(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
Love of Life, by Jack London - Part Four. In the afternoon the man came to a track. It was that of another man, who did not walk, but who dragged himself on his hands and knees. The man thought it might be Bill, but he thought about it without any interest. He had no curiosity. Feeling and emotion had left him. He was no longer able to feel pain. Yet the life that was in him drove him ahead. He was very tired, but it refused to die. It was because it refused to die that he still ate muskeg berries and small fish, drank his hot water, and kept a careful eye on the sick wolf. He followed the track of the other man who dragged himself along. Soon he came to the end of it. There were a few freshly cleaned bones where the grass was marked by the footprints of many wolves. He saw a moose-skin bag, exactly like his own. It had been torn by sharp teeth. He picked it up, although its weight was almost too much for his weak fingers. Bill had carried it to the end. Now he would have the last laugh. He would live and carry it to the ship in the shining sea. He laughed aloud, making an inhuman sound, and the sick wolf howled with him. The man ceased suddenly. How could he laugh at Bill, if that were Bill; if those bones, so pinky-white and clean, were Bill?
He turned away. Bill had deserted him. But he would not take the gold, nor would he eat Bill's bones. Bill would have done so, however, had their situations been exchanged. He came to a pool of water. Bending over it in search of fish, he threw his head back as if he had been struck. He had caught sight of his face in the water. So awful was it that his feelings were stirred long enough to be shocked. There were three fish in the pool, which was too large to empty. After several attempts to catch them in his tin container, he stopped. He was afraid, because of his great weakness, that he might fall and sink into the water. It was for this reason, too, that he did not trust himself to ride down the river atop one of the many logs to be found along its banks. That day he lessened the distance between him and the ship by three miles. The next day he traveled only two miles, because he was now dragging himself on his hands and knees as Bill had done. At the end of the fifth day the ship was still seven miles away. He was unable to travel as much as a mile a day. However, the summer weather continued, and he continued to move toward the ship. And always the sick wolf coughed at his heels.
His knees had become red meat like his feet. Although he bound them with the shirt from his back, it was a red track he left behind him on the grass and stones. Once, glancing back, he saw the wolf licking his bloody track hungrily. He saw clearly what his own end might be— unless he could kill the wolf. Then began as awful an event as has ever been told: two sick creatures dragging their dying bodies across a wasteland and hunting each other's lives. Had it been a well wolf, it would not have mattered so much to the man. But the thought of feeding the mouth of that nearly dead thing was hateful. His mind had begun to wander again and he was troubled by hallucinations. His reasonable moments grew shorter. He was awakened once from a faint sleep by a cough close to his ear. The wolf leaped back, losing its footing and falling in its weakness. It was a funny sight, but he could not laugh. Nor was he afraid. He was too far gone for that. But his mind was for the moment clear, and he lay and considered.
The ship was no more than four miles away. He could see it quite well when he rubbed his eyes. He could also see the white sail of a small boat cutting the water of the shining sea. But he could never drag himself those four miles. He knew that, and was very calm about the fact. He knew that he could not travel another half a mile. And yet he wanted to live. It was unreasonable that he should die after all he had been through. Fate asked too much of him. And, dying, he could not accept death. It was madness, perhaps, but in the very grasp of death he refused to die. He closed his eyes and tried to keep himself calm. He struggled against the awful desire for sleep that threatened him. It was much like a sea, this deadly sleepiness. It rose and rose, mastering his entire self, bit by bit. Sometimes he was almost lost, swimming through its waters with a weakening effort. Then, by some strange power of the soul, his will would strike out more strongly against it. Without movement he lay on his back. He could hear, slowly drawing nearer and nearer, the sound of the sick wolf's breathing. It came closer, always closer, and he did not move. It was beside his ear. The dry tongue moved across his face. His hands struck out. Actually, he had willed them to strike out. The fingers were curved, but they closed on empty air. Quickness requires strength, and the man had not his strength.
