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Found ft: 1034 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
Kazakhstan’s state prosecutor had warned citizens of legal consequences for holding rallies after regime nemesis Mukhtar Ablyazov, an opposition leader living in self-exile, called for the “peaceful” overthrow of Toqaev. Қозоғистон давлат прокурори аҳолини намойишга чиққанлар қонуний жавобгарликка тортилиши ҳақида огоҳлантирди. Прокурорнинг бу билдирувидан олдинроқ сургунда яшаётган мухолифат етакчиси Мухтор Аблязов қозоғистонликларни Тоқаевни «тинч йўл билан» ағдаришга чорлаган эди.
This time around, more than a dozen independent monitors were ejected from polling stations, with police doing the heavy lifting in some cases. Бу сафар ўндан ортиқ мустақил кузатувчи сайлов участкаларидан ҳайдаб чиқарилди. Айрим ҳолларда полиция бунга жалб қилинди.
At the end of fifteen minutes he had the pipe part filled. He lighted it from the camp fire, and sat forward on the blankets, toasting his moccasined feet and smoking parsimoniously. When the pipe was finished he sat on, brooding into the dying flame of the fire. Slowly the worry went out of his eyes and resolve came in. Out of the chaos of his fortunes he had finally achieved a way. But it was not a pretty way. His face had become stern and wolfish, and the thin lips were drawn very tightly. Ниҳоят, орадан ўн беш дақиқа ўтгач, Моргансон мундштукни ярмигача тўлдира олди, холос. Уни гулхандан тутатиб олиб, адёл устига ўтирди. Мокасин кийган оёқларини оловда тоблаб, ҳар бир ютум тутундан лаззатланганча тамаки бурқсита бошлади. Чекиб битиргач, заифлашиб ёнаётган гулхан алангасига ўйчан тикилиб қолди. Аста-секин кўзларидаги хавотир қатъият билан алмашди. Бошига тушган мусибатдан қутулиш йўлини ахийри топди. Лек бу осон йўллардан эмасди. Моргансоннинг башараси шафқатсиз ва ваҳший тус олди. Юпқа лаблари янада жипслашиб, қисилди.
The trail led along the frozen breast of the Yukon. At the end of four hours he came around a bend and entered the town of Minto. It was perched on top of a high earth bank in the midst of a clearing, and consisted of a road house, a saloon, and several cabins. He left his sled at the door and entered the saloon. Йўл Юконнинг муз ўзанидан ўтарди. Тўрт соатдан сўнг дарёнинг бурилишигача етиб олди, айланиб ўтиб, Минтога кириб келди. Моргансон чанани ташқарида қолдириб, қовоқхонага кирди.
At the end of half-an-hour, Morganson said good-bye and left the saloon. He put his galled shoulder to the haul-rope and took the river-trail south. An hour later he halted. An inviting swale left the river and led off to the right at an acute angle. He left his sled and limped up the swale for half a mile. Between him and the river was three hundred yards of flat ground covered with cottonwoods. He crossed the cottonwoods to the bank of the Yukon. The trail went by just beneath, but he did not descend to it. South toward Selkirk he could see the trail widen its sunken length through the snow for over a mile. But to the north, in the direction of Minto, a tree-covered out-jut in the bank a quarter of a mile away screened the trail from him. Ярим соат ўтгач, Моргансон қовоқхона соҳиби билан хайр-хўшлашиб,йўлга чиқди. Қийилиб кетган елкасига арқонни ташлаб, дарё ўзани бўйлаб югургилаб чўзилган чана изидан жануб томон юрди. Бир соат ўтар-ўтмас тўхтади. Ўнгдан дарёга кичкина дара туташганди. Моргансон чаналарни тўхтатиб, оқсоқлана-оқсоқлана дара бўйлаб ярим милча юрди. Бу ердан дарёгача уч юз ярд бор экан. Олдинда тераклар қоплаган тубанлик. Моргансон теракзор оралаб Юкон дарёси томон юрди. Йўл қарийб дарё ёқасигача чўзилган экан. Моргансон у ёққа тушиб ўтирмади. Селкеркка кетаверишдаги қор босган жанубий йўл чаналар изига тўлиб кетган, олдинда яна бир чақиримча масофа кўзга ташланарди. Шимолий, Минто йўналишидаги йўлни эса тахминан чорак милгача ўрмон қоплаб олганди.
