【新华书店自营】丧钟为谁而鸣/海明威文集,上海译文出版社 下载 pdf 百度网盘 epub 免费 2025 电子版 mobi 在线

该书讲述了美国青年罗伯特·乔丹志愿参加西班牙政府军，在敌后搞爆破活动。为配合反攻，他奉命和地方游击队联系，完成炸桥任务。在纷飞的战火中，他与被敌人糟蹋过的小姑娘玛丽亚堕入爱河，藉此抹平了玛丽亚心灵的创

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欧内斯特？米勒？海明威（1899～1961），生于美国芝加哥市郊橡胶园小镇，是一名美国记者和作家，他被认为是20世纪的小说家之一，也被认为是美利坚民族的精神丰碑。

海明威的《老人与海》

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章 他匍匐在树林里积着一层松针的褐色地面上，交叉的手臂支着下巴；高高的上空，风在松树树梢间刮着。他俯卧着的山坡不太陡，但往下却很陡峭，他能看到那条柏油路黑黑的，蜿蜒穿过山口。沿路

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No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee

谁都不是一座岛屿，自成一体/ 每个人都是一个碎片，那广袤大陆的一部分/ 如果海浪冲掉一块土地，家园就小了一点/ 如果一座海岬，如果你朋友或你自己的庄园被冲掉/ 也是如此/ 任何人的死亡都使我受到损失/ 因为我包孕在人类之中/ 所以不必打听丧钟为谁鸣/ 丧钟为你鸣

Robert Jordan pushed the cup toward him. It was a milky yellow now with the water and he hoped the gypsy would not take more than a swallow. There was very little of it left and one cup of it took the place of the evening papers, of all the old evenings in cafe, of all chestnut trees that would be in bloom now in this month, of the great slow horses of the outer boulevards, of book shops, of kiosques, and of galleries, of the Parc Montsouris, of the Stade Buffalo, and of the Butte Chaumont, of the Guaranty Trust Company and the Ile de la Cite, of Foyot's old hotel, and of being able to read and relax in the evening; of all the things he had enjoyed and forgotten and that came back to him when he tasted that opaque, bitter, tongue-numbing, brain-warming, stomach-warming, idea-changing liqu...

How many times had he heard this? How many times had he watched people say it with difficulty? How many times had he seen their eyes fill and their throats harden with the difficulty of saying my father, or my brother, or my mother, or my sister? He could not remember how many times he had heard them mention their dead in this way. Nearly always they spoke as this boy did now; suddenly and apropos of the mention of the town and always you said, "What barbarians."

You only heard the statement of the loss. You did not see the father fall as Pilar made him see the fascists die in that story she had told by the stream. You knew the father died in some courtyard, or against some wall, or in some field or orchard, or at night, in the lights of a truck, beside some road. You had seen the lights...

1They were walking through the heather of the mountain meadow and Robert Jordan felt the brushing of the heather against his legs, felt the weight of his pistol in its holster against his thigh, felt the sun on his head, felt the breeze from the snow of the mountain peaks cool on his back and, in his hand, he felt the girl's hand firm and strong, the fingers locked in his. From it, from the palm of her hand against the palm of his, from their fingers locked together, and from her wrist across his wrist something came from her hand, her fingers and her wrist to his that was as fresh as the first light air that moving toward you over the sea barely wrinkles the glassy surface of a calm, as light as a feather moved across one's lip, or a leaf falling when there is no breeze; so light that it ...

Now that his rage was gone he was excited by this storm as he was always by all storms. In a blizzard, a gale, a sudden line squall, a tropical storm, or a summer thunder shower in the mountains there was an excitement that came to him from no other thing. It was like the excitement of battle except that it was clean. There is a wind that blows through battle but that was a hot wind; hot and dry as your mouth; and it blew heavily; hot and dirtily; and it rose and died away with the fortunes of the day. He knew that wind well.

But a snowstorm was the opposite of all of that. In the snowstorm you came close to wild animals and they were not afraid. They travelled across country not knowing where they were and the deer stood sometimes in the lee of the cabin. In a snowstorm you rode up to a...

The night was clear and his head felt as clear and cold as the air. He smelled the odor of the pine boughs under him, the piney smell of the crushed needles and the sharper odor of the resinous sap from the cut limbs. Pilar, he thought. Pilar and the smell of death. This is the smell I love. This and fresh-cut clover, the crushed sage as you ride after cattle, wood-smoke and the burning leaves of autumn. That must be the odor of nostalgia, the smell of the smoke from the piles of raked leaves burning in the streets in the fall in Missoula. Which would you rather smell? Sweet grass the Indians used in their baskets? Smoked leather? The odor of the ground in the spring after rain? The smell of the sea as you walk through the gorse on a headland in Galicia? Or the wind from the land as you c...

前言

"【前言】译本序

一九三六年初秋到一九三九年春的西班牙内战早已成为历史陈迹，今天已不大为人们所提及。然而它实际上是第二次世界大战欧洲战线的序幕，是全世界进步力量和德意法西斯政权之间的次较量。由于种种

书籍介绍

★ 海明威诞辰120周年 名家名译

★ 海明威的“二战回忆录”

★ 西班牙独立战争的史诗绝唱

《丧钟为谁而鸣》是海明威的主要作品之一。美国青年罗伯特•乔丹志愿参加西班牙政府军，在敌后搞爆破活动。为配合反攻，他奉命和地方游击队联系，完成炸桥任务。在纷飞的战火中，他与被敌人糟蹋过的 小姑娘玛丽 亚坠入 爱河，藉此抹平了玛丽亚心灵的创伤。在三天的时间里，罗伯特历经爱情与职责 的冲突和生与死的考验，人性不断升华。在炸桥的撤退途中，他把生的希望让给别人，自己却被炮弹炸断了大腿，独自留下阻击敌人，最终为西班牙人民献出了年轻的生命。《丧钟为谁而鸣》可以看做海明威的“二战回忆录”，大部分情节来自海明威的真实体验。小说以其深沉的人道主义力量感动了一代又一代人。