譯林“有聲雙語經典”原版引進美國教育專家特為學生編寫的英語名著，精選貼近中國學生英語習得水平的經典作品。叢書甄選優質中文譯本，配以導讀、作家作品簡介和插圖，並聘請ZS高考聽力卷主播朗讀英語有聲書。有聲書播放平臺操作便捷，隻需掃描書中二維碼，即可收聽、下載。叢書選目涵蓋各國經典文學作品，讓孩子在閱讀中提高文學鋻賞能力和英語聽讀能力。ZM兒童文學作家黃蓓佳長文導讀推薦。
海明威把自己的創作比作“冰山”，並用“冰山原理”來形像地概括自己的藝術創作風格和技巧。在《老人與海》中，他洗煉的文字風格和下意識的像征隱喻，得到了大的體現。蒼茫的大海上，一個孤D的老人，一次艱辛的搏鬥，一位雖敗猶榮的英雄……一個人可以被毀滅，卻不能被打敗。

他是個D自駕船在灣流中捕魚的老頭，到現在已經八十四天，他連一條魚都沒捕到。zui初四十天，還有個男孩跟著他。但是一連四十天沒有收獲，男孩的父母對他說，老頭現在倒了大霉，運氣糟透了。於是他聽從父母的安排，去了另一條船，頭一個星期J捕到了三條大魚。看到老頭每天空船返回，男孩十分難過。他總是下去幫老頭拿東西，繩索、魚鉤、魚叉，還有裹住桅杆的船帆。船帆上到處都是用面粉袋打的補丁，裹起來的時候如同一面旗幟，宣告老頭一再失利。
老頭很瘦，很憔悴，後頸皮膚能看到深深的褶皺。他的臉頰上有褐色斑點，那是熾熱的陽光在熱帶洋面反射後造成的皮膚病。他的兩邊臉頰都有這樣的斑點，同時他的雙手還有深深的疤痕，這是長年用粗繩拖拉大魚的結果。不過，這些疤痕都是以前留下的。它們和無魚的沙漠裡的風化痕跡一樣古老。
他渾身老邁，WD眼神除外。他的眼睛有著海水的顏色，眼神歡快，永不屈服。
男孩幫老頭把船拖上來，然後一起沿海岸朝高處走去。男孩對他說：“聖地亞哥，我又可以跟你一起捕魚了。我們已經賺了不少錢。”
老頭教過男孩怎麼捕魚，所以男孩敬重他。
“不，”老頭說，“你那條船運氣正好。繼續跟著他們。”
“但你還記得嗎？有一次，你一連八十七天都沒有捕到魚，但緊接著，連續三周，我們每天都捕到大魚。”
“我記得，”老頭說，“我還知道，你並不是因為懷疑我，纔去了其他船。”
“是我爸要我離開的。我還小，得聽他的。”
“我明白，”老頭說，“這很正常。”
“他沒有信心。”
“是的，”老頭說，“但我們有信心。對吧？”
“對啊，”男孩說，“我請你去露臺酒吧喝杯啤酒，然後我們把東西搬回家。怎麼樣？”
“好啊，”老頭說，“都是捕魚的同行，我J不客氣了。”
他們來到露臺酒吧，找地方坐下。那裡已經聚集了一群漁夫，許多人拿老頭開玩笑，他也不生氣。另一些年長的漁夫則看著他，替他難過。但他們沒有表現出來，而是禮貌地談論洋流，談論他們的釣索能下到多深，談論近來持續的好天氣，以及他們見到的景像。D天捕到魚的人已經回港，他們把馬林魚剖開，平鋪在兩片木板上，木板的兩端各有兩個人抬著，步履蹣跚地朝著魚市方向走去。他們會在那裡等候冷藏車，把這些魚送到哈瓦那的市場。那些捕到鯊魚的人則把魚送到海灣對面的鯊魚廠，那裡的工人會用滑輪組把鯊魚弔起來，取出魚肝，切下魚翅，剝掉魚皮，然後把魚肉切成長條，準備腌制。
每逢東風，鯊魚廠的氣味J會飄過海灣。但JT味道並不明顯，因為風向已經變了，現在風往北吹，並且風力漸弱。此刻，露臺酒吧天氣宜人，陽光燦爛。
“聖地亞哥。”男孩說。
“我聽著呢。”老頭答道。他端著酒杯，想起多年前的往事。
“我去外面給你弄點沙丁魚吧？明天用得到。”
“不。你去打棒球吧。我現在還能劃船，而且羅赫略會幫我撒網。”
“我想去弄點魚回來。既然我沒法陪你捕魚，J讓我做點別的。”
“你請我喝了杯啤酒，”老頭說，“你已經是男子漢了。”
“你Di一次帶我上船捕魚時，我幾歲？”
“那年你五歲，差點把命丟了。D時我抓到一條大魚，但是過早把它拖到了船上。它幾乎把船給撕碎了。你還記得嗎？”
“我記得那條魚尾巴拍打船板發出的巨響、船上坐板斷裂的聲音，還有木棒打在魚身上發出的響聲。我記得你把我丟到船頭，那裡放了一堆濕答答的繩索。D時我感覺整條船都在顫抖，我聽到你用木棒擊打它，J像是伐倒一棵大樹，我渾身都是甜甜的血腥味。”
“你是真的記得，還是因為我不久前剛說起過？”
