重磅消息！第三十三届韩素音国际翻译大赛规则及汉外和英汉试题
2021年第三十三届韩素音国际翻译大赛由中国翻译协会、北京第二外国语学院联合主办，《中国翻译》编辑部与北京第二外国语学院高级翻译学院联合承办。本届竞赛设立汉语与英语、法语、俄语、西班牙语、阿拉伯语、德语、日语、韩语8个语种的双向互译，共计16个比赛项目，参赛者可任选一项或同时参加多项竞赛。欢迎海内外广大翻译爱好者参加竞赛。
竞赛原文见中国翻译协会官网（www.tac-online.org.cn）“韩素音国际翻译大赛”专栏第三十三届中刊登的内容（点击此处查看专栏）。本届参赛规则如下：
1.参赛者年龄：18-45周岁（1976年1月1日—2003年1月1日之间出生，含1月1日）。
2.参赛译文须参赛者自主独立完成，杜绝抄袭现象，一经发现，将取消参赛资格。自公布竞赛原文至提交参赛译文截稿之日，参赛者请勿在任何媒体公布自己的参赛译文，否则将被取消参赛资格。
3.参赛流程：
（1）微信报名：关注“中国翻译”微信公众号→对话框内输入“竞赛报名”→弹出报名表→填写报名信息（每人每个组别只有一次报名机会，请务必确认信息正确）→支付报名费（30元）→报名成功，获得参赛资格。电子邮箱和微信收到“报名确认通知”（内含由数字或字母组成的10个字节的“报名凭据”等）。
（2）网站在线提交参赛译文：报名成功后，请在2021年5月31日前登录中国翻译协会官网（www.tac-online.org.cn），点击相应的提交参赛译文链接（点击此处进入提交参赛译文页面），填写姓名和报名凭据后，系统会在线显示微信报名信息，参赛者请根据提示在线提交相应组别的参赛译文。
4.参赛译文提交要求：
（1）译文内容与报名时选择的参赛组别须一致，不一致视为无效参赛译文。如：选择参赛组别为英译汉，提交译文内容若为汉译英，则视为无效译文。
（2）汉语与英语双向互译的参赛译文须将文字直接拷贝粘贴至提交译文的文本框内。
（3）其它语种参赛译文须为word文档.docx格式文件，大小不超过2M。
（4）文档内容只包含译文，请勿添加脚注、尾注、译者姓名、地址等任何个人信息，否则将被视为无效译文。
（5）2021年6月1日零时之前未提交参赛译文者，视为自动放弃参赛资格，组委会不再延期接受参赛译文。每项参赛译文一稿有效，不接收修改稿。
（6）为避免5月31日服务器过度拥挤，请尽量提前提交参赛译文。
5.奖项设置：
（1）竞赛设一、二、三等奖和优秀奖若干名。一、二、三等奖将获得证书、奖金和纪念品等，优秀奖将获得证书和纪念品。《中国翻译》杂志和微信公众号等将公布竞赛结果。竞赛颁奖典礼将于2021年底举行，竞赛获奖者将获邀参加颁奖典礼。
（2）本届竞赛设“最佳组织奖”若干名，面向积极组织本单位人员参赛的单位（院系、高校或企事业）。获得最佳组织奖，首先需单位提交申请，组委会经过评审确定本届最佳组织奖获奖单位。最终解释权归大赛组委会。
“最佳组织奖”申请方式：
关注“中国翻译”微信号，输入“最佳组织奖”，出现报名表，填写信息，提交申请。申请截止日期2021年9月30日。获奖单位将获邀参加颁奖典礼。
请登录中国翻译协会官网或关注“中国翻译”微信公众号，了解本届竞赛最新动态。
汉译外试题：
注：根据大赛所设项目，本汉语原文可被译为英语、法语、俄语、西班牙语、阿拉伯语、德语、韩语、日语，参赛者可任选一项或多项。
从春游到溺水
李润问我，如果幸福指数是一百分的话，你现在给自己的状态打多少分。我说，九十八。他大惊，怎么会这么高？我也有点诧异，怎么，你不幸福吗？他说，这个问题他问了好多人，多数人的回答都没超过八十分，不知为何我会有这么高的分数。
我也有点奇怪，为什么会有这么多人感觉不幸福呢？我就问他，那你觉得哪里不幸福？他一时也答不出来，只是觉得好像并没有那么快乐。我突然明白了，原来很多人认为幸福就一定要天天快乐，这确实有些难。其实，对幸福过高的标准定义往往是造成不幸福的主要原因。
幸福的反义词是什么，是不幸吗？我觉得是麻木。
当一个人对幸福的感知力越来越少的时候，就很难体会到幸福。在听《积极心理学》课程时，有个特别形象的观点让我记忆深刻，说是现在很多成年人对于幸福的追求分为两种：一种是溺水模式，就是认为只有解脱的那一刻才会幸福，在此之前都要忍受痛苦。比如，有些人认为，发财了就幸福了，找到一个爱人就幸福了，创业成功了就幸福了......而在实现此目标前，就是得忍耐痛苦的过程。另一种是春游模式，就是整个环节从过程到结果都是快乐的。就像我们童年听到春游的通知会开心得跳起，会回到家快乐地做准备，然后坐上大巴愉快地和同学们聊天，到了目的地后的每一刻也都十足兴奋，整个过程都充满着幸福的感觉。我们成年后，很难再有这种感觉，慢慢地从春游模式变成了溺水模式，其实就是对于幸福的感知力开始变弱。
也许是我接触的病患太多，见识了太多的苦难，所以我对自己拥有的格外珍惜和知足。
大家无法想象，对于一个眼睛看不见的人来说，拥有一双健康的眼睛是多么幸福的事情；对于一个因为贫穷无钱医治疾病的人来说，一万块钱是多么重要。这些道理很多人都懂，但我真真切切地接触到了他们，所以我经常觉得老天给予我的足够多：能每天睁开眼看到天空，可以住在一个无须忍受暑寒的房子，可以步行走到地铁站，可以有一份稳定的工作......这些都让我非常感恩。
我相信人与人、人与世间万物之间有一种超越语言和行为的联结，如果能用一种正念的思想与世间相处，人就会收到相应正念的回馈。过去的已经过去，未来也是不确定的，我能拥有的只有此时此刻。感受一枚树叶从空中飘落，飘飞出漂亮的弧线，感受一枚橘子瓣在口中爆裂，清甜的滋味蕴藏着大自然的馈赠，这种微小的幸福都是值得珍惜和体会的。当我用这种心态去生活时，我会觉得每时每刻都有种充实的幸福感。
