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《乞力马扎罗山的雪》是一则描写死亡逼近的故事，不仅充斥了死亡的意向，甚至能使人嗅到死亡的气息。全文以死亡开始―“奇怪的是它一点也不痛，”哈利在第一行中这样说道，“它”自然是指哈利即将迎来的生命终结―并以女人剧烈跳动的心脏和哈利魂不附体、已经僵硬的尸体形成的对比结束，极具反讽意味。乞力马扎罗山顶圣洁的白雪与出没于哈利帐篷之外那群蹑手蹑脚、令人反感的鬣狗都是死亡的象征。
海明威在故事中运用了大量的象征手法来传达死亡这一概念。女人到帐篷之外去杀生，之所以不让哈利看到是因为她不愿惊扰野生生物。而深究下去，是因为她不愿在她濒临死亡的丈夫面前杀生。鬣狗（一种以食腐尸为生的生物）在帐篷周围蹑手蹑脚地穿行，预示了哈利恐惧的那一“溃烂的死亡”。甚至，哈利与妻子之间的关系也象征了他所濒临的死亡。他说他们的争吵“夺走了把他俩维系在一起的东西”。
但死亡降临的一刻却是当机立断，没有溃烂和丝毫痛楚。死是一种超脱。哈利陷入了昏迷状态，他仿佛看到朋友加普顿乘着直升机前来搭救他。下降的飞机掠过乞力马扎罗山炫目的白色山顶。哈利描绘出的这一意象马上会使读者想到文章开头的警句，“在西高峰的近旁，有一具已经风干冻僵的豹子的尸体。豹子到这样高寒的地方来寻找什么，没有人作过解释”。哈利似乎找到了答案，这是一种远离尘世的超脱。
When she goes，he thought.I’ll have all I want.Not all I want but all there is.Ayee，he was tired.Too tired.He was going to sleep a little while.He lay still and death was not there.It must have gone around another street.It went in pairs，on bicycles，and moved absolutely silently on the pavements[2]。
No，he had never written about Paris.Not the Paris that he cared about.But what about the rest that he had never written？
What about the ranch[3]and the silvered grey of the sage brush，the quick，clear water in the irrigation ditches，and the heavy green of the alfalfa[4]？The trail went up into the hills and the cattle in the summer were shy as deer.The bawling[5]and the steady noise and slow moving mass raising a dust as you brought them down in the fall.And behind the mountains，the clear sharpness of the peak in the evening light and，riding down along the train in the moonlight，bright across the valley.
Now ，he remembered coming down through the timber in the dark holding the horse’s tail when you could not see and all the stories that he meant to write.
About the half-wit[6]chore boy who was left at the ranch that time and told not to let anyone get any hay，and that old bastard from the Forks who had beaten the boy when he had worked for him stopping to get some feed.The boy refusing and the old man saying he would beat him again.The boy got the rifle from the kitchen and shot him when he tried to come into the barn and when they came back to the ranch he’d been dead a week，frozen in the corral[7]，and the dogs had eaten part of him.But what was left you packed on a sled[8]wrapped in a blanket and roped on and you got the boy to help you haul it，and the two of you took it out over the road on skis，and sixty miles down to town to turn the boy over.He having no idea that he would be arrested.Thinking he had done his duty and that you were his friend and he would be rewarded.He’d helped to haul the old man in so everybody could know how bad the old man had been，and how he’d tried to steal some feed that didn’t belong to him，and when the sheriff[9]put the handcuffs on the boy he couldn’t believe it.Then he’d started to cry.That was one story he had saved to write.He knew at least twenty good stories from out there and he had never written one.Why？
‘You tell them why，’he said.
‘Why what，dear？’
‘Why nothing.’
She didn’t drink so much，now，since she had him.But if he lived he would never write about her，he knew that now.
Nor about any of them.The rich were dull and they drank too much，or they played too much backgammon[10].They were dull and they were repetitious[11].He remembered poor Julian and his romantic awe of them and how he had started a story once that began，‘The very rich are different from you and me.’And how someone had said to Julian.Yes，they have more money.But that was not humorous to Julian.
