转载陕西省翻译协会

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关于举办第四届全国大学生‘海伦·斯诺翻译奖’竞赛的

通  知

海伦·斯诺（Helen Foster Snow）是美国著名作家、记者、社会活动家、中国人民忠贞不渝的朋友。她为中国革命和建设事业、为促进中美两国和两国人民之间的相互了解和友谊，倾注了毕生的心血。为了弘扬海伦·斯诺的‘架桥’精神，培养大学生对翻译的兴趣，发现译界新秀，陕西省翻译协会设立‘海伦·斯诺翻译奖’，并已成功地举办了三届。第四届全国大学生‘海伦·斯诺翻译奖’竞赛，定于2012年举行，由中国国际友人研究会、北京大学‘中国埃德加·斯诺研究中心’、美国南犹他大学和陕西省翻译协会共同主办。现就竞赛办法和参赛规则通知如下：

一、海伦·斯诺翻译奖设英译汉和汉译英两个奖项。英语参赛原文选自海伦·斯诺的原著；汉语参赛原文选自国内著名翻译家的汉语译文或国内学者撰写的有关海伦·斯诺的文章。本届大赛的参赛规则在《中国翻译》杂志2012年第1 期刊登，参赛原文请登录陕西省翻译协会网站hppt//www.chsta.org下载。

二、参赛对象为全国各类高等院校的在读生，包括本科生、专科生和硕士研究生。选手参赛时必须在参赛人员信息表上提供其注册学号。海伦·斯诺翻译奖竞赛，从不收取任何参赛费用。

三、英译汉和汉译英各设一、二、三等奖和优秀奖，授予获奖证书和奖品；美国南犹他大学为本次竞赛提供一个奖学金名额，两个奖项的一等奖获得者经过英语水平笔试和面试后，综合成绩最优者，为该奖学金的获得者，并于2013年春季学期赴美就读。获奖者名单和奖学金获得者将在陕西省翻译协会网站公布，同时将刊出参考译文。

四、继承和弘扬海伦·斯诺“诚实、守信、实事求是”的品德，保证竞赛的严肃性和真实性，大赛坚决反对任何弄虚作假的行为。对初选出来的一、二、三等奖获奖候选人进行复试，复试的具体方法，届时由评委会通知候选人。

五、大赛由陕西省译协翻译理论与教学委员会具体承办，由著名外语教育专家、翻译家、评论家组成评奖委员会；评奖委员会下设英译汉和汉译英两个评审小组，负责具体的阅卷和评审工作。竞赛活动由美国海伦·斯诺文学托管会委托陕西省斯诺研究中心监督。

六、参赛译文一律用A4纸打印；英文字体使用小四号Times New Roman，中文字体使用小四号宋体。参赛卷面和译文正文内，不得有任何关于译者姓名、性别、学校及其身份的暗示语言、符号或图画；一经发现，立即取消其评奖资格。参赛者个人信息须另页准确填写，填写的参赛信息表（见附件），随参赛译文一起寄至竞赛评委会。

七、截稿日期：参赛者必须于2012年6月30日前（以邮戳为准）邮至陕西省翻译协会，地址：陕西省西安市南关正街101号303室 陕西省翻译会秘书处，邮编：710068

中国国际友人研究会

北京大学斯诺研究中心

美国南犹他大学

陕西省翻译协会

2012年1月5日

附件：参赛人员信息表

注：身份填写：硕士/本科/专科

E-C Translation 海伦•斯诺翻译奖 英译汉.doc

We embarked by ship on our journey in the halcyon days of the winter solstice. “It is the most auspicious time for new beginnings,” I told Ed. I had bought some beautiful earrings made of blue-green kingfisher feathers, and I told Ed about the charming superstition taught me by an Old China Hand sea captain: The halcyon days were the fourteen days at the time of the winter solstice when the sea was unnaturally calm, so that the halcyon, or kingfisher, could brood on its nest floating in the ocean. All nature, sun and sea, obeyed the halcyon bird in its breeding season.

    The world stood still on halcyon days. It was a time for the birth of Christ and for Joshua to pretend to command the sun and for King Canute to command the waves. It was time for the Word to go forth upon the living waters, a time to create new worlds. It was a time for sailors to forswear their profane oaths. It was a time for an odyssey under the Southern Cross following in the wake of Magellan. It would always be the time for the big events in my life, though I never planned it that way. I did not like living death or darkness. I struggled towards the light at the winter solstice.

    On that halcyon journey, those two young people were unafraid. They were claiming kinship with all of nature in all hemispheres, with all people in all countries, with all minds in all kinds of books.

    For reading on the ship we took G. B. Shaw’s The Intelligent Women’s Guide to Socialism and Capitalism, and H. G. Well’s Outline of History as well as his 1932 book, The Work, Wealth, and Happiness of Mankind. Americans had not as yet started to think, but we carried along George Dorsey’s Why We Behave Like Human Beings, which I showed to the British pukka sahib Resident in Borneo with one word inserted: Why Don’t We…

We had both read Spengler’s The Decline of the West-- I had read it in the States. In a cursory way we had studied the Age of Empire-- that of Japan in Taiwan, of the British in Borneo, Hong Kong, and the China treaty ports, of the Dutch in the Celebes, Java, and Bali, of the Portuguese in Macao.

And now we were visiting all these places. It was a goodly time for Americans to travel-- before we poisoned our welcome and our own psychology in Korea and Indochina.

In the chart room of the Canada Maru, I Studied the navigation maps. There was the island of English Split (my mother would love that); here the island of Bum-Bum (beachcombers likely). We had passed through the Sulu Sea. The Japanese captain let me take the wheel of the Canada Maru in the Celebes Sea. He said he would let me take the wheel again just as we crossed the equator. He liked us because we chose his ship out of all others-- it was the one calling at the most unlikely places. He insisted on giving my husband and me his own cabin and private bath, and on turning over his deck to us. He borrowed our books of poetry in exchange. He treated us as if I were Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, with Apollo in tow. The only other passengers were two or three Japanese businessmen. The warm blue-green South Seas were as clear and smooth as molten glass. Striped-sailed catamarans looked as still and unreal as painted ships.

As we approached Borneo, I appeared on deck in English-tailored white jodhpurs, a white cork helmet, and my very American red-white-and-blue scarf half-mast in wilting heat. Red-painted roofs flashed against a white coral shoreline. Casuarina, mangrove, Nipa palm trees nodded a welcome. This was Borneo-- not only Borneo but Tawau! Ten thousand miles from home!

My husband looked at me without approval. He would never forgive me for bringing abroad a big black wardrobe trunk with attire for every possible occasion-- from deck shorts to long evening gowns and gold slippers.

“You may think yourself a born explorer,” he observed with professional scorn, “but you are no traveler.”

The English voice of an ironwood merchant put him in his place, informing me that I was practically the only white woman who had ever stopped at Tawau, except for Mrs. Martin Johnson. He hoped we were not planning to take any movies: “We had to organize a ‘wild’ buffalo hunt for her in the rubber groves… All the buffalo were tame, naturally.”

“Did you hear” I swelled with pioneer pride. “Second only to Osa Johnson.” But I suggested that the place must be teeming with white men.

“Not exactly. Only two of us-- the British Resident and myself. We haven’t spoken for years,” the merchant said. “It’s very Somerset Maugham. He thinks I’m letting down the white man’s burden because I make canoe trip with the natives looking for rare hardwoods to sell at a profit.”

Borneo was a landmark in my life-- a seamark, anyway. Borneo was all but the last outpost of the British Empire to be given up.

（863 words）