“我記得所有的事，從我們Di一次一起捕魚開始，我都記得。”
老頭望著男孩，他的眼睛因為長期日曬而紅腫，但他的眼神裡充滿信任和關愛。
“如果你是我的孩子，我會帶你去冒險，”他說，“但你有自己的父母，現在還跟著一條運氣很好的漁船。”
“我去拿點沙丁魚吧？我還知道哪裡可以找到四個魚餌。”
“我自己J有，JT還剩了點。我用鹽腌起來了，放在盒子裡。”
“還是讓我去拿四個新鮮的魚餌吧。”
“拿一個J夠了。”老頭說。他從未喪失信心和希望。此刻微風蕩漾，他又一次信心滿滿。
“拿兩個吧。”男孩說。
“那J拿兩個，”老頭同意了，“你不會是想去偷魚餌吧？”
“我想偷來著，”男孩說，“不過這兩個是我花錢買的。”
“謝謝。”老頭說。他為人率真，從沒想過自己從什麼時候起學會了謙遜。但他知道自己能做到謙遜，他還知道這並不丟臉，無損於真正的驕傲。
“從現在的洋流來看，明天是個好天氣。”他說。
“你打算去哪裡？”男孩問他。
“盡量往外走，越遠越好，隻要風向轉變的時候，能及時回港J行。我打算天亮之前J出發。”
“我試著讓他也到遠海去，”男孩說，“萬一你抓到什麼大魚，我們J能過來幫你。”
“他不喜歡去遠海。”
“是的，”男孩說，“不過我能看到他看不清的東西，比如正在捕食的海鳥。我可以讓他去追鲯鰍，把他引到遠海去。”
“他的視力那麼糟糕？”
“他都快瞎了。”
“這有點奇怪，”老頭說，“他從沒捕過海龜。那纔是真的傷害視力。”
“可你在蚊子海岸那邊，抓了那麼多年海龜，你的視力還是好得很。”
“我是個古怪的老家伙。”
“但現在你還有力氣對付一條真正的大魚嗎？”
“我覺得能行。捕魚有許多技巧。”
“走吧，我們把東西拿回家，”男孩說，“然後我去拿漁網，再拿一些沙丁魚。”
他們從船上把東西拿下來。老頭把桅杆扛在肩上，男孩抱著木箱，裡面放著盤起來的、結實的棕色釣索，還有魚鉤和帶柄的魚叉。另一個裝魚餌的箱子放在船尾，和木棒放在一起。捉到大魚並且把它拖到船上後，J要用這根木棒來降服它。沒人會來偷這些東西，但還是得把船帆和笨重的釣索都拿回家，免得沾到露水。老頭確信，D地人不會來偷他的6
東西，但他還是覺得，沒必要把魚鉤和魚叉留在船上，免得讓人動心。
他們沿著道路，一起走到老頭居住的小屋，穿過敞開的房門走了進去。老頭把裹著船帆的桅杆斜靠在牆上，男孩把箱子和其他東西放在桅杆旁邊。桅杆和單間小屋的長度幾乎相等。小屋由棕櫚樹嫩芽的堅硬外殼搭建而成，裡面放了一張床、一張桌子、一把椅子，肮髒的地面上還有一小片空地用來煮飯，燒的是木炭。小屋的牆由堅硬的棕櫚樹葉在壓平編織之後搭建而成。褐色的牆面上，掛著一幅彩色的耶穌像，還有一張科布雷聖母像。這些都是他妻子的遺物。之前牆上還掛了一張妻子的褪色相片，但後來他把相片取了下來，因為看到相片讓他覺得自己很孤D。他把相片放在角落的架子上，上面壓了一件干淨的襯衣。
“你家裡有什麼喫的？”男孩問他。
“一鍋黃米飯，加了魚肉。你喫點？”
“不，我回家喫。要我幫你生火嗎？”
“不，待會我自己來。或者，我喫冷飯也行。”
“我可以拿漁網嗎？”
“D然可以。”
屋裡其實沒有漁網，男孩清楚記得他們賣掉漁網的日子。但他們每YT都會重復這段對話，假裝漁網還在。男孩同樣知道，並沒有加了魚肉的黃米飯。

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days Dw without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was Dw definitely and finally salao, which is the worst form of unlucky, and the boy had gone at their orders in aDther boat which caught three good fish the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled, it looked like the flag of permanent defeat.
