(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
"The Law of Life" by Jack London - Part One. Old Koskoosh listened greedily. Although his sight had failed, his hearing remained good. The slightest sound was recognized by a mind yet active behind the aged forehead. Ah! That was Sit-cum-ha shouting curses at the dogs as she beat them into the harnesses. Sit-cum-ha was his daughter's daughter, but she was too busy to waste a thought upon her old grandfather, sitting alone there in the snow. Camp must be broken. The long trail waited while the short day refused to delay. Life called her, and the duties of life, not death. And he was very close to death now.
The thought frightened the old man for the moment. He stretched forth a shaking hand which wandered over the small pile of dried wood beside him. Reassured that it was indeed there, his hand returned to the shelter of his old, worn furs. He again began to listen. He heard the noise of the half-frozen animal skins being moved. He knew that even then the chief's moose-skin tent was being packed. The chief was his son, leader of the tribesmen, and a mighty hunter. As the women worked, his voice rose, exclaiming at their slowness. Old Koskoosh strained his ears. It was the last time he would hear that voice. There went Geehow's tent! And Tusken's! Seven, eight, nine; only the medicine man's could yet be standing. There! They were at work upon it now. He could hear the medicine man struggling loudly as he piled it on the sled. A child cried and a woman calmed it with gentle singing. Little Koo-tee, the old man thought. That child was always weeping, and it was sickly. It would die soon, perhaps, and they would burn a hole through the frozen ground and pile rocks above to keep the wolves away. And what difference would it make? A few years at best, and as many an empty stomach as a full one. And in the end, death waited, ever-hungry and hungriest of them all.
What was that? Oh, the men binding the sleds together and drawing tight the ropes. He listened, he who would listen no more. The whips whistled among the dogs. Hear them howl! How they hated the work and the trail through the snow! They had started! Sled after sled moved slowly away into the silent forest. They were gone. They had passed out of his life, and he faced the last bitter hour alone. No. The step of a moccasin broke the snow's surface. A man stood beside him; upon his head a hand rested gently. His son was good to do this thing. He remembered other old men whose sons had not waited after the tribe had gone. But his son had. The old man's thoughts wandered away into the past, until the young man's voice returned him to the present. "It is well with you?" he asked. The old man answered, "It is well." "There is wood beside you," the younger man continued, "and the fire burns bright. The morning is gray, and the cold has lessened. It will snow presently. Even now it is snowing." "Yes, even now it is snowing." "The tribesmen hurry. Their loads are heavy and their stomachs empty with lack of feasting. The trail ahead is long and they travel fast. I go now. It is well?" "It is well. I am as a last year's leaf, hanging lightly on a branch. When the first wind blows, I fall. My voice has become like an old woman's. My eyes no longer show me the way of my feet, and my feet are heavy, and I am tired. It is well."
He bowed his head in contentment until the last noise of the moccasin on the snow died away. He knew his son was beyond recall. Then his hand moved out from the furs to touch the wood. It alone stood between him and what lay beyond the death that opened before him. Now the measure of his life was a handful of sticks. One by one they would go to feed the fire, and just so, step by step, death would come closer to him. When the last stick had given all of its heat, the frost would begin to gather strength. First his feet would yield, then his hands; and the lack of feeling would travel, slowly, to his body. His head would fall forward upon his knees, and he would rest. It was easy. All men must die. He did not murmur. It was the law of life, and it was just. He had been born close to the earth and close to the earth had he lived. Its law was not new to him. It was the law of all flesh. Nature was not kindly to the flesh. She had no concern for that single thing called the individual. Her interest lay in the race of man as a whole. He grasped this idea firmly. He saw its truth displayed everywhere. The awakening of life in a tree, the bursting greenness of its branches, the fall of the yellow leaf—in this alone was told the whole history. But one task nature did give the individual. Did he not perform it, he died. Did he perform it, it was all the same—he died. Nature did not care; there were plenty who would obey. It was only the need that this duty be obeyed, not the man who obeyed it, which lived and lived always. The tribe of Koskoosh was very old. The old men he had known when he was a boy had known old men before them.
