第一篇：第二屆全國《英語世界》翻譯大賽通知及參賽原文

第二屆“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽啟事

在成功舉辦首屆“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽之后，《英語世界》雜志社將聯(lián)合南開大學(xué)、中國翻譯協(xié)會社科翻譯委員會、四川省翻譯協(xié)會共同舉辦第二屆“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽。今后，我們擬將此項賽事辦成每年一屆的活動，以激發(fā)英語愛好者的翻譯熱情，給力英語學(xué)習(xí)，探尋翻譯之星。誠愿此項賽事真正成為翻譯愛好者曬秀佳譯的一方天地。

一、活動內(nèi)容

1、競賽形式：本次競賽為英漢翻譯，參賽原文附后，亦可點擊商務(wù)印書館網(wǎng)站（http://004km.cn/）。

2、參賽要求：

（1）參賽者年齡不限。（2）譯文須獨立完成，不接受合作譯稿。請參賽者在本次競賽截稿之日前妥善保存參賽稿件，勿在報刊、網(wǎng)絡(luò)等任何媒體公布參賽文稿，否則將被取消參賽資格并承擔(dān)由此造成的一切后果。

（3）第一次投稿有效，不接收修改后另投稿件。

（4）參賽投稿請用電腦打?。ˋ4紙）或用稿紙（有單位名稱抬頭的稿紙無效）謄寫清楚。打印稿統(tǒng)一用Word中宋體，小四號字排版。譯文前加一封面，填寫參賽者信息，包括姓名、出生年月日、性別、工作單位、通信地址、郵編、電話、電子郵箱。投稿正文內(nèi)請勿書寫參賽者個人信息，否則將視為無效投稿。

（5）截稿日期：2011年7月20日，網(wǎng)絡(luò)投稿以投稿日為準(zhǔn)，信件以寄出日郵戳為準(zhǔn)。

二、投稿方式

1、網(wǎng)上投稿：郵箱wewecp@sina.com。請在主題欄標(biāo)明“參賽譯文”字樣。

2、郵寄投稿：北京朝陽區(qū)朝外大街吉慶里小區(qū)9號樓E-2-1005室 《英語世界》編輯部（郵編：100020）。請在信封上標(biāo)明“參賽譯文”字樣。

三、獎項設(shè)置：

所有投稿將由《英語世界》、南開大學(xué)和中國翻譯協(xié)會社科翻譯委員會共同組織專家進行評審，設(shè)一、二、三等獎及優(yōu)秀獎。一、二、三等獎獲獎?wù)邔㈩C發(fā)獎金、證書和紀(jì)念品，優(yōu)秀獎獲獎?wù)邔㈩C發(fā)證書和紀(jì)念品；《英語世界》將于2011年第10期公布競賽評審結(jié)果，并擇機舉行頒獎典禮，競賽獲獎?wù)邔⑹苎麉⒓宇C獎典禮。

四、聯(lián)系方式：

為辦好本次翻譯大賽，保證此項賽事的公平、公正，我們成立了競賽組委會，負(fù)責(zé)整個競賽活動的組織、實施和評審工作。組委會辦公室設(shè)在《英語世界》編輯部。電話/傳真：010-65539242。

《英語世界》雜志社

2011年5月

附：第二屆英語世界杯翻譯大賽原文：

His First Day as Quarry-Boy

By Hugh Miller(1802～1856)It was twenty years last February since I set out, a little before sunrise, to make my first acquaintance with a life of labor and restraint;and I have rarely had a heavier heart than on that morning.I was but a slim, loose-jointed boy at the time, fond of the pretty intangibilities of romance, and of dreaming when broad awake;and, woful change!I was now going to work at what Burns has instanced, in his ‘Twa Dogs’, as one of the most disagreeable of all employments,—to work in a quarry.Bating the passing uneasinesses occasioned by a few gloomy anticipations, the portion of my life which had already gone by had been happy beyond the common lot.I had been a wanderer among rocks and woods, a reader of curious books when I could get them, a gleaner of old traditionary stories;and now I was going to exchange all my day-dreams, and all my amusements, for the kind of life in which men toil every day that they may be enabled to eat, and eat every day that they may be enabled to toil!