不把某种目标当作幸福的唯一砝码，而是用一种正念的心态去面对当下，用乐观的心态去构建未来，这种人往往无论取得什么结果，内心都是幸福的。比如天赐父子和薇薇母女，他们能时刻地感知到生活中的美好和善意，所以他们对看似绝望的未来依然心怀乐观。直到现在，即便天赐和薇薇都全盲了，我仍然能感受到他们身上那种幸福和乐观的气息。所以幸福不是外部给予，而是内心发起，从内心涌出来的对现状的满足。学会知足是一种思想境界，如果能身体力行地去帮助一些境况不如自己的人，这种付出往往也是一种回馈。因为对比，更能珍惜自己所拥有的；因为付出，更能体会到自己的价值：这何尝不是一种幸福呢。
英译汉试题：
THE DEEPESTHUMAN LIFE
We had the sky, up there, all speckledwith stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them, and discussabout whether they was made, or only just happened—Jim allowed they was made,but I allowed they happened; I judged it would have took too long to make somany. Jim said the moon could a laid them; well, that looked kind ofreasonable, so I didn’t say nothing against it, because I’ve seen a frog laymost as many, so of course it could be done. We used to watch the stars thatfell too, and see them streak down. Jim allowed they’d got spoiled and was hoveout of the nest.
An ever-growing number of people havetheir view of the sky obstructed by the light pollution of our cities. Some goyears without once gawking at the moon or the stars. It’s an apt metaphor ofour whole human situation. There’s a haunting line by Kabir, the mysteriousfifteenth-century Indian poet, a kind of mystical Mother Goose: “They squander their birth in isms.” He’s thinking of the few major religious traditions of hisday, but the idea applies even more poignantly to our collection of religions,political affiliations, spiritualities, identities fabricated by marketers, andeven theories constructed in philosophy departments. The glow of these beliefs,at their best, can guide us through life. But they often amount to a kind oflight pollution. The feeling of possessing knowledge can be the worst enemy ofthe truth. Beliefs and theories, and the identities associated with them, areas indispensable and fascinating as politics, but they are, from theperspective of true philosophy, at worst impediments and at best starting andstopping points of a much larger journey, which involves going off into thedarkness once in a while and taking a good long look at what shines above us.
The story I have to tell is about how,in the words of William James, “the deepest human life is everywhere.” Thecoordinates of a meaningful life —the stars, in my analogy—are there for any ofus to see and puzzle out. The questions, stories, and injunctions of the greatphilosophers aren’t the speeches of angels loafing in their celestial abodes.Even the most formidable thinkers speak to us out of lives pretty much like ourown, with their daily routines, their little aches and pains and pleasures, andtheir occasional upheavals. Their feet have no more wings than yours or mine.
