[PR]上記の広告は3ヶ月以上新規記事投稿のないブログに表示されています。新しい記事を書く事で広告が消えます。
最近の学習状況について報告します。
『７日でできる韓国語ゆる文法』を楽しみながら、読んでいます。目標は３回まわしです。9/11に第一回目終了しました。9/3に開始して9日目での完走です。途中、煩事に巻き込まれ、若干ペースダウンしましたが、無事完走できました。漆を塗るように何度も塗り重ねて、深い味を出します。（笑）
それと平行して、土日はSkypeレッスン（50分）を受け、ハングルの読みの練習をしています。今のところ教材は朝鮮語の詩が多いけれど、会話文も使用するようになるかもしれません。意味と文法については今のところ頓着しません。ただハングルの正確な発音と語尾変化を習得しようとしています。９月いっぱい時間は取っていますが、満足できなければ延長します。『スムーズに、間違えずに』を目標に、連音化・有声音化・流音化・濃音化・鼻音化をマスターしたい。それと平行して、『韓国語講座初級 木内明著』を土日のどちらかのSkype レッスンで学習しています。
ハングルタイピングを練習しています。『あいうえお』をタイプして、そのあと短い日本文をハングルで、書いています。現在は『早起き日記』に書き込んでいます。
副読本として『韓国語学習Ｑ＆Ａ２００』と『ハングルへの旅』を読んでいます。朝早く目が覚めたときは、ベッドの中で、『シャドウイングで学ぶ韓国語短文会話５００』を２０～３０分たどたどしく読んでいます。（笑）この本のいいところは実際の読み方を下にハングル表記してくれている点です。まだ慣れていない濃音化・鼻音化をちゃんと示してくれます。ＣＤは全然かけずにただひたすら、ハングルを音にしていってます。なまじＣＤをかけると音を聞いて、それをまねして、結局ハングルを読みこなす力がつかないと思って。
こう書くとすごい勢いで勉強しているみたいだけど、実際は１日に１～３時間ぐらいかもしれません。でもあと一ヶ月これを続けていれば、ある程度ハングルが、読めるようになると思う。忘れないスキルとして定着できると思う。朝鮮語の１～１０までの読み方を３０年たっても覚えていたように。
明日からは市の韓国語講座が始まります。何人来るのか、どんな生徒たちなのか、どんな先生なのか、楽しみです。『入門クラス』はすぐ近くの講習会場にないため、『初級Ⅰ』のクラスに申し込んでいます。はたして、特訓の成果が上がって、クラスの内容に付いて行けるのかは次回報告します。
| CEFR | ハングル検定（英検よりの推定） |
| C1 | 1級 |
| B2 | |
| B1 | 2級 |
| A2 | 準2級 |
| A1 | 3級 |
| 9/17 | 9/18 | 9/19 | 9/20 | ||
| 1 | 『7日でできる韓国語ゆる文法』 2回目 | 38p | |||
| 2 | 『キクタン 韓国語 入門編』 1回 | ||||
| 3 | 『韓国語学習 Q＆A200』 1回 | 152p |
『森を抜け
君の手を引けば
そこに広がる喜びが
僕を暖かく包み込む
川に沿って
君の手を引けば
きらめく平和が
僕に優しく語りかける
君はいつの間にか
僕のそばで軽やかに
君はいつも頬をなでる
風のように自由で
僕がゆく道を包む
星あかりの間に
君を連れ出して
一人で口ずさむ歌を
君に聴かせてあげたい
君はいつの間にか
僕のそばで軽やかに
君はいつも頬をなでる
風のように自由で
僕がゆく道を包む』
右クリックして『新しいタブで開く』をクリックしてください。
http://f11.voiceblog.jp/data/sam8823/1346654827.mp3
ネットレッスンをまた受けてみました。発音の復習と前回習った１,２課の復習、そして第３課です。ガンガンやったほうがいいのかもしれない。少なくとも、文字の認識と発音するまでの時間は短くなってきた。今受けているのは５０分タイプのネットスクールだけれど、ガンガンにやるのだったら、一ヶ月定額のiChinaがいいかもしれない。とここまで書いたところで、iChinaの料金を調べてみると、一ヶ月9,800円（632円/50分）であまり安くない。数年前に受けていたときには、5,000円だった気がする。値上げしたんだね。若くてきれいな先生が多いから韓国パブに入りびたりで韓国語を習ってる感じで、そういったのが好きな人は向いているかもしれない。僕は実生活ではクソ真面目で面白みのないヤツだから、せめてバーチャルなネット環境では、不良っぽくやってみたいよね。
“Jerusalem Prize” Remarks
http://www.47news.jp/47topics/e/93880.php?page=all
Good evening. I have come to Jerusalem today as a novelist, which is to say as a professional spinner of lies.