The quarry in which I wrought lay on the southern shore of a noble inland bay, or frith rather, with a little clear stream on the one side, and a thick fir wood on the other.It had been opened in the Old Red Sandstone of the district, and was overtopped by a huge bank of diluvial clay, which rose over it in some places to the height of nearly thirty feet, and which at this time was rent and shivered其, wherever it presented an open front to the weather, by a recent frost.A heap of loose fragments, which had fallen from above, blocked up the face of the quarry and my first employment was to clear them away.The friction of the shovel soon blistered my hands, but the pain was by no means very severe, and I wrought hard and willingly, that I might see how the huge strata below, which presented so firm and unbroken a frontage, were to be torn up and removed.Picks, and wedges, and levers, were applied by my brother-workmen;and, simple and rude as I had been accustomed to regard these implements, I found I had much to learn in the way of using them.They all proved inefficient, however, and the workmen had to bore into one of the inferior strata, and employ gunpowder.The process was new to me, and I deemed it a highly amusing one: it had the merit, too, of being attended with some such degree of danger as a boating or rock excursion, and had thus an interest independent of its novelty.We had a few capital shots: the fragments flew in every direction;and an immense mass of the diluvium came toppling down, bearing with it two dead birds, that in a recent storm had crept into one of the deeper fissures, to die in the shelter.I felt a new interest in examining them.The one was a pretty cock goldfinch, with its hood of vermilion and its wings inlaid with the gold to which it owes its name, as unsoiled and smooth as if it had been preserved for a museum.The other, a somewhat rarer bird, of the woodpecker tribe, was variegated with light blue and a grayish yellow.I was engaged in admiring the poor little things, more disposed to be sentimental, perhaps, than if I had been ten years older, and thinking of the contrast between the warmth and jollity of their green summer haunts, and the cold and darkness of their last retreat, when I heard our employer bidding the workmen lay by their tools.I looked up and saw the sun sinking behind the thick fir wood beside us, and the long dark shadows of the trees stretching downward towards the shore.—Red Sandstone

（文章選自THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH PROSE, 658-660, Oxford University Press, London, first published 1925，reprinted 1958.）

Old

第二篇：英語世界翻譯大賽原文

第九屆“鄭州大學(xué)—《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽英譯漢原文

The Whoomper Factor

By Nathan Cobb

【1】As this is being written, snow is falling in the streets of Boston in what weather forecasters like to call “record amounts.” I would guess by looking out the window that we are only a few hours from that magic moment of paralysis, as in Storm Paralyzes Hub.Perhaps we are even due for an Entire Region Engulfed or a Northeast Blanketed, but I will happily settle for mere local disablement.And the more the merrier.【1】寫這個的時候，波士頓的街道正下著雪，天氣預(yù)報員將稱其為“創(chuàng)紀(jì)錄的量”。從窗外望去，我猜想，過不了幾個小時，神奇的癱瘓時刻就要來臨，就像《風(fēng)暴癱瘓中心》里的一樣。也許我們甚至能夠見識到《吞沒整個區(qū)域》或者《茫茫東北》里的場景，然而僅僅部分地區(qū)的癱瘓也能使我滿足。當(dāng)然越多越使人開心。

【2】Some people call them blizzards, others nor’easters.My own term is whoompers, and I freely admit looking forward to them as does a baseball fan to April.Usually I am disappointed, however;because tonight’s storm warnings too often turn into tomorrow’s light flurries.【2】有些人稱它們?yōu)楸╋L(fēng)雪，其他人稱其為東北風(fēng)暴。我自己則有一個叫法：吶喊者。我大方地承認(rèn)道我期待著它們的到來，正如一位籃球迷盼望著四月份的來臨。然而通常情況下，我會大失所望，因為今天發(fā)布了風(fēng)暴警報，明天往往只飄起小雪。

【3】Well, flurries be damned.I want the real thing, complete with Volkswagens turned into drifts along Commonwealth Avenue and the MBTA’s third rail frozen like a hunk of raw meat.A storm does not even begin to qualify as a whoomper unless Logan Airport is shut down for a minimum of six hours.【3】好吧，小雪令人厭惡。我想要實實在在的東西，包括大眾汽車成了聯(lián)邦大道的漂浮物，波士頓市運輸局的第三條軌道像一大塊生肉一樣被凍住了。除非洛根機場至少關(guān)閉六個小時，否則這一場風(fēng)暴根本配不上稱作吶喊者。