A little over a decade later, I was finishing a PhD in philosophy at Emory University. The obviouspath before me was to drift into a full-time position at a decent institution,work my dissertation into a book, zero in on a specialty, publish some articlesand reviews, and lick the necessary wingtips to get tenure. But some sense ofdestiny (I would have never called it that then) kept me from ever taking sucha path seriously. Though I’d proven myself capable of publishing articles andgiving papers in the world of philosophy, I rebelled against the prospect of amicro specialty and the bureaucracy of tenure. Moreover, I hadn’t gotten intophilosophy in order to become a scholar of philosophy, however wonderful and necessary the work of scholarship can be.
When my mother called me from Iowa saying that she’d read in the local classifieds that Kirkwood Community College had a fulltime philosophy position open, itseemed a reasonable way toget health insurance. The saying “a job is a job” is particularly poignant forphilosophers. Diogenes of Sinope, one of our profession’s early practitioners,used to beg money from statues. When asked why, he replied, “In order to getused to being refused.” But he didn’t have a pregnant wife. And neither my wifenor I really wanted to live in a barrel and relieve ourselves outside, as wereDiogenes’s customs.
Another decade later, my wife and twokids were sound asleep upstairs, and I was alone in the selva oscura(the “darkwood,” a phrase from Dante’s Comedy,which to someone with as little Italian as me initially looks like the “obscureself”), staring at the fire in our stove’s belly, reflecting on the question ofmy destiny: exactly the activity I preach to my students, exactly the activity I’d been avoiding as assiduously as they do. You see, earlier that night, someone at adinner party had had thegall to ask me, “Are you fulfilling your destiny?” Therude question was partially my fault. I’d brought up the subject of destiny,inspired by my recent perusal of the Mahabharata,the gargantuan Sanskrit epic of ancient India (it’s about three times as longas the Bible), which narrates the fratricidal war between the Pandavas and theKauravas. To talk abstractly about destiny may be boring or fascinating, but tobe asked if you’re fulfilling your destiny has an archer’s precision inpiercing to the heart of the matter. I’d hemmed and hawed, wiggling out of anhonest answer like only someone trained in philosophy can do. But now, beforethe fire, I had only myself to confront.
My initial morose thoughts were that Ishould be doing more with my talents. As much as I loved teaching at acommunity college, it was, after all, a community college. Friends of mine atmore prestigious institutions, my family, even some of my students, had all proddedme, with various degrees of subtlety, to work on advancing my academic career:a path my choices in life had essentially made vanish. My dark thoughtswandered—though maybe that’s thewrong verb—to a story from the Mahabharata, the very story that had provoked the bewildering question of my destiny after I’d told it at the dinnerparty.
A certain Ekalavya, a member of the mostdespised outcaste tribe, asks to study archery with the great guru Drona.Arjuna, the hero ofthe Bhagavad Gita(oneshort chapter of the Mahabharata),becomes through Drona’s tutelage the greatest archer in the world. But Drona disdainfully turns down Ekalavya, despite his considerable talents becausethe smelly presence of an outcaste would upset the other students. So, Ekalavyagoes off to a secluded place in the woods and carves a little sculpture ofDrona, which he sets up as an idol to oversee his solitary practice with bowand arrow.
One day Arjuna is out hunting. His dogruns off into the woods and starts yipping at the outcaste archer, who getsirritated and sends off a volley of arrows so expertly that without causinginjury they instantaneously plug the dog’s mouth. The dog runs back to his master,who looks in awe at the gagged beast. Arjuna then sulks back to Drona andwhines, “You told me you’d make me the greatest archer in the world.” “And Ihave,” the teacher responds. Arjuna points dejectedly at his pet, obviously thework of someone greater.
Drona and Arjuna head back to thewoods to find out what’s going on. They discover and watch in amazement thelone archer practicing with his carved idol of the great teacher. Finally,Drona goes up to him and asks, “Am I your teacher?” The archer bows deeply,honoredby the guru’s presence, and says, “Of course you are.” In India at thetime it was customary that teachers weren’t paid until after they’d successfully taught their students;but after graduation they could ask for any fee they saw fit. So, the teachersays, “Your abilities prove that you have graduated, and now I ask for mypayment.” Even more deeply honored, the student says, “Whatever you ask,teacher.” To which Drona responds, “I ask for your right thumb.”Ekalavya takesout his knife, unhesitatingly chops off his right thumb, and gives it to theteacher, who then turns to Arjuna and says,“There, now you’re the greatestarcher in the world.”What’s the story of Ekalavya about? A teacher who choosesthe elite over the common. A student who offers the teacher a fulfillment ofhis calling. The possibilities of participating in the highest economy ofeducation. The psychological blockages that prevent such participation. Thebrutal tragedy caused by the stupid divisions we draw. The story, it seemed,fragmented into two clear images: the possible me and the real me. I’d chosento teach Ekalavya, but something in me was clinging to the prejudices of Drona.
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