He thought， they were a special glamorous[12]race and when he found they weren’t it wrecked him just as much as any other thing that wrecked him.
He had been contemptuous[13]of those who wrecked.You did not have to like it because you understood it.He could beat anything，he thought，because nothing could hurt him if he did not care.
All right.Now he would not care for death.One thing he had always dreaded was the pain.He could stand pain as well as any man，until it went on too long，and wore him out[14]，but here he had something that had hurt frightfully and just when he had felt it breaking him，the pain had stopped.
He remembered ，long ago when Williamson，the bombing officer，had been hit by a stick bomb someone in a German patrol had thrown as he was coming in through the wire that night and，screaming，had begged everyone to kill him.He was a fat man，very brave，and a good officer，although addicted to fantastic shows.But that night he was caught in the wire，with a flare lighting him up and his bowels spilled out into the wire，so when they brought him in，alive，they had to cut him loose.Shoot me，Harry.For Christ sake shoot me.They had had an argument one time about our Lord never sending you anything you could not bear and someone’s theory had been that meant that a certain time the pain passed you out automatically.But he had always remembered Williamson，that night.Nothing passed out Williamson until he gave him all his morphine[15]tablets that he had always saved to use himself and then they did not work right away.
Still this now，that he had，was very easy；and if it was no worse as it went on there was nothing to worry about.Except that he would rather be in better company.
He thought ，a little about the company that he would like to have.
No，he thought，when everything you do，you do too long，and do too late，you can’t expect to find the people still there.
The people are all gone.The party’s over and you are with your hostess now.
I’m getting as bored with dying as with everything else，he thought.
‘It’s a bore，’he said out loud.
‘What is，my dear？’
‘Anything you do too bloody long.’
He looked at ，her face between him and the fire.She was leaning back in the chair and the firelight shone on her pleasantly lined face and he could see that she was sleepy.
He heard the hyena[16]make a noise just outside the range of the fire.
‘I’ve been writing，’he said.‘But I got tired，’
‘Do you think you will be able to sleep？’
‘Pretty sure.Why don’t you turn in？’
‘I like to sit here with you.’
‘Do you feel anything strange？’he asked her.
‘No.Just a little sleepy.’
‘I do，’he said.
He had just felt ，death come by again.
‘You know the only thing I’ve never lost is curiosity，’he said to her.
‘You’ve never lost anything.You’re the most complete man I’ve ever known.’
‘Christ，’he said.‘How little a woman knows.What is that？Your intuition？’
Because，just then，death had come and rested its head on the foot of the cot and he could smell its breath.
‘Never believe any of that about a scythe and a skull，’he told her.‘It can be two bicycle policemen as easily or be a bird.Or it can have a wide snout like a hyena.’
It had moved up on him now，but it had no shape any more.It simply occupied space.
‘Tell it to go away.’
It did not go away ，but moved a little closer.
‘You’ve got a hell of a breath，’he told it.‘You stinking[17]bastard.’
It moved up closer to him still ，and now he could not speak to it，and when it saw he could not speak it came a little closer，and now he tried to send it away without speaking，but it moved in on him so its weight was all upon his chest，and while it crouched there and he could not move，or speak，he heard the woman say，‘Bwana is asleep now.Take the cot up very gently and carry it into the tent’。
He could not， speak to tell her to make it go away and it crouched now，heavier so he could not breathe.And then，while they lifted the cot，suddenly it was all right and the weight went from his chest.
It was， morning and had been morning for some time and he heard the plane.It showed very tiny and then made a wide circle and the boys ran out and lit the fires，using kerosene[18]，and piled on grass so there were two big smudges[19]at each end of the level place and the morning breeze blew them toward the camp and the plane circled twice more，low this time，and then glided down and levelled off and landed smoothly and，coming walking toward him，was old Compton in slacks，a tweed jacket and a brown felt hat.
