VOA Special English -  听写作：AMERICAN STORIES - 7/26/2008

以下听写稿由热心网友提供：

Now the weekly VOA Special English program "American Stories".

Our story today is called “Surviving Adverse Seasons”. It was written by Barry Targan. Here is Shep O'Neal to tell you the story.

Abel Halleck was 59 years old when his wife Estelle died. Her death was sudden and unexpected, the kind of death you cannot forget. Abel Halleck buried his wife, then he stopped doing anything.

His work, the world, life and all its possibilities were no longer important to him. He had learned quickly that the laws about life he had trusted did not really exist after all. For a year, Abel Halleck did nothing, but one morning, he decided to study Latin. He chose Latin because it was a dead language. It would never be important or even useful to him in the years he had left to live. And so, Abel Halleck entered a Latin class taught by Silvia Warren on Monday evenings.

Silvia Warren was thin and small; her long straight hair was silver-gray. She smiled easily at everything like a young person. She had taught Latin for 23 years at the local high school. When she was 53, the school stopped offering Latin. Latin was not useful in a world excited by technology and space travel. Silvia Warren retired, now she spent her time painting, taking pictures, playing the piano and visiting with her friends. She also taught Latin to adults at the local high school in the evening. She had never married or even been in love. She wondered about this more than anything else about her life. Men had found her good-looking and still did, but no one had come along, ever.

During the first Latin class that night, a storm darkened the sky. After class, Abel Halleck walked with Silvia Warren to the door near the school parking lot; they stood near the open door watching the storm. "It’s a bad night to be out," he said. She nodded, “but it can’t rain this hard for long,” she said. She held her books tightly to her body and disappeared into the rain.

When Abel Halleck left the building a few minutes later, he saw her bending over the engine of her car. "It won't start,” she said. He looked at the engine, after a moment, he found the problem. "It’s the radio static depressor," he said, "try it now." The car started at once. "Wait,” he said, "you might still have problems before you get home, stop at my house and I will fix it for you."

He drove home slowly and put his car into the large garage connected to his house. Silvia Warren drove in after him. Abel Halleck’s garage was really a workshop. Here he had all the tools and equipment he needed to create or repair any thing. In less than 5 minutes, he fixed her car. "There," he said, "better than new. Um, would you like a cup of coffee?"

She walked with him to the door that connected the garage to the house. Abel Halleck moved his fingers over a metal square on the door and it opened. "What are you, Mr. Halleck, a magician?” Silvia Warren laughed excitedly. "I'm retired," he said, "but I was an inventor. I understood how things worked and I found ways to make them work better." He told her about the work he had done. He had not spoken so much to someone for a long time.

The following Monday evening, Abel Halleck went back to Silvia Warren's Latin class and he returned every Monday night. They got to know each other better. Silvia Warren introduced him to her closest friend, Mildred Lethem who taught biology and collected rare butterflies.

One afternoon, the 3 of them met for a coffee. "I think you'll be interested in insects, Mr. Halleck." Mildred Lethem told him. "They are a lot like machines. They are fascinating because they are perfectly predictable. You always know what they will do." “I’m too busy." Abel Halleck said sharply. "My head is too full of Latin."

He finished his coffee, said goodbye and left. Halfway home from Mildred Lethem's house, he turned around and drove to the local public library. He wanted to find out if she was right when she said insects were perfectly predictable. In one book called "The Life of Insects", he learned about diapause. He read “this condition is a means for surviving adverse seasons. The insect enters a deep sleep, all growth stops and its body functions slow down. The state of diapause can last for 2 or 3 years or even longer, but finally it ends and the insect awakes to continue its normal life.” Abel Halleck closed the book.

His days filled up. He studied Latin, visited his daughter and her family once a week. He met with Silvia Warren and Mildred Lethem for dinner often, and when April came, he went with them into the country. The experience was new to Abel Halleck. He knew about engines and machines, but the woods and the river, the animals and the insects of the fields belonged to another world. He watched Mildred Lethem and Silvia Warren as they explored ahead of him. Silvia jumped up on a wide, flat rock. Throwing open her arms to the sky, she began reciting Latin poetry to the wild flowers and the blue sky. Abel Halleck smiled and looked up the sky himself. When he looked down, she was gone. Mildred Lethem was running to the rock. He stood up quickly and hurried down the side of the hill to them. Silvia was lying very still on the ground when he reached her. Mildred Lethem was by her side, crying softly.

