IBORATOP
Инглизча-ўзбекча луғат
Login
USA English ‹ › UZ Uzbek

Found las: 543 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
His flour was running short, and he went back to two biscuits in the morning and two biscuits at night. Because, of this his weakness increased and the cold bit in more savagely, and day by day he watched by the dead trail that would not live for him. At last the scurvy entered upon its next stage. The skin was unable longer to cast off the impurity of the blood, and the result was that the body began to swell. His ankles grew puffy, and the ache in them kept him awake long hours at night. Next, the swelling jumped to his knees, and the sum of his pain was more than doubled. Ун ҳам охирлаб қолганди. Моргансон аввалги меъёрга ўтди – эрталаб иккита кулча, кечқурун икки кулча ерди. У тобора мадорсизланиб борар, изғирин ҳам чимдиб-чимдиб оларди. Шунга қарамай Моргансон кунба- кун йўлни, то ҳамон қасдма-қасдига ҳувиллаб жонсиз ҳолатда ётган йўлни кузатишда давом этарди. Ҳадемай касаллик кейинги босқичга ўтди: шиш энди товонигача етди. Тунлари соатлаб кўзига уйқу келмасди. Шиш тиззаларига ўтганда бутун бадани азият чека бошлади.
On the first day after his last flour had gone it snowed. It was always warm when the snow fell, and he sat out the whole eight hours of daylight on the bank, without movement, terribly hungry and terribly patient, for all the world like a monstrous spider waiting for its prey. But the prey did not come, and he hobbled back to the tent through the darkness, drank quarts of spruce tea and hot water, and went to bed. Охирги ун-урпоқ сарфлаб бўлинган кун чор атрофга ёйилган ва увадаси чиққан оппоқ кўрпа устига момиққина янгиси тўшалди. Қор ёғаётган палла ҳаво илийди. Моргансон қимир этмай қирғоқ тепасида мисоли ўлжасини пойлаётган ўргимчакдек оч-наҳор ва сабот билан саккиз соат вақтини ҳавога учирди. Аммо ўлжадан дарак бўлмади. Кулбаи вайронасига қандай етиб олганини ҳам билмай, игнабарг дамламасидан бир-икки ҳўплади-да қийшайиб қолди.
Morganson dashed up the hillside--at least he started to dash up. The next he knew he was coming out of a faint and dragging himself to his feet. He went up more slowly, pausing from time to time to breathe and to steady his reeling senses. At last he crawled over the trunk. The moose lay before him. He sat down heavily upon the carcase and laughed. He buried his face in his mittened hands and laughed some more. Моргансон тепалик томон отилди, тўғрироғи, отилмоқчи бўлди. Кўзини очганда ҳушидан кетганини тушунди. Минг азоб билан ўрнидан турди, секин-аста одимлай кетди. Вақти-вақти билан нафасини ростлаб, бироз ўзига келиш учун тўхтади. Ниҳоят, қулаб ётган қарағайгача аранг судралиб етиб келди. Унинг ёнида буғу жонсиз ётарди. Моргансон жасад устига оғир чўкди ва бутун бошли қўшинни ер тишлатган баҳодирдай оғзини йиғиштиролмай қолди.
In the middle of the day he thought of the wild animals that might eat his meat, and he climbed the hill, carrying along his axe, the haul rope, and a sled lashing. In his weak state the making of the cache and storing of the meat was an all-afternoon task. He cut young saplings, trimmed them, and tied them together into a tall scaffold. It was not so strong a cache as he would have desired to make, but he had done his best. To hoist the meat to the top was heart-breaking. The larger pieces defied him until he passed the rope over a limb above, and, with one end fast to a piece of meat, put all his weight on the other end. Кундузи унинг миясига йиртқич ҳайвонлар озуқа захирасини ғажиб ташлайдилар, деган ўй келиб қолди-ю болта ва арқонни олиб, тепалик томон одимлади. Гўштни яшириш учун ўра кавлашга мадори етмасди; бунга нақд бир кун кетади. Бир қанча дарахт ғўлаларини жипс боғлаб, баландгина тахтасупа ясади. Кўзлагани кўнглидагидек чиқмаган эса- да, бундан ортиғи қўлидан келмасди. Гўштни юқорига кўтариш учун ўлардек зўриқиш зарур эди. Шу ерда Моргансон ҳийла ишлатди: арқонни дарахтнинг баланд шохидан ошириб ирғитди-да, бир томонига залворли гўшт бўлагини боғлаб, нариги учига бор вазнини ташлаб, юқорига тортди.
