The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressively Translated Vietnamese A1 Books

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressively Translated Vietnamese A1 Books

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THEPREFACE
Theartistis
những
the
creatorofbeautifulthings.
Torevealart
and
concealtheartistisart’saim.
Những
The
criticishewho
có thể
can
translateintoanothermanner
hoặc
or
anewmaterialhisimpressionof
đẹp
beautiful
things.
Thehighestasthelowestformofcriticismis
một
a
modeofautobiography.
Those
người
who
finduglymeaningsin
đẹp
beautiful
thingsarecorruptwithoutbeingcharming.
Đây
This
isafault.
Those
người
who
findbeautifulmeaningsin
đẹp
beautiful
thingsarethecultivated.
For
những
these
thereishope.
Theyare
những
the
electtowhombeautifulthingsmean
chỉ
only
beauty.
Thereisnosuchthingasamoral
hay
or
animmoralbook.
Booksare
tốt
well
written,orbadlywritten.
Đó
That
isall.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismistherageofCalibanseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismistherageofCalibannotseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
Themoral
cuộc sống
life
ofmanformspartofthesubject-matteroftheartist,
nhưng
but
themoralityofartconsistsintheperfect
sử dụng
use
ofanimperfectmedium.
Không
No
artistdesirestoproveanything.
Ngay cả
Even
thingsthataretrue
có thể
can
beproved.
Noartisthasethicalsympathies.
Một
An
ethicalsympathyinanartistis
một
an
unpardonablemannerismofstyle.
Không
No
artistisevermorbid.
Theartist
có thể
can
expresseverything.
Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsof
một
an
art.
Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsfor
một
an
art.
Fromthepointofviewofform,
các
the
typeofalltheartsis
các
the
artofthemusician.
Fromthe
điểm
point
ofviewoffeeling,theactor’scraftisthetype.
Tất cả
All
artisatoncesurface
and
symbol.
Thosewhogobeneaththesurface
làm
do
soattheirperil.
Those
người
who
readthesymboldosoattheirperil.
Itisthespectator,
and
notlife,thatart
thực sự
really
mirrors.
Diversityofopinion
về
about
aworkofartshowsthatthe
tác phẩm
work
isnew,complex,andvital.
Khi
When
criticsdisagree,theartistisinaccord
với
with
himself.
Wecanforgive
một
a
manformakingauseful
thứ
thing
aslongashedoesnotadmire
it
.
Theonlyexcuseformakingauseless
thứ
thing
isthatoneadmiresitintensely.
Tất cả
All
artisquiteuseless.
CHAPTERI.
Những
The
studiowasfilledwith
những
the
richodourofroses,
and
whenthelightsummerwindstirredamidst
những
the
treesofthegarden,therecame
qua
through
theopendoortheheavyscentof
những
the
lilac,orthemoredelicateperfumeof
những
the
pink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagson
đó
which
hewaslying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,
Chúa
Lord
HenryWottoncouldjust
bắt
catch
thegleamofthehoney-sweet
and
honey-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyabletobeartheburdenof
một
a
beautysoflamelikeastheirs;
and
nowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthe
dài
long
tussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedin
trước
front
ofthehugewindow,producinga
loại
kind
ofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,
and
makinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyo
người
who
,throughthemediumofanartthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythesenseofswiftness
and
motion.
Thesullenmurmurof
những
the
beesshoulderingtheirway
qua
through
thelongunmowngrass,
hoặc
or
circlingwithmonotonousinsistenceround
những
the
dustygilthornsof
những
the
stragglingwoodbine,seemedto
làm
make
thestillnessmoreoppressive.
ThedimroarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteof
một
a
distantorgan.
Inthecentreofthe
phòng
room
,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-lengthportraitofa
trẻ
young
manofextraordinarypersonalbeauty,
and
infrontofit,some
chút
little
distanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whosesuddendisappearancesomeyearsagocaused,atthetime,suchpublicexcitement
and
gaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthepainterlookedatthegracious
and
comelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhisart,
một
a
smileofpleasurepassedacrosshisface,
and
seemedabouttolinger
đó
there
.
