
有个周日，我到办公室加班。我把钥匙插进锁孔，但打不开。我有点惊讶，然后打电话，想着里面可能有人。的确。是巴特尔比。他从办公室走出来，告诉我他不想让我进去。
巴特尔比住在我律师事务所的想法对我产生了奇妙的影响。我就像一条受了惊的狗，夹着尾巴灰溜溜地逃走了。
哪里不对劲吗？说什么我也无法相信巴特尔比会金屋藏娇。但他在那里吃住一定有一阵子了。巴特尔比多么孤独，形单影只。
我决定对他施以援手。第二天早上，我把他叫到了我的办公室。
“巴特尔比，你能告诉我点关于你自己的事情吗？”
“我不想说。”
我在他身边坐下来说道：“你不必告诉我，你的过去，但你做完那份文件后...
“我决定不再做了，”他说。然后离开了我的办公室。
我该怎么办？巴特尔比罢工了。那他为什么还要继续留在这里呢？我决定让他离开。我给了他六天的时间，让他离开办公室，告诉他我会额外给他一些钱。如果他不工作，他必须离开。
第六天，我多少带着点希望，去看了看巴特尔比的办公室。他还在那儿。
第二天早上，我很早就去办公室了。一切还是那么平静。我试着将门打开，但门被锁上了。巴特尔比的声音来自内心。我呆立在那里，好像被闪电击中。我走上大街开始思考。好吧，巴特尔比，你不走，我走。
我雇人搬走了全部的办公家具。巴特尔比就站在那里，工人把他的椅子拿走了。
“再见，巴特尔比，我要走了。再见，愿上帝与你同在。拿着这些钱。”我把钱放在了他手里。钱掉到了地板上，然后，奇怪的是，我好像离不开我想离开的那个人。”
几天后，一个陌生人来到了我的新办公室。“你要对你之前办公室里的那个人负责，”他说。楼主告诉我，法庭命令说你必须把他带走。我们试图让他离开，但他又回来了，还在那里麻烦了其他人。
我回到原来的办公室，发现巴特尔比坐在空荡荡的地板上。
“巴特尔比，二选一。要么我给你份不同的工作，要么你可以到别的律师那里谋个职位。”
他说他那个也不选。
“巴特尔比，要不你和我一起回家，呆在我家，直到决定下来你的去向，如何？”
他轻轻地回答：“不，我不想做出任何改变。”
我没再回答，转身逃走了。我骑车在这个城市里穿梭，游览各处名胜，想忘掉巴特尔比。
后来，我再进办公室时，发现了一条留言：巴特尔比已经锒铛入狱。
我在那儿找到了他，当他见到我时，他说：“我认识你，我跟你没什么好说的。”
“但是我没把你放在这儿，巴特尔比。”我深深地受了伤。我告诉他我给了监狱看守钱，让他给你买顿丰盛的晚餐。
“我今天不想吃东西，”他说。我从不吃晚饭。”
几天过去了，我又去看了巴特尔比。有人告诉我他睡在监狱外面的院子里。
睡？巴特尔比骨瘦如柴，躺在冰冷的石头上。我弯下腰来看着那个侧身躺着的小个子男人，他的膝盖靠在胸前。我走近他，低头看着他。他的眼睛睁开了。他似乎睡得很沉。
“他今天还不吃东西，还是他活着压根就不吃东西？”警卫问道。
“活着不吃东西，”我回答，合上了他的眼睛。
“呃...他睡着了，不是吗？”守卫说。
“与国王和律师们在一起，”我回答。
巴特尔比死后的几天，我听说他之前在邮局工作了很多年。他有一个特殊的办公室，在那里他会拆开全国所有的死件。那里被称为死件办公室。信写得不清楚，所以邮递员看不清地址。
好吧，可怜的巴特尔比不得不去读这些信，看看有没有写得清楚的人名，这样信件才好重新投递。想想看。当一枚戒指从一封信里滚落下来时，恐怕戴它的那只手指正在坟墓中泯灭。另一封信里，装满了为了救急而寄出的钞票，要救的那个人却早已不吃不喝。也有些信满怀希望，而收信者早已绝望而死。
可怜的巴特尔比！他自己的希望全部幻灭。他的工作扼杀了他体内的某些东西。
啊，巴特尔比！啊，人性！
雪莉·格里菲思：您刚刚收听到的是美国故事《巴特尔比》，作者赫尔曼·梅尔维尔。演播谢普·奥尼尔。我是雪莉·格里菲思。
译文为可可英语翻译，未经授权请勿转载！
