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“ You don’t have to laugh,” Max said to him. “ You don’t have to laugh at all, see?”
“All right,” said George.
“So he thinks it’s all right.” Max turned to Al. He thinks it’s all right. That’s a good one.”
“Oh, he’s a thinker,” Al said. They went on eating.
meant [ment] laugh [lα:f]
“What’s the bright boy’s name down the counter (êàê çîâóò òîãî óìíèêà, ÷òî ñ äðóãîé ñòîðîíû ñòîéêè)?” Al asked Max.
“Hey, bright boy,” Max said to Nick. “You go around on the other side of the counter (çàéäè çà ñòîéêó: «èäè âîêðóã íà äðóãóþ ñòîðîíó ñòîéêè») with your boy friend (ñ òâîèì äðóæêîì = òóäà, ãäå òâîé äðóæîê).”
“What’s the idea (à â ÷åì äåëî, çà÷åì ýòî: «÷òî çà èäåÿ, â ÷åì èäåÿ»)?” Nick asked.
“There isn’t any idea (òóò íåò íèêàêîé èäåè = ïðîñòî òàê, äà íè â ÷åì).”
“You better go around (ëó÷øå çàéäè), bright boy,” Al said. Nick went around behind the counter (çà ñòîéêó).
“What’s the idea?” George asked.
“None of your damn business (íå òâîå ÷åðòîâî: «ïðîêëÿòîå» äåëî; none – íè÷òî, íè îäèí, íèêàêîé),” Al said. “Who’s out in the kitchen (êòî òàì: «ñíàðóæè» íà êóõíå)?”
“The nigger (íåãð).”
“What do you mean the nigger?”
“The nigger that cooks (êîòîðûé ãîòîâèò, ñòðÿïàåò).”
“Tell him to come in (ñêàæè åìó, ÷òîáû çàøåë).”
“What’s the idea?”
“Tell him to come in.”
“Where do you think you are (ãäå, âû äóìàåòå, âû íàõîäèòåñü)?”
“We know damn well where we are (ìû çíàåì ÷åðòîâñêè õîðîøî, ãäå ìû íàõîäèìñÿ),” the man called Max said (ñêàçàë ÷åëîâåê, êîòîðîãî çâàëè Ìàêñ). “Do we look silly (ìû âûãëÿäèì äóðà÷êàìè, ãëóïî)?”
“You talk silly (òû ðàçãîâàðèâàåøü ãëóïî),” Al said to him. “What the hell do you argue with this kid for (êàêîãî ÷åðòà òû ñïîðèøü ñ ýòèì ðåáåíêîì)? Listen (ïîñëóøàé),” he said to George, “tell the nigger to come out here.”
“What are you going to do to him (÷òî âû ñîáèðàåòåñü ñ íèì: «åìó» ñäåëàòü)?”
“Nothing. Use your head (ïîøåâåëè ìîçãàìè: «èñïîëüçóé ñâîþ ãîëîâó»), bright boy. What would we do to a nigger (÷òî áû ìû ñäåëàëè íåãðó)?”
George opened the slit (îòêðûë îêîøå÷êî; slit – äëèííûé ðàçðåç, ùåëü; to slit – ðàçðåçàòü â äëèíó) that opened back into the kitchen (êîòîðîå îòêðûâàëîñü íàçàä = âîâíóòðü â êóõíþ). “Sam,” he called. “Come in here a minute (çàéäè-êà ñþäà íà ìèíóòêó).”
“What’s the bright boy’s name down the counter?” Al asked Max.
“Hey, bright boy,” Max said to Nick. “You go around on the other side of the counter with your boy friend.”
“What’s the idea?” Nick asked.
“There isn’t any idea.”
“You better go around, bright boy,” Al said. Nick went around behind the counter.
“What’s the idea?” George asked.
“None of your damn business,” Al said. “Who’s out in the kitchen?”
“The nigger.”
“What do you mean the nigger?”
“The nigger that cooks.”
“Tell him to come in.”
“What’s the idea?”
“Tell him to come in.”
“Where do you think you are?”
“We know damn well where we are,” the man called Max said. “Do we look silly?”
“You talk silly,” Al said to him. “What the hell do you argue with this kid for? Listen,” he said to George, “tell the nigger to come out here.”
“What are you going to do to him?”
“Nothing. Use your head, bright boy. What would we do to a nigger?”
George opened the slit that opened back into the kitchen. “Sam,” he called. “Come in here a minute.”
idea [aı`dı∂] argue [`α:gju:] minute [`mınıt]
The door to the kitchen opened and the nigger came in. “What was it (â ÷åì äåëî: «÷òî ýòî áûëî»)?” he asked. The two men at the counter took a look at him (îãëÿäåëè åãî: «âçÿëè âçãëÿä»).
