雅思写作翻译法:—哈利波特与死亡圣器连载01

按着前几天一次性考到4个7的ZYX的方法,我今天试着对哈利波特的中文版进行了英语翻译,不译不知道,一译吓一跳。以前仅仅知道的但是不太会用的动词,形容词,副词都生动的,富有画面感的再现了!现在墨尔本文波雅思就把汉语和英语翻译的给大家看看。不信你试试。对了,很多同学没有中文译本,我推荐墨尔本稍大的图书馆几乎都有中文书。我就是在city library 借的。

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
By J. K. Rowling
Chapter One
The Dark Lord Ascending

 

中文先开始:

在一条洒满月光的狭窄小路上,两个男人凭空出现在了相距几码的地方。他们一动不动地静立着,互相用魔杖指着对方的胸膛;很快,他们认出了对方,将魔杖收在了长袍下,朝着同一个方向飞速走去。
“有新消息么?”两人中的高个子问道。
“好极了的消息”西弗勒斯?斯内普回答。
小路左边长满了茂密低矮的荆棘,而右边则是被修剪得整整齐齐的高大树篱。两人飞快地前进着,身上的长袍不停地拍打着他们的脚踝。
“我还以为我会迟到”,亚克斯利说道,上方的树枝时不时地把月光遮住,他笨拙的身影也时隐时现,“比我所想象的要困难些,但我希望他会满意。听起来你对你们的见面很自信?”
斯内普点了点头,但没有详细说下去。他们转进右边一条宽阔的车道,离开了小路。高高的树篱随着他们转了个弯,远处一扇华丽的铁门挡在了他们面前,但两个人都没停下脚步。静寂中,他们像行礼似地举起了左手,然后径直穿过了铁门,那黑色的金属仿佛只是一团烟雾。
紫杉树篱的响声模糊了两个男人的脚步声。突然,他们的右边发出了沙沙的声音,亚克斯利抽出魔杖,举过他同伴的头顶,对准了声音发出的地方。但那声音只不过是一只白孔雀在树篱顶部昂首阔步时所发出的。
“卢修斯总是把自己弄得太过舒适了。孔雀……”亚克斯利发出一声粗重的鼻息,把魔杖狠狠地插回了斗篷。
路的尽头,一座堂皇的宅院处从漆黑的夜幕中闪现出来,楼下用钻石拼成的窗户里透出点点灯光。漆黑的院子里,有一座喷泉在喷水。斯内普和亚克斯利快速走向前门,碎石在他们脚下噼啪作响。门打开了,尽管他们没看到任何人来开门。
走廊很宽阔,灯光昏暗但却装饰得很奢华,石制的地面上铺着华丽的地毯。当斯内普和亚克斯利迈着大步穿越走廊的时候,墙上那些面色苍白的雕像目不转睛地望着他们。他们在通向下一间房子的厚重木门前停了下来,平静了一下呼吸,接着,斯内普转动了铜制把手。
休息室里华丽的长桌边坐满了人,一个个都沉默不语。房间里的家具被随意地堆在墙边。大理石壁炉里熊熊的火焰是房间内的唯一光源,壁炉的上方有一面镀金的镜子。斯内普和亚克斯利在门口逗留了一会儿,当他们的眼睛适应了这微弱的光线后,一个非常奇怪的场景吸引了他们:一个不省人事的人倒悬在桌子上方,缓慢地旋转着,就好像有一条无形的绳子绑着他似的,他倒映在镜子和那被蹭得锃亮的桌面里。然而,在场的所有人都没有看他,除了一个面色苍白的年轻人,这年轻人几乎就是坐在他的正下方,好像忍不住每几分钟就要看他一眼。
“亚克斯利,斯内普”桌前传来一阵清亮高昂的声音,“你们快要迟到了。”
说话的人坐在壁炉的正前方,所以刚来的两位一眼看去只能隐约分辨出他的轮廓。两人走近了几步,终于看清了他那张在黑暗中发光的脸,那是一张没有头发,像蛇一样的脸,他的鼻孔是一条细线,猩红色眼睛中瞳孔也成为一条细线。他实在太苍白了,苍白得简直像珍珠里发出的微光。
“西弗勒斯,坐在这里”,伏地魔边说边指着他右边最近的座位,“亚克斯利,你坐在多洛霍夫旁边。”
俩人在指定的位子上坐下了,桌边的大部分人都盯着斯内普,伏地魔也首先向他询问。
“怎么样?”
“主人,凤凰社准备在下周六的傍晚时分把哈利波特从现在的住所转移到安全的地方。”
这显然勾起了在座人们的兴趣:有些人惊呆了,另一些则坐立不安,大家都直勾勾的盯着斯内普和伏地魔。
“周六……傍晚……”,伏地魔重复着,他猩红的眼睛死死的盯住斯内普的黑眼睛,以至于一些旁观者将目光移向了别处,他们显然害怕自己会被这种残忍的目光灼透。斯内普却沉着地的回视着伏地魔的脸,过了一会儿,伏地魔那没有嘴唇的嘴微微弯曲了一下,像是在笑。
“好,非常好。那这个消息来自……?”
“来自我们讨论过的那个线人”,斯内普说。
“主人”
亚克斯利向前倾了倾身子,看着桌子那头的伏地魔和斯内普,所有人的脸现在都转向了他。
“主人,我听到了不同的消息。”
亚克斯利等待着,但伏地魔什么也没有说,于是他接着说道,“那个傲罗德力士,透露说波特在30日之前不会被转移,也就是那个男孩17岁生日的前一天。”
斯内普笑了。
“我的线人告诉我他们准备放一个假消息,这一定是那个假消息,德力士无疑是被施了混淆咒,他总是对此缺乏抵抗力,这已经不是第一次了。”
“主人,我向你保证,德力士看起来非常确定”亚克斯利说。
“如果他真的被施了混淆咒,他自然会很确定”,斯内普说,“亚克斯利,我向你保证,傲罗办公室不会再参与保护哈利波特的工作了,凤凰社确信我们已经渗透进了部里。”
“那凤凰社在这点上还是正确的,是吧?”离亚克斯利不远处一个蜷缩着的男人说道,他声嘶力竭的笑声在桌子四周回荡。
伏地魔没有笑。他凝视着上方那个缓缓旋转的身体,好像陷入了沉思。
“主人”,亚克斯利接着说,“德力士认为有整整一队的傲罗会被派去转移那个男孩。”
伏地魔举起了苍白的大手,亚克斯利立刻就没有声音了,愤愤不平的看着伏地魔转向斯内普。
“他们接下来准备把那个男孩儿藏在哪儿?”
“藏在一个凤凰社成员的家中,”斯内普说,“据线人称,社里和魔法部用尽了一切措施来保护这个地方。我认为一旦他被送到了那儿,我们就很难再抓到他了。主人,除非……当然,除非魔法部在下个星期六前就垮掉,这样我们就可能有机会发现和破解足够的魔法,到时候我们就能解决掉剩下的魔法了。”
“那么,亚克斯利,”伏地魔对着桌子下方说道,炉火映在他的眼睛中,奇怪的闪烁着,“魔法部会在下周六前垮掉么?”
所有人再一次转过了头,亚克斯利挺直了身子。