‘What’s the matter，old cock？’Compton said.
‘Bad leg，’he told him.‘Will you have some breakfast？’
‘Thanks.I’ll just have some tea.It’s the Puss Moth，you know.I won’t be able to take the Memsahib.There’s only room for one.Your lorry is on the way.’
Helen had ，taken Compton aside and was speaking to him.
Compton ，came back more cheery than ever.
‘We’ll get you right in，’he said.‘I’ll be back for the Mem.Now I’m afraid I’ll have to stop at Arusha to refuel.We’d better get going.’
‘What about the tea？’
‘I don’t really care about it，you know.’
The boys ，had picked up the cot and carried it around the green tents and down along the rock and out on to the plain and along past the smudges that were burning brightly now，the grass all consumed，and the wind fanning the fire，to the little plane.It was difficult getting him in，but once in he lay back in the leather seat，and the leg was stuck straight out to one side of the seat where Compton sat.Compton started the motor and got in.He waved to Helen and to the boys and，as the clatter moved into the old familiar roar，they swung around with Compie watching for wart-hog holes and roared，bumping，along the stretch between the fires and with the last bump rose and he saw them all standing below，waving，and the camp beside the hill，flattening now，and the plain spreading，clumps of trees，and the bush flattening，while the game trails ran now smoothly to the dry waterholes，and there was a new water that he had never known of.
The zebra，small rounded backs now，and the wildebeeste，big-headed dots seeming to climb as they moved in long fingers across the plain，now scattering as the shadow came toward them，they were tiny now，and the movement had no gallop，and the plain as far as you could see，grey-yellow now and ahead old Compie’s tweed back and the brown felt hat.Then they were over the first hills and the wildebeeste were trailing up them，and then they were over mountains with sudden depths of green-rising forest and the solid bamboo slopes，and then the heavy forest again，sculptured into peaks and hollows until they crossed，and hills sloped down and then another plain，hot now，and purple brown，bumpy with heat and Compie looking back to see how he was riding.Then there were other mountains dark ahead.
And t，hen instead of going on to Arusha they turned left，he evidently figured that they had the gas，and looking down he saw a pink sifting cloud，moving over the ground，and in the air，like the first snow in a blizzard[20]，that comes from nowhere，and he knew the locusts[21]were coming up from the South.Then they began to climb and they were going to the East it seemed，and then it darkened and they were in a storm，the rain so thick it seemed like flying through a waterfall，and then they were out and Compie turned his head and grinned and pointed and there，ahead，all he could see，as wide as all the world，great，high，and unbelievably white in the sun，was the square top of Kilimanjaro.And then he knew that there was where he was going.
Just ，then the hyena stopped whimpering[22]in the night and started to make a strange，human，almost crying sound.The woman heard it and stirred uneasily.She did not wake.In her dream she was at the house on Long Island and it was the night before her daughter’s debut[23].Somehow her father was there and he had been very rude.Then the noise the hyena made was so loud she woke and for a moment she did not know where she was and she was very afraid.Then she took the flashlight[24]and shone it on the other cot that they had carried in after Harry had gone to sleep.She could see his bulk under the mosquito bar but somehow he had gotten his leg out and it hung down alongside the cot.The dressings had all come down and she could not look at it.
‘Molo，’she called.’Molo！Molo！’
Then she said，‘Harry，Harry！‘Then her voice rising，‘Harry！Please，Oh Harry！’
There was no answer and she could not hear him breathing.
Outside the tent the hyena made the same strange noise that had awakened her.But she did not hear him for the beating of her heart.
