记我的第一次讲演 Speech is fleeting, what's written remains

Speech is fleeting, what's written remains 言语稍纵即逝，文字却可长存。 It's said you almost always know when it's your first time doing something, but almost never know when it's your last. 你总会记得第一次做某件事的时间，但几乎不会知道何时会是最后一次。 That's true whichever stage of life you currently find yourself at, be it bubbling up near the beginning or creaking along toward the inevitable end. 无论你发现自己现在身处何种生活阶段，无论是刚开始或是在必然归宿中踽踽独行，都是如此。 But the older you do get, the less likely you are to have any real notable "firsts" anymore. Or at least, those that you do experience become a whole lot less pleasurable. Gone are the days of first kisses and first dates, for instance, to be replaced by the first time you catch yourself groaning audibly while attempting to extricate yourself from a chair. 但是年龄越大，你就越不可能有任何显著的“第一”。也许，那些你经历过的事情会变得没那么令人愉快。例如，第一次亲吻和第一次约会的日子一去不复返，取而代之的是你第一次试图从椅子上解脱出来时听到的呻吟声。 So it was with no small amount of trepidation that I took to the stage in Hangzhou last month for China Daily's second Vision China event, which marked my first-ever foray into public speaking. 上个月我在杭州参加了《中国日报》举办的第二期《新时代大讲堂》活动。这是我第一次尝试公开演讲，我感到惶恐不安。 From the start, it was a somewhat surreal experience. The venue was simply enormous, with a stage-spanning screen and huge speaker stacks that made it look more like the setting for a rock concert. 一开始，我感觉这次经历有点不真实。场地很大，横跨整个舞台的屏幕和巨大扬声器使它看起来更像摇滚音乐会的场景。 A few hours before I was due to go on, I had the chance to rehearse my presentation. But hearing my voice reverberate around the cavernous hall did little to allay my fears. In fact, instead of bolstering my confidence, it only served to set my nerves further on edge. 在我准备演讲前的几个小时，我有机会在台上试讲。但听到我的声音回荡在宽敞的大厅里，我内心的恐惧几乎没有减轻。事实上，这非但没有增强我的信心，反而让我更加紧张。 "This is hopeless," I thought to myself. 我心想：“这是毫无希望的。” "If I can't give a talk to an almost-empty room, what hope do I have once the audience arrives?" “如果我不能在一个空无一人的房间里讲话，那么一旦观众到了，我还有什么希望能够在他们面前讲话呢？” And arrive they did. Almost 1,000 of them. Filling out the venue from the front to the very back. 随后到了将近1000位观众，从前到后，坐满整个会场。 I watched from the sidelines, telling myself I needn't worry and that everything was going to be A-OK. 我在一旁看着，告诉自己不要担心，一切都会好起来。 But the truth is I was a bag of nerves, right up to and including the point that I was called on stage. 但事实是，我一直紧张不安，包括我被叫上舞台那个时候。 Being the last speaker no doubt worked to my advantage. It gave me time to collect my thoughts and watch how the others fared. 毫无疑问，作为最后一位演讲者是我的优势。这给了我时间去梳理思绪，观察其他人的表现。 Yet still, when my time came, I froze up almost completely. Mere seconds into my talk, I was at a total loss for words. 然而，轮到我演讲时，我几乎完全僵住了。仅仅几秒钟，我就愣得完全说不出话来。 My mind went blank and for one brief, panicked moment, I thought I'd forgotten everything. So I just stood there, for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the cogs to start whirring again. 我的大脑一片空白，有那么一瞬间的惊慌，我想我已经忘了一切。于是我就站在那里，似乎动也不动，等待着时间之轮再次转动。 Luckily, it wasn't actually that long before my mind rebooted. After a second or two, I'd rediscovered my rhythm and was forging along, full steam ahead. 幸运的是，在我回神之前，其实没过多久。一两秒钟后，我找回了节奏，加速前进，全力以赴。 There were a couple more stumbles, though nothing too serious, and I even managed to end on something of a high note. 虽然整个演讲还有几处失误，但却不太严重。我甚至几近完美地结束了演讲。 So I'll chalk this one up as a victory, especially if it turns out to be my sole attempt. 如果这是我唯一的尝试，我会把它当作一次成功。 Because you never know when it might be your last time doing something. And though I'm certainly not the world's greatest orator, at least I'll never have to go through all that for the first time again. 因为你永远不知道什么时候可能是你最后一次做某件事。尽管我不是世界上最伟大的演说家，但至少我再也不用第一次经历这一切了。