Of course, novelists are not the only ones who tell lies. Politicians do it, too, as we all know. Diplomats and generals tell their own kinds of lies on occasion, as do used car salesmen, butchers and builders. The lies of novelists differ from others, however, in that no one criticizes the novelist as immoral for telling lies. Indeed, the bigger and better his lies and the more ingeniously he creates them, the more he is likely to be praised by the public and the critics. Why should that be?
My answer would be this: namely, that by telling skilful lies--which is to say, by making up fictions that appear to be true--the novelist can bring a truth out to a new place and shine a new light on it. In most cases, it is virtually impossible to grasp a truth in its original form and depict it accurately. This is why we try to grab its tail by luring the truth from its hiding place, transferring it to a fictional location, and replacing it with a fictional form. In order to accomplish this, however, we first have to clarify where the truth-lies within us, within ourselves. This is an important qualification for making up good lies.
Today, however, I have no intention of lying. I will try to be as honest as I can. There are only a few days in the year when I do not engage in telling lies, and today happens to be one of them.
So let me tell you the truth. In Japan a fair number of people advised me not to come here to accept the Jerusalem Prize. Some even warned me they would instigate a boycott of my books if I came. The reason for this, of course, was the fierce fighting that was raging in Gaza. The U.N. reported that more than a thousand people had lost their lives in the blockaded city of Gaza, many of them unarmed citizens--children and old people.
Any number of times after receiving notice of the award, I asked myself whether traveling to Israel at a time like this and accepting a literary prize was the proper thing to do, whether this would create the impression that I supported one side in the conflict, that I endorsed the policies of a nation that chose to unleash its overwhelming military power. Neither, of course, do I wish to see my books subjected to a boycott.
Finally, however, after careful consideration, I made up my mind to come here. One reason for my decision was that all too many people advised me not to do it. Perhaps, like many other novelists, I tend to do the exact opposite of what I am told. If people are telling me-- and especially if they are warning me-- “Don’t go there,” “Don’t do that,” I tend to want to “go there” and “do that”. It’s in my nature, you might say, as a novelist. Novelists are a special breed. They cannot genuinely trust anything they have not seen with their own eyes or touched with their own hands.
And that is why I am here. I chose to come here rather than stay away. I chose to see for myself rather than not to see. I chose to speak to you rather than to say nothing.
Please do allow me to deliver a message, one very personal message. It is something that I always keep in mind while I am writing fiction. I have never gone so far as to write it on a piece of paper and paste it to the wall: rather, it is carved into the wall of my mind, and it goes something like this:
“Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will always stand on the side of the egg.”
Yes, no matter how right the wall may be and how wrong the egg, I will stand with the egg. Someone else will have to decide what is right and what is wrong; perhaps time or history will do it. But if there were a novelist who, for whatever reason, wrote works standing with the wall, of what value would such works be?
What is the meaning of this metaphor? In some cases, it is all too simple and clear. Bombers and tanks and rockets and white phosphorus shells are that high wall. The eggs are the unarmed civilians who are crushed and burned and shot by them. This is one meaning of the metaphor.
But this is not all. It carries a deeper meaning. Think of it this way. Each of us is, more or less, an egg. Each of us is a unique, irreplaceable soul enclosed in a fragile shell. This is true of me, and it is true of each of you. And each of us, to a greater or lesser degree, is confronting a high, solid wall. The wall has a name: it is “The System.” The System is supposed to protect us, but sometimes it takes on a life of its own, and then it begins to kill us and cause us to kill others--coldly, efficiently, systematically.
I have only one reason to write novels, and that is to bring the dignity of the individual soul to the surface and shine a light upon it. The purpose of a story is to sound an alarm, to keep a light trained on the System in order to prevent it from tangling our souls in its web and demeaning them. I truly believe it is the novelist’s job to keep trying to clarify the uniqueness of each individual soul by writing stories--stories of life and death, stories of love, stories that make people cry and quake with fear and shake with laughter. This is why we go on, day after day, concocting fictions with utter seriousness.