厄纳斯特？海明威
等她走开了，他想，我就会得到我所要求的一切。不是我所要求的一切，而只是我所有的一切。嗳，他累啦。太累啦。他想睡一会儿。他静静地躺着，死神不在那儿。它准是上另一条街溜达去了。它成双结对地骑着自行车，静悄悄地在人行道上行驶。
不，他从来没有写过巴黎。没有写过他喜爱的那个巴黎。可是其余那些他从来没有写过的东西又是如何呢？
大牧场和那银灰色的山艾灌木丛，灌溉渠里湍急而清澈的流水和那浓绿的苜蓿又是如何呢？那条羊肠小道蜿蜒而上向山里伸展，而牛群在夏天胆小得像麋鹿一样。
那吆喝声和持续不断的喧嘈声，那一群行动缓慢的庞然大物，当你在秋天把它们赶下山来的时候，扬起了一片尘土。群山后面，嶙峋的山峰在暮霭中清晰地显现，在月光下骑马沿着那条小道下山，山谷那边一片皎洁。他记得，当你穿过森林下山时，在黑暗中你看不见路，只能抓住马尾巴摸索前进，这些都是他想写的故事。
还有那个打杂的傻小子，那次留下他一个人在牧场，并且告诉他别让任何人来偷干草，从福克斯来的那个老坏蛋，经过牧场停下来想搞点饲料，傻小子过去给他干活的时候，老家伙曾经揍过他。孩子不让他拿，老头儿说他要再给他一顿狠揍。当他想闯进牲口栏去的时候，孩子从厨房里拿来了来复枪，把老头儿打死了，于是等他们回到牧场的时候，老头儿已经死了一个星期，在牲口栏里冻得直僵僵的，狗已经把他吃掉了一部分。但是你把残留的尸体用毯子包起来，捆在一架雪橇上，让那个孩子帮你拖着，你们两个穿着滑雪板，带着尸体赶路，然后滑行六十英里，把孩子接到城里去。他还不知道人家会逮捕他呢。他满以为自己尽了责任，你是他的朋友，他准会得到报酬呢。他是帮着把这个老家伙拖进城来的，这样谁都能知道这个老家伙一向有多坏，他又是怎样想偷饲料，饲料可不是他的啊，等到行政司法官给孩子戴上手铐时，孩子简直不能相信。于是他放声哭了出来。这是他留着准备将来写的一个故事。从那儿，他至少知道二十个有趣的故事，可是他一个都没有写。为什么？
“你去告诉他们，那是为什么，”他说。
“什么为什么，亲爱的？”
“不为什么。”
她自从有了他，现在酒喝得不那么多了。可要是他活着，他决不会写她。这一点现在他知道了。他也决不写她们任何一个。有钱的人都是愚蠢的，他们就知道酗酒，或者整天玩巴加门。他们是愚蠢的，而且唠唠叨叨叫人厌烦。他想起可怜的朱利安和他对有钱人怀着的那种罗曼蒂克的敬畏之感，记得他有一次怎样动手写一篇短篇小说，他开头这样写道：“豪门巨富是跟你我不同的。”有人曾经对朱利安说，是啊，他们比咱们有钱。可是对朱利安来说，这并不是一句幽默的话。
他认为他们是一种特殊的富有魅力的族类，等到他发现他们并非如此，他就毁了，正好像任何其他事物把他毁了一样。
他一向鄙视那些毁了的人。你根本没有必要去喜欢这一套，因为你了解这是怎么回事。什么事情都骗不过他，他想，因为什么都伤害不了他，如果他不在意的话。
好吧。现在要是死，他也不在意。他一向害怕的一点是痛。他跟任何人一样忍得住痛，除非痛的时间太长，痛得他精疲力竭，可是这儿却有一种什么东西曾经痛得他无法忍受，但就在他感觉到有这么一种东西在撕裂他的时候，痛却已经停止了。
