美文赏析：
love of life 热爱生命 (杰克• 伦敦著)
作品介绍：
     
杰克• 伦敦的《热爱生命》讲述的是这样一个故事：一个美国西部的淘金者在返回的途中被朋友抛弃了， 独自跋涉在广袤的荒原上。冬天逼近了，寒风夹着雪花向他袭来，他已经没有一点食物了，而且他的腿受了伤，鞋子破了，脚在流血。他只能歪歪斜斜地蹒跚在布满沼泽、丘陵、小溪的荒原上，非常艰难地前行着。就在他身体非常虚弱的时候，他遇到了一匹狼。他发现这匹病狼跟在他的身后，舔着他的血迹尾随着他。就这样，两个濒临死亡的生灵拖着垂死的躯壳在荒原上相互猎取对方。为了活着回去、为了战胜这匹令他作恶的病狼，他最终咬死了狼并获救，使生命射出耀眼的光芒。
that day he decreased the distance between him and the ship by three miles  the next da
y by two－for he was crawling now as bill had crawled  and the end of the day found the ship still seven mailes away and him unable to make even a mile a day. still the indian summer held on, and he continued to crawl and faint ,turn and turn about  and ever the sick wolf coughed and wheezed at his heels. his knees had become raw meat like his feet, and though he paddled them with the shirt from his back it was a red track he left behind him on the moss and stones. once , glancing back, he saw the wolf licking hungrily his bleeding trail, and he saw sharply what his own end might be－unless－unless he could get the wolf. then began as grim a tragedy of existence as was ever played－a sick man that crawled, a sick wolf that limped, two creatures dragging their dying carcasses across the desolation and hunting each others lives.
这一天，他和那条船之间的距离又缩短了三英里，到了第二天，他又继续缩短了两英里－因为他现在就和比尔先生先前一样在地上匍匐前进，到了第五天晚上的时候，他发现那条船依然离他还有七英里的距离，而他每天的进程还不到一英里。幸好深秋的天气依然晴朗，他继续爬，一次又一次地晕死过去，可是醒来他又继续地往前爬，不停地回头张望着 而那头病狼也在不停地咳嗽着，发出艰难的喘息声，可依然紧紧尾随其后。他的膝盖－
就和他的双脚一样－早给磨得血肉模糊，其实他一早就脱下了身上的衬衣裹住了膝盖，可都没有用，他一路爬下来，他身后的苔藓和岩石上也就留下了一道触目惊心的血渍。有一次他回头的时候，他看见那头饿狼正贪婪地舔着他的血渍，一时间他清楚地意识到自己的结局－除非－除非他把那头狼解决掉。就这样，一幕从来没有上演的求生悲剧开始了－病人在前面爬，瘸腿的病狼尾随其后，两个生灵就这样在荒漠里拖着垂死的躯壳，随时准备猎取对方的生命。
美文赏析
had it been a well wolf, it would not have mattered so much to the man  but the thought of going to feed the maw of that loathsome and all but dead thing was repugnant to him. he was finicky. his mind had begun to wander again, and to be perplexed by hallucinations, while his lucid intervals grew rarer and shorter.
如果这是头健康的狼，他也觉得没什么 可是一想到自己要葬身狼腹，尤其是眼前这头令人作恶、病怏怏的饿狼，他就觉得非常厌恶。要知道他可是一个非常讲究的人。他又开始胡思乱想起来，人也因幻觉影响而变得迷糊。他神智清醒的时间越来越少，越来越短。
he was awaken once from a faint by a wheeze close in his ear. the wolf leaped lamely ba
ck, losing its footing and falling in its weakness. it was ludicrous, but he was not amused. nor was he even afraid. he was too far gone for that. but his mind was for the moment clear, and he lay and considered.
有一次他从昏迷中被耳边传来的喘息声惊醒 那只狼很快一跛一跛地跳开，由于身体虚弱，那头狼还失足摔了一跤，那样子可笑极了，可是他却笑不出来。倒不是因为他害怕，事情到了这田地他早就不害怕了。不过，在这瞬间他的脑子很清醒，他躺在地上仔细地思考起来。
the ship was more than four miles away. he could see it quite distinctly when he rubbed the mists out of his eyes. but he could never crawl those four miles. he knew that, and was very calm in the knowledge. he knew that he could not crawl half a mile. and yet he wanted to live. it was unreasonable that he should die after all he had undergone. fate asked too much of him. and , dying, he declined to die. it was stark madness, perhaps, but in the very grip of death he defied death and refused to die.
那艘船就在离他还不到四英里的地方。他使劲揉了揉眼睛，那艘船清晰的出现在他眼前。
可是，他再也爬不完这四英里的路程了，这点他很清楚，因为就算是半英里的路程他也爬不了。可同时他也非常镇静，因为他想活下去。他已经经历了千辛万苦，他不想就这样死掉。命运对他实在太苛刻了，可他就是不愿俯身受死。这是一种近乎疯狂的想法，可就算他无法逃脱死神的魔掌，他仍然要抗争下去，要让自己活下去。
he closed his eyes and composed himself with infinite precaution. he steeled himself to keep above the suffocating languor that lapped like a rising tide through all the wells of his being. it was very like a sea, this deadly languor, that rose and rose and drowned his consciousness bit by bit. sometimes he was all but submerged, swimming through oblivion with a fa1tering stroke and again, by some strange alchemy of soul, he would find another shred of will and strike out more strongly.
他闭上眼睛，设法使自己平静下来，不敢有丝毫的松懈。令人窒息的疲倦像涨潮一样，从他的身体各处涌来，他还是顽强地打醒精神，不让自己被疲倦淹没。这种要命的疲倦，就像大海一样，一浪又一浪地涨过来，一点一点地吞噬着他的意识。有时候，他被完全淹没其中，就这样默默地漂游 而有时候，凭借一种奇异的心灵作用，他又回了些许精神力量，更加坚毅地前进。
without movement he lay on his back, and he could hear, slowly drawing near and nearer, the wheezing intake and output of the sick wolfs breath. it drew closer, ever closer, through infinitude if time, and did not move. it was his ear. the harsh dry tongue grated like sandpaper against his cheek. his hands shot out －or at least he willed them to shoot out. the fingers were curved like talons, but they closed on empty air. swiftness and certitude require strength, and the man had not this strength.
他一动不动的躺着，耳边传来病狼一呼一吸的喘气声，并且这声音正慢慢地向他逼近。狼愈走愈近，好像过了很久一样，但是他始终躺着没有动。这时狼已经到了他的耳边，那条粗糙的狼舌头就像砂纸一样蹭着他的两腮。他的双手一下子就抓了过去——或者说是他的意志力迫使他的双手抓过去。他的手指弯曲得就像鹰爪一样，可是他却抓了一个空，敏捷和准确是需要力气的，而他偏偏就没有力气。
the patience of the wolf was terrible. the mans patience was no less terrible.
那头狼的耐心真是令人可怕，而他的耐心同样令人可怕。
for half a day he lay motionless, fighting off unconsciousness and waiting for the thing that was to feed upon him and upon which he wished to feed. sometimes the languid sea rose over him and he dreamed longs dreams  but ever through it all, waking and dreaming, he waited for the wheezing breath and the harsh caress of the tongue.