作业帮英语短文a valentine story短文及翻译
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英语短文a valentine story短文及翻译
A Valentine Story (Doug Bell)
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army
uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through
Grand Central Station.
He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he
didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun twelve months
before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he soon found
himself absorbed, not by the words of the book, but by the notes penciled
in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and
insightful mind.
In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner 's
name, Miss Hollis Meynell. With time and effort he located her address.
She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself
and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for
service in World War II.
During the next year the two grew to know each other through
the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was
budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She
explained:" If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I
look like won't matter. Suppose I 'm beautiful. I 'd always be haunted by
the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of
love would disgust me. Suppose I 'm plain (and you must admit that this
is more likely). Then I 'd always fear that you were going on writing to
me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for
my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you
shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go
on after that
—whichever we choose … "
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they
scheduled their first meeting
—
7: 00 p.m. at Grand Central Station, New
York.
“You'll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I'll be wearing
on
my lapel.” So, at 7: 00 p.m. he was in the station looking for a girl
who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 12 months, a
girl he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and
sustained him unfailingly.
I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:
A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and
slim. Her golden hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes
were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her
pale green suit she was like springtime come alive.
I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not
wearing a rose.
As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “
Going
my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step
closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Meynell. She was standing almost
directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair
pinned up under a worn hat.
She was more than a little overweight, her
thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as
though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so
deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned
me and upheld my own.
And there she stood. Her pale, round face was gentle and sensible,
her gray eyes had a warm and kindly glow . I did not hesitate .
My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book
that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be
something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a
friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful .
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the
woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my
disappointment. “I 'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss
Me
ynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”
The woman 's face broadened into a smile
. “I don't know what this
is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who
just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if
you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is
waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was
some kind of test!”
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Meynell 's wisdom.
The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.
“Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, “and I will tell you
who you are.”
译文）爱情故事
(A VALENTINE STORY) --
道格·贝尔
约翰·
布兰查德从长凳上站起身来,
整了整军装,
留意着格兰德中央车站进出的
人群.、
他在寻找一位姑娘,一位佩带玫瑰的姑娘.他知其心,但不知其貌.十二个
月前,
在佛罗里达州的一个图书馆,
他对她产生了兴趣.
他从书架上取下——本
书,很快便被吸引住了,不是被书的内容,而是被铅笔写的眉批.柔和的笔迹显
示出其人多思善虑的心灵和富有洞察力的头脑.
在书的前页,他找到了前一位拥有人的姓名,霍利斯·梅奈尔小姐.他花了
一番工夫和努力,
找到了她的地址.
她住在纽约市.
他给她写了一封信介绍自己,
并请她回复.第二天他被运往海外,参加第二次世界大战.
在接下来的一年当中,
两人通过信件来往增进了了解.
每—封信都如一颗种
子撒入肥沃的心灵之土.浪漫的爱情之花就要绽开.布兰查德提出要一张照片,
可她拒绝了.她解释道：
“如果你对我的感情是真实的,是诚心诚意的,那我的
相貌如何并不重要.
设想我美丽动人.
我将会一直深感不安,
惟恐你只是因为我
的容貌就贸然与我相爱,
而这种爱情令我憎恶.
设想本人相貌平平
(
你得承认,
这种可能性更大
)
.那我一直会担心,你和我保持通信仅仅是出于孤独寂寞,
无人交谈.不,别索要照片.等你到了纽约,你会见到我,到时你可再作定夺.
且记,见面后我俩都可以自由决定中止关系或继续交往——无论你怎么选
择
„
”
他从欧洲回国的日子终于到了.他们安排了两人的第一次见面——晚上七
点,纽约格兰德中央车站.
“你会认出我的,”她写道,“我会在衣襟上戴——朵红玫瑰.”于是,晚
上七点,
他候在车站,
寻找—位过去—年里在自己生活中占据了如此特殊地位的
姑娘,一位素未谋面,但其文字伴随着他、始终支撑着他精神的姑娘.
且让布兰查德先生告诉你接下来发生的事吧：
—位年轻的姑娘向我走来,
她身材颀长纤细.
