TEXT. A DAY'S WAIT by Ernest Heming

TEXT. A DAY'S WAIT by Ernest Hemingway
Hemingway, Ernest (1899-1961): a prominent American novelist and short-story writer. He began to write fiction about 1923, his first books being the reflection of his war experience. "The Sun Also Rises" (1926) belongs to this period as well as "A Farewell to Arms" (1929) in which the antiwar protest is particularly powerful.

During the Civil War Hemingway visited Spain as a war correspondent. His impressions of the period and his sympathies with the Republicans found reflection in his famous play "The Fifth Column" (1937), the novel "For Whom the Bell Tolls" (1940) and a number of short stories.

His later works are "Across the River and into the Trees" (1950) and "The Old Man and the Sea" (1952) and the very last novel "Islands in the Stream" (1970) published after the author's death. In 1954 he was awarded a Nobel Prize for literature.

Hemingway's manner is characterized by deep psychological insight into the human nature. He early established himself as the master of a new style: laconic and somewhat dry.

He came into the room to shut the windows while we were still in bed and I saw he looked ill. He was shivering, his face was white, and he walked slowly as though it ached to move. "What's the matter, Schatz?"12

"I've got a headache."

"You'd better go back to bed."

"No, I'm all right."

"You go to bed. I'll see you when I'm dressed."

But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I knew he had a fever.

"You go up to bed," I said, "you're sick."

"I'm all right," he said.

When the doctor came he took the boy's temperature.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"One hundred and two."13

Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different colored capsules with instructions for giving them. One was to bring down the fever, another a purgative, the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above one hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic of flu and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia.

Back in the room I wrote the boy's temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules.

"Do you want me to read to you?"

"All right, if you want to," said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached from what was going on.

I read aloud from Howard Pyle's14 Book of Pirates, but I could see he was not following what I was reading.

"How do you feel, Schatz?" I asked him.

"Just the same, so far," he said.

I sat at the foot of the bed and read to myself while I waited for it to be time to give another capsule. It would have been natural for him to go to sleep, but when I looked up he was looking at the foot of the bed, looking very strangely.

"Why don't you try to go to sleep? I'll wake you up for the medicine."

"I'd rather stay awake."

After a while he said to me, "You don't have to stay in here with me, Papa, if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me."

"No, I mean you don't have to stay if it's going to bother you."

I thought perhaps he was a little light-headed and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock I went out for a while.

It was a bright, cold day, the ground covered with a sleet that had frozen so that it seemed as if all the bare trees, the bushes, the cut brush and all the grass and the bare ground had been varnished with ice. I took the young Irish setter for a little walk up the road and along a frozen creek.

At the house they said the boy had refused to let any one come into the room.

"You can't come in," he said. "You mustn't get what I have." I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.

I took his temperature.

"What is it?"

"Something like a hundred," I said. It was one hundred and two and four tenths.

"It was a hundred and two," he said.

"Who said so?"

"The doctor."

"Your temperature is all right," I said. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I don't worry," he said, "but I can't keep from thinking."

"Don't think," I said. "Just take it easy."

"I'm taking it easy," he said and looked worried about something.

"Take this with water."

"Do you think it will do any good?"

"Of course, it will,"

I sat down and opened the Pirate Book and commenced to read but I could see he was not following, so I stopped.

"About what time do you think I'm going to die?" he asked.

"What?"

"About how long will it be before I die?"

"You aren't going to die. What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, yes, I am. I heard him say a hundred and two."

"People don't die with a fever of one hundred and two. That's a silly way to talk!"

"I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can't live with forty-four degrees. I've got a hundred and two."

He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o'clock in the morning.

"You poor Schatz," I said. "Poor old Schatz, it's like miles and kilometers. You aren't going to die. That's a diflerent thermometer. On that thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it's ninety-eight."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I said. "It's like miles and kilometers. You know, like how many kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car?"

"Oh," he said.

But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself relaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried very easily at little things that were of no importance.