【4】The point is, whoompers teach us a lesson.Or rather several lessons.For one thing, here are all these city folks who pride themselves on their instinct for survival, and suddenly they cannot bear to venture into the streets because they are afraid of being swallowed up.Virtual prisoners in their own houses is what they are.In northern New England, the natives view nights such as this with casual indifference, but let a whoomper hit Boston and the locals are not only knee deep in snow but also in befuddlement and disarray.【4】關(guān)鍵是，吶喊者們給了我們一個教訓(xùn)?；蛘邘讉€教訓(xùn)。一方面，所有的城里人為他們的生存本能感到自豪，霎時間，他們不能忍受街道上的風(fēng)險因為害怕被吞沒。他們就好像是自己房子里的囚犯。在新英格蘭的北部，當(dāng)?shù)厝藢@樣的夜晚習(xí)以為常，但是讓一位吶喊者襲擊波士頓，居民不僅深陷雪中而且陷入困境和混亂。

【5】The lesson? That there is something more powerful out there than the sacred metropolis.It is not unlike the message we can read into the debacle of the windows falling out of the John Hancock Tower;just when we think we’ve got the upper hand on the elements, we find out we are flies and someone else is holding the swatter.Whoompers keep us in our place.【5】教訓(xùn)？那里有比神圣的大都市更強大的東西。這與我們可以從約翰?漢考克大廈掉落下來的崩潰信息沒什么不同；正當(dāng)我們自認(rèn)為凌駕于風(fēng)雨之上時，才發(fā)現(xiàn)我們只是滄海一粟，另有高人將我們玩弄于股掌之間。吶喊者們將我們困在原地。

【6】They also slow us down, which is not a bad thing for urbania these days.Frankly, I’m of the opinion Logan should be closed periodically, snow or not, in tribute to the lurking suspicion that it may not be all that necessary for a man to travel at a speed of 600 miles per hour.In a little while I shall go forth into the streets and I know what I will find.People will actually be walking, and the avenues will be bereft of cars.It will be something like those marvelous photographs of Back Bay during the nineteenth century, wherein the lack of clutter and traffic makes it seem as if someone has selectively airbrushed the scene.【6】他們也使我們放慢了速度，如今對于烏爾巴尼亞來說不是一件壞事。坦率地講，為了向潛在的懷疑致敬，即可能不是每個人都必須以每小時600英里的速度行走，我認(rèn)為不管下不下雪，洛根應(yīng)該定期關(guān)門。我應(yīng)該去街道上走上一小會兒就能知道自己尋找什么。實際上人們將要行走，大道上沒有車子。如同19世紀(jì)巴克灣那些

【7】And, of course, there will be the sound of silence tonight.It will be almost deafening.I know city people who have trouble sleeping in the country because of the lack of noise, and I suspect this is what bothers many of them about whoompers.Icy sidewalks and even fewer parking spaces we can handle, but please, God, turn up the volume.City folks tend not to believe in anything they can’t hear with their own ears.【8】It should also be noted that nights such as this are obviously quite pretty, hiding the city’s wounds beneath a clean white dressing.But it is their effect on the way people suddenly treat each other that is most fascinating, coming as it does when city dwellers are depicted as people of the same general variety as those New Yorkers who stood by when Kitty Genovese was murdered back in 1964.【9】There’s nothing like a good whoomper to get people thinking that everyone walking towards them on the sidewalk might not be a mugger, or that saying hello is not necessarily a sign of perversion.You would think that city people, more than any other, would have a strong sense of being in the same rough seas together, yet it is not until a quasi catastrophe hits that many of them stop being lone sharks.【10】But enough of this.There’s a whoomper outside tonight, and it requires my presence.

第三篇：第二屆英語世界杯翻譯大賽原文

His First Day as Quarry-Boy

By Hugh Miller(1802～1856)