Therefore, it was true that the tribe lived, that it represented the obeying of all its members, whose final resting places were unremembered. They were not important; they were chapters in life's story. They had passed away like clouds from a summer sky. He also would pass away. Nature did not care. To life she gave one task and one law. To continue the race was the task of life; its law was death. A young girl was a good creature to look upon, full-breasted and strong, with a lightness to her step and a shine in her eyes. But her task was yet before her. The light in her eyes brightened and her step quickened. She laughed with the young men, then she turned away. She passed on to them her own unrest. And she grew fairer and yet fairer to look upon. Finally, some hunter took her to his tent to cook and work for him and to become the mother of his children. And with the coming of her children her beauty left her. She dragged her legs and arms when she walked. Her eyes lost their brightness. Then only the little ones found joy in the old, lined face. Her task was done. In a little while, in the first famine or in the first long trail, she would be left, as he had been left, in the snow, with a little pile of wood. Such was the law. He placed a stick carefully on the fire and returned to his thoughts. It was the same everywhere, with all things. The insects disappeared with the first frost. When age settled upon the rabbit it became slow and heavy and could no longer run faster than its enemies. Even the big bear grew old and blind, to be dragged down at last by a small group of barking sled dogs. He remembered how he had left his own father along the Klondike River one winter. It was the winter before the missionary came with his books and his box of medicines. Many times Koskoosh had recalled with pleasure the taste of those medicines. The one called "painkiller" was especially good. But now his mouth refused to moisten. He remembered that the missionary had become a worry to them. He brought no meat into the camp, and he ate much. The hunters did not like this. Then when they were near the Mayo, he became ill. And afterward, the dogs pushed the stones away and fought for his bones.
重点解析
1.in the end 最后；最终
In the end you have to readjust your expectations.
最后，你需要调整你的预期。
2.step by step 逐步地；循序渐进
