TEXT. A DAY'S WAIT by Ernest HemingwayHemingway, Ernest (1899-1961): a перевод - TEXT. A DAY'S WAIT by Ernest HemingwayHemingway, Ernest (1899-1961): a русский как сказать

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.
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TEXT. A DAY'S WAIT by Ernest HemingwayHemingway, 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."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.
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ТЕКСТ. Подожди дня Эрнест Хемингуэй
Хемингуэй, Эрнест (1899-1961): видный американский романист и новеллист писателем. Он начал писать художественную литературу о 1923, его первые книги является отражением его опыта войны. "И восходит солнце" (1926) принадлежит к этому периоду, а также "Прощай, оружие" (1929) , в котором антивоенный протест особенно мощным. Во время войны Хемингуэй гражданской посетил Испанию в качестве военного корреспондента. Его впечатления от периода и его симпатии с республиканцами нашли отражение в его знаменитой пьесе "Пятая колонна" (1937), роман "По ком звонит колокол" (1940) и ряд рассказов. Его поздние работы " за рекой, в тени деревьев "(1950 г.) и" старик и море "(1952) и самый последний роман" Острова в потоке »(1970) , опубликованных после смерти автора. В 1954 году он был удостоен Нобелевской премии по литературе. Манера Хемингуэя характеризуется глубоким психологическим проникновением в человеческую природу. Он рано зарекомендовал себя как мастер нового стиля:. Лаконичной и несколько сухих Он вошел в комнату , чтобы закрыть окна в то время как мы были все еще ​​в постели , и я увидел , что он выглядел больным. Его трясло, лицо его было белым, и он шел медленно , как будто он жаждал двигаться. "Что случилось, Schatz?" 12 "У меня болит голова." "Вы бы лучше вернуться в постель." "Нет, я в порядке" . "Вы ложитесь спать. Увидимся когда я одет. " Но когда я спустился вниз , он был одет, сидя у костра, глядя очень больной и несчастный мальчик девяти лет. Когда я положил руку ему на лоб , я знал , что у него был жар. "Вы идете в постель," сказал я, "ты болен." "Я в порядке," сказал он. Когда пришел врач , он взял температура мальчика. "Что это?" Я спросил его. "Сто два." 13 На первом этаже, врач оставил три различные лекарства в различных цветных капсул с инструкциями для придания им. Один из них был сбить жар, другой слабительное, третий для преодоления кислотного состояния. Возбудители гриппа может существовать только в кислой состоянии, пояснил он. Казалось, он знает все о гриппе и сказал , что не было ничего , чтобы волноваться о том, если лихорадка не поднимается выше ста четырех градусов. Это была легкая эпидемия гриппа , и не было никакой опасности , если вы избежать пневмонии. Вернувшись в комнату , я написал температуру мальчика вниз и сделал примечание времени , чтобы дать различные капсулы. "Вы хотите меня читать вам? " " Хорошо, если вы хотите, "сказал мальчик. Его лицо было очень белым и там были темные области под глазами. Он лежал неподвижно в постели и , казалось , очень оторваны от того, что происходит. Я читал вслух Говард Pyle's14 Книги пиратов, но я видел , что он не был после того, что я читал. "Как вы себя чувствуете, Schatz?" Я спросил его. "То же самое, до сих пор," сказал он. Я сидел в ногах кровати и читать про себя , пока я ждал , чтобы это было время , чтобы дать еще одну капсулу. Было бы естественно для него , чтобы идти спать, но когда я поднял голову , он смотрел на ногах кровати, выглядит очень странно. "Почему бы вам не попробовать пойти спать? Я буду будить вас лекарство " . " Я предпочел бы не спать. " Через некоторое время он сказал мне:" Вы не должны остаться здесь со мной, папа, если это беспокоит вас. " " это не беспокоит меня. " " нет, я имею в виду вы не должны остаться , если это будет беспокоить вас. " Я думал , что, возможно , он был немного легкомысленный и после того, как дать ему предписанные капсулы в одиннадцать часов я вышел на некоторое время. Это был яркий, холодный день, земля покрыта мокрым снегом , что замерзла так , что казалось, будто все голые деревья, кусты, вырезать кисти и вся трава и голая земля была лакированные со льдом. Я взял молодого ирландского сеттера для небольшой прогулки вверх по дороге и вдоль замерзшего ручья. В доме они сказали , что мальчик отказался позволить любому войти в комнату. "Вы не можете войти," сказал он. "Вы не должны получить то , что у меня есть." Я подошел к нему и нашел его в точно положении я оставил его, бледного, но с вершинами его щеки покраснели от лихорадки, уставившись до сих пор, как он смотрел, у подножия кровати. Я взял его температура. "Что это?" "Что - то вроде ста," сказал я. Это было сто два и четыре десятых. "Это было сто два," сказал он. "Кто так сказал?" "Доктор" . "Ваша температура все в порядке," сказал я. "Ничего страшного." "Я не волнуюсь," сказал он, "но я не могу удержаться от мышления." "Не думаю," сказал я. "Просто успокойся." "Я легко принимая его," сказал он и выглядел взволнованным о чем - то. "Возьми это с водой." "Как вы думаете , он будет делать ничего хорошего?" "Конечно, это будет" Я сел и открыл Пиратский книгу и начал читать , но я мог видеть , что он не следовал, так что я остановился. "О том, что время , вы думаете , что я собираюсь умереть?" спросил он. "Что?" "О том , как долго это будет , прежде чем я умру?" "Вы не собираетесь умирать. Что с тобой?» «О, да, я. Я слышал , как он говорил , сто два " . " Люди не умирают с лихорадкой сто два. Это глупо так говорить! " " Я знаю , что они делают. в школе во Франции ребята сказали мне , что вы не можете жить с сорока четырех градусов . у меня сто два. " Он ждал , чтобы умереть в течение всего дня, с тех пор девять часов утра. " бедный Шац, "сказал я. "Бедный старый Schatz, это походит на мили и километры. Вы не собираетесь умирать. Это diflerent термометр. На этот термометр тридцать семь нормально. На такого рода это девяносто восемь." "Вы уверены?" "Абсолютно ," Я сказал. "Это походит на мили и километры. Вы знаете, как , сколько километров мы делаем , когда мы делаем семьдесят миль в машине?" "О," сказал он. Но его взгляд на ногах кровати расслабился медленно. Держать над собой расслабился тоже, в конце концов, и на следующий день он был очень вялый , и он плакал очень легко на мелочи , которые не имели значения.



















































































































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