It was twenty years last February since I set out, a little before sunrise, to make my first acquaintance with a life of labour and restraint;and I have rarely had a heavier heart than on that morning.I was but a slim, loose-jointed boy at the time, fond of the pretty intangibilities of romance, and of dreaming when broad awake;and, woful change!I was now going to work at what Burns has instanced, in his ‘Twa Dogs’, as one of the most disagreeable of all employments,—to work in a quarry.Bating the passing uneasinesses occasioned by a few gloomy anticipations, the portion of my life which had already gone by had been happy beyond the common lot.I had been a wanderer among rocks and woods, a reader of curious books when I could get them, a gleaner of old traditionary stories;and now I was going to exchange all my day-dreams, and all my amusements, for the kind of life in which men toil every day that they may be enabled to eat, and eat every day that they may be enabled to toil!The quarry in which I wrought lay on the southern shore of a noble inland bay, or frith rather, with a little clear stream on the one side, and a thick fir wood on the other.It had been opened in the Old Red Sandstone of the district, and was overtopped by a huge bank of diluvial clay, which rose over it in some places to the height of nearly thirty feet, and which at this time was rent and shivered, wherever it presented an open front to the weather, by a recent frost.A heap of loose fragments, which had fallen from above, blocked up the face of the quarry and my first employment was to clear them away.The friction of the shovel soon blistered my hands, but the pain was by no means very severe, and I wrought hard and willingly, that I might see how the huge strata below, which presented so firm and unbroken a frontage, were to be torn up and removed.Picks, and wedges, and levers, were applied by my brother-workmen;and, simple and rude as I had been accustomed to regard these implements, I found I had much to learn in the way of using them.They all proved inefficient, however, and the workmen had to bore into one of the inferior strata, and employ gunpowder.The process was new to me, and I deemed it a highly amusing one: it had the merit, too, of being attended with some such degree of danger as a boating or rock excursion, and had thus an interest independent of its novelty.We had a few capital shots: the fragments flew in every direction;and an immense mass of the diluvium came toppling down, bearing with it two dead birds, that in a recent storm had crept into one of the deeper fissures, to die in the shelter.I felt a new interest in examining them.The one was a pretty cock goldfinch, with its hood of vermilion and its wings inlaid with the gold to which it owes its name, as unsoiled and smooth as if it had been preserved for a museum.The other, a somewhat rarer bird, of the woodpecker tribe, was variegated with light blue and a grayish yellow.I was engaged in admiring the poor little things, more disposed to be sentimental, perhaps, than if I had been ten years older, and thinking of the contrast between the warmth and jollity of their green summer haunts, and the cold and darkness of their last retreat, when I heard our employer bidding the workmen lay by their tools.I looked up and saw the sun sinking behind the thick fir wood beside us, and the long dark shadows of the trees stretching downward towards the shore.—Old Red Sandstone

（文章選自THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH PROSE, 658-660, Oxford University Press, London, first published 1925，reprinted 1958.）

第四篇：英語世界翻譯大賽

A Garden That Welcomes Strangers

By Allen Lacy

I do not know what became of her, and I never learned her name.But I feel that I knew her from the garden she had so lovingly made over many decades.The house she lived in lies two miles from mine – a simple, two-story structure with the boxy plan, steeply-pitched roof and unadorned lines that are typical of houses built in the middle of the nineteenth century near the New Jersey shore.Her garden was equally simple.She was not a conventional gardener who did everything by the book, following the common advice to vary her plantings so there would be something in bloom from the first crocus in the spring to the last chrysanthemum in the fall.She had no respect for the rule that says that tall-growing plants belong at the rear of a perennial border, low ones in the front and middle-sized ones in the middle, with occasional exceptions for dramatic accent.In her garden, everything was accent, everything was tall, and the evidence was plain that she loved three kinds of plant and three only: roses, clematis and lilies, intermingled promiscuously to pleasant effect but no apparent design.She grew a dozen sorts of clematis, perhaps 50 plants in all, trained and tied so that they clambered up metal rods, each rod crowned intermittently throughout the summer by a rounded profusion of large blossoms of dark purple, rich crimson, pale lavender, light blue and gleaming white.Her taste in roses was old-fashioned.There wasn’t a single modern hybrid tea rose or floribunda in sight.Instead, she favored the roses of other ages – the York and Lancaster rose, the cabbage rose, the damask and the rugosa rose in several varieties.She propagated her roses herself from cuttings stuck directly in the ground and protected by upended gallon jugs.Lilies, I believe were her greatest love.Except for some Madonna lilies it is impossible to name them, since the wooden flats stood casually here and there in the flower bed, all thickly planted with dark green lily seedlings.The occasional paper tag fluttering from a seed pod with the date and record of a cross showed that she was an amateur hybridizer with some special fondness for lilies of a warm muskmelon shade or a pale lemon yellow.She believed in sharing her garden.By her curb there was a sign: “This is my garden, and you are welcome here.Take whatever you wish with your eyes, but nothing with your hand.”

