笼罩

The glow sank quickly off the field, the earth and the hedges smoke dusk.

那片霞光转眼就在田野上消失，大地和树篱都笼罩在薄暮里。

Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great city.

雾，无所不及：笼罩在河的上游，在绿色河心岛和草地间漂动；雾在河的下游，在一排排船舶和大城市污染的河畔中消散。

They use bazookas to knock holes in the dividing walls as they go, and when they come to the end of block and have to cross the street to the next block they throw out smoke first and cross over under cover of that.

他们用巴祖卡在打算穿越的障碍墙上炸开洞口，到达街区末段时候，就穿过街道进入下一个街区，先扔烟雾弹，再在烟雾笼罩下钻过去。

Dark despair around benights me.

绝望啊黑沉沉，紧紧笼罩着我。

"The book is a good metaphor for when a predecessor's shadow looms over a successor's work ---it's dysfunctional and should be avoided," says Bennis, a professor of business at the University of Southern California's Marshall school of Business in Los Angeles.

&这本书是对一个前任者的影子笼罩在后任者的工作所做的最好的隐喻，这是一种病态功能的，和应该避免的现象。&班尼斯说。一位洛杉机南加利福尼亚大学马歇尔商务学院的教授说。

To be free of the litter and filth of a London suburb, of its broken hedges, its brickbats, its torn advertisements, its worn and trampled grass in fields half given over to the speculative builder: in place of this, to tread the immaculate shore over which breathed a wind not charged with soot; to replace the dull, shrouding obscurity of the smoke by a distance so distinct that the masts of the ships whose hulls were buried below the horizon were visible—all this was perfect bliss.

伦敦郊外的垃圾污秽、断篱残砖、破烂招贴、乃至半由投机营造人侵占践踏的大片草地，至此都一概抛在脑后：而代之以光洁无暇的岸滩，步履其上，清风习习，不杂一丝烟气；这里再不是烟尘笼罩，晦暝凄其，而是天明气清，一望无际，沉埋在远处地平线下的船只，桅樯矗立，历历可见—看到这一切真是很大的幸福。

And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us——then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master——her son in that he loves her, her master in that he knows her.

当傍晚的薄雾诗意般的笼罩着河畔，就像罩着一层薄纱，落寞的大楼在阴暗的天空中迷失了自我，高高耸立的烟囱如同一座钟鼓楼，在夜色中，仓库也如同宫殿般华丽，整个城市悬挂在天空中，一片神奇的土地展现于眼前，然后一个徒步旅行者急着赶回家，一个工作狂，也是一个文人，一个智者，也是一个充满乐趣的人。不要去伤脑筋了。不要去想了，自然正在她自己的音调在歌唱，对艺术家唱着她美妙的歌曲，她歌唱她的孩子和知己，爱着她的孩子，懂她的知己。

And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us——then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master——her son in that he loves her, her master in that he knows her.

当旁晚的迷雾以其柔纱般的诗意笼罩着河边，破旧的建筑消失在朦胧的天空，高高的烟囱变成了一座座孤立的钟楼，大大小小的仓库恍如夜色间的宫殿，整个城市悬在了空中，宛若仙境展现在我们眼前，那时候，路上的人们匆匆赶路回家；劳动者和文化人，智者和浪子，认为他们深入观察，他们也就不能理解，而只在此时才开始歌唱的大自然便把自己美妙的歌唱给艺术家---她的儿子和她的主人；说他是儿子是因为他爱她，说他是主人是因为他理解她。

And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us——then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master——her son in that he loves her, her master in that he knows her.

当傍晚的迷雾用它薄纱般的诗意笼罩着河岸，古老的建筑迷失在朦胧的天空，高耸的烟囱幻化成一座座孤立的钟楼，林林总总的仓库就像夜里的宫殿整个城市都悬挂在了天空中，宛如仙境展现在我们眼前，在那时，路上的行人匆匆地赶回家；劳动者和文人，智者和浪子，他们视而不见，自然也就不能理解，而只在此时才开始歌唱的大自然便把自己美妙的歌曲献给了艺术家们——她的儿子和她的主人；说他是儿子是因为他爱她，说他是主人是因为他理解她。

And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us -- then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master - her son in that he loves her, her master in that he knows her.

每当傍晚，那富有诗意的迷雾便如面纱一般笼罩着溪边，陈旧的房屋消失在朦胧的天空，高高的烟囱犹似一座座钟楼，幢幢库房恍如夜间的宫殿，整座城市悬在空中，宛若仙境展现在我们眼前。此时此刻，路上的行人匆匆赶路回家，无论是劳动者还是饱读经书者，智慧者还是寻求乐趣者，只因为他们再也看不见什么，也就不能有所理解。而这时已经开始歌唱的大自然便把自己微妙的歌唱给艺术家，他既是她的儿子也是她的主人。说是她的儿子是因为爱他，说是她的主人是因为理解他。

But we don't care about Battlegrounds.

但我们并不在乎沙场中的显露。

Ah! don't mention it, the butcher's shop is a horror.

啊！不用提了。提到肉，真是糟透了。