Результаты (русский) 1:

ТЕКСТ. ДЕНЬ ОЖИДАНИЯ от Эрнест ХемингуэйХемингуэй, Эрнест (1899-1961): известный американский писатель и писатель. Он начал писать фантастику около 1923, его первые книги, является отражением его опыт войны. «И восходит солнце» (1926) принадлежит этот период, а также «Прощай, оружие» (1929) в котором антивоенного протеста является особенно мощным.Во время гражданской войны Хемингуэй посетил Испанию в качестве военного корреспондента. Его впечатления от периода и его симпатии с республиканцев нашли отражение в его знаменитой пьесе «пятой колонны» (1937), Роман «по ком звонит колокол» (1940) и несколько коротких рассказов.Его более поздних работ «Через реку и в деревья» (1950) и «Старик и море» (1952) и самый последний роман «Острова в потоке» (1970), опубликованный после смерти автора. В 1954 году он был удостоен Нобелевской премии по литературе.Hemingway образом характеризуется глубокой психологической понимание человеческой природы. Он уже зарекомендовал себя как мастер нового стиля: лаконичная и немного сухой.Он пришел в комнату, чтобы закрыть окна, в то время как мы были все еще в постели, и я увидел, что он выглядел больным. Он дрожал, его лицо было белым, и он шел медленно, как будто оно болело для перемещения. «Что такое дело, Шац»? 12«У меня головная боль».«Вы бы лучше вернуться в постель.»«Нет, я все в порядке».«Вы идете спать. Я буду видеть вас когда я одет.»Но когда я пришел на первом этаже он был одет, сидя у камина, глядя очень больной и несчастный мальчик 9 лет. Когда я положил руку на лбу я знал, что он имел лихорадку."You go up to bed," I said, "you're sick.""I'm all right," he said.When the doctor came he took the boy's temperature."What is it?" I asked him."One hundred and two."13Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different colored capsules with instructions for giving them. One was to bring down the fever, another a purgative, the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above one hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic of flu and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia.Back in the room I wrote the boy's temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules."Do you want me to read to you?""All right, if you want to," said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached from what was going on.I read aloud from Howard Pyle's14 Book of Pirates, but I could see he was not following what I was reading."How do you feel, Schatz?" I asked him."Just the same, so far," he said.I sat at the foot of the bed and read to myself while I waited for it to be time to give another capsule. It would have been natural for him to go to sleep, but when I looked up he was looking at the foot of the bed, looking very strangely."Why don't you try to go to sleep? I'll wake you up for the medicine.""I'd rather stay awake."After a while he said to me, "You don't have to stay in here with me, Papa, if it bothers you.""It doesn't bother me.""No, I mean you don't have to stay if it's going to bother you."I thought perhaps he was a little light-headed and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock I went out for a while.It was a bright, cold day, the ground covered with a sleet that had frozen so that it seemed as if all the bare trees, the bushes, the cut brush and all the grass and the bare ground had been varnished with ice. I took the young Irish setter for a little walk up the road and along a frozen creek.At the house they said the boy had refused to let any one come into the room."You can't come in," he said. "You mustn't get what I have." I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.I took his temperature."What is it?""Something like a hundred," I said. It was one hundred and two and four tenths."It was a hundred and two," he said."Who said so?""The doctor.""Your temperature is all right," I said. "It's nothing to worry about.""I don't worry," he said, "but I can't keep from thinking.""Don't think," I said. "Just take it easy.""I'm taking it easy," he said and looked worried about something."Take this with water.""Do you think it will do any good?""Of course, it will,"I sat down and opened the Pirate Book and commenced to read but I could see he was not following, so I stopped."About what time do you think I'm going to die?" he asked."What?""About how long will it be before I die?""You aren't going to die. What's the matter with you?""Oh, yes, I am. I heard him say a hundred and two.""People don't die with a fever of one hundred and two. That's a silly way to talk!""I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can't live with forty-four degrees. I've got a hundred and two."He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o'clock in the morning."You poor Schatz," I said. "Poor old Schatz, it's like miles and kilometers. You aren't going to die. That's a diflerent thermometer. On that thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it's ninety-eight.""Are you sure?""Absolutely," I said. "It's like miles and kilometers. You know, like how many kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car?""Oh," he said.But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself relaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried very easily at little things that were of no importance.