Until five years ago, her garden was always immaculately tended, the lawn kept fertilized and mowed, the flower bed free of weeds, the tall lilies carefully staked.But then something happened.I don’t know what it was, but the lawn was mowed less frequently, then not at all.Tall grass invaded the roses, the clematis, the lilies.The elm tree in her front yard sickened and died, and when a coastal gale struck, the branches that fell were never removed.With every year, the neglect has grown worse.Wild honeysuckle and bittersweet run rampant in the garden.Sumac, ailanthus, poison ivy and other uninvited things threaten the few lilies and clematis and roses that still struggle for survival.Last year the house itself went dead.The front door was padlocked and the windows covered with sheets of plywood.For many months there has been a for sale sign out front, replacing the sign inviting strangers to share her garden.I drive by that house almost daily and have been tempted to load a shovel in my car trunk, stop at her curb and rescue a few lilies from the smothering thicket of weeds.The laws of trespass and the fact that her house sits across the street from a police station have given me the cowardice to resist temptation.But her garden has reminded me of mortality;gardeners and the gardens they make are fragile things, creatures of time, hostages to chance and to decay.Last week, the for sale sign out front came down and the windows were unboarded.A crew of painters arrived and someone cut down the dead elm tree.This morning there was a moving van in the driveway unloading a swing set, a barbecue grill, a grand piano and a houseful of sensible furniture.A young family is moving into that house.I hope that among their number is a gardener whose special fondness for old roses and clematis and lilies will see to it that all else is put aside until that flower bed is restored to something of its former self.(選自Patterns: A Short Prose Reader, by Mary Lou Conlin, published by Houghton Mifflin Company, 1983.)

第五篇：第五屆“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽比賽原文

Limbo

By Rhonda Lucas

My parents’ divorce was final.The house had been sold and the day had come to move.Thirty years of the family’s life was now crammed into the garage.The two-by-fours that ran the length of the walls were the only uniformity among the clutter of boxes, furniture, and memories.All was frozen in limbo between the life just passed and the one to come.The sunlight pushing its way through the window splattered against a barricade of boxes.Like a fluorescent river, it streamed down the sides and flooded the cracks of the cold, cement floor.I stood in the doorway between the house and garage and wondered if the sunlight would ever again penetrate the memories packed inside those boxes.For an instant, the cardboard boxes appeared as tombstones, monuments to those memories.The furnace in the corner, with its huge tubular fingers reaching out and disappearing into the wall, was unaware of the futility of trying to warm the empty house.The rhythmical whir of its effort hummed the elegy for the memories boxed in front of me.I closed the door, sat down on the step, and listened reverently.The feeling of loss transformed the bad memories into not-so-bad, the not-so-bad memories into good, and committed the good ones to my mind.Still, I felt as vacant as the house inside.A workbench to my right stood disgustingly empty.Not so much as a nail had been left behind.I noticed, for the first time, what a dull, lifeless green it was.Lacking the disarray of tools that used to cover it, now it seemed as out of place as a bathtub in the kitchen.In fact, as I scanned the room, the only things that did seem to belong were the cobwebs in the corners.A group of boxes had been set aside from the others and stacked in front of the workbench.Scrawled like graffiti on the walls of dilapidated buildings were the words “Salvation Army.” Those words caught my eyes as effectively as a flashing neon sign.They reeked of irony.“Salvation-was a bit too late for this family,” I mumbled sarcastically to myself.The houseful of furniture that had once been so carefully chosen to complement and blend with the color schemes of the various rooms was indiscriminately crammed together against a single wall.The uncoordinated colors combined in turmoil and lashed out in the greyness of the room.I suddenly became aware of the coldness of the garage, but I didn’t want to go back inside the house, so I made my way through the boxes to the couch.I cleared a space to lie down and curled up, covering myself with my jacket.I hoped my father would return soon with the truck so we could empty the garage and leave the cryptic silence of parting lives behind.（選自Patterns: A Short Prose Reader, by Mary Lou Conlin, published by Houghton Mifflin, 1983.）

第五屆“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽通知

“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽肇始于2010年，由商務(wù)印書館《英語世界》雜志社主辦。為推動翻譯學(xué)科的進一步發(fā)展，促進中外文化交流，我們將秉承“給力英語學(xué)習(xí)，探尋翻譯之星”的理念，于2014年5月繼續(xù)舉辦第五屆“《英語世界》杯”翻譯大賽，誠邀廣大翻譯愛好者積極參與，比秀佳譯。

本屆大賽由悉尼翻譯學(xué)院獨家贊助。悉尼翻譯學(xué)院成立于2009年，是在澳大利亞教育部注冊的一家專業(yè)翻譯學(xué)院。學(xué)院相關(guān)課程由澳大利亞翻譯認(rèn)證管理局（NAATI）認(rèn)證。該院面向海內(nèi)外招生，以構(gòu)建“一座跨文化的橋梁”為目標(biāo)，力圖培養(yǎng)具有國際視野和跨文化意識的涉及多語種的口筆譯人才。