Once in the tent, he proceeded to indulge in a prolonged and solitary orgy. He did not need friends. His stomach and he were company. Slice after slice and many slices of meat he fried and ate. He ate pounds of the meat. He brewed real tea, and brewed it strong. He brewed the last he had. It did not matter. On the morrow he would be buying tea in Minto. When it seemed he could eat no more, he smoked. He smoked all his stock of dried tea leaves. What of it? On the morrow he would be smoking tobacco. He knocked out his pipe, fried a final slice, and went to bed. He had eaten so much he seemed bursting, yet he got out of his blankets and had just one more mouthful of meat. Чодирга қайтиб, ўзининг ёлғизликдаги базми жамшидини давом эттирди. Ҳамтовоқларга муҳтожлик сезмасди: ўзи-ю ошқозони – бор- йўқ улфатлар шугина. У гўштни бўлаклаб, қадоқлаб еб битирарди. Аччиққина қилиб чой дамлади. Бу сўнгги қуруқ чой эди. Ҳечқиси йўқ, эртага Минтодан сотиб олаверади. Сўнгги шамани ҳам чекиб тугатди. Нима бўпти! Эртага қўлида асл тамаки бўлади. Охирида бир парча гўштни тановул қилиб, ухлашга ётди. У шунчалар кам гўшт едики, гўё кўп еса, қорни ёрилиб кетадигандай эди. Аммо барибир устидаги адёлни ирғитиб ташлаб, яна кавшанишга тушди.
In the morning he awoke as from the sleep of death. In his ears were strange sounds. He did not know where he was, and looked about him stupidly until he caught sight of the frying-pan with the last piece of meat in it, partly eaten. Then he remembered all, and with a quick start turned his attention to the strange sounds. He sprang from the blankets with an oath. His scurvy-ravaged legs gave under him and he winced with the pain. He proceeded more slowly to put on his moccasins and leave the tent. Эрталаб уйғониш Моргансон учун дўзах азобига айланди: уйқуси ўлимдек қаттиқ эди. Қулоғига тушуниксиз товушлар эшитилди. Қаердалигини бир зумга унутиб, товадаги гўшт бурдаларига кўзи тушмагунча аланглайверди. Яна тушуниксиз товушлар қулоғига чалингандагина барчасига тушунди; бўралаб сўкинганча ўрнидан турди. Дармонсизликдан оёқлари чалишиб кетди. Оғриқ зўридан букчайиб қолди. Кескин ҳаракат қилмасликка тиришиб чодирдан чиқди.
It was in the next week that a new factor entered into Morganson's life. He wanted to know the date. It became an obsession. He pondered and calculated, but his conclusions were rarely twice the same. The first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, and all day as well, watching by the trail, he worried about it. He awoke at night and lay awake for hours over the problem. To have known the date would have been of no value to him; but his curiosity grew until it equalled his hunger and his desire to live. Finally it mastered him, and he resolved to go to Minto and find out. Кейинги ҳафта Моргансоннинг ҳаётида янги ташвиш туғилди: бугун қандай сана эканлигини билгиси келиб қолди. Бу ўй хирапашшадай миясига ўрнашиб олди. У ўйлай-ўйлай, ҳисоблай-ҳисоблай ҳар сафар ҳисобдан адашиб кетаверди. Шу ўй билан уйғонар, уззукун шу ўй миясини пармалар ва кечаси ҳам шу ўй билан уйқуга кетарди. Баъзида тунлари мижжа қоқмай тонг оттирарди. Аслида бу унчалик аҳамиятга эга бўлмаса-да, Моргансоннинг очликдек, яшашга бўлган иштиёқдек хавотири алангаланаверди. Охир-оқибат бу ўз кучини кўрсатди ҳам. Моргансон шаҳарга тушишга жазм этди.