一头卷曲的金发披在秀美的耳
后；眼睛碧蓝,如花似玉.她的双唇和下颌线条柔和,却又柔中见刚,她身穿浅
绿色套装,犹如春天一般生气盎然.
我朝她走去,完全忘了去看她有没有戴玫瑰花.
我走过去时,
她双唇绽开撩人的微笑.
“和我同路吗,
水兵
?
”
她小声问道.
我情不自禁,再向她走近一步.可就在这时,我看到了霍利斯·梅奈尔.她差不
多就站在姑娘的正后面,
早已年过四十,
灰白的头发用卡子向上别着,
头上带着
一顶旧帽子.
她体态臃肿,粗圆的脚髁上套着一双低跟鞋.
穿着绿色套装的姑娘快步走开了.
我觉得自己好像被分成了两半,
——方面
热切地想去追赶她,
但另一方面我又渴望那一位以其心灵真诚陪伴我并成为我的
精神支柱的女人.
她站在那儿,
苍白的圆脸显得温柔理智,
灰色的眼睛透出热情善良.
我没有
迟疑.
我手里紧握着那本小小的让她辨认我的蓝色羊皮面旧书.
这不会是爱情,
但
将是某种珍贵的、
或许比爱情更美妙的东西,
一种我曾经感激,
并将永远感激的
友情.
我挺胸站立,
敬了个礼,
并举起手中的书好让那位女士看.
不过在我开口说
话的时候,失望的痛苦几乎使我哽咽.
“我是约翰·布兰查德中尉,想必您就是
梅奈尔小姐.很高兴您来见我.可否请您赏光吃饭
?
”
妇女的脸上绽开了笑容.“我不知道是怎么回事,孩子,”她回答说,“可
是刚才走过去的那位穿绿色套装的姑娘,
她央求我把这支玫瑰插在衣服上.
她还
说,要是你请我吃饭的话,我就告诉你,她就在街对面那个大饭店里等你.她说
这是一种考验
!
”
梅奈尔小姐的智慧不难理解,
也令人称奇.
心灵的本质是从其对不美的事物
的态度中反映出来的.
“告诉我你所爱者是谁,”何赛写道,“我就知道你是什么样的人.”
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army
uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through
Grand Central Station.
He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he
didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun twelve months
before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he soon found
himself absorbed, not by the words of the book, but by the notes penciled
in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and
insightful mind.
In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner 's
name, Miss Hollis Meynell. With time and effort he located her address.
She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself
and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for
service in World War II.
During the next year the two grew to know each other through
the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was
budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She
explained:" If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I
look like won't matter. Suppose I 'm beautiful. I 'd always be haunted by
the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of
love would disgust me. Suppose I 'm plain (and you must admit that this
is more likely). Then I 'd always fear that you were going on writing to
me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for
my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you
shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go
on after that
—whichever we choose … "
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they
scheduled their first meeting
—
7: 00 p.m. at Grand Central Station, New
York.
“You'll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I'll be wearing
on
my lapel.” So, at 7: 00 p.m. he was in the station looking for a girl
who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 12 months, a
girl he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and
sustained him unfailingly.
I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:
A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and
slim. Her golden hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes
were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her
pale green suit she was like springtime come alive.
I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not
wearing a rose.
As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “
Going
my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step
closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Meynell. She was standing almost
directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair
pinned up under a worn hat.
She was more than a little overweight, her
thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as
though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so
deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned
me and upheld my own.
And there she stood. Her pale, round face was gentle and sensible,
her gray eyes had a warm and kindly glow . I did not hesitate .
My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book
that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be
something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a
friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful .
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the
woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my
disappointment. “I 'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss
Me
ynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”
The woman 's face broadened into a smile
. “I don't know what this
is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who
just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if
you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is
waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was
some kind of test!”
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Meynell 's wisdom.
The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive.
“Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, “and I will tell you
who you are.”
译文）爱情故事
(A VALENTINE STORY) --
道格·贝尔
约翰·
布兰查德从长凳上站起身来,
整了整军装,
留意着格兰德中央车站进出的
人群.、
他在寻找一位姑娘,一位佩带玫瑰的姑娘.他知其心,但不知其貌.十二个
月前,
在佛罗里达州的一个图书馆,
他对她产生了兴趣.