Результаты (русский) 3:

текст.день ждать от эрнест хемингуэйэрнест хемингуэй, (1899-1961): известный американский писатель и рассказ писатель.он начал писать фантастику с 1923 года, его первой книги является отражением его военным опытом ".и восходит солнце "(1926) входит в этот период, а также" прощай, оружие! "(1929), в котором в качестве протеста является особенно эффективным.во время гражданской войны, хемингуэй посетил испанию в качестве военного корреспондента.своими впечатлениями от периода и его симпатии с республиканцами нашли отражение в его знаменитой пьесы "пятую колонну" (1937), роман "по ком звонит колокол" (1940) и несколько рассказов.его более поздние работы "через реку и в лес" (1950) и "старик и море" (1952), и последний роман "острова в океане" (1970), опубликованные после смерти автора.в 1954 году он был удостоен нобелевской премии по литературе.эти образом характеризуется глубокой психологической проницательности в человеческой природе.он уже зарекомендовал себя как хозяин новый стиль: лаконичный и несколько сухих.он вошёл в комнату, чтобы закрыть окна, когда мы еще были в кровати, и я видел, как он выглядел больным.он дрожит, его лицо было белым, и он шел медленно, как будто он заболело двигаться ".в чём дело, шац? "12"у меня болит".тебе лучше вернуться в постель "."нет, я в порядке.""ты иди спать.увидимся, когда я одет ".но когда я спустился по лестнице, он был одет, сидя у костра, выглядят очень болен, и несчастный мальчик девяти лет.когда я положил свою руку на лоб, я знал, что он был жар."ты иди спать, я сказал," ты болен "."я в порядке", - сказал он.когда врач пришел он забрал мальчика температуры."что это?"я попросил его."сто два." 13внизу, доктор оставил три разных лекарства в разноцветных капсул с инструкциями для предоставления им.один был сбить жар, другой слабительными, третий по преодолению кислоты.микробы гриппа могут существовать только в кислоту, условие, - пояснил он.он, похоже, знает все о гриппе и сказал, что не о чем беспокоиться, если температура не выше ста четырех градусов.это был свет эпидемией гриппа и не существует никакой опасности, если ты не пневмония.обратно в комнату, я написал мальчик температуры и записал время дать различным капсулы."хочешь, я почитаю тебе?""хорошо, если вы хотите", - сказал мальчик.лицо его было очень белый, и там были тёмные под глазами.он лежал в кровати и, казалось, еще очень оторванными от того, что происходит.я читал вслух говард pyle"s14 книга пиратов, но я вижу, он не после того, что я читал."как вы себя чувствуете, шац?"я попросил его."так же, как сейчас, до сих пор", - сказал он.я сидела у кровати и читал сам, пока я ждал его на время, чтобы дать другой капсулу.было бы естественно для его спать, но когда я посмотрел, он смотрел на ногах кровати, выглядит очень странно."почему бы вам не попробовать спать?я буду тебя разбудил для медицины "."я бы предпочел остаться в сознании".через некоторое время он сказал мне: "ты не должен оставаться здесь, со мной, папа, если вас это беспокоит.""это не беспокоит меня.""нет, я имею в виду, ты не должен оставаться в том случае, если это будет беспокоить тебя."я подумал, что, возможно, он был немного налегке и после предоставления ему предписано капсулы, в одиннадцать, я вышел на какое - то время.он был ярким, холодный день, земля покрыта мокрым снегом, что заморозило так, что казалось, будто все голые деревья, кусты, отрезал кисть и все травы и открытом грунте были лакированном со льдом.я взял молодой ирландский сеттер, прогуляться по дороге и вместе замороженный крик.в доме, они сказали, что мальчик отказался сообщить какие - либо один в комнате."вы не можете войти", - сказал он.ты не должен получить то, что я есть. "я подошел к нему и нашли его в именно позиция, которую я оставил его, белый, с которыми сталкиваются, но с вершины щеки смоет в жар, глядя, как он смотрел, у подножья кровати.я взял его температуры."что это?""что - то вроде сто", - сказала я.это было сто два и четыре десятых."это было сто два", - сказал он."кто так сказал?""доктор"."твоя температура - это хорошо", сказал я. "здесь не о чем беспокоиться. ""не волнуйся", - сказал он, - но я не могу перестать думать "."не думаю, что", я сказал ".полегче "."я себя спокойно", - сказал он и был чем - то расстроен."возьми это с водой"."ты думаешь, что она будет делать?""конечно, это будет"я сел и открыл пиратские книги и начал читать, но я вижу, он не был ниже, поэтому я остановился."о том, в какое время вы думаете я умру?"он попросил."что?""о том, как долго это будет прежде, чем я умру?""ты не умрешь.что с тобой? ""о, да, это я.я слышал, как он сказал, сто два "."люди не умирают с температурой сто два.это