Buthesuddenlystartedup,
and
closinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhisbrain
một
some
curiousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
“Itisyour
nhất
best
work,Basil,thebest
điều
thing
youhaveeverdone,”said
Chúa
Lord
Henrylanguidly.
“Youmustcertainly
gửi
send
itnextyeartotheGrosvenor.
TheAcademyis
quá
too
largeandtoovulgar.
WheneverIhavegonethere,therehavebeeneitherso
nhiều
many
peoplethatIhavenotbeen
thể
able
toseethepictures,whichwasdreadful,orso
nhiều
many
picturesthatIhavenotbeen
thể
able
toseethepeople,whichwasworse.
TheGrosvenoris
thực sự
really
theonlyplace.”
“Idon’t
nghĩ rằng
think
Ishallsenditanywhere,”heanswered,tossinghis
đầu
head
backinthatodd
cách
way
thatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’t
gửi
send
itanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrows
and
lookedathiminamazementthrough
những
the
thinbluewreathsofsmoke
that
curledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Not
gửi
send
itanywhere?
Mydearfellow,
sao
why
?
Haveyouanyreason?
Whatoddchapsyoupaintersare!
You
làm
do
anythingintheworldtogainareputation.
As
ngay
soon
asyouhaveone,youseemto
muốn
want
tothrowitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereis
chỉ
only
onethingintheworldworse
hơn
than
beingtalkedabout,andthatisnotbeingtalkedabout.
Một
A
portraitlikethiswould
đặt
set
youfaraboveall
những
the
youngmeninEngland,
and
maketheoldmen
khá
quite
jealous,ifoldmenareevercapableof
bất kỳ
any
emotion.”
“Iknowyou
sẽ
will
laughatme,”hereplied,“butI
thực sự
really
can’texhibitit.
I
đã
have
puttoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
Chúa
Lord
Henrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivan
and
laughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
nhưng
but
itisquitetrue,
tất cả
all
thesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfin
đó
it
!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’t
biết
know
youweresovain;
and
Ireallycan’tsee
bất kỳ
any
resemblancebetweenyou,withyourruggedstrongface
and
yourcoal-blackhair,and
này
this
youngAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutofivory
and
rose-leaves.
Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,
and
you—well,ofcourseyou
have
anintellectualexpressionand
tất cả
all
that.
Butbeauty,realbeauty,ends
nơi
where
anintellectualexpressionbegins.
Intellectisinitself
một
a
modeofexaggeration,anddestroystheharmonyof
bất kỳ
any
face.
Themomentonesits
xuống
down
tothink,onebecomes
tất cả
all
nose,orallforehead,
hoặc
or
somethinghorrid.
Lookat
những
the
successfulmeninanyof
những
the
learnedprofessions.
Howperfectlyhideousthey
are
!
Except,ofcourse,intheChurch.
Nhưng
But
thenintheChurchtheydon’tthink.
Một
A
bishopkeepsonsayingat
những
the
ageofeightywhathewastoldtosay
khi
when
hewasaboyofeighteen,
and
asanaturalconsequencehe
luôn luôn
always
looksabsolutelydelightful.
Yourmysterious
trẻ
young
friend,whosenameyouhavenevertold
tôi
me
,butwhosepicturereallyfascinates
tôi
me
,neverthinks.
Ifeel
khá
quite
sureofthat.
Heis
một
some
brainlessbeautifulcreaturewho
nên
should
bealwayshereinwinter
khi
when
wehavenoflowersto
nhìn
look
at,andalwayshereinsummer
khi
when
wewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.
Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’t
hiểu
understand
me,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“OfcourseIamnotlike
anh ta
him
.
Iknowthatperfectlywell.
Indeed,Ishouldbe
tiếc
sorry
tolooklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iamtellingyouthe
sự thật
truth
.
Thereisafatality
về
about
allphysicalandintellectualdistinction,the
loại
sort
offatalitythatseemstodog
qua
through
historythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itisbetternottobe
khác
different
fromone’sfellows.
Theugly
and
thestupidhavethe
nhất
best
ofitinthisworld.
They
có thể
can
sitattheirease
and
gapeattheplay.
Nếu
If
theyknownothingofvictory,theyareat
ít
least
sparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.
They
sống
live
asweallshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,
and
withoutdisquiet.
Theyneitherbringruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands.
Yourrank
and
wealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,
bất cứ điều gì
whatever
itmaybeworth;
DorianGray’s
chịu
good
looks—weshallallsufferforwhatthegods
đã
have
givenus,sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Is
đó
that
hisname?”
askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,
đó
that
ishisname.
Ididn’tintendto
nói
tell
ittoyou.”
“But
sao
why
not?”
“Oh,Ican’texplain.
Khi
When
Ilikepeopleimmensely,I
không bao giờ
never
telltheirnamestoany
ai
one
.
Itislikesurrendering
một
a
partofthem.
I
đã
have
growntolovesecrecy.
Itseemstobetheone
điều
thing
thatcanmakemodern
cuộc sống
life
mysteriousormarvelloustous.
Thecommonest
điều
thing
isdelightfulifone
chỉ
only
hidesit.
WhenIleave
thị trấn
town
nowInevertellmy
người
people
whereIamgoing.
Nếu
If
Idid,Iwould
mất
lose
allmypleasure.
Itis
một
a
sillyhabit,Idare
nói
say
,butsomehowitseemstobring
một
a
greatdealofromanceintoone’s
cuộc sống
life
.
Isupposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolish
về
about
it?”
“Notatall,”answered
Chúa
Lord
Henry,“notatall,my
thân
dear
Basil.
Youseemto
quên
forget
thatIammarried,
and
theonecharmofmarriageis
rằng
that
itmakesalifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryfor
cả
both
parties.
Ineverknowwheremy
vợ
wife
is,andmywife
không bao giờ
never
knowswhatIamdoing.
Khi
When
wemeet—wedomeetoccasionally,
khi
when
wedineouttogether,
hoặc
or
godowntotheDuke’s—wetelleachother
những
the
mostabsurdstorieswith
những
the
mostseriousfaces.
My
vợ
wife
isverygoodatit—muchbetter,infact,thanIam.
She
không bao giờ
never
getsconfusedoverherdates,
and
Ialwaysdo.
But
khi
when
shedoesfindme
ra
out
,shemakesnorowatall.
I
đôi khi
sometimes
wishshewould;
butshemerelylaughsatme.”
“I
ghét
hate
thewayyoutalk
về
about
yourmarriedlife,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,strollingtowardsthedoorthatledintothegarden.
“I
tin
believe
thatyouarereally
một
a
verygoodhusband,but
rằng
that
youarethoroughlyashamedofyour
riêng
own
virtues.
Youareanextraordinaryfellow.
You
không bao giờ
never
sayamoralthing,
and
youneverdoawrong
điều
thing
.
Yourcynicismissimply
một
a
pose.”
“Beingnaturalissimply
một
a
pose,andthemostirritatingposeIknow,”cried
Chúa
Lord
Henry,laughing;
andthe
hai
two
youngmenwentoutintothegardentogether
and
ensconcedthemselvesona
dài
long
bambooseatthatstoodintheshadeof
một
a
talllaurelbush.
Thesunlightslipped
qua
over
thepolishedleaves.
In
những
the
grass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Sau
After
apause,LordHenrypulled
ra
out
hiswatch.
“IamafraidI
phải
must
begoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeI
đi
go
,IinsistonyouransweringaquestionI
đặt
put
toyousometimeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedontheground.
“You
biết
know
quitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,I
sẽ
will
tellyouwhatit
is
.
Iwantyoutoexplaintome
sao
why
youwon’texhibitDorianGray’spicture.
I
muốn
want
therealreason.”
“Itoldyoutherealreason.”
“No,youdidnot.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewas
quá
too
muchofyourselfinit.
Bây giờ
Now
,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”saidBasilHallward,lookinghimstraightin
những
the
face,“everyportraitthatispainted
với
with
feelingisaportraitof
những
the
artist,notofthesitter.
Thesitterismerelytheaccident,theoccasion.
Itisnothewhoisrevealedbythepainter;
itisratherthepainterwho,onthecolouredcanvas,revealshimself.
The
lý do
reason
Iwillnotexhibit
này
this
pictureisthatIam
sợ
afraid
thatIhaveshowninitthesecretofmyownsoul.”
