突然发现爱上他D小白胡了，怎么办？

貌似ihj上还有好多好多图啊

嗯嗯，但先奉上这个：
Jake Gyllenhaal donated $5,000 to a mental healthcare charity supporting military veterans.
吉给帮助退伍老兵的精神健康慈善活动捐献了5000美元。
The 'End of Watch' actor generously opened up his cheque book at the event - Headstrong Project's Words of War which raised money for comprehensive psychological help for troops who have served in Iraq and Afghanistan - at the IAC building in New York City last night (08.05.13).
昨晚（2013年5月8日）这位End of Watch的演员在举办这项活动的现场(纽约的IAC building)慷慨地打开了他的支票簿。这项活动名为Headstrong Project's Words of War，是一项促进战后精神康复的、战争题材文学作品的表演。
The 32-year-old star was one of the speakers booked for the event and followed up his address by getting the auction proceedings underway.
这位32岁的明星是该项活动的表演人之一，在他发言之后随即开始了拍卖。
However, after the first few minutes of the sale - which was being held to raise funds for mental health care - went by without a bid, the Oscar-nominated actor stepped up with a $5,000 donation to go toward training in eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR), a type of psychotherapy used to treat posttraumatic stress disorder.
由于拍卖开始时竞价 – 旨在为退伍老兵精神康复基金募捐 - 没搞起来，这位Oscar候选人马上捐了5000美元用以进行EMDR训练（痛苦可怕的经历，会给人造成终身的心理创伤，使人患上恐惧症。美国心理学家弗朗辛.夏皮罗发现了一种对心理疾患有效的治疗方法，即医生用伸出两、三根指头来引导患者的目光左右移动，同时进行有关的提问，从而使病人恢复记忆和忘记恐怖，让心情平静下来。这种方法被称为二指疗法，英文缩写为“EMDR”——荔枝注），这是一种用于灾难过后心理压力失序的心理疗法。

Jake had recited Wilfred Owen's poem 'Dulce et Decorum Est', a war piece written during World War I which depicts the brutal horrors soldiers face on the frontlines and the subsequent effect it has on them.
该诗名为《Dulce et Decorum Est》，作者Wilfred Owen，写于一战期间，描述士兵在战争前线面临的野蛮恐怖及日后带给他们的影响。

The poet was a soldier on the front who wanted to depict the real horrors of war. He was killed in the fighting just a week before the Armistice, so that makes his poetry even more poignant.
这位诗人是位想要描述战争之恐怖的前线士兵。他在停战前一周的交战中被杀，其诗作因而犹为令人痛心。

诗作全文：
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime …
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
（恳请高手赐译。。）

这是要改行啊……