The quiet waiting of the wolf was awful. The man's waiting was no less awful. For half a day he lay without motion, fighting off sleep. He waited for the thing that was to feed upon him and upon which he wished to feed. Sometimes the sea of sleep rose over him and he dreamed long dreams. But always, through it all, waking and dreaming, he waited for the noisy breath and the feel of the tongue. This time he did not hear the breath. He slipped slowly from some dream to feel the tongue along his hand. He waited. The teeth pressed softly, then more firmly. The wolf was using its last strength in an effort to sink its teeth into the food for which it had waited so long. But the man, too, had waited long. The hand closed on the wolf's mouth. Slowly, while the wolf struggled weakly, the other hand moved across the wolf's body. Five minutes later the whole weight of the man's body was on top of the wolf. The hands had not sufficient strength to grasp the wolf about the throat until it died. But the face of the man was pressed close to the throat of the wolf and the mouth of the man was full of hair. At the end of half an hour the man felt some warm drops of blood in his throat. It was not pleasant. It was like hot, melted metal being forced into his stomach, and it was forced by his will alone. Later the man rolled on his back and slept.
There were some scientists traveling on the fishing ship Bedford. From where they stood on the ship, they could see a strange object on the shore. It was moving down the beach toward the water. They were unable to decide what it was. Being men of science, they climbed into a smaller boat and went ashore to examine it. And they saw something that was alive but which could hardly be called a man. It was blind and did not know what it was doing. Its movements produced little effect. But still it continued to drag itself across the ground at the rate of about twenty feet an hour. Three weeks later the man lay in a bed on the fishing boat. With tears streaming down his face, he told who he was and what he had experienced. He also talked without meaning about his mother, and a home in California among the flowers. The days were not many after that when he sat at table with the scientists and the ship's officers. He delighted in the sight of so much food and watched it carefully as it went into the mouths of others. With the disappearance of each mouthful an expression of sorrow came into his eyes. He was not mad. However, he hated those men at mealtimes. He was afraid that there would not be enough food. He inquired of the cook, the cabin boy, the captain, concerning the food supply. They reassured him numerous times. But he would not believe them and went into the kitchen to see with his own eyes.
It was noticed that the man was getting fat. He grew bigger with each day. The scientists shook their heads and gave their opinions on the problem. They limited the amount of food given to the man at his meals, but still his weight increased. The seamen smiled. They knew. And when the scientists decided to observe the man, they learned the reason. They saw him walk about the ship after breakfast. Like a man begging with an outstretched hand, he approached a seaman. The seaman smiled and gave him a piece of bread. He grasped it, and looked at it as a greedy man looks at gold. Then he put it inside his shirt. He received similar gifts from other smiling seamen. The scientists were careful. They allowed him to continue. But they secretly examined his bed. It was lined with bread; every inch of space was filled with bread. Yet he was not mad. He was preparing for another possible famine—that was all. He would recover from it, the scientists said. And he did, even before the Bedford sailed into San Francisco Bay.
重点解析
1.feed on 以......为食；以......为主食
The caterpillars feed on a wide range of trees, shrubs and plants.
毛虫以各类树木、灌木和植物为食。
2.on top of 在......上面；在......之上
The park lies on top of a coalfield.
公园位于一片煤田上.
3.decide to 决定去做；决定要
If the Conservatives got in they might decide to change it.
如果保守党赢得选举，他们可能会决定改变这一现状。
4.be lined with 排列；排列着
The walls would be lined with books and periodicals.
这几面墙会摆放书籍和期刊.