“All right (âñå â ïîðÿäêå), nigger. You stand right there (ñòàíü òóò),” Al said.
Sam, the nigger, standing in his apron (ñòîÿ â ñâîåì ôàðòóêå), looked at the two men sitting at the counter. “Yes, sir,” he said. Al got down from his stool (ñëåç ñî ñâîåãî ñòóëà, òàáóðåòà).
“I’m going back to the kitchen (ÿ ïîéäó íàçàä = òóäà íà êóõíþ) with the nigger and bright boy,” he said. “Go on back to the kitchen, nigger. You go with him, Bright boy.” The little man walked after Nick and Sam (ïðîøåë âñëåä çà Íèêîì è Ñýìîì), the cook (ïîâàðîì), back into the kitchen. The door shut after them (äâåðü çà íèìè çàêðûëàñü). The man called Max sat at the counter opposite George (íàïðîòèâ Äæîðäæà). He didn’t look at George (îí íå ñìîòðåë íà Äæîðäæà) but looked in the mirror (à ñìîòðåë â çåðêàëî) that ran along back of the counter (êîòîðîå òÿíóëîñü: «áåæàëî» âäîëü çà ñòîéêîé). Henry’s had been made over (çàâåäåíèå Ãåíðè áûëî ïåðåäåëàíî) from a saloon into a lunch-counter (èç ñàëóíà, áàðà â çàêóñî÷íóþ).
The door to the kitchen opened and the nigger came in. “What was it?” he asked. The two men at the counter took a look at him.
“All right, nigger. You stand right there,” Al said.
Sam, the nigger, standing in his apron, looked at the two men sitting at the counter. “Yes, sir,” he said. Al got down from his stool.
“I’m going back to the kitchen with the nigger and bright boy,” he said. “Go on back to the kitchen, nigger. You go with him, Bright boy.” The little man walked after Nick and Sam, the cook, back into the kitchen. The door shut after them. The man called Max sat at the counter opposite George. He didn’t look at George but looked in the mirror that ran along back of the counter. Henry’s had been made over from a saloon into a lunch-counter.
apron [`eıpr∂n] opposite [`op∂zıt]
“Well, bright boy,” Max said, looking into the mirror, “why don’t you say something (ïî÷åìó òû íå ñêàæåøü ÷òî-íèáóäü)?”
“What’s it all about (÷òî âñå ýòî çíà÷èò: «î ÷åì âñå ýòî»)?”
“Hey, Al,” Max called, “bright boy wants to know (õî÷åò çíàòü) what’s all about.”
“Why don’t you tell him (÷òî æå òû åìó íå ñêàæåøü)?” Al’s voice came from the kitchen (îòîçâàëñÿ ãîëîñ Ýëà èç êóõíè).
“What do you think it’s all about?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think?”
Max looked into the mirror all the time he was talking (âñå âðåìÿ, ïîêà ãîâîðèë).
“I wouldn’t say (ÿ áû íå ñêàçàë, íå ñêàæó, ïîæàëóé, íå çíàþ).”
“Hey, Al, bright boy says he wouldn’t what he thinks it’s all about.”
“I can hear you, all right (ÿ ìîãó ñëûøàòü òåáÿ, â ïîðÿäêå, õîðîøî = íå êðè÷è, ÿ è òàê ñëûøó),” Al said from the kitchen. He had propped open the slit (îí ïîäïåð, ÷òîáû îñòàâàëîñü îòêðûòûì, îêîøå÷êî, îòâåðñòèå: «ùåëü») that dishes passed through into the kitchen (÷åðåç êîòîðîå ïåðåäàâàëèñü áëþäà íà êóõíþ) with a catsup bottle (áóòûëêîé êåò÷óïà). “Listen, bright boy,” he said from the kitchen to George. “Stand a little further (ñòàíü íåìíîãî äàëüøå) along the bar (âäîëü áàðà). You move a little to the left (ïîäâèíüñÿ íåìíîãî íàëåâî), Max.” He was like a photographer arranging for a group picture (îí áûë òî÷íî ôîòîãðàô, ðàññòàâëÿþùèé /ëþäåé/ äëÿ ãðóïïîâîé ôîòîãðàôèè).
“Well, bright boy,” Max said, looking into the mirror, “why don’t you say something?”
“What’s it all about?”
“Hey, Al,” Max called, “bright boy wants to know what’s all about.”
“Why don’t you tell him?” Al’s voice came from the kitchen.
“What do you think it’s all about?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think?”
Äàòà äîáàâëåíèÿ: 2015-09-10; ïðîñìîòðîâ: 25 | Ïîìîæåì íàïèñàòü âàøó ðàáîòó | Íàðóøåíèå àâòîðñêèõ ïðàâ |