"I did the chopping before the scurvy got bad," he said. "Then I got a moose right at the start. I've been living high all right. It's the scurvy that's run me down." He filled the glass, and added, "But the spruce tea's knocking it, I think." "Have another," the barkeeper said. – Зангилага йўлиқишимдан аввал ўрмон кесишни бошлагандим. Ундан ташқари буғу овладим. Ана шунақа, яшашим чакки эмас. Фақат бу дард ўлгур бошга битган бало бўлди. – Стаканни тўлдириб, илова қилди: – Игнабарг дамламасидан ичиб турибман. Анча нафи тегди. – Қуй яна, – манзират қилди қовоқхона эгаси.
The action of the two glasses of whisky on Morganson's empty stomach and weak condition was rapid. The next he knew he was sitting by the stove on a box, and it seemed as though ages had passed. A tall, broad-shouldered, black-whiskered man was paying for drinks. Morganson's swimming eyes saw him drawing a greenback from a fat roll, and Morganson's swimming eyes cleared on the instant. They were hundred-dollar bills. It was life! His life! He felt an almost irresistible impulse to snatch the money and dash madly out into the night. Оч қоринга ичилган икки стакан виски заиф танада шу заҳоти ўз ишини кўрсатди. Моргансон ҳушига келганда печ ёнидаги яшикда ўтирган эди. Орадан бир аср ўтиб кетгандай туюлди. Дароз, қорасоқол, яғриндор киши қовоқхона эгаси билан ҳисоб-китоб қилди. Моргансоннинг кўз ўнгини туман қоплаган бўлса-да, қорасоқол қалингина пул дастасидан биттасини ажратиб олганини кўрди. Туман бир зумга тарқади. Бу юз долларлик пуллар эди. Ҳаёт! Унинг ҳаёти! У пулларга чанг солиб, қоронғу бурчакка отилишдек енгиб бўлмас истакни туйди.
Morganson turned his attention to Oleson. At the same time that he noted the latter running away towards Minto he noted that the dogs, coming to where the first man's body blocked the trail, had halted. Morganson fired at the fleeing man and missed, and Oleson swerved. He continued to swerve back and forth, while Morganson fired twice in rapid succession and missed both shots. Morganson stopped himself just as he was pulling the trigger again. He had fired six shots. Only one more cartridge remained, and it was in the chamber. It was imperative that he should not miss his last shot. Моргансон бор диққат-эътиборини Ольсонга қаратди. Ольсон Минто томон жидду жаҳд-ла югурарди. Итлар эса кўндалангига узала тушиб ётган ўлик ёнига келиб тўхташди. Моргансоннинг ўқи яна хато кетди; Ольсон кескин бурилиб, дам чапга, дам ўнгга ташланарди. Моргансон унинг ортидан иккита ўқни пайдар-пай қўйиб юборди. Тегмади. Тепкини таваккал босмоқчи бўлди, лекин ўзини қўлга олди. Атиги бир дона ўқ қолибди. Бу сафар янглишишга ҳаққи йўқ.

Morganson dropped his rifle (worthless now that the last cartridge was gone) and slid down the bank through the soft snow. 

Моргансон қуролни ташлади (сўнгги ўқ сарфлаб бўлингач, нимагаям ярарди) ва юмшоқ қор устида пастга тайғониб кетди.
Finding it impossible to face the dogs Morganson stepped off the trail into the deep snow and floundered in a wide circle to the rear of the sled. Under the initiative of the leader, the team swung around in its tangled harness. Because of his crippled condition, Morganson could move only slowly. He saw the animals circling around on him and tried to retreat. He almost made it, but the big leader, with a savage lunge, sank its teeth into the calf of his leg. The flesh was slashed and torn, but Morganson managed to drag himself clear. Бу иблис малайлари яқин йўлатмаслигига амин бўлгач, Моргансон қалин қор кечиб, чаналарни айланиб ўтмоқчи бўлди. Йўлбошчи унга ташланди, бутун тўда ҳам шатак қайишга ўралашиб, раҳнамолари кетидан сапчишди. Оқсоқ оёқлари Моргансонга жадалроқ ҳаракатланишга имкон бермасди. Итлар ўраб олаётганини кўриб чекинмоқчи эди, йўлбошчи ит бир ҳамла билан оёғига тиш ботирди. Болдирини тишлаб узиб олай деса-да, барибир қутулиб кета олди.