参考译文
热爱生命，作者杰克·伦敦——第四部分。下午，这个人发现了一些痕迹，那是另外一个人留下的，他不是走，而是爬的。他认为可能是比尔，不过他只是漠不关心地想想罢了。他对此并不感到好奇。事实上，他早已失去了兴致和热情。他已经不再感到痛苦了。然而，内在的生命却逼迫他前进。他非常疲倦，却不愿死去。正因为生命不愿死，他才仍然要吃沼地上的浆果和小鱼，喝着热水，一直提防着那只病狼。他跟着那个挣扎前进的人留下的痕迹向前走去，不久就走到了尽头。苔藓上摊着几根才啃光的骨头，附近还有许多狼的脚印。他发现了一个跟他自己那个一模一样的厚实的鹿皮口袋，但已经给尖利的牙齿咬破了。他那无力的手已经拿不动这样沉重的袋子了，可是他到底把它提起来了。比尔至死都带着它。现在，他可以嘲笑比尔了。他可以活下去，把它带到光辉的海洋里那条船上。他的笑声粗厉可怕，而那条病狼也随着他，一阵阵地惨嗥。突然间，他不笑了。如果这真是比尔的骸骨，他怎么能嘲笑比尔呢；如果这些白中透粉，啃得精光的骨头，真是比尔的话？
他转身走开了。比尔抛弃了他，但是他不愿意拿走那袋金子，也不愿意吮吸比尔的骨头。不过，如果事情掉个头的话，比尔也许会做得出来。他走到了一个水坑旁边，就在他弯下腰去找小鱼时，他猛然仰起头，好象给戳了一下。他瞧见了自己反映在水里的脸。脸色之可怕，竟然使他一时恢复了知觉，感到震惊。这个坑里有三条鱼，可是坑太大，不好舀；他用铁罐子去捉，试了几次都不成，后来他就不再试了。他怕自己会由于极度虚弱，跌进去淹死。而且，也正是因为这个原因，他才没有跨上河岸边那些木头，让河水带着他走。这一天，他和那条船之间的距离缩短了三英里。第二天，又缩短了两英里，因为现在他是跟比尔先前一样地在爬。到了第五天晚上，他发现那条船离开他仍有七英里，而他每天连一英里也爬不到了。不过，夏日晴天依旧，他于是继续爬向那艘船。而那头病狼也始终跟在他后面，不断地咳嗽着。
他的膝盖已经和脚一样鲜血淋漓，尽管他撕下身上的衬衫来垫膝盖，他背后的苔藓和岩石上仍然留下了一路血渍。有一次，他回头看见病狼正饿得发慌地舐着他的血渍。他不由得清清楚楚地看出了自己可能遭遇的结局，除非他干掉这只狼。于是，一幕从来没有上演过的求生悲剧就此开始——病人一路爬着，病狼一路跛行，两个生灵就这样在荒原里拖着垂死的躯壳，相互猎取对方的生命。如果这是一条健康的狼，他觉得倒也没有多大关系。可是，一想到自己要喂这么一只剩下一口气的狼，他就觉得非常厌恶。他脑子里又开始胡思乱想，又给幻象弄得迷迷糊糊，而神智清醒的时间愈来愈短。有一次，他在昏迷中被一种贴着他耳朵的喘息声惊醒了。那只狼一跛一跛地跳回去，它因为身体虚弱，一失足摔了一跤。样子可笑极了，可是他一点也不觉得有趣。他也不害怕，他已经到了这一步，根本谈不到那些了。不过这会儿，他的头脑却很清醒。于是，他躺在那儿，仔细地考虑。
那条船离他不过四英里路，他把眼睛擦净之后，可以很清楚地看到它。他还能看出一条在波光闪闪的大海里，破浪前进的小船的白帆。可是，他无论如何也爬不完这四英里路。这一点，他是知道的，而且知道以后，他还非常镇静。他知道他连半英里路也爬不了。不过，他仍然要活下去。在经历了千辛万苦之后，他居然会死掉，那未免太不合理了。命运对他实在太苛刻了，尽管奄奄一息，他还是不情愿死。也许，这种想法完全是发疯。不过，就算到死神的铁掌里，他仍然要反抗它，不肯死。他闭上眼睛，努力让自己镇静下来。疲倦像涨潮一样，从他身体的各处涌上来，但是他打起精神，不让这种令人窒息的疲倦把他淹没。