他记得在很久以前，投弹军官威廉逊那天晚上钻过铁丝网爬回阵地的时候，给一名德国巡逻兵扔过来的一枚手榴弹打中了，他尖声叫着，央求大家把他打死。他是个胖子，尽管喜欢炫耀自己，有时叫人难以相信，却很勇敢，也是一个好军官。可是那天晚上他在铁丝网里给打中了，一道闪光突然把他照亮了，他的肠子淌了出来，钩在铁丝网上，所以当他们把他抬进来的时候，当时他还活着，他们不得不把他的肠子割断。打死我，哈里。看在上帝的份上，打死我。有一回他们曾经对凡是上帝给你带来的你都能忍受这句话争论过，有人的理论是，经过一段时间，痛会自行消失。可是他始终忘不了威廉逊和那个晚上。在威廉逊身上痛苦并没有消失，直到他把自己一直留着准备自己用的吗啡片都给他吃下以后，也没有立刻止痛。
可是，现在他感觉到的痛苦却非常轻松，如果就这样下去而不变得更糟的话，那就没有什么需要担心的事情了。不过他想，要是能有更好的同伴在一起，该有多好。
他想了一下他想要的同伴。
不，他想，你干什么事情，总是干得太久，也干得太晚了，你不可能指望人家还在那儿。人家全走啦。已经酒阑席散，现在只留下你和女主人啦。
我对死越来越感到厌倦，就跟我对其他一切东西都感到厌倦一样，他想。
“真使人厌倦，”他禁不住说出声来。
“你说什么，亲爱的？”
“你干什么事情都干得太久了。”
他瞅着她坐在自己身边和篝火之间。她靠坐在椅子里，火光在她那线条动人的脸上照耀着，他看得出她困了。他听见那只鬣狗就在那一圈火光外发出一声嗥叫。
“我一直在写东西，”他说，“我累啦。”
“你想你能睡得着吗？”
“一定能睡着。为什么你还不去睡？”
“我喜欢跟你一起坐在这里。”
“感觉到有什么奇怪的东西吗？”他问她。
“没有。只是我有点困啦。”
“我可是感觉到了。”
就在这时候，他感到死神又一次临近了。
“你知道，我唯一没有失去的东西，只有好奇心了，”他对她说。
“你从来没有失去什么东西。你是我所知道的一个最完美的人了。”
“天哪，”他说。“女人知道的东西实在太少啦。你根据什么这样说？是直觉吗？”
因为正是这个时候死神来了，死神的头靠在帆布床的脚上，他闻得出它的呼吸。
“你可千万别相信死神是镰刀和骷髅，”他告诉她。“它很可能是两个从从容容骑着自行车的警察或者是一只鸟儿。或者是像鬣狗一样有一只大鼻子。”
现在死神已经挨到他的身上来了，可是它已不再具有任何形状了。它只是占有空间。
“告诉它走开。”
它没有走，相反挨得更近了。
“你呼哧呼哧地净喘气，”他对它说，“你这个臭杂种。”
它还是在向他一步步挨近，现在他不能对它说话了，当它发现他不能说话的时候，又向他挨近了一点，现在他想默默地把它赶走，但是它爬到他的身上来了，这样，它的重量就全压到他的胸口了，它趴在那儿，他不能动弹也说不出话来，他听见女人说，“先生睡着了，把床轻轻地抬起来，抬到帐篷里去吧。”
他不能开口告诉她把它赶走，现在它更沉重地趴在他的身上，这样他气也透不过来了，但是当他们抬起帆布床的时候，忽然一切又正常了，重压从他胸前消失了。
现在已是早晨，已是早晨好一会儿了，他听见了飞机声。
飞机显得很小，接着飞了一大圈，两个男仆跑出来用汽油点燃了火，堆上野草，这样在平地两端就冒起了两股浓烟，晨风把浓烟吹向帐篷，飞机又绕了两圈，这次是低飞了，接着往下滑翔，拉平，平稳地着陆了，老康普顿穿着宽大的便裤，上身穿一件花呢茄克，头上戴着一顶棕色毡帽，朝着他走来。
“怎么回事啊，老伙计？”康普顿说。
“腿坏了，”他告诉他。“你要吃点儿早饭吗？”
“谢谢。我只要喝点茶就行啦，你知道这是一架‘天社蛾’，我没有能搞到那架‘夫人’。只能坐一个人。你的卡车正在路上。”
海伦把康普顿拉到旁边去，正在给他说着什么话。康普顿显得更兴高采烈地走回来。