大賽贊助單位

悉尼翻譯學(xué)院

大賽合作單位

中國翻譯協(xié)會社科翻譯委員會

四川省翻譯協(xié)會

南開大學(xué)

成都通譯翻譯有限公司

上海翻譯家協(xié)會

廣東省翻譯協(xié)會

湖北省翻譯理論與教學(xué)研究會

陜西省翻譯協(xié)會

江蘇省翻譯協(xié)會

大賽顧問委員會

王學(xué)東（中國翻譯協(xié)會副會長、中央編譯局副局長）

仲偉合（中國翻譯協(xié)會副會長、廣東省翻譯協(xié)會會長、廣東外語外貿(mào)大學(xué)校長）許鈞（中國翻譯協(xié)會常務(wù)副會長、江蘇省翻譯協(xié)會會長、南京大學(xué)研究生院常務(wù)副院長）柴明熲（上海翻譯家協(xié)會副會長、上海外國語大學(xué)高級翻譯學(xué)院院長）連真然（四川省翻譯協(xié)會副會長）

胡宗峰（陜西省翻譯協(xié)會副會長、西北大學(xué)外國語學(xué)院副院長）

李瑞林（西安外國語大學(xué)高級翻譯學(xué)院院長）

華先發(fā)（華中師范大學(xué)外語學(xué)院英語系主任）

大賽評委會

主任

劉士聰（南開大學(xué)外國語學(xué)院教授、博士生導(dǎo)師）

評委

陳國華（北京外國語大學(xué)教授、博士生導(dǎo)師）

曹明倫（四川大學(xué)外國語學(xué)院教授、博士生導(dǎo)師）

張文（北京第二外國語學(xué)院教授）

錢多秀（北京航空航天大學(xué)外國語學(xué)院副院長兼翻譯系主任）

方華文（蘇州大學(xué)外國語學(xué)院教授）

王麗麗（中共中央編譯局中央文獻翻譯部英文處副譯審、副處長）

魏慶陽（悉尼翻譯學(xué)院院長）

魏令查（《英語世界》主編）

一、大賽形式

本屆大賽為英漢翻譯，參賽啟事以及原文發(fā)布于商務(wù)印書館網(wǎng)站

（http://.cn/）、《英語世界》2014年第5期、《英語世界》官方博客（http://blog.sina.com.cn/theworldofenglish）以及《英語世界》微信公眾平臺上。

二、參賽要求

1、參賽者國籍、年齡、性別、學(xué)歷不限。

2、參賽譯文須獨立完成，不接受合作譯稿。

3、參賽譯文及個人信息于截稿日期前發(fā)送至電子郵箱：yysjfyds@sina.com。

（1）郵件主題標(biāo)明“翻譯大賽”；

（2）以附件一形式發(fā)送參賽者個人信息，文件名“XXX個人信息”，內(nèi)容包括：姓名、性別、出生年月日、學(xué)校或工作單位、通信地址（郵編）、電子郵箱和電話；

（3）以附件二形式發(fā)送參賽譯文，文件名“XXX參賽譯文”，內(nèi)文規(guī)格：黑色小四號宋體，1.5倍行距，兩端對齊。

4、僅第一次投稿有效，不接受修改后的再投稿件。

5、在大賽截稿之日前，妥善保存參賽譯文，勿在報刊、網(wǎng)絡(luò)等任何媒體或以任何方式公布，違者取消參賽資格并承擔(dān)由此造成的一切后果。

三、大賽時間

起止日期：2014年5月1日零時～2014年7月20日24時。

獎項公布時間：2014年10月，在《英語世界》雜志、微博、博客和微信公眾平臺上公布大賽評審結(jié)果。

四、獎項設(shè)置

所有投稿將由主辦單位組織專家進行評審，分設(shè)一、二、三等獎及優(yōu)秀獎。一、二、三等獎獲獎?wù)邔㈩C發(fā)獎金、獎品和證書，優(yōu)秀獎獲獎?wù)邔㈩C發(fā)證書和紀(jì)念獎。

五、聯(lián)系方式

為辦好本屆翻譯大賽，保證此項賽事的公平、公正，特成立大賽組委會，負(fù)責(zé)整個大賽的組織、實施和評審工作。組委會辦公室設(shè)在《英語世界》編輯部，電話/傳真010-65539242。

六、特別說明

1、本屆翻譯大賽不收取任何費用。

2、本屆翻譯大賽只接受電子版投稿，不接受紙質(zhì)投稿。

3、參賽譯文一經(jīng)發(fā)現(xiàn)抄襲或雷同，即取消涉事者參賽資格。