这种疲倦，很像一片大海，一涨再涨，一点一点地淹没他的意识。有时候，他几乎完全给淹没了，只能无力地漂游过那片水域。有时候，他又会凭着一种奇怪的心灵作用，另外找到一丝毅力，更坚强地游着。他一动不动地仰面躺着，能听到病狼一呼一吸地喘着气，慢慢向他逼近。它愈来愈近，总在向他逼近，但是他却始终不动。它已经到了他耳边，那条粗糙的干舌头磨擦着他的脸颊。他那双手一下子伸出来。实际上，至少也是他凭着毅力要它们伸出来。他的指头弯曲着，可是抓了个空。敏捷是需要力气的，他没有这种力气。
那只狼的耐心真是可怕，这个人的耐心也一样可怕。这一天中有一半时间他一直躺着不动，尽力和昏迷斗争，等着那个要把他吃掉、而他也希望能吃掉的东西。有时候，疲倦的浪潮涌上来，淹没了他，他会做很长的梦。然而在整个过程中，不论醒着或是做梦，他都在等着那种喘息和那条粗糙的舌头来舐他。他并没有听到这种喘息，他只是从梦里慢慢苏醒过来，觉得有条舌头在顺着他的一只手舐去。他静静地等着。狼牙轻轻地扣在他手上了；扣紧了；狼正在尽最后一点力量把牙齿咬进它等了很久的食物里面。可是这个人也等了很久，他的手也抓住了狼的牙床。慢慢地，就在狼无力地挣扎时，他的另一只手摸过狼的身体。一下把狼抓住五分钟之后，这个人已经把全身的重量都压在了狼身上。他的手劲虽然不足以把狼掐死，但是他的脸已经紧紧地压住狼的咽喉，他嘴里已经满是狼毛。半小时后，这个人感到一小股暖和的血液流进他的喉咙。味道并不好，就象硬灌到他胃里的热铅液，而且是纯凭意志硬灌下去的。后来，这个人翻了个身，仰面睡着了。
捕鱼船白德福号上，有几个科学考察队的人员。他们从甲板上望见岸上有一个奇怪的东西，它正在向沙滩下面的水面挪动。他们没法分辨那是什么。但因为他们都是科研人员，他们就乘坐一条小船，到岸上去察看。他们发现了一个活物，但很难把它称作是人。它已经瞎了，失去了知觉。它用的力气大半都不起作用，但是它仍在不停地向前扭动，照它这样，一小时大概能爬上二十英尺。三星期后，这个人躺在捕鱼船的一个铺位上，眼泪顺着面颊往下淌，他说出自己的身份，以及他经历的一切。同时，他又含含糊糊地谈到了他的母亲，谈到了加利福尼亚州环绕在花丛中的家园。没过几天，他就跟那些科学家和船员坐在一张桌子旁吃饭了，他馋得不得了地望着面前这么多好吃的东西，焦急地瞧着它溜进别人嘴里。每逢别人咽下一口饭菜时，他眼里就会流露出悲伤的表情。他神志非常清醒，可是每逢吃饭时，他免不了要恨这些人。他给恐惧缠住了，老怕粮食维持不了多久。他向厨子、船舱里的服务员和船长打听食物的贮藏量。他们对他保证了无数次，但是他仍然不相信，还是会溜到厨房里亲自窥探。
看起来，这个人正在发胖。他每天都会胖一点。那批科学家都摇着头，提出他们的看法。他们限制了这个人的饭量，可是他的体重仍在增长。水手们都咧着嘴笑，他们心里有数。等到这批科学家派人来监视他时，他们也知道了。他们看到他在早饭以后，在船上四处游走。会象叫化子似地，向一个水手伸出手。那个水手笑了笑，递给他一块面包，他抓过面包，象守财奴瞅着金子般地瞅着它，然后把它塞到衬衫里面。咧着嘴笑的其它水手，也送给他同样的礼品。这些科学家很谨慎，他们随他去。但是他们会暗暗检查他的床铺，那上面整齐地码放着面包，每个角落里都塞满了面包。然而，他的神志非常清醒。他是在防备可能发生的另一次饥荒，就是这么回事。科学家们说，他会恢复常态的。事实也确是如此，白德福号还都没驶入旧金山湾，他就正常了。