Especially remarkable to Morganson was the extreme pallor of the Swede, who the preceding night had been so ruddy-faced. Now his face was like white marble. What with his fair hair and lashes he looked like a carved statue rather than something that had been a man a few minutes before. Morganson pulled off his mittens and searched the body. There was no money-belt around the waist next to the skin, nor did he find a gold-sack. In a breast pocket he lit on a small wallet. With fingers that swiftly went numb with the frost, he hurried through the contents of the wallet. There were letters with foreign stamps and postmarks on them, and several receipts and memorandum accounts, and a letter of credit for eight hundred dollars. That was all. There was no money. Ҳаммасидан кўра Моргансонни шведнинг докадек оқарган афти ажаблантирди. Кечагина лоларзордек қип-қизил эди. Ҳозир эса мармар каби оппоқ. Оқ-сариқ сочлар ва киприклар мармар ҳайкалга муштараклик касб этмоқда. Бу одамни бир неча дақиқа илгари тирик юрганини тасаввур қилиш қийин. Моргансон жасадни тинтишга тушди. На пул чандилган белбоғ, на олтин тўла халта топилди. Парканинг* кўкрак чўнтагида чоғроқ кармон қаппайиб турибди. Ичидаги борини титкилаб кўрди – ажнабий муҳрли ва маркали мактуб, бир қанча квитанция, қандайдир ҳисоб- китоблар, маълумотномалар, саккиз юз долларга аккредитив… Бор-йўғи шу. Пулдан асар ҳам йўқ.
Morganson wept weakly for a space, and weakly swayed from one side to the other. Then he brushed away the frozen tears that gemmed his lashes. It was a joke. Malicious chance was having its laugh at him. Even John Thompson, with his heaven-aspiring whiskers, was laughing at him. Моргансон ночорликдан ўкириб юборди. Бу гўё қалтис ҳазилга ўхшарди. Қаттол қисмат унинг устидан мағзава тўкиб юборганди гўё. Ҳатто Жон Томсон ҳам соқолини ҳилпиллатиб, унинг устидан кулаётир.
Then the white glimmer turned black, and the next he knew he was awakening in the snow where he had fallen. He was no longer giddy. The cobwebs were gone. But he could not get up. There was no strength in his limbs. His body seemed lifeless. By a desperate effort he managed to roll over on his side. In this position he caught a glimpse of the sled and of John Thompson's black beard pointing skyward. Also he saw the lead dog licking the face of the man who lay on the trail. Morganson watched curiously. The dog was nervous and eager. Sometimes it uttered short, sharp yelps, as though to arouse the man, and surveyed him with ears cocked forward and wagging tail. At last it sat down, pointed its nose upward, and began to howl. Soon all the team was howling. Ўзига келганда Моргансон қорда ётарди. Боши айланмас, кўз олдини қоплаган туман тарқалиб кетибди. Шундай эса-да, ўрнидан туролмади: мажоли етмади. Жисми жонсиз эди. Минг машаққат-ла ёнига ағдарилди. Чана ва серрайиб ётган қорасоқол Жон Томсонни кўрди. Йўл бошловчи кўппак кўндаланг ётган эгасининг юзини ялаб-юлқарди. Моргансон қизиқсиниб кузатаверди. Ит бетоқат бўларди. Ора-сира ўликни уйғотмоқчидай вовулларди. Ахийри ўтириб, калласини кўкка чўзди-да, увиллади. Ортидан бутун гала мотам куйини бошлади.

Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

“Қўрғонча” молхонасидаги мистер Жонс оқшом тушиши билан товуқхонасини тамбалаб қўйди, бироқ, у шу қадар маст эдики, девордаги тешикни беркитиш ёдидан кўтарилди. Орқа эшикни оёғи билан туртиб ёпгач, у қўлида силтаниб турган фонуси ёритган ерларда каловланиб, бироз тентиради, кейин ошхонадаги бочкадан бир стакан пивони сиздириб ичди ва хотини Жонс хоним хуррак отаётган тўшакнинг бир четига кирди.

