Now he was giving his first concert in America for his mother in the N перевод - Now he was giving his first concert in America for his mother in the N русский как сказать

Now he was giving his first concert

Now he was giving his first concert in America for his mother in the Negro church, for his white and black listeners. And they were looking at him. They were all looking at him. The white people in the front rows and the Negroes in the back.
He was thinking of the past, of his childhood. He remembered the old Kreisler record they had at home. Nobody liked it but Roy, and he played it again and again. Then his mother got a violin for him, but half the time she didn't have the money to pay old man Miller for his violin lessons every week. Roy remembered how his mother had cried when he went away with a group of Negro-musicians, who played Negro songs all over the South.
Then he had a job with a night-club jazz-band in Chicago. After that he got a contract to go to Berlin and play in an orchestra there.
Suddenly he noticed a thin white woman in a cheap coat and red hat, who was looking at him from the first row.
"What does the music give you? What do you want from me?" Roy thought about her.
He looked at all those dark girls back there in the crowd. Most of them had never heard good classical music. Now for the first time in their life they saw a Negro, who had come home from abroad, playing a violin. They were looking proudly at him over the heads of the white people in the first rows, over the head of the white woman in the cheap coat and red hat....
"Who are you, lady?" he thought.
When the concert was over, even some of the white people shook hands with Roy and said it was wonderful. The Negroes said, "Boy, you really can play!" Roy was trembling a little and his eyes burnt and he wanted very much to cough. But he smiled and he held out his hot hand to everybody. The woman in the red hat waited at the end of the room.
After many of the people had gone away, she cameup to Roy and shook hands with him. She spoke of symphony concerts in other cities of Missouri; she said she was a teacher of music, of piano and violin, but she had no pupils like Roy, that never in the town of Hopkinsville had anyone else played so beautifully. Roy looked into her thin, white face and was glad that she loved music.
"That's Miss Reese," his mother told him after she had gone. "An old music teacher at the white high school."
"Yes, Mother," said Roy. "She understands music.
Next time he saw Miss Reese at the white high school. One morning a note came asking him if he would play for her music class some day. She would accompany him if he brought his music. She had told her students about Bach and Mozart, and she would be very grateful if Roy visited the school and played those two great masters for her young people. She wrote him a nice note on clean white paper.
"That Miss Reese is a very nice woman," Mrs. Williams said to her boy. "She sends for you to play at the school. I have never heard of a Negro who was invited there for anything but cleaning up, and I have been in Hopkinsville a long time. Go and play for them, son."
Roy played. But it was one of those days when his throat was hot and dry and his eyes burnt. He had been coughing all morning and as he played he breathed with great difficulty. He played badly. But Miss Reese was more than kind to him. She accompanied him on the piano. And when he had finished, she turned to the class of white children and said, "This is art, my dear young people, this is true art!"
The pupils went home that afternoon and told their parents that a dressed-up nigger had come to school with a violin and played a lot of funny music which nobody but Miss Reese liked. They also said that Miss Reese had smiled and said, "Wonderful!" and had even shaken hands with the nigger, when he went out.
Roy went home. He was very ill these days, getting thinner and thinner all the time, weaker and weaker. Sometimes he did not play at all. Often he did not eat the food his mother cooked for him, or that his sister brought from the place vrhere she vrorked. Sometimes he was so restless and hot in the night that he got up and dressed and then walked the streets of the little town at ten and eleven o'clock after nearly every one else had gone to bed. Midnight was late in Hopkinsville. But for years Roy had worked at night. It was hard f or him to sleep before midnight now.
But one night he walked out of the house for the last time.

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Now he was giving his first concert in America for his mother in the Negro church, for his white and black listeners. And they were looking at him. They were all looking at him. The white people in the front rows and the Negroes in the back.He was thinking of the past, of his childhood. He remembered the old Kreisler record they had at home. Nobody liked it but Roy, and he played it again and again. Then his mother got a violin for him, but half the time she didn't have the money to pay old man Miller for his violin lessons every week. Roy remembered how his mother had cried when he went away with a group of Negro-musicians, who played Negro songs all over the South.Then he had a job with a night-club jazz-band in Chicago. After that he got a contract to go to Berlin and play in an orchestra there.Suddenly he noticed a thin white woman in a cheap coat and red hat, who was looking at him from the first row."What does the music give you? What do you want from me?" Roy thought about her.He looked at all those dark girls back there in the crowd. Most of them had never heard good classical music. Now for the first time in their life they saw a Negro, who had come home from abroad, playing a violin. They were looking proudly at him over the heads of the white people in the first rows, over the head of the white woman in the cheap coat and red hat...."Who are you, lady?" he thought.When the concert was over, even some of the white people shook hands with Roy and said it was wonderful. The Negroes said, "Boy, you really can play!" Roy was trembling a little and his eyes burnt and he wanted very much to cough. But he smiled and he held out his hot hand to everybody. The woman in the red hat waited at the end of the room.After many of the people had gone away, she cameup to Roy and shook hands with him. She spoke of symphony concerts in other cities of Missouri; she said she was a teacher of music, of piano and violin, but she had no pupils like Roy, that never in the town of Hopkinsville had anyone else played so beautifully. Roy looked into her thin, white face and was glad that she loved music."That's Miss Reese," his mother told him after she had gone. "An old music teacher at the white high school.""Yes, Mother," said Roy. "She understands music.Next time he saw Miss Reese at the white high school. One morning a note came asking him if he would play for her music class some day. She would accompany him if he brought his music. She had told her students about Bach and Mozart, and she would be very grateful if Roy visited the school and played those two great masters for her young people. She wrote him a nice note on clean white paper."That Miss Reese is a very nice woman," Mrs. Williams said to her boy. "She sends for you to play at the school. I have never heard of a Negro who was invited there for anything but cleaning up, and I have been in Hopkinsville a long time. Go and play for them, son."Roy played. But it was one of those days when his throat was hot and dry and his eyes burnt. He had been coughing all morning and as he played he breathed with great difficulty. He played badly. But Miss Reese was more than kind to him. She accompanied him on the piano. And when he had finished, she turned to the class of white children and said, "This is art, my dear young people, this is true art!"
The pupils went home that afternoon and told their parents that a dressed-up nigger had come to school with a violin and played a lot of funny music which nobody but Miss Reese liked. They also said that Miss Reese had smiled and said, "Wonderful!" and had even shaken hands with the nigger, when he went out.
Roy went home. He was very ill these days, getting thinner and thinner all the time, weaker and weaker. Sometimes he did not play at all. Often he did not eat the food his mother cooked for him, or that his sister brought from the place vrhere she vrorked. Sometimes he was so restless and hot in the night that he got up and dressed and then walked the streets of the little town at ten and eleven o'clock after nearly every one else had gone to bed. Midnight was late in Hopkinsville. But for years Roy had worked at night. It was hard f or him to sleep before midnight now.
But one night he walked out of the house for the last time.

