今年邁入第二十一屆的「梁實秋文學獎」,將由九歌文教基金會接辦,獎項分「散文創作類」和「譯詩、譯文翻譯類」兩組別,徵文即日起至七月三十一日截止收件。
一、目的:
為紀念文學大師梁實秋先生對散文及翻譯之貢獻,鼓勵散文創作,發掘翻譯人才。
二、類別:
甲.散文創作類:
以敘事、抒情為主,不限題材,文題自訂。字數以三千五百至四千五百字為限。
文建會優等獎一名:獎金十五萬元,獎座一尊。
評審團獎一名:獎金八萬元,獎牌一面。
佳作若干名:每名獎金三萬元,獎牌一面。
乙.翻譯類(英譯中):
譯詩組
文建會優等獎一名:獎金五萬元,獎座一尊。
評審團獎一名:獎金三萬元,獎牌一面。
佳作若干名:每名獎金一萬元,獎牌一面。
譯文組
文建會優等獎一名:獎金五萬元,獎座一尊。
評審團獎一名:獎金三萬元,獎牌一面。
佳作若干名:每名獎金一萬元,獎牌一面。
譯詩及譯文之題目及原文,由梁實秋文學獎評委會訂定。
三、參賽條件:
(一)全球華人均可參加。
(二)獲得梁實秋文學獎翻譯類文建會優等獎者,其後一屆,不得應徵同一性質的獎項。散文獎則不受此限。
(三)應徵散文作品必須未曾出版或在任何報章雜誌、虛擬媒體(包括網站、部落格、BBS等網路媒體)發表或公開展示者。
(四)每人應徵散文以一篇為限。譯詩或譯文必須各篇均譯。為了增加參賽者得獎機會,如參加譯詩、譯文同時獲獎,以擇優錄取其中一項為主。
四.相關規定:
(一)收件日期:九十七年七月一日至七月三十一日(以郵戳為憑)。
(二)揭曉日期:九十七年十月上旬。
(三)頒獎日期:九十七年十一月上旬。
(四)發表及出版:散文類及翻譯類作品由協辦單位中華日報社發表,九歌出版社出版得獎作品集(包括正體及簡體字版),不另支稿酬及版稅。
五、參賽相關規定
(一)作品須用電腦列印於A4紙張(單面、橫式列印),作品上不可有任何姓名資料。散文創作類一式2份,翻譯類一式3份,並附磁碟或光碟片。
(二)應徵者資料,請另以紙張寫明真實姓名及隨時可聯絡之地址、手機、電話號碼、電子信箱,並附簡歷、照片、身分證正、反面影印本等相關資料,並附文字檔於磁碟或光碟片中。
(三)發現抄襲、冒用他人作品應徵者,除取消資格外,並公布真實姓名及地址。
(四)應徵作品應由個人創作或翻譯,集體創作或翻譯不予錄取。
(四)應徵作品應由個人創作或翻譯,集體創作或翻譯不予錄取。
(五)翻譯類之原文,請上行政院文化建設委員會網站、中華日報社網站、九歌文學網網站下載。恕不提供傳真服務。
(六)作品請掛號郵寄至10558台北市八德路三段十二巷五十七弄四十號三樓梁實秋文學獎評委會,封面請註明應徵類別(散文創作類、譯詩組、譯文組)。作品一律不退件。
(七)凡不符徵件規定者,一律不予參賽。
(八)應徵者需尊重本辦法有關規定,不論是否獲獎,均不得提出異議。
六.評審:
(一)分初審、複審、決審三階段進行。
(二)作品如有未臻水準,主辦單位得尊重評審意見,獎項予以從缺;或作品水準相當,亦得以同一獎項並列。
(三)各階段評審委員,均敦聘名作家、學者或評論家擔任,以昭公允。評審委員名單,於揭曉時同時公布。
七.其他:
本辦法如有未盡事宜,將另行公告補充。
八.洽詢電話:(02)25776564
行政院文化建設委員會網址:http://www.cca.gov.tw
中華日報社網址:http://www.cdns.com.tw
九歌文學網網址:http://www.chiuko.com.tw
譯詩、譯文原文:
The 21st Liang Shih-ch’iu Literary Award
-- translation in prose
I. Translate the following paragraphs into Chinese:
1. Courtesy to Readers – Clarity
(Translate the second and third paragraphs only)
Character, I have suggested, is the first thing to think about in style. The next step is to consider what characteristics can win a hearer’s or a reader’s sympathy. For example, it is bad manners to give them needless trouble. Therefore clarity. It is bad manners to waste their time. Therefore brevity.
