丧钟为谁而鸣（海明威作品精选） mobi 下载 网盘 caj lrf pdf txt 阿里云

　　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***，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***过的小姑娘玛丽亚堕入爱河，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***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，终为西班牙人民献出了年轻的生命。

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　　欧内斯特·海明威(Ernest Hemingway．1899--1961)

美国小说家，生于美国伊利诺伊州，1961年***身亡。海明威一向以“硬汉”形象著称，其作品主题往往表现“迷失的一代”以及战争给人所带来的创伤，是美国文坛的高峰，代表了那个时代的美国精神。代表作有《老人与海》《太阳照常升起》 《永別了，武器》 《丧钟为谁而鸣》等。曾获得普利策奖和诺贝尔文学奖。

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　　章

　　他卧伏在棕褐色松针落满一地的树林里，下巴支撑在交叉的双臂上，高高的头顶上方，风在吹拂着松树的树冠。山坡上，在他所匍匐的那个位置，坡度并不大；但再往下去地势就很陡峭了，他能看见那条蜿蜒穿过山Et的柏油路黑乎乎的路面。有一条小河与柏油路平行，远远望去，山口下的小河旁有一家锯木厂，河水正漫过蓄水坝流淌下来，在夏日的阳光下泛着白光。

“是那家锯木厂吗?”他问道。

“是的。”

“我记得不是这家呀。”

“这家锯木厂还是你从前在这儿时建造的。原来那家老锯木厂还要再往前面去；在那边的山坡下，离山口还远着呢。”

他在林中就地展开那张影印的军用地图，仔细查看起来。那位老者则在他肩后张望着。他是一个长得敦敦实实的老头儿，身穿农民的黑色罩衫和硬如铁皮的灰色裤子，脚蹬一双绳底鞋。因为一路攀爬上来，他还在喘着粗气，把一只手搁在一只沉重的背包上。他们随身带来了两只大背包。

“如此说来，在这儿是没法看见那座桥了。”

“可不是嘛，”老头儿说，“这个山口的周围地势平缓，河水的流速也慢。再往下去，那条公路就拐进树林不见了，那里的山势陡峭得出奇，还有一条险峻的峡谷呢一一”

　　“我想起来了。”

　　“那座桥就横跨在这条峡谷上。”

　　“他们的哨所都设置在哪些地方?”

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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 fo***hom 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 ***el, and of being able to read and relax in the evening; of all the things he had enjoyed and f***otten 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 he***rist across his wrist something came from her hand, her fingers and he***rist 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 *** wind; *** and dry as your mouth; and it blew heavily; *** 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...

编辑推荐

本作品集收录了海明威的四部代表作品，包括《老人与海》《太阳照常升起》《永别了，武器》《丧钟为谁而名》。这四部小说不仅在美国享有盛誉，在国内，也为中国读者所喜爱，基本上能代表海明威硬汉小说的创作成就。其中，《老人与海》更是让海明威获得了诺贝尔文学奖。

书籍介绍

《丧钟为谁而鸣》内容简介：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***，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***过的小姑娘玛丽亚堕入爱河，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***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。