My father passed away last year at the age of ninety. He was a retired teacher and a part-time Buddhist priest. When he was in graduate school in Kyoto, he was drafted into the army and sent to fight in China. As a child born after the war, I used to see him every morning before breakfast offering up long, deeply-felt prayers at the small Buddhist altar in our house. One time I asked him why he did this, and he told me he was praying for the people who had died in the battlefield. He was praying for all the people who died, he said, both ally and enemy alike. Staring at his back as he knelt at the altar, I seemed to feel the shadow of death hovering around him.
My father died, and with him he took his memories, memories that I can never know. But the presence of death that lurked about him remains in my own memory. It is one of the few things I carry on from him, and one of the most important.
I have only one thing I hope to convey to you today. We are all human beings, individuals transcending nationality and race and religion, and we are all fragile eggs faced with a solid wall called The System. To all appearances, we have no hope of winning. The wall is too high, too strong--and too cold. If we have any hope of victory at all, it will have to come from our believing in the utter uniqueness and irreplaceability of our own and others’ souls and from our believing in the warmth we gain by joining souls together.
Take a moment to think about this. Each of us possesses a tangible, living soul. The System has no such thing. We must not allow the System to exploit us. We must not allow the System to take on a life of its own. The System did not make us: we made the System.
That is all I have to say to you.
I am grateful to have been awarded the Jerusalem Prize. I am grateful that my books are being read by people in many parts of the world. And I would like to express my gratitude to the readers in Israel. You are the biggest reason why I am here. And I hope we are sharing something, something very meaningful. And I am glad to have had the opportunity to speak to you here today. Thank you very much.
http://book.sina.com.cn/news/c/2009-03-09/1024252129.shtml
今天我作为一个小说家来到耶路撒冷，也就是说，作为一个职业撒谎者。
当然，并不只有小说家才撒谎。政治家也撒谎，外交官和军人有时也说他们自己的那种谎，二手车销售员、肉贩和建筑商也是。但小说家的谎言与其他人的不同，因为没有人会批评小说家说谎不道德。甚至，他说的谎言越好、越大、制造谎言的方式越有独创性，他就越有可能受到公众和评论家的表扬。为什么会这样呢？
我的回答是：通过讲述精巧的谎言，通过编造看起来是真实的虚构故事，小说家能够把一种真实带到新的地方，赋予它新的见解。在多数情况下，要以原初的形态领会一个事实并准确描绘它，几乎是不可能的。因此我们用虚构的形式取而代之。然而，为了完成这点，我们必须首先厘清真实在哪儿。要编造优秀的谎言，这是一种重要的资质。