At the hospital, the doctor asked them, "Are you her family?" "No," Mildred Lethem said, "there is no family, we are her friends." They were sitting in a small office where they had been waiting for hours. "We don’t have all the tests back yet," the doctor continued, "but it looks like a form of lupus erythematosus. "What is that?" Abel Halleck asked. The doctor explained. "It was a blood disease that caused the body to attack its own tissues. In time, it killed. " "How much time?" Abel asked. "It’s not predictable," the doctor said, "the disease suddenly goes away and then just as it suddenly returns. With lupus, you never know."

Abel Halleck did not sleep well. He woke up at 4 'o clock in the morning, got dressed and drove to the university, three hours away. At the university, he went to the library. He took the Latin that he knew and used it to make a gift for her. He wanted to say what he wanted her to know in language better than his own. So he worked his way through books of Latin poetry and stories. When he found a sentence he wanted, he wrote it down in Latin.

From Lucretius, he wrote, “Like children trembling in the dark, we sit and are afraid. And all our fears are empty like the things children imagine in the dark.” From Horace, “The ice melts and spring comes, followed by summer soon to die. For after her comes autumn and then back to winter when nothing moves.” From Cattulus, her favorite poet, he copied, “If a wished-for thing and a thing past hoping for should come to a man, will he not welcome it the more? Therefore, it is more welcome to me than gold that Lesbia brings back my desire of old.” Then, he picked up his pen to write to her in his own words. “All of this means that we like the insects must die. Death must come to all living creatures. If there is comfort anywhere, it is in the truth and in the act of these words.”

Mildred Lethem was with her when he came into the hospital room. He handed Silvia Warren the paper, she read it and cried then she dried her eyes. She looked up at him, smiling and nodded at once. And together they settled down to wait for the long night soon to come.

You have just heard the story “Surviving Adverse Seasons" written by Barry Targan. It was adapted for Special English by Donald Discenctus. Permission was given by the author for the adaptation. This story is copyrighted, all rights reserved. Your storyteller was Shep O'Neal. The director was Lawan Davis, for VOA Special English. This is Shirley Griffith.

以下听写稿由热心网友Eva Huang提供

Surviving Adverse Seasons by Barry Targan

Now the weekly VOA Special English programme, American Stories.

(Music)

Our story today is called surviving adverse seasons. It was written by Barry Targan. Here is Shep O'Neal to tell you this story.

(Music)

Abel Harold was fifty nine years old when his wife Esdil died. Her death was sudden and unexpected. The kind of
death you can not forget. Abel Harold buried his wife. Then he stopped doing anything. His work, the world, life and all its possibilities went no longer important to him. He had learned quickly that laws about life he had trusted did not really exist after all.

For a year, Abel Harold did nothing. But one morning, he decided to study Latin. He chose Latin because it was a dead language. It was never being important for even useful to him in years he had left to live. And so Abel Harold entered the Latin class taught by Suvil Warry on Monday evenings. Suvil Warry was thin and small. Her long straight hair was silver grey. She smiled easily at everything like a young person. She had taught Latin for 23 years at the local high school. When she was 53, the school stopped offering Latin. Latin was not useful in the world excited by technology and space travel. Suvil Warry was retired. Now she spent her time painting, taking pictures, playing the piano and visiting with her friends. She also taught Latin to adults at the local high shcool in the evening. She had never married or even been in love. She wondered about this more than anything else about her life. Man had found her good looking and still did, but no one had come along ever.

During the first Latin class that night, a storm darkened the sky.

After class, Abel Harold walked with Suvil Warry to the door near the school parking lot. They stood near the open door watching the storm.

"It's a bad night to be out." He said.

She nodded.

"But it can rain this hard for a long." She said.

She held her books tightly to her body and disappeared into the rain.

When Abel Harold left the building a few minutes later. He saw her bending over the engine of her car.

"It won't start." She said. He looked at the engine. After a mement, he found the problem.

"It's a radio status depressor." He said, "Try it now." The car started at once.

"Wait." He said, "You might still have problem before you get home. Stop at my house and I will fix it for you."