Step by step, he knew the importance of it.
渐渐地，他晓得了它的重要性。
3.as a whole 作为一个整体；总体上
As a whole we do not eat enough fibre in Britain.
总体上我们英国人没有摄入足够的膳食纤维。
4.fight for 争取；为......而战
They pledged to fight for democratic rights.
他们誓为争取民主权利而斗争。
参考译文
《生活的法则》，作者杰克·伦敦——第一部分。部落首领老科斯库什贪婪地听着，虽然年老视力不行了，可是他的耳朵却很灵敏，什么声响都能听到。啊哈！这是他女儿西特克姆的声音，她正在赶狗，试图让它们都站到雪橇前面去。她已经忘记了他，老人正独自一人待在雪地里。他们得去寻找新的打猎场所，长途跋涉就要开始了。北部地区的白昼在变短，部落的人不能等死，而科斯库什正在渐渐地死去。
这个想法一时把老人吓坏了。他伸出一只颤抖的手，在他身旁那小堆儿干柴上游荡。他确信它确实在那儿，于是把手放回他那副旧的毛皮手套里。他又开始倾听，他听到冻僵的动物毛皮在移动时发出的声响，他知道首领那顶驼皮制成的帐篷正在被拆掉。首领，他的儿子，是一位威武的猎手。科斯库什被留下来慢慢地死去。女人们正在干活，老科斯库什听到他儿子让那些女人快点干活的说话声音。他努力地听着，这是他最后一次能听到这声音了。吉豪的帐篷里有动静！然后是塔斯肯的帐篷！七、八、九；只有药剂师能站在一旁。就在那！他们正在研究。他能听到药剂师把药堆在雪橇上时，在大声地挣扎。一个小孩哭了起来，有个女人轻声唱起了歌，让孩子安静下来。孩子叫库梯，老人心里想，那是个多病的孩子，总是哭。他可能很快就会死去，人们会在冻土上烧出一个小洞，把他埋在里面，还会用石头盖住他那幼小的身体，以免被狼吃掉了。那又怎么样呢？小孩活了几年，到头来不也得死吗？
人把雪橇绑在一起，拉紧绳子。他听着，后来就再也听不到了。鞭子声在狗群中间呼啸。听那些狗的嚎叫声！它们是多么厌恶这工作，厌恶雪地中的这条小径！它们出发了！雪橇一辆接着一辆慢慢地滑走了，驶入寂静的森林。他们已经从他的生活中消失了，他只能独自面对这最后的苦涩时光。不，有一个人穿着鹿皮靴，他的脚步把雪给压实了，他就站在科斯库什身旁，温柔地把手放在他的头上。他的儿子是会做这种事的。他想起了其他的老人，他们的儿子们在部落消失后都没有再等待。但他的儿子却这么做了。他追忆起了往事，直到儿子的声音唤回了他。“和你待一会儿，好吗？”儿子问。“很好。”老人答道。“你旁边有木头，把火烧得旺点，”儿子继续说，“早上天有点阴，很冷，就要下雪了。现在已经下起来了。”“是啊，现在已经下起雪了。”“部落的人都等急了，他们拉的东西很重，没吃什么东西，肚子饿扁了。要走很长的路，他们要快点赶路。我现在得走了，行吗？”“行，我已经是风烛残年了，一阵风就能把我打倒在地上。我的声音弱地像个老女人一样，眼睛再也看不清脚下的路了，脚感觉很沉，还有点累，其它一切都很好。”
听不到鹿皮靴踩在雪地上的声音时，他心满意足地低下了头。他知道已经叫不回儿子了。然后，他把手从毛皮中伸出来，去摸身边的木柴。木柴会一根根烧光，而死亡会一步步靠近他，最后一根木柴烧光的时候，寒冷就会来临，那时他的脚会先被冻僵，然后是手，寒冷会慢慢地从外侵入体内。他的头会垂到膝盖上，就此安息。这很容易，所有人都必须死。近了，这条法则对他而言一点也不新奇，这是人类的生命法则。大自然对人并不留情，她并不会为个人着想，她关心的只是集体——人类这一种族。他牢牢地抓住了这个想法，他看到它的真相随处可见。树木复苏，树干上新生的绿叶，枯干的黄叶落下，这就全成了历史。但是，大自然确实赋予个人一项任务。他还没有做，就死了。他还没有做，就死了。大自然并不在乎；很多人都会服从。只需要遵守这项义务，而不是遵守这项义务的人。科斯库什的部落很古老，他小时候认识的老人，认识以前的老人家。
因此，这个部落确实存在，它代表着所有成员的服从，没人记得他们最后的安息地。他们并不重要；他们是生命故事中的章节。他们像夏天天空中的云彩一样逝去了。他也会死去。大自然不会在乎。她给了生活一个任务和一条法则。让这个种族延续，是生活的任务；而它的法则是死亡。一个年轻的姑娘面容姣好，胸部丰盈，体格强健，步履轻盈，眼睛炯炯有神。但她的任务还没有完成。她眼神光彩动人，脚步也加快了。她和年轻人一起欢笑，然后转过身走了。她把自己的不安转嫁给了他们。她出落得越来越美丽。最后，有个猎人带她到他的帐篷里去煮饭、伺候他，还成了他孩子们的母亲。随着孩子们的到来，她的美丽消逝，走路时要拖着腿和胳膊。她的眼睛失去了光泽，只有小家伙能在那张布满皱纹的老脸上找到快乐。她的任务完成了。再过一段日子，在第一次饥荒或在第一次长途跋涉中，她就会像他一样过世，待在雪地中，旁边还有一小堆木头。这就是法则。他小心地往火堆里放了一根柴火，开始回忆起自己的过去。一样的地方，一样的事物。昆虫在第一次霜冻时就消失了。兔子变老时，速度会变慢，体重会增加，再也跑不过它的敌人了。就连大熊也老了，瞎了，最后被一群狂吠的雪橇犬拖到在地。他记得有一年冬天他是如何把自己的父亲留在克朗代克河边。那时是冬天，传教士还没带着他的书和药箱过来。科斯库什有好多次都怀着愉快的心情回忆那些药的滋味。有一种叫“止痛药”，效果特别好。但现在，他的嘴非常干。他记得传教士变成了困扰他们的人，他来营地时不带肉，还吃得很多。猎人们不喜欢这样。他们靠近梅奥时，他病了。后来，狗把石头推开，和他争抢骨头。