“我们得马上把你抬进飞机去，”他说。“我还要回来接你太太。现在我怕我得在阿鲁沙停一下加油。咱们最好马上就走。”
“喝点茶怎么样？”
“你知道，我实在并不想喝。”
两个男仆抬起了帆布床，绕着那些绿色的帐篷兜了一圈，然后沿着岩石走到那片平地上，走过那两股浓烟―现在正亮晃晃地燃烧着，风吹旺了火，野草都烧光了―来到那架小飞机前。好不容易把他抬进飞机，一进飞机他就躺在皮椅子里，那条腿直挺挺地伸到康普顿的座位旁边。康普顿发动了马达，便上了飞机。他向海伦和两个男仆扬手告别，马达的咔哒声变成惯常熟悉的吼声，他们摇摇摆摆地打着转儿，康普顿留神看着那些野猪的洞穴，飞机在两堆火光之间的平地上怒吼着，颠簸着，随着最后一次颠簸，起飞了，而他看见他们都站在下面扬手，山边的那个帐篷现在显得扁扁的，平原展开着，一簇簇的树林，那片灌木丛也显得扁扁的，那一条条野兽出没的小道，现在似乎都平坦坦地通向那些干涸的水穴，有一处新发现的水，这是他过去从来不知道的。斑马，现在只看到它们那圆圆的隆起的背脊了。大羚羊像长手指头那么大，它们越过平原时，仿佛是大头的黑点在地上爬行，现在当飞机的影子向它们逼近时，都四散奔跑了，它们现在显得更小了，动作也看不出是在奔驰了。你极目望去，现在平原是一片灰黄色，前面是老康普顿的花呢茄克的背影和那顶棕色的毡帽。接着他们飞过了第一批群山，大羚羊正往山上跑去，接着他们又飞越高峻的山岭，陡峭的深谷里斜生着浓绿的森林，还有那生长着茁壮的竹林的山坡，接着又是一大片茂密的森林，他们又飞过森林，穿越一座座尖峰和山谷。山岭渐渐低斜，接着又是一片平原，现在天热起来了，大地显出一片紫棕色，飞机热哄哄地颠簸着，康普顿回过头来看看他在飞行中情况怎样。接着前面又是黑压压的崇山峻岭。
接着，他们不是往阿鲁沙方向飞，而是转向左方，很显然，他揣想他们的燃料足够了，往下看，他见到一片像筛子里筛落下来的粉红色的云，正掠过大地，从空中看去，却像是突然出现的暴风雪的第一阵飞雷，他知道那是蝗虫从南方飞来了。接着他们爬高，似乎他们是往东方飞，接着天色晦暗，他们碰上了一场暴风雨，大雨如注，仿佛像穿过一道瀑布似的，接着他们穿出水帘，康普顿转过头来，咧嘴笑着，一面用手指着，于是在前方，极目所见，他看到，像整个世界那样宽广无垠，在阳光中显得那么高耸、宏大，而且白得令人不可置信，那是乞力马扎罗山的方形的山巅。于是他明白，那儿就是他现在要飞去的地方。
正是这个当儿，鬣狗在夜里停止了呜咽，开始发出一种奇怪的几乎像人那样的哭声。女人听到了这种声音，在床上不安地反侧着。她并没有醒。在梦里她正在长岛的家里，这是她女儿第一次参加社交的前夜。似乎她的父亲也在场，他显得很粗暴。接着鬣狗的大声哭叫把她吵醒了，一时她不知道自己身在何处，她很害怕。接着她拿起手电照着另一张帆布床，哈里睡着以后，他们把床抬进来了。在蚊帐的木条下，他的身躯隐约可见，但是他似乎把那条腿伸出来了，在帆布床沿耷拉着，敷着药的纱布都掉落了下来，她不忍再看这副景像。
“莫洛，”她喊道，“莫洛！莫洛！”
接着她说：“哈里，哈里！”接着她提高了嗓子，“哈里！请你醒醒，啊，哈里！”
没有回答，也听不见他的呼吸声。
帐篷外，鬣狗还在发出那种奇怪的叫声，她就是给那种叫声惊醒的。但是因为她的心在怦怦跳着，她听不见鬣狗的哭叫声了。
作者简介
About the Author