The two horses had just lain down when a brood of ducklings, which had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side to find some place where they would not be trodden on. Clover made a sort of wall round them with her great foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who drew Mr. Jones's trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing at a lump of sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with. Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly throughout Major's speech without listening to a word of what he was saying. Боксёр ва Кловер ёнбошлаб олган заҳоти, омборга онасини йўқотиб қўйган ўрдакчалар подаси ёпирилиб киришди; ҳаяжон билан ғақиллаб, хавфсиз, биров билиб-билмай босиб олмайдиган жой илинжида, улар у ёндан-бу ёнга югура бошлашди. Байтал Кловернинг узанган оёғи уларга ҳимоя девори бўлиб кўринди, ўрдакчалар бу бошпанага ирғишлаб киришди ва дарҳол уйқуга кетдилар. Ниҳоят омборга, қанд бўлагини қитирлатиб чайнаганча, олифта солланиб, мистер Жонснинг икки ғилдиракли аравасини тортадиган, далли оқ бия Молли кирди. У биринчи қатордан жой олди ва дарҳол тақиб қўйилган қизил тасмачасига эътиборни қаратиш учун оқ ёлларини ўйнай бошлади. Охирги бўлиб мушук кирди, одатдагидай, энг иссиқ жойни излаб, у ён-бу ёнга аланглади ҳамда Боксёр ва Кловернинг ўртасига сирғалиб кириб олди; бу ерда у тинимсиз ағанаб, майорнинг нутқи пайтида миёв-миёвлаб тинмади ва маърузанинг бирорта сўзини ҳам эшитмади.
"Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you. — Ўртоқлар, кеча оқшом менинг ғалати бир туш кўрганимни ҳаммаларингиз эшитган бўлсангиз керак. Бу тушга кейинроқ қайтаман. Энг аввало сизларга, мана, нимани айтишим лозим.Сизлар билан яна узоқ ойлар бирга бўламиз, деб айтолмайман, куним битяпти, сезяпманки, сизлар билан ўлимим олдидан йиллар бўйи орттирилган донишмандлик меваларини бўлишишим лозим. Мен узоқ умр кечирдим, бир ўзим оғилда ёлғиз ётганимда, мулоҳаза юритиш учун етарли вақтим бўлди, ўйлайманки, ҳаётнинг моҳиятини замондошларимнинг барчасидан ҳам кўпроқ тушунаман, деб таъкидлай оламан. Мана, шу ҳақда сизларга баён қилмоқчиман.
"Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England knows the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth. Шундай қилиб, дўстлар, биз ва сизнинг тириклимиздан нима маъно бор? Келинглар, ҳақиқатнинг юзига тик қарайлик: қисқа ҳаётимизнинг ҳар бир куни хўрликда ва заҳматли меҳнатда ўтади. Туғилган, дунёга келган дақиқамиздан бошлаб, бизга ҳаётимиз тугаб қолмайдиган даражадагина овқат беришади, етарли кучи бор ҳайвонлар энг сўнгги нафасигача ишлаши керак; одатда, биз ҳеч нарсага ярамай, ҳеч кимга керак бўлмай қолганимизда, бизни шафқатсизларча кушхонага равона қилишади. Бир йилни ўтказган бирорта ҳайвон бу Англияда бахт нималигини ёки меҳнатдан кейин дам олиш қандай бўлишини билмайди. Англияда бирор-бир ҳайвон эрк нима эканини англамайди. Ҳаётимиз — қашшоқлик ва қулликдир. Ҳақиқат шудир.
"Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough, he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet there is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how many thousands of gallons of milk have you given during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down the throats of our enemies. Одам — ўзи ҳеч нарса ишлаб чиқармай, ҳаммасини ҳазм қиладиган ягона махлуқдир. У сут бермайди, тухум туғмайди, омочни судраш учун унинг кучи етмайди, қуёнларни тутиб олиш учун тезлиги суст. Шунга қарамай, у барча жонзодларнинг олий ҳокими. У жониворларни ишга ҳайдайди, емишни фақат улар очликдан азоб чекмайдиган даражада беради — қолган ҳамма нарса унинг ихтиёрида қолади. Бизнинг меҳнатимиз билан ер шудгор қилинади, бизнинг гўнгимиз билан ер озиқланади, — бизнинг эса баданимизни ёпган теримиздан бошқа мулкимиз йўқ. Мана сизлар, ҳозир қаршимда ястаниб ўтирган сигирлар, — ўтган йил мобайнида қанча сут бердинглар? Сизлар бўлиқ бузоқларингизни озиқлантиришингиз мумкин бўлган сут нима бўлди? Уларни сўнгги томчисигача душманларимиз ичиб, ютиб юборишди.