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в настоящее время он дал свой первый концерт в америке его мать в негритянской церкви, за то, что он белый и черный слушателей.и они смотрели на него.они все смотрели на него.белый человек в первом строк и негров в спину.он думал о прошлом, о его детстве.он вспомнил старый крайслер запись, они уже дома.никому не нравится, но рой, и он сыграл его снова и снова.тогда его мать есть скрипка, для него, но половину времени она не было денег старикашка миллер за его уроки игры на скрипке каждую неделю.рой вспоминал, как его мать плакала, когда он ушел с группой "музыканты, которые играют негритянские песни на юг.затем он работал в ночном клубе Jazz Band в чикаго.после этого он получил контракт, чтобы ехать в берлин и играть в оркестре.вдруг он заметил, что в тонкой белой женщиной в дешевом пальто и Red Hat, кто смотрит на него с первого ряда."какая музыка тебе дать?что ты от меня хочешь? "рой думал о ней.он смотрел на все эти темные девочек обратно в толпу.большинство из них никогда не слышал хорошую классическую музыку.сейчас, впервые в жизни, они увидели, что негр, который вернулся домой из - за границы, играет на скрипке.они смотрели на него с головы белым людям в первые ряды, над головой белая женщина в дешевых пальто и Red Hat."кто вы, леди?он думал.когда концерт завершился, даже некоторые из белых рукопожатием с роем и сказал, что это было прекрасно.негры, говорит: "парень, ты действительно можешь играть!"рой дрожал немного и в его глазах сожжены, а он очень хотел, чтобы кашель.но он улыбнулся и он протянул руку, чтобы все горячее.женщина в Red Hat ждали в конце зала.после того, как многие из тех, кто уехал, она подошел ко рой и пожал ему руку.она говорит о симфоническими концертами в других городах, миссури, она говорит, что она была учителем музыки, фортепиано и скрипки, но она не школьники, как рой, что никогда в городе hopkinsville был кто - то еще играл так прекрасно.рой посмотрел в ее тонкие, белым лицом и была рада, что она любила музыку."это мисс риз," его мать сказала ему после того, как она ушла ".старый учитель музыки в белом школе "."да, мама, - говорит рой".она понимает музыку.в следующий раз, когда он увидел, как мисс риз в белом средней школы.однажды утром записку, пришел спросить его, если он будет играть на свои занятия музыкой.она будет сопровождать его, если бы он принес свою музыку.она сказала ей студентов о баха и моцарта, и она будет вам очень признателен, если рой посетил школу и сыграли в этих двух великих мастеров, за ее молодых людей.она написала ему хороший записку о чистой белой бумаги."мисс риз, очень милая женщина, миссис уильямс сказал ей мальчика".она посылает тебе играть в школе.я никогда не слышала негр, который был приглашен там ничего, но убирать, и я был в hopkinsville долгое время.иди играть для них, сынок ".рой сыграл.но это был один из таких дней, когда его горло было жарко и сухо и глаза его сжечь.он был кашель, все утро, и как он играл он дышал с большим трудом.он сыграл плохо.но мисс риз был более благосклонны к нему.она сопровождала его на фортепиано.и когда он закончил, она повернулась к классу белых и сказал, "это искусство, мой дорогой молодых людей, это самое искусство!"ученики вернулись домой в тот день и рассказал, что одеты ниггер пришли в школу на скрипке играл много забавных музыку, которую никто, но мисс риз понравилась.они также заявили, что мисс риз, улыбнулась и сказала: "чудесно!"и даже потрясла руки с ниггер, когда он вышел.рой пошел домой.он очень болен, в эти дни, становится тоньше, и тоньше, все время, слабее и слабее.иногда он не играл на всех.часто он не есть его мать готовила для него, или о том, что его сестра привезли с места vrhere она vrorked.иногда он так беспокоиться и жарко в ночь, когда он встал и одет, а потом ходил по улицам маленького городка на 10 и 11 часов после того, как почти все остальные пошли спать.в полночь было в конце hopkinsville.но за годы рой работал ночью.это было тяжело для него спать до полуночи.но однажды вечером он вышел из дома за последнее время.
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