Chúa
Lord
Henrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
heasked.
“I
sẽ
will
tellyou,”saidHallward;
nhưng
but
anexpressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.
“Iam
tất cả
all
expectation,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingat
anh ta
him
.
“Oh,thereisreally
rất
very
littletotell,Harry,”answeredthepainter;
“andIamafraidyou
sẽ
will
hardlyunderstandit.
Perhapsyou
sẽ
will
hardlybelieveit.”
LordHenrysmiled,
and
leaningdown,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfromthegrass
and
examinedit.
“Iam
khá
quite
sureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,gazingintentlyatthe
nhỏ
little
golden,white-feathereddisk,“andasforbelievingthings,I
có thể
can
believeanything,providedthatitis
khá
quite
incredible.”
Thewindshook
một
some
blossomsfromthetrees,
and
theheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedto
and
frointhelanguid
khí
air
.
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythewall,
and
likeabluethread
một
a
longthindragon-flyfloated
qua
past
onitsbrowngauzewings.
Chúa
Lord
Henryfeltasifhecould
nghe
hear
BasilHallward’sheartbeating,
and
wonderedwhatwascoming.
“The
chuyện
story
issimplythis,”saidthepainter
sau
after
sometime.
“Twomonths
trước
ago
Iwenttoacrushat
Lady
Lady
Brandon’s.
Youknowwepoorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromtimetotime,
chỉ
just
toremindthepublic
rằng
that
wearenotsavages.
Với
With
aneveningcoatanda
trắng
white
tie,asyoutoldme
lần
once
,anybody,evenastock-broker,
có thể
can
gainareputationforbeingcivilized.
Vâng
Well
,afterIhadbeeninthe
phòng
room
abouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagers
and
tediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconsciousthatsome
ai
one
waslookingatme.
Iturnedhalf-wayround
and
sawDorianGrayforthefirst
lần
time
.
Whenoureyesmet,IfeltthatIwasgrowingpale.
Một
A
curioussensationofterrorcameover
tôi
me
.
IknewthatIhadcomefacetoface
với
with
someonewhosemerepersonalitywassofascinating
rằng
that
,ifIalloweditto
làm
do
so,itwouldabsorbmywholenature,mywholesoul,myveryartitself.
Ididnot
muốn
want
anyexternalinfluenceinmy
cuộc sống
life
.
Youknowyourself,Harry,howindependentIambynature.
Ihave
luôn luôn
always
beenmyownmaster;
hadat
ít
least
alwaysbeenso,tillImetDorianGray.
Then—butIdon’t
biết
know
howtoexplainittoyou.
Something
seemedtotellmethatIwasonthevergeof
một
a
terriblecrisisinmy
cuộc sống
life
.
Ihadastrangefeeling
rằng
that
fatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoys
and
exquisitesorrows.
Igrew
sợ
afraid
andturnedtoquitthe
phòng
room
.
Itwasnotconsciencethatmademe
làm
do
so:
itwasa
loại
sort
ofcowardice.
Itake
không
no
credittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscience
and
cowardicearereallythe
tương tự
same
things,Basil.
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Đó
That
isall.”
“Idon’t
tin
believe
that,Harry,andIdon’t
tin
believe
youdoeither.
However,whateverwasmymotive—andit
có thể
may
havebeenpride,forIusedtobe
rất
very
proud—Icertainlystruggledtothe
cửa
door
.
There,ofcourse,Istumbledagainst
Lady
Lady
Brandon.
‘Youarenotgoingto
chạy
run
awaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
You
biết
know
hercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheis
một
a
peacockineverythingbutbeauty,”said
Chúa
Lord
Henry,pullingthedaisytobitswithhis
dài
long
nervousfingers.
“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
and
peoplewithstarsandgarters,
and
elderlyladieswithgigantictiaras
and
parrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihad
chỉ
only
metheroncebefore,
nhưng
but
shetookitintoher
đầu
head
tolionizeme.
I
tin
believe
somepictureofminehadmadea
lớn
great
successatthetime,at
ít
least
hadbeenchatteredaboutin
các
the
pennynewspapers,whichis
các
the
nineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetoface
với
with
theyoungmanwhosepersonalityhadsostrangelystirredme.