不过，今天我不打算撒谎。我会努力尽可能地诚实。一年里有几天我不说谎，今天碰巧就是其中之一。所以让我告诉你们一个事实：很多人建议我不要来这儿领取耶路撒冷奖。有些人甚至警告我，如果我来，他们就会策划抵制我的书。此中的原因，当然是肆虐于加沙地区的激烈战争。联合国报道，有超过一千人在被封锁的加沙城内失去了生命，其中不少是手无寸铁的公民——孩子和老人。
收到获奖通知后，我多次问自己，是否要在像这样的时候到以色列来，这是否会造成一种印象，让人以为我支持冲突的某一方，以为我赞同某国决意释放其压倒性军事力量的政策。我不愿予人这种印象。我不赞同任何战争，我不支持任何国家。当然，我也不想看见我的书遭到抵制。
然而仔细考虑，我下定决心来到这里。原因之一是，有太多人建议我不要来。或许，就像许多其他小说家，对于人们要我做的事，我倾向于反其道而行之。如果人们告诉我——尤其当他们警告我——“别去那儿，”“别做那个，”我就倾向于想去那儿，想做那个。这是我作为小说家的天性。小说家是异类。他们不能真正相信任何他们没有亲眼看过、亲手接触过的东西。
那就是我为什么在这儿。
这并不是说我来这儿，是来传达政治讯息的。当然，做出是非判断是小说家最重要的职责之一。然而，把这些判断传达给他人的方式，要留给每个作家来决定。我自己宁愿把它们转化为故事——趋向于超现实的故事。但请你们允许我发表一条非常私人的讯息。这是我写小说时一直记在心里的。我从未郑重其事到把它写在纸上，贴到墙上，我宁愿把它刻在我内心的墙上：
“在一堵坚硬的高墙和一只撞向它的蛋之间，我会永远站在蛋这一边。”
其他人会不得不决定，什么是对，什么是错；也许时间或历史会决定。如果一个小说家，不管出于何种理由，所写的作品站在墙那边，那么这样的作品有价值吗？
这个隐喻的涵义是什么？有些情况下，它实在太简单明白了。轰炸机、坦克、火箭和白磷炮弹是那坚硬的高墙。蛋是那些被碾碎、被烧焦、被射杀的手无寸铁的平民。这是该隐喻的涵义之一。可这不是全部。它有更深刻的涵义。这样来想，我们每个人，或多或少，都是一个蛋。我们每个人都是一个独特的、无法取代的灵魂，被包裹在一个脆弱的壳里。我们每一个人都是。而我们每个人，多多少少都面对着一堵坚硬的高墙。这堵墙有个名字：体制。体制应该保护我们，但有时，它不再受任何人所控，然后它开始杀害我们，及令我们杀害他人——无情地，高效地，系统地。
我写小说只有一个理由，那就是使个人灵魂的尊严显现，并用光芒照耀它。故事的用意是敲响警钟，使一道光线对准体制，以防止我们的灵魂陷于它的网络而自我贬低。我完全相信，小说家的任务是通过写作故事来不断试图厘清每个个体灵魂的独特性——生与死的故事，爱的故事，使人哭泣、使人害怕得发抖和捧腹大笑的故事。这就是为什么我们日复一日，以极其严肃的态度编造虚构故事的原因。
我的父亲去年去世，享年九十。他是位退休教师，兼佛教僧人。读研究院时，他应征入伍，被派去中国打仗。我是战后出生的孩子，经常看见他每日早餐前，在家里的佛坛前长时间虔诚地祈祷。有一次，我问他为什么这样做，他告诉我他是在为那些在战争中死去的人们祈祷。他说，他为所有死去的人祈祷，无论敌友。我的父亲死了，他带走了他的记忆，我永远不可能了解的记忆。但潜藏在他周围的死亡气息却留在了我自身的记忆里。这是少数几样我从他那儿承继下去的东西之一，其中最重要的之一。
我们都是人类，是超越国籍、种族、宗教的个体，是脆弱的蛋，面对着一堵叫作“体制”的坚硬的墙。我们没有获胜的希望。这堵墙太高，太强——也太冷。假如我们有任何赢的希望，那一定来自我们对于自身及他人灵魂绝对的独特性和不可替代性的信任，来自于我们灵魂聚集一处获得的温暖。
花点时间想一想这个吧。我们都拥有一个真实的、活着的灵魂。体制没有。我们不能让体制来利用我们，不能让体制失去控制。是我们造就了体制而不是相反。
那就是所有我要对你们说的话。我很荣幸获得耶路撒冷奖。我很荣幸我的书正被世界上许多地方的人们阅读着。我也很高兴今天有这机会向你们演讲。
日本語訳、発音、解説等は本を買って確かめてね。
| １．連動式述語文 | |||
| 我去图书馆借了两本书。 | |||
| 他们吃过晚饭散步去了。 | |||
| 我写了一封信交给了小郭。 | |||
| 孩子们听完故事都哭了起来。 | |||
| 他去美国留学。 | |||
| 他没去图书馆借书。 | |||
| 你来干什么？ | |||
| 我来参观展览。 | |||
| 妈妈上街买东西。 | |||
| 他们打网球去了。 | |||
| 你不去桂林旅游吗？ | |||
| 你们去不去博物馆参观？ | |||
| 我们坐船去上海。 | |||
| 我们走着去会场。 | |||
| 他不用电脑写文章。 | |||
| 你每天怎么上班？ | |||
| 你用什么写字？ | |||
| 你用什么料子做裙子？ | |||
| 他拉着我的手不放。 | |||
| 他坐着不动。 | |||
| 他突然板起脸不笑了。 | |||
| 我有办法解决这个问题。 | |||
| 我没有钱买这么贵的东西。 | |||
| 他有病不能来了。 | |||
| ２．把構文 | |||
| 你们把这课课文念一念 | |||
| 请先把这张表填一下吧！ | |||
| 我把这本小说看完了。 | |||
| 我把这件衣服干净了。 | |||
| 他把照相机带来了。 | |||
| 他想把头发剪短一点儿 | |||
| 你能把这本词典借给我吗？ | |||
| 我想把这条项链送给她。 | |||
| 我一定要把汉语学好。 | |||
| 我把钥匙忘在房间里了。 | |||
| 麻烦你顺便把这封信交给他。 | |||
| 我没把书还给他。 | |||
| 他还没把信写完。 | |||
| 你不把话说完就想走吗？ | |||
| 不把作业做完就别出去玩儿。 | |||
| 你不应该把自己应负的 | |||
| 责任往别人身上推。 | |||
| 他没有把事情的原因说明。 | |||
| 他们也不能把我怎么样？ | |||
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