评论
打印
一、将下列段落译为汉语（25分）
Nevertheless, instead of expanding north, the Japanese moved south. By 1937, the conflict had spread to all of eastern China and the war had begun in earnest. Anti-Japanese feeling was exacerbated by the attack by the Japanese on Chinese soldiers and civilians at the Marco Polo Bridge, next to which was a vital railway line, in July 1937. Because of its strategic importance (it was only ten miles west of Beijing), Japanese troops in northern China had been conducting manoeuvres in the area. However, on 7 July 1937, after a Japanese night manoeuvre during which the Chinese had fired some shells, a Japanese soldier went missing. In retaliation, the Japanese attacked and war commenced. This may rightly be designated the first battle of the Second World War.
By the end of July, Japanese soldiers had not only seized the bridge but taken control of the entire Tientsin–Peking region. The speed with which Japanese troops conquered parts of China was astounding. By 1938, Canton had ‘fallen’ and, despite notable military victories, including one in the town of Taierzhuang in southern Shantung, where 30,000 Japanese soldiers were killed by Nationalist Chinese troops, the Chinese were at a distinct disadvantage. The Japanese military was vastly superior. As late as 1940, China had only 150 military aircraft compared with the Japanese total of over 1,000. By the end of 1939, the whole of the north-eastern quarter of China was under Japanese occupation. Still, the Chinese did not surrender, forcing Japan to move still further inland, lengthening supply routes and stretching manpower to absolute limits. What followed was a war of attrition. (268 words)
二、将下列短文译为汉语（50分）
Thailand: An Exceptional Case?
A few years ago a graduate student named Kanchana came to my office to see if I would be willing to supervise a paper she wanted to write on legal protections for cultural artifacts taken from Thailand, her native country. After an interesting discussion about possible approaches to her paper, I asked Kanchana a question that, in retrospect, would probably be grounds for a lawsuit under today’s standards of political correctness—I asked whether she was an ethnic Chinese.
Kanchana’s reply: “But the Thai are Chinese.” She then instantly retreated: “Well—part Chinese. I have Chinese blood. Everyone in Thailand does. Well … almost everyone does.”
Thailand is a fascinating case. On the one hand, it shares with the other Southeast Asian countries the phenomenon of a wildly disproportionately wealthy, market-dominant Chinese minority. The Chinese in Thailand today, although just i o percent of the population, control virtually all of the country’s largest banks and conglomerates. All of Thailand’s billionaires are ethnic Chinese. On the other hand, as Kanchana’s comments suggest, unlike elsewhere in Southeast Asia, the Chinese have assimilated quite successfully into Thailand, and there is relatively little anti-Chinese animus. In Thailand today, many Thai Chinese speak only Thai and consider themselves as Thai as their indigenous counterparts. Intermarriage rates between the Chinese and the indigenous majority (many of whom, at least in Bangkok, have some Chinese ancestry already) are much higher than elsewhere in Southeast Asia. Perhaps most strikingly, the country’s top political leaders, including a recent prime minister, are often of Chinese descent, although they usually have Thai- sounding surnames and speak little or no Chinese.
Although interethnic socializing and intermarriage may seem perfectly normal to Westerners, it bears emphasizing how markedly Thailand differs in this regard from her Southeast Asian neighbors. In Indonesia and Malaysia, for example, rates of intermarriage between the Chinese and the indigenous majority are close to zero. The Chinese in these countries remain a conspicuously insular minority, living, working, and socializing entirely separately from the indigenous majorities.
Many have speculated about the reasons for the starkly different rates of intermarriage and assimilation. According to one professor of law from Singapore, the main reason is the “pork factor.” “Indonesians and Malaysians are mostly Muslims,” he explains, “and they don’t eat pork. The Chinese love pork; they eat it all the time. And for Chinese, eating is a huge part of their lives. Thus, social interactions are impossible.” This professor was being facetious, but he is clearly right that religion has played an important role: Thailand is not Muslim but largely Buddhist, a cultural affinity that has made assimilation much easier for the Thai Chinese, many of whom adhere to a syncretic combination of Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism.（455字）
