晨读夜诵.每天读一点英语经典短篇小说精华（英汉对照）

2020年11月28日星期六 祝福晚安 天气多云气温13℃★晨读夜诵★ 我现在刚好在操场上散步，今天夜晚的月色很美。已经快要12月份了，我还能活在13摄氏度的夜晚，还是应该好好感恩的，至少我的冬天没有像在东北读大学的时候那么寒冷。在温暖的地方，在温暖的季节，自然要读一点温暖的书，才能度过暖暖的时光。 今天下午翻了很多英文书，我还是要好好学习一下外语的，明年就要回寒冷的东北考试了，我花了那么多代价，如果最后还是不合格的话，那么我会有遗憾吧，一个英语专业的人，如果最后却没有得到英语专业八级证书，总会有点遗憾的。 最近，我有在背诵圣经诗篇的英文版的经文，一个原因是可以练习英语，一个原因是我毕业论文要研究诗篇，这样一举两得的事情，自然要好好的坚持下去了。 今天在图书馆坐了一天，听了唐崇荣牧师的圣灵论的讲座的直播，还参加了一下网络大学生团契，抄了几篇英文，晚上要出来活动活动，这样才能在运动上达标，我每天至少要走两万步，现在我每天走四万步是常态。总要让自己的身心灵都足够健康的活着。 现在好好欣赏柔情似水的月亮，还有唐崇荣牧师指挥的乐团的音乐，在操场上还有少数民族的音乐与舞蹈，再读点书，人生的美好也不过如此。今晚早点休息，明天打扮飘亮一点，去教会参加主日礼拜。 Cat in the Rain 雨中的猫 There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and the war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colors of the hotels facing the gardens and the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain and slipped back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain. The motor cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood looking out at the empty square. The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on. “I’m going down and get that kitty,” the American wife said. “I’ll do it,” her husband offered from the bed. “No, I’ll get it. The poor kitty out trying to keep dry under a table.” The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed. “Don’t get wet,” he said. The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. His desk was at the far end of the office. He was an old man and very tall. “Il piove,” the wife said. She liked the hotel-keeper. “Si, si, Signora, brutto tempo. It is very bad weather.” He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the deadly serious way he received any complaints. She liked his dignity. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands. Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along under the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room. “You must not get wet,” she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her. With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her. “Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?” “There was a cat,” said the American girl. “A cat?” “Si, il gatto.” “A cat?” the maid laughed. “A cat in the rain?” “Yea,” she said, “under the table.” Then, “Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty.” When she talked English the maid’s face tightened. “Come, Signora,” she said. “We must get back inside. You will be wet.” “I suppose so,” said the American girl. They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed, reading. “Did you get the cat?” he asked, putting the book down. “It was gone.” “Wonder where it went to,” he said, resting his eyes from reading. She sat down on the bed. “I wanted it so much,” she said. “I don’t know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn’t any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain.” George was reading again. She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the handglass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?” she asked, looking at her profile again. George looked up and saw the back of her