He drove home slowly and put his car into the large garage connected to his house. Suvil Warry drove in after him.
Abel Harold's garage was really a workshop. Here he had all the tools and equipment he needed to create or repair
anything. In less than 5 minutes, he fixed her car. There he said: "Better than new. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
She walked with him to the door connected the garage to the house. Abel Harold moved his fingers over the metal
square on the door and it opened. "What are you, Mr Harold, a magician." Suvil Warry laughed excitedly.

"I'm retired." He said, "But I was a mender. I understood how things worked and I found with to make it better."

He told her about work he had done. He had not spoken so much to someone for a long time.

The following Monday evening, Abel Harold went back to Suvil Warry's Latin class, and he returned every Monday
night. They got to know each other better. Suvil Warry introduced him to her closest friend, Notronophen who taught biology and collected real butterflies.

One afternoon, the three of them met for coffee.

"I think you will be interested insects, Mr. Holerk." Notronophen told him, "They are a lot like machines. They are
facinating. Because they are perfectly predetectable. You always know what they will do."

"I'm too busy." Abel Harold said sharply, "My head is too full of Latin."

He finished his coffee said goodbye and left.

Half way home from Notronophen's house, he turned around and drove to the local public library. He wanted to find out if she was right when she said insects were perfectly predetectable.

In one book called the life of insects, he learned about diapause. He read this conditions is means of surviving adverse seasons. The insect enters a deep sleep. All growth stops and its body functions slow down. The state of diapause can last for two or three years or even longer, but finally, it ends and insect wakes to continue its normal life. Abel Harold closed the book.

His days flew off. He studied Latin, visited his daughter and her family once a week. He met with Suvil Warry and
Notronophen for dinner often. And when April came, he went with them into the country. The experience was new to Abel Harold. He knew about engines and machines, but the woods and river, the animals and insects of the fields
belongs to another world.

He watched Notronophen and Suvil Warry as they explored ahead of him. Suvil jumped up on the wide flat rock,
throwing open her arms to the sky. She began reciting Latine poetry to the wild flowers and blue sky. Abel Harold
smiled and looked up the sky himself. When he looked down, she was gone. Notronophen was running to the rock. He stood up quickly and hurried down the side of hill to them. Suvil was lying very still on the ground when he reached her.

Notronophen was by her side, crying, softly.

At the hospital, the doctor asked them: "Are you her family?"

"No." Notronophen said, "There is no family. We are her friends."

They were sitting in a small office where they had been waiting for hours.

"We don't have all of tests back yet." The doctor continued but it looked like formal lupus erythematosus.

"What is that?" Abel Harold asked.

The doctor explained: "It was a blood disease that caused the body to attack its own tissues. In time, it killed."

"How much time?" Abel Harold asked.

"It is not pre-detectable." Doctor said, "The disease suddenly goes away and then just suddenly returns with lupus
you never know."

Abel Harold didn't sleep well, he wake up at four o'clock in the morning, got dressed and drove to the university three hours way. At the university, he went to the library, he took the Latin that he knew and used it to make a gift for her. He wanted to see what he wanted her to know in language better than his own. So he worked away through books of Latin poety and stories. When he found sentences he wanted, he wrote it down in Latin.

From the loquacious he wrote, like children, trembling in the dark, we sit and are afraid and all our fear are empty like
the things children imagine in the dark.

From Horace, the eyes melts and springs comes followed by Summer soon to die.

For after her, comes autumn and then back to winter when nothing moves.

From Constanse, her favorate poet, he copied.

If we wished for thing and the thing passed hoping for should come to a man, will he not well committed more.
Therefore, it is more welcome to me than gold that Lessby brings back my desire of old.

Then he picked up his pen to write to her in his own words. All of this means that way like the insects must die. Death must come to all living creatures. If there is comfort anywhere, it is in the truth and it is in the act of this words.

Notronophen was with her when he came up into the hospital room. He handed Suvil Warry the paper. She read and cried. Then she dried her eyes. She looked up at him, smiling and nodded once and together they sat down to wait for a long night soon to come.

You have just heard this story Surviving adverse seasons written by Barry Targan. It was adapted for Special Egnlish by Dona de Sanctis. Her mission was given by the other for the adaptation. This story are copyrighted, all rights reserved. Your storyteller was Shep O'Neal. The director was Gwen Davis. For VOA Special Egnlish, this is Shirley Griffith.