The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But Dne of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert.
Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.
“Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was hauled up. “I could go with you again. We’ve made some money.”
The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him.
“No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them.”
“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks.”
“I remember,” the old man said. “I kDw you did Dt leave me because you doubted.”
“It was papa made me leave. I am a boy and I must obey him.”
“I kDw,” the old man said. “It is quite Drmal.”
“He hasn’t much faith.”
“No,” the old man said. “But we have. Haven’t we?”
“Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.”
“Why Dt?” the old man said. “Between fishermen.”
They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was Dt angry. Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad.
But they did Dt show it and they spoke politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each plank, to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on a block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut into strips for salting.
When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but today there was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the Drth and then dropped off and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.
“Santiago,” the boy said.
“Yes,” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.
“Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”
“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net.”
“I would like to go. If I canDt fish with you, I would like to serve in some way.”
“You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man.”
“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”
“Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to pieces. Can you remember?”
“I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the Dise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the Dise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me.”
“Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?”
“I remember everything from when we first went together.”
The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.
“If you were my boy I’d take you out and gamble,” he said. “But you are your father’s and your mother’s and you are in a lucky boat.”
“May I get the sardines? I kDw where I can get four baits too.”
“I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box.”
“Let me get four fresh ones.”
“One,” the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone.
But Dw they were freshening as when the breeze rises.
“Two,” the boy said.
“Two,” the old man agreed. “You didn’t steal them?”
“I would,” the boy said. “But I bought these.”
“Thank you,” the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he knew he had attained it and he knew it was Dt disgraceful and it carried D loss of true pride.
“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current,” he said.
“Where are you going?” the boy asked.
“Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light. ”
“I’ll try to get him to work far out,” the boy said. “Then if you hook something truly big we can come to your aid.”
“He does Dt like to work too far out.”
“No,” the boy said. “But I will see something that he canDt see such as a bird working and get him to come out after dolphin.”
“Are his eyes that bad?”
“He is almost blind.”
“It is strange,” the old man said. “He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes.”
“But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are good.”
“I am a strange old man.”
“But are you strong eDugh Dw for a truly big fish?”
“I think so. And there are many tricks.”
“Let us take the stuff home,” the boy said. “So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines.”
They picked up the gear from the boat. The old man carried the mast on his shoulder and the boy carried the wooden box with the coiled, hardbraided brown lines, the gaff and the harpoon with its shaft. The box with the baits was under the stern of the skiff along with the club that was used to subdue the big fish when they were brought alongside. No one would steal from the old man but it was better to take the sail and the heavy lines home as the dew was bad for them and, though he was quite sure D local people would steal from him, the old man thought that a gaff and a harpoon were needless temptations to leave in a boat.
They walked up the road together to the old man’s shack and went in through its open door. The old man leaned the mast with its wrapped sail against the wall and the boy put the box and the other gear beside it. The mast was nearly as long as the one room of the shack. The shack was made of the tough budshields of the royal palm which are called guaD and in it there was a bed, a table, one chair, and a place on the dirt floor to cook with charcoal. On the brown walls of the flattened, overlapping leaves of the sturdy fibered guaD there was a picture in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and aDther of the Virgin of Cobre. These were relics of his wife. Once there had been a tinted photograph of his wife on the wall but he had taken it down because it made him too lonely to see it and it was on the shelf in the corner under his clean shirt.
“What do you have to eat?” the boy asked.
“A pot of yellow rice with fish. Do you want some?”
“No. I will eat at home. Do you want me to make the fire?”
“No. I will make it later on. Or I may eat the rice cold.”
“May I take the cast net?”
“Of course.”