“我一生有过几次幸运和巧遇”译为I owe several happy events in my life to a lucky chance，其中把“幸运”和“巧遇”合并起来译为a lucky chance;又happy events（快事）是译文中的添加词，原文虽无其词而有其意，也可用delightful happenings表达此意。
“当时燕大教授多属学院派”译为In those days, professors at Yenching University were mostly an academic type。原文“多属学院派”含意应为“大都是学究式人物”，可译为were mostly an academic type或were mostly academically-inclined。
“平时大门也总是敞着的”不宜按字面直译为 They would usually leave the door wide open，现译为They would usually keep open house for us，其中to keep open house是成语，作“随时欢迎来客”解。
“我只是为了取得个记者资格才转系的”译为 Frankly, I had transferred myself to the journalism department of Yenching for the sole purpose of obtaining qualifications for a reporter，其中Frankly（坦白说）是译文中的添加词。
“我的心仍在文学系——因此，常旷了新闻系的课去英文系旁听”译为 Now, with my heart in literature, I often cut journalism classes so as to sit in on English literature classes，其中to cut作“旷（课）”解，to sit in on是成语，作“旁听”解。
Spirit of Edgar Snow
— Marking the 20th Anniversary of Snow’s Death
I owe several happy events in my life to a lucky chance. One of them was when I became a student of Edgar Snow’s in the 1930s. He was then a reporter for two foreign newspapers in Peiping, owned respectively by Britons and Americans. From 1933 to 1935, he was concurrently a teacher at the Journalism Department of Yenching University. During the two years when he was with this University, I happened to be a student there, having been previously transferred from the English Department of Catholic University in Peiping. Upon my graduation, he resigned the concurrent job and went to Yan’an where he wrote his masterpiece Red Star Over China.
In those days, professors at Yenching University were mostly an academic type. Whatever they taught, they would, first of all, give copious references to the classics and spend very much time on definitions. More often than not, they did all the talking while the students did nothing but listen. There was practically no classroom discussion at all. Snow, however, did otherwise. He gave priority to practice and encouraged discussion. And more importantly, he did teaching by way of making friends with his students. We found the reception room in his Haidian residence more appealing than the classroom. He and his wife Helen were very hospitable and often entertained us with tea or potluck. They would usually keep open house for us. In the spring of 1935, it was in that reception room that I met Agnes Smedley for the first time. At that time, in order to steer clear of harassment by KMT agents, she had changed her name to conceal her true identity. So, the evening when I had dinner at Snow’s residence, he introduced her to me as“Mrs. Brown.”As it happened that I was then reading her novel Daughter of Earth, I kept talking at table about my impressions of it, not knowing that the very lady sitting next to me was its author. It was not until Smedley had left Peiping for Shanghai that Snow told me how apprehensive she had been that evening when I chatted about the novel, suspecting that I already knew her true identity.
While at Yenching University, I had a problem weighing on my mind: I found the study of journalism not to my liking and the advertising course particularly boring. Frankly, I had transferred myself to the journalism department of Yenching for the sole purpose of obtaining qualifications for a reporter. Now, with my heart in literature, I often cut journalism classes so as to sit in on English literature classes. Snow helped me solve this problem. He told me that instead of being contradictory to each other, literature and journalism were mutually complementary and that in order to write stories of real life, a newsman must be cultured in literature, including classical literature. On my commencement day, he and Helen gave me a suitcaseful of world literary classics, ranging from Aristotle to Dickens. Later I learned that when he was on his deathbed, a copy of Bernard Shaw’s work had been found lying by his pillow. I am greatly indebted to Snow for his teachings that literary taste is a must for a reporter’s news dispatches and feature articles.
In 1936, when Snow found in The Dagong Bao that the KMT had heavily censored my article Interview with Feng Yu-xiang, with Feng’s anti-Japanese views completely cut out, he wanted me immediately to introduce him to Feng for a visit. A few days later, I found in the newspapers that the Japanese government had protested to the KMT government about the unfriendly remarks from Military Commission Vice-Chairman Feng Yu-xiang in an interview with the American reporter Snow.
In 1944, Snow and I met again, this time in Paris shortly after its liberation. He was then one of the six reporters specially permitted by the Soviet Union to cover the east front. He told me in a barroom that the days he had spent in China were his most unforgettable experience and also the most important part of his life. He thought that he was most fortunate in having got acquainted with Lu Xun and Madame Soong Ching Ling in Shanghai and that it was through their guidance that he had come to understand China.
In the early 1930s, Snow was the first Westerner to predict that the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression would break out sooner or later and that the final victory would certainly belong to China. In 1948, he wrote three articles at a stretch for The Saturday Review, in which he stated with certainty that the post-war China would follow its own course and never become a Soviet flunkey. His courageous foresight was highly commendable.
He believed that a journalist should bear in mind the just cause of humanity instead of going after sensational reporting and that he should have independent views, good conscience and sense of justice instead of parroting other people’s opinions and following them blindly.
Part of Snow’s ashes now rest in China. I hope his aspirations and spirit will also take root in this country.
Agnes Smedley （1892—1950）, an American woman journalist and writer known for her sympathetic chronicling of the Chinese revolution. During the 1930s, she traveled with the Eighth Route and New Fourth Armies on China’s battlefields.