There clings in my memory a story once told me by Professor Sisson. A Frenchman said to him: “In France it is the writer that takes the trouble; in Germany, the reader; in English it is betwixt and between.” The generalization is over-simple; perhaps even libelous; but not without truth. It gives, I think, another reason why the level of French prose has remained so high. And this may in its turn be partly because French culture has been based more than ours on conversation and the salon. In most conversation, if he is muddled, wordy, or tedious, a man is soon made, unless he is a hippopotamus, to feel it. Further, the salon has been particularly influenced by women; who, as a rule, are less tolerant of tedium and clumsiness than men.
First, then, clarity. The social purpose of language is communication — to inform, misinform, or otherwise influence our fellows. True, we also use words in solitude to think our own thoughts, and to express our feelings to ourselves. But writing is concerned rather with communication than with self-communing; though some writers, especially poets, may talk to themselves in public. Yet, as I have said, even these, though in a sense overheard rather than heard, have generally tried to reach an audience. No doubt in some modern literature there has appeared a tendency to replace communication by a private maundering to oneself which shall inspire one’s audience to maunder privately to themselves — rather as if the author handed round a box of drugged cigarettes of his concoction to stimulate each guest to his own solitary dreams. But I have yet to be convinced that such activities are very valuable, or that one’s own dreams and meditations are much heightened by the stimulus of some other voice soliloquizing in Chinese. The irrational, now in politics, now in poetics, has been the sinister opium of our tormented and demented century.
— F. L. Lucas
2. Voltaire: Conscience of an Age
It was gala night at the Comédie Française. Just before the curtain rose on the new tragedy Iréne, a wizened old man entered his box and the audience rose with a spontaneous roar. Shouts of “Vive Voltaire! Vive Voltaire!” swept the packed theater. An actor placed a wreath of laurel on his head. “Do you wish me to die of glory?” the 84-year old playwright asked, tears streaming. It was March 30, 1778. The celebrated author was back at alst in his beloved Paris, from which he had been exiled for a third of his life.
Savant, man of letters, counselor to the great, defender of the poor and victimized, Voltaire had labored for 60 years to drag Europe out of the morass of medieval ideas and institutions. As the conscience of his age, he had fought injustice, bigotry, privilege and religious fanaticism — with telling effect. In fact, the 18th Century Enlightenment is today known as the Age of Voltaire. More than any other critic, Voltaire helped foster the social ferment that eventually erupted into the French Revolution. Yet he never preached violence: he was for reform, peaceful change under an enlightened monarch. “Liberty,” he proclaimed, “consists of dependence on nothing but law.”
A superbly witty artist with words, he became the most widely read writer of his time, a satirist who used the stinging arm of ridicule to make his philosophical points. Of his enormous literary production, 15 million words survive — including 20,000 delightful letters, and humorous works like Candide that are still enjoyed throughout the world. We owe to him such aphorisms as “embarrassment of riches,” “Common sense is not so common,” and “If God did not exist, He would have to be invented.”
--Francis Leary
The 21st Liang Shih-ch’iu Literary Award
-- translation in verse
II. Translate the following poems into Chinese:
1. Museum Piece
The good gray guardians of art
Patrol the halls on spongy shoes,
Impartially protective, though
Perhaps suspicious of Toulouse.
Here dozes one against the wall,
Disposed upon a funeral chair.
A Degas dancer pirouettes
Upon the parting of his hair.
See how she spins! The grace is there,
But strain as well is plain to see.
Degas loved the two together:
Beauty joined to energy.
Edgar Degas purchased once
A fine El Greco, which he kept
Against the wall beside his bed
To hang his pants on while he slept.
— Richard Wilbur (1921- )
2. Hurt Hawks, 1
The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.
— Robinson Jeffers (1887-1963)
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