 
The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit
lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other’s chests; then,
recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking
briskly in the same direction.
“News?” asked the taller of the two.
“The best,” replied Severus Snape.
The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high,
neatly manicured hedge. The men’s long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they
marched.
“Thought I might be late,” said Yaxley, his blunt features sliding in and out of sight as
the branches of overhanging trees broke the moonlight. “It was a little trickier than I
expected. But I hope he will be satisfied. You sound confident that your reception will be
good?”
Snape nodded, but did not elaborate. They turned right, into a wide driveway that led
off the lane. The high hedge curved into them, running off into the distance beyond the
pair of imposing wrought-iron gates barring the men’s way. Neither of them broke step:
In silence both raised their left arms in a kind of salute and passed straight through, as
though the dark metal was smoke.

The yew hedges muffled the sound of the men’s footsteps. There was a rustle
somewhere to their right: Yaxley drew his wand again pointing it over his companion’s
head, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock,
strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.

“He always did himself well, Lucius. Peacocks …” Yaxley thrust his wand back
under his cloak with a snort.

A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive,
lights glinting in the diamond paned downstairs windows. Somewhere in the dark garden
beyond the hedge a fountain was playing. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as Snape and
Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though
nobody had visibly opened it.

The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent
carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the wall
followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden
door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned
the bronze handle.

The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The
room’s usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination
came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded
mirror. Snape and Yaxley lingered for a moment on the threshold. As their eyes grew
accustomed to the lack of light, they were drawn upward to the strangest feature of the
scene: an apparently unconscious human figure hanging upside down over the table,
revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope, and reflected in the mirror and in
the bare, polished surface of the table below. None of the people seated underneath this
singular sight were looking at it except for a pale young man sitting almost directly below
it. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.

“Yaxley. Snape,” said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. “You are
very nearly late.”

The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at
first, for the new arrivals to make out more than his silhouette. As they drew nearer,
however, his face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and
gleaming red eyes whose pupils were vertical. He was so pale that he seemed to emit a
pearly glow.

“Severus, here,” said Voldemort, indicating the seat on his immediate right.
“Yaxley – beside Dolohov.”

The two men took their allotted places. Most of the eyes around the table
followed Snape, and it was to him that Voldemort spoke first.

“So?”

“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current
place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall.”

The interest around the table sharpened palpably: Some stiffened, others fidgeted,
all gazing at Snape and Voldemort.

“Saturday … at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon
Snape’s black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently
fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze. Snape,
however, looked calmly back into Voldemort’s face and, after a moment or two,
Voldemort’s lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.

“Good. Very good. And this information comes –“

“ – from the source we discussed,” said Snape.

“My Lord.”

Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape.
All faces turned to him.

“My Lord, I have heard differently.”

Yaxley waited, but Voldemort did not speak, so he went on, “Dawlish, the Auror,
let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns
seventeen.”

Snape was smiling.

“My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No
doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time;
he is known to be susceptible.”

“I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain,” said Yaxley.

“If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain,” said Snape. “I assure you,
Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The
Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry.”

“The Order’s got one thing right, then, eh?” said a squat man sitting a short
distance from Yaxley; he gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the
table.

Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upward to the body revolving
slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.
“My Lord,” Yaxley went on, “Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be
used to transfer the boy –“

Voldemort held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching
resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.

“Where are they going to hide the boy next?”

“At the home of one of the Order,” said Snape. “The place, according to the
source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could
provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless,
of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the
opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest.”

“Well, Yaxley?” Voldemort called down the table, the firelight glinting strangely
in his red eyes. “Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?”

Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders.

 

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