Ernest Hemingway：厄纳斯特？海明威，美国小说家，1954年度的诺贝尔文学奖获得者。生于乡村医生家庭，从小喜欢钓鱼、打猎、音乐和绘画，曾作为红十字会车队司机参加第一次世界大战，以后长期担任驻欧记者，并曾以记者身份参加第二次世界大战和西班牙内战。晚年患多种疾病，精神十分抑郁，经多次医疗无效，终用猎枪自杀。他的早期长篇小说《太阳照样升起》（1927）、《永别了，武器》（1927）成为表现美国“迷惘的一代”的主要代表作。30、40年代他转而塑造摆脱迷惘、悲观，为人民利益而英勇战斗和无畏牺牲的反法西斯战士形象（剧本《第五纵队》1938），长篇小说《丧钟为谁而鸣》（1940）。50年代后，他继续发展20年代短篇小说《打不败的人》和《五万大洋》的宁折不弯主题，塑造了以桑提亚哥为代表的“可以把他消灭，但就是打不败他”的“硬汉性格”（代表作中篇小说《老人与海》1950）。在艺术上，他那简约有力的文体和多种现代派手法的出色运用，在美国文学中曾引起过一场“文学革命”，许多欧美作家都明显受到了他的影响。
V
词汇扫雷
ocabulary
1.Kilimanjaro：乞力马扎罗山，位于********东北部，是********和肯尼亚的分水岭，坐落在东非大裂谷以东约160千米，靠近肯尼亚边境，为东西方向延伸约80千米的火山群，由3座主要火山组成，乞力马扎罗山有两个主峰，一个叫基博，另一个叫马文济。它海拔5895米，是非洲大陆的最高峰，也是地球上唯一座位于赤道线上的雪峰。
2.pavement：行人道，路面
3.ranch：牧场
4.alfalfa：苜蓿
5.bawling：大叫，大喊
6.half-wit：智障
7.corral：畜栏
8.sled：雪橇
9.sheriff：（美国）县的司法长官
10.backgammon：西洋双陆棋
11.repetitious：重复？嗦的
12.glamorous：光彩夺目的，富有魅力的
13.contemptuous：轻视的，不屑一顾的
14.wear out：使人精疲力竭
15.morphine：吗啡
16.hyena：鬣狗，一种以食腐尸为生的狗
17.stinking：臭的，讨厌的
18.kerosene：煤油，火油
19.smudge：污迹
20.blizzard：暴风雪
21.locust：蝗虫
22.whimper：哭泣
23.debut：首映式
24.flashlight：手电筒
小编点评
在非洲最高峰―乞力马扎罗山，白雪皑皑中有一具豹的尸体，它在寻找什么？
饱经沧桑的作家哈里带着这个问题来到非洲，因为伤口感染不幸感染了坏疽菌，脾气暴躁，他的第四任妻子海伦守护在病床边。在生命垂危之际，他看着远处的乞利马扎罗山，回忆起了过去的一幕幕往事……当年他受到叔叔的鼓励，立志成为作家，便离开女友从美国来到法国。在巴黎他遇到美丽善良的辛西亚，但是两人结婚后，哈里却不愿过安稳的日子，要四处漂泊增长见识，最后辛西亚只好黯然离去。哈里又结识了一位女伯爵，过上了纸醉金迷的空虚生活。哈里最终和海伦结婚，想要再到非洲寻找失落的自我，但他还有机会重新开始生活吗？
这是一部极为成功的意识流小说，被称为海明威艺术上最优秀的作品之一，具有时空交错、现实与梦幻互为表面的特点。故称其为故事的故事，通过睡梦中的和醒时的两股意识流，相互交叉，相互转化；充分地描写了“死”，反复地对“死”的描写采用象征手法。