Feng Yu-xiang （1882—1948）, renowned Chinese general and patriot.
“平时客客气气”意即“也许表面上彬彬有礼”，可译为may be formally polite。
“小灾小祸”可译为a minor mishap或mishap，其中mishap原指“不太严重的灾难”。
“什么背信弃义的勾当都干得出”译为it may stop at nothing to act perfidiously，其中to stop at nothing是成语，作“不顾一切地”、“不择手段地”解。
“讨好日本帝国主义”意即“巴结日本侵略者”，可译为fawning on（或pleasing）the Japanese aggressors。
“保全英帝国在远东的殖民地”译为to hold on to the British colonies in the Far East，其中to hold on to是成语，作“紧抓不放”、“不肯放弃”等解。
“横越喜马拉雅山的空运”译为the airlift over the Himalayas，其中airlift作“（紧急情况下的）空运”或“空中补给线”解，意同（emergency）transport by air。
“除了工程的艰险之外，还有那怕人的瘴气——恶性疟疾”可按“可怕的恶性疟疾是工人面临的诸多险情之一”译为The horrible disease of pernicious malaria was one of the great perils facing the laborers，其中“瘴气”就指“恶性疟疾”，可避而不译。
“有说有笑”译为chatted and laughed merrily，其中merrily是译文中的添加词，原文虽无其词而有其意。
“由于我是从抗战中国来到英国的记者，又曾采访过滇缅路，所以就应邀赴英国各大城市及乡村去演讲”译为As I was a Chinese correspondent just arrived in England from covering the Yunnan-Burmese Road, I was invited to deliver speeches in big cities and villages of the country，其中arrived是arrive的过去分词，作形容词用；covering作“采访”、“报导”解。
Recalling the Construction of the Yunnan-Burmese Road
◎ Xiao Qian
Of all the numerous profound lessons we have learned from World War II, the following is the most distressing. A country may be formally polite to another and show willingness to offer it a little help in case of a minor mishap befalling the latter. But it may stop at nothing to act perfidiously when it seeks to extricate itself from its own predicament at the expense of its friend. In July 1940, at the critical juncture of China’s Anti-Japanese War, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, endeavoring to hold on to the British colonies in the Far East by fawning on the Japanese imperialists, ordered a blockade of our lifeline on the Burmese side of the border with China, Burma then being a British colony. At that time, in addition to the airlift over the Himalayas, it was through the land transport by the Yunnan-Burmese Road that China imported munitions, gasoline, medicines and appliances in exchange for such exports as tungsten ore, hog bristles, mercury and tung oil. The Road daily witnessed a traffic of over 7,000 motor vehicles during the peak hours and the transport of several million tons of import and export goods. Britain’s brazen act of blockading the Road meant, as it were, grabbing our throat. It was undoubtedly a serious blow to China.
In the spring of 1939, I wrote several reports for the Hong Kong Dagong Bao after making an on-the-spot investigation of the Road. In one of them, entitled The Yunnan-Burmese Road — Paved with Flesh and Blood, I gave as follows a brief account of the formidable Road building project:
A 973-kilometer motorway, with 370 bridges, 1,400,000 cubic meters of stone work, and approximately 20,000,000 cubic meters of earth work. With neither machines nor adequate funds, 25 million laborers were engaged in a rush job of road construction. They paved the road with flesh and blood as well as with earth and stone. Work on the Xiaguan-Wanding section of the road started in January 1937 and was entirely opened to traffic in May after a section-by-section trial run in March.
The Road was built on the ancient post road leading to India and Burma, on which caravans used to travel. More than 3,000 men laid down their lives for building the Road. Of the 3,200 members of the“Nanyang Mechanics Team”organized by Tan Kah-kee, over 1,000 died on the job. The horrible disease of pernicious malaria was one of the great perils facing the laborers. One of my fellow travelers who chatted and laughed merrily one evening and then slept next to me on the ground of a stable was found stiff and cold the next day.
In September 1939, World War II broke out on my arrival in England. Unexpectedly, the wartime British government under Churchill, on the instigation of the Japanese aggressors, outrageously blockaded in July 1940 the Yunnan-Burmese Road, whose construction I had just seen with my own eyes. Britain’s non-governmental Aid-China Committee then launched a nationwide anti-blockade campaign. As I was a Chinese correspondent just arrived in England from covering the Yunnan-Burmese Road, I was invited to deliver speeches in various big cities and villages of the country. In some cities, people even demonstrated in the streets. In London, the Aid-China Committee organized people to demonstrate in front of Churchill’s official residence on Downing Street, waving flags and shouting slogans decrying the British government aiding Japanese aggression against China.
In October of the same year, the British government was compelled to lift its blockade of the Road. In October 1941, China and Britain signed the“Agreement on the Joint Defence of the Yunnan-Burmese Road.”After the Pearl Harbor Incident of December 7, 1941, Chinese troops began to fight shoulder to shoulder with the Allied troops on the red earth field surrounding the Road.
Now the Road is but one of the thousands of highways in China. But back in those days, it had a close bearing on the destiny of the Chinese nation.
Tan Kah-kee （1874—1961）, a well-known patriotic leader of overseas Chinese in Singapore dedicated to national salvation, entrepreneurship, philanthropy, social reform and education.