他从书架上取下——本
书,很快便被吸引住了,不是被书的内容,而是被铅笔写的眉批.柔和的笔迹显
示出其人多思善虑的心灵和富有洞察力的头脑.
在书的前页,他找到了前一位拥有人的姓名,霍利斯·梅奈尔小姐.他花了
一番工夫和努力,
找到了她的地址.
她住在纽约市.
他给她写了一封信介绍自己,
并请她回复.第二天他被运往海外,参加第二次世界大战.
在接下来的一年当中,
两人通过信件来往增进了了解.
每—封信都如一颗种
子撒入肥沃的心灵之土.浪漫的爱情之花就要绽开.布兰查德提出要一张照片,
可她拒绝了.她解释道：
“如果你对我的感情是真实的,是诚心诚意的,那我的
相貌如何并不重要.
设想我美丽动人.
我将会一直深感不安,
惟恐你只是因为我
的容貌就贸然与我相爱,
而这种爱情令我憎恶.
设想本人相貌平平
(
你得承认,
这种可能性更大
)
.那我一直会担心,你和我保持通信仅仅是出于孤独寂寞,
无人交谈.不,别索要照片.等你到了纽约,你会见到我,到时你可再作定夺.
且记,见面后我俩都可以自由决定中止关系或继续交往——无论你怎么选
择
„
”
他从欧洲回国的日子终于到了.他们安排了两人的第一次见面——晚上七
点,纽约格兰德中央车站.
“你会认出我的,”她写道,“我会在衣襟上戴——朵红玫瑰.”于是,晚
上七点,
他候在车站,
寻找—位过去—年里在自己生活中占据了如此特殊地位的
姑娘,一位素未谋面,但其文字伴随着他、始终支撑着他精神的姑娘.
且让布兰查德先生告诉你接下来发生的事吧：
—位年轻的姑娘向我走来,
她身材颀长纤细.
一头卷曲的金发披在秀美的耳
后；眼睛碧蓝,如花似玉.她的双唇和下颌线条柔和,却又柔中见刚,她身穿浅
绿色套装,犹如春天一般生气盎然.
我朝她走去,完全忘了去看她有没有戴玫瑰花.
我走过去时,
她双唇绽开撩人的微笑.
“和我同路吗,
水兵
?
”
她小声问道.
我情不自禁,再向她走近一步.可就在这时,我看到了霍利斯·梅奈尔.她差不
多就站在姑娘的正后面,
早已年过四十,
灰白的头发用卡子向上别着,
头上带着
一顶旧帽子.
她体态臃肿,粗圆的脚髁上套着一双低跟鞋.
穿着绿色套装的姑娘快步走开了.
我觉得自己好像被分成了两半,
——方面
热切地想去追赶她,
但另一方面我又渴望那一位以其心灵真诚陪伴我并成为我的
精神支柱的女人.
她站在那儿,
苍白的圆脸显得温柔理智,
灰色的眼睛透出热情善良.
我没有
迟疑.
我手里紧握着那本小小的让她辨认我的蓝色羊皮面旧书.
这不会是爱情,
但
将是某种珍贵的、
或许比爱情更美妙的东西,
一种我曾经感激,
并将永远感激的
友情.
我挺胸站立,
敬了个礼,
并举起手中的书好让那位女士看.
不过在我开口说
话的时候,失望的痛苦几乎使我哽咽.
“我是约翰·布兰查德中尉,想必您就是
梅奈尔小姐.很高兴您来见我.可否请您赏光吃饭
?
”
妇女的脸上绽开了笑容.“我不知道是怎么回事,孩子,”她回答说,“可
是刚才走过去的那位穿绿色套装的姑娘,
她央求我把这支玫瑰插在衣服上.
她还
说,要是你请我吃饭的话,我就告诉你,她就在街对面那个大饭店里等你.她说
这是一种考验
!
”
梅奈尔小姐的智慧不难理解,
也令人称奇.
心灵的本质是从其对不美的事物
的态度中反映出来的.
“告诉我你所爱者是谁,”何赛写道,“我就知道你是什么样的人.”