鲁迅先生风筝前两段的英语翻译,谢谢!北京的冬季,地上还有积雪,灰黑色的秃树枝丫叉于晴朗的天空中,而远处有一二风筝浮动,在我是一种惊异和悲哀. 故乡的风筝时节,是春二月,倘听到沙

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鲁迅先生风筝前两段的英语翻译,谢谢!北京的冬季,地上还有积雪,灰黑色的秃树枝丫叉于晴朗的天空中,而远处有一二风筝浮动,在我是一种惊异和悲哀.      故乡的风筝时节,是春二月,倘听到沙

鲁迅先生风筝前两段的英语翻译,谢谢!北京的冬季,地上还有积雪,灰黑色的秃树枝丫叉于晴朗的天空中,而远处有一二风筝浮动,在我是一种惊异和悲哀. 故乡的风筝时节,是春二月,倘听到沙
鲁迅先生风筝前两段的英语翻译,谢谢!
北京的冬季,地上还有积雪,灰黑色的秃树枝丫叉于晴朗的天空中,而远处有一二风筝浮动,在我是一种惊异和悲哀. 故乡的风筝时节,是春二月,倘听到沙沙的风轮声,仰头便能看见一个淡墨色的蟹风筝或嫩蓝色的蜈蚣风筝.还有寂寞的瓦片风筝,没有风轮,又放得很低,伶仃地显出憔悴可怜模样.但此时地上的杨柳已经发芽,早的山桃也多吐蕾,和孩子们的天上的点缀照应,打成一片春日的温和.我现在在那里呢?四面都还是严冬的肃杀,而久经诀别的故乡的久经逝去的春天,却就在这天空中荡漾了.但我是向来不爱放风筝的,不但不爱,并且嫌恶他,因为我以为这是没出息孩子所做的玩艺.和我相反的是我的小兄弟,他那时大概十岁内外罢,多病,瘦得不堪,然而最喜欢风筝,自己买不起,我又不许放,他只得张着小嘴,呆看着空中出神,有时至于小半日.远处的蟹风筝突然落下来了,他惊呼;两个瓦片风筝的缠绕解开了,他高兴得跳跃.他的这些,在我看来都是笑柄,可鄙的请不要用机器翻译,谢谢!

鲁迅先生风筝前两段的英语翻译,谢谢!北京的冬季,地上还有积雪,灰黑色的秃树枝丫叉于晴朗的天空中,而远处有一二风筝浮动,在我是一种惊异和悲哀. 故乡的风筝时节,是春二月,倘听到沙
It’s winter in Beijing, the ground is still covered by snow, the dark grey bare branches are forking towards the clear sky and there are one or two kites floating in the distance; to me it is a kind of amazement and melancholy.
The kite-flying season in my hometown is in the second month of the spring season; if you happened to hear the rustling sound of wind wheels, just look up and you will see a crab-shaped kite in light sepia or a baby-blue centipede kite. And not forgetting the lonesome tile kites which are flying very lowly and without wind wheels,looking solitarily haggard and miserable. But at this time of the year, the willows have already sprouted; most of the wild peach trees have budded too and they are in concert with the children’s dotted interspersions of the sky, all these harmoniously merge into a warm and gentle springtime.
Where am I now?The bleak and chilling presence of the severe winter is still all around me; the hometown that I had bidden farewell umpteen years ago and the long gone springtime can only be undulating in the sky. However, kite-flying has never been my cup of tea; in fact, not only do I not love it, I even detest it, because it is my conviction that this is a game for the futile boys. But my little brother’s interest was contrary to mine; he was about 10 years old then, constantly ill and skinny as a lath. But kite was his favorite; he couldn’t afford one and I didn’t allow him to play; so the only thing he could do was staring at the sky with his small mouth open as if spellbound, sometimes remained for almost half a day. If a crab-shaped kite nly suddefell from the sky and you could hear him exclaimed; when two tile kites had disentangled from each other, he would jump in joy. As far as I was concerned, his behavior was a standing joke and was despicable.