neck clipped close like a boy’s. “I like it the way it is.” “I get so tired of it,” she said. “I get so tired of looking like a boy.” George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn’t looked away from her since she stared to speak. “You look pretty darn nice,” he said. She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark. “I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel,” she said. “I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.” “Yeah?” George said from the bed. “And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes.” “Oh, shut up and get something to read,” George said. He was reading again. His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees. “Anyway, I want a cat,” she said, “I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can’t have long hair or any fun I can have a cat.” George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square. Someone knocked at the door. “Avanti,” George said. He looked up from his book. In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body. “Excuse me,” she said, “the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora.” 留宿在旅馆里的美国人只有两个。楼梯上进出房间的人很多，但是他们一个也不认识。他们的房间在二楼，面对着海，也面对着公园和战争纪念碑。公园里有高大的棕榈树和绿色的长椅。天气好的时候，总有个艺术家带着画架来写生。艺术家们喜欢棕榈树的长势和面向公园与海的旅馆的明快色彩。意大利人远道而来就是为了看那座战争纪念碑。碑是用青铜做的，在雨中闪闪发亮。天正下着雨，雨水从棕榈树上滴下来，在砾石路上积水成池。 大海在雨中翻起一线长长的浪花，海浪从沙滩上悄悄退去，接着又汹涌而来，再次在大雨中翻起了浪花。汽车从战争纪念碑旁边的广场开过去。广场对面的咖啡店门口站着一个侍者，他正望着空荡荡的广场。 那个美国人的妻子站在窗口，眺望着外面的景色。在他们窗户下面，一只猫正蜷缩在一张滴着水的绿色桌子底下。那只猫尽力缩成一团，生怕被雨淋了。 “我要下去救救小猫。”美国人的妻子说。 “还是我去吧。”她丈夫在床上说道。 “不，我去吧。那只可怜的小猫正在桌子底下躲雨呢。” 丈夫继续靠在床脚的两个枕头上看书。 “别把自己淋着了。”他说道。 他妻子下楼去了，当她走过柜台时，旅馆老板站起来，向她鞠了一躬。他的办公桌在办公室的最里头。他是个个子很高的老头。 “下雨了！”美国人的妻子说。她喜欢这位旅馆老板。 “是的，是的，太太。天气太糟糕了，太糟糕了。” 他站在那昏暗的房间尽头的办公桌后面。这位妻子喜欢他。她喜欢他接受任何抱怨时非常严肃的姿态。她喜欢他举止端庄。她喜欢他那乐于为她效劳的模样。她喜欢他那当老板的自豪感。她喜欢他那久经沧桑的脸庞和大手。 她像他一样推开门往外看。雨下得更大了。一个穿着橡胶披风的男人正穿过空荡荡的广场，朝咖啡店走去。那只猫应该就在右边吧。也许她能沿着屋檐下面走过去。当她站在门口时，一把伞在她身后撑开了，她身后站着负责打扫他们房间的女侍者。 “您千万别淋湿了。”她操着一口意大利语微笑着说道。显然，是老板派她来的。 女侍者给她撑着伞，她沿着砾石路走到他们的窗子下面。桌子还在，已经被雨水冲洗得绿闪闪的，可是猫不见了。她突然感到大失所望起来。女侍者抬起头来看着她。 “您找什么，太太？” “刚才这里有只猫。”美国女士说道。 “一只猫？” “是的，它跑了。” “一只猫？”女侍者笑了，“雨中的猫？” “是的，”她说，“刚才还在桌子底下呢。”接着她又说：“我太想要它了。我很想要只猫。” 当她开口说英语时，女侍者开始显得紧张起来。 “来吧，太太，”她说，“我们必须进去了，否则你会被淋湿的。” “我想也是。”美国女士说。 她们顺着砾石路往回走，进了门，女侍者在门外收起了伞。 当美国女士经过办公室时，老板在办公桌后面向她鞠了一躬。一阵莫名其妙的不适与紧张感在她心头掠过，这位旅馆老板有时候让她感到很重要，有时候却又感到很渺小。一瞬间，一种至高无上的感觉油然而生。她走上楼梯，推开房门。乔治还在床上看书。 “抓到猫了吗？”他放下书问道。 “它跑了。” “真纳闷儿它跑哪儿去了。”他边说边将目光从书上移开了。她坐在床上。“我太想要它了，”她说，“我也不知道我为什么这么想要它。我想要那只可怜的小猫。让一只可怜的小猫在雨中淋着可不是一件好玩的事情。” 乔治又开始看起了书。 她走到梳妆台的镜子前，拿起手镜开始端详镜子里的自己。从这一侧看到那一侧，然后再转向脑后和脖子处。 “你难道不觉得我把头发留长是个好主意吗？”她问他，然后继续欣赏自己。 乔治抬起头来，发现她脖子后面剪得像个男孩。 “我喜欢你现在这个样子。” “可我已经厌倦自己现在的样子了，”她说，“我不想再像个男孩了。” 乔治在床上挪了挪位置。自从她开始说话，他就一直注视着她。 “你看起来美极了。”他说。 她把镜子放在梳妆台上，走到窗口往外看。天渐渐黑了。 “我想把头发梳得又紧又顺，然后在后面盘一个我能感觉到的发髻。”她说，“我想要那只猫坐在我的腿上，我一摸它，它就喵喵地叫。” “是吗？”乔治躺在床上说道。 “我还想用自己的银器吃饭，而且我还想点上蜡烛。我想现在就是春天，我想在镜子前梳个头，我想要一只小猫，我想要一些新衣服。” “噢，别说了！还是找点书看看吧。”乔治说。他又在继续看书了。 他的妻子正望着窗外。天很黑了，雨水仍拍打着棕榈树。 “不管怎样，我想要一只猫。”她说，“我想要一只猫。我现在就想要一只猫。如果我不能留长头发或者享有其他什么乐趣的话，我能有只猫也挺好的。” ～～～

收集很多作者的短篇小说，风格各有不同，说实话，我并没有看英文，但是值得一读！

“I have come to this lonely place and here is this other,”

提高阅读能力还是很好的，不用精读，快速泛读。