He seemed satisfied with the view and returned to the sled the way he had come. He put the haul-rope over his shoulder and dragged the sled up the swale. The snow was unpacked and soft, and it was hard work. The runners clogged and stuck, and he was panting severely ere he had covered the half-mile. Night had come on by the time he had pitched his small tent, set up the sheet-iron stove, and chopped a supply of firewood. He had no candles, and contented himself with a pot of tea before crawling into his blankets. Моргансон худди ўша айланма йўлдан ортига қайтди. Яна лаънати арқонни ортмоқлаб, дара бўйлаб чана тортди. Қорнинг намлигидан чана тортиш мушкул эди. Чанага қор ёпишавериб дам-бадам тўхташга тўғри келар ва ярим мил юрмай Моргансоннинг нафаси бўғзига тиқилиб қоларди. Тун қора кўрпасини ёйганда чоғроқ чодирини тиклаб, темир печини ўрнатиб, шох-шабба йиғишга улгурган эди. Шам ҳам тугаб битганди. Бир финжон чойга қаноатланиб, адёлини устига тортди.
In the morning, as soon as he got up, he drew on his mittens, pulled the flaps of his cap down over his ears, and crossed through the cottonwoods to the Yukon. He took his rifle with him. As before, he did not descend the bank. He watched the empty trail for an hour, beating his hands and stamping his feet to keep up the circulation, then returned to the tent for breakfast. There was little tea left in the canister--half a dozen drawings at most; but so meagre a pinch did he put in the teapot that he bade fair to extend the lifetime of the tea indefinitely. His entire food supply consisted of half-a-sack of flour and a part-full can of baking powder. He made biscuits, and ate them slowly, chewing each mouthful with infinite relish. When he had had three he called a halt. He debated a while, reached for another biscuit, then hesitated. He turned to the part sack of flour, lifted it, and judged its weight. "I'm good for a couple of weeks," he spoke aloud. "Maybe three," he added, as he put the biscuits away. Субҳи содиқда Моргансон қўлқопини кийиб, қулоқчинини бостириб, Юкон томон йўл солди. Елкасида милтиқ. Бугун ҳам пастга тушмади. Нақ бир соат кимсасиз йўлни кузатди, қизиш мақсадида депсиниб, кафтини кафтига уриб турди. Кейин нонушта қилгани чодирга қайтиб келди. Тунука қутидаги қуруқ чой ҳам оз қолибди, беш дамламга етади. Декчасига бир чимдимгина чой ташлади. Бор-йўқ озиқ-овқат захираси ярим қопчиқ ун-у оғзи очилган қутидаги хамиртурушдан иборат эди. Моргансон печ устида нон пишириб, шошмасдан нонуштага ўтирди. Ҳар бир луқмадан лаззатланиб тановул қилди. Учта нонни паққос тушириб, тўртинчисига қўл чўзди-ю иккиланиб қолди; қопчиқни кўтариб салмоқлаб кўрди. “Икки ҳафтага етади”, – деди овоз чиқариб ўзига ўзи. Кулчаларни нарироқ суриб: “Балки, уч ҳафтага ҳам етар”, деб қўшиб қўйди.
Again he drew on his mittens, pulled down his ear-flaps, took the rifle, and went out to his station on the river bank. He crouched in the snow, himself unseen, and watched. After a few minutes of inaction, the frost began to bite in, and he rested the rifle across his knees and beat his hands back and forth. Then the sting in his feet became intolerable, and he stepped back from the bank and tramped heavily up and down among the trees. But he did not tramp long at a time. Every several minutes he came to the edge of the bank and peered up and down the trail, as though by sheer will he could materialise the form of a man upon it. The short morning passed, though it had seemed century-long to him, and the trail remained empty. Кейин яна қўлқопини кийиб, қулоқчинини тушириб, милтиқни елкасига осиб, қирғоқнинг юқори томонига кетди. Бировга кўринмайдиган панага ўтиб, атрофни кўздан кечирди. Баданига совуқ ўтмагунча бир неча дақиқа қимир этмай ўтирди; сўнг милтиқни тиззасига қўйиб, кафтларини бир-бирига ишқаб қизитган бўлди. Санчиқли оғриқларга оёқлари дош беролмай қолди. Энди қирғоқдан йироқлашиб, дарахтлар орасида у ёқдан-бу ёққа бориб кела бошлади. Бироқ бу тентирашлар узоққа чўзилмади. Ҳар беш-ўн дақиқа орасида Моргансон қирғоқ лабига келиб, одам қораси кўринармикан, деб диққат билан разм соларди. Қанчалик бениҳоя туюлмасин, қисқагина кун тун билан алмашарди. Йўл эса ўша- ўша хилватлигича қоларди.
It was easier in the afternoon, watching by the bank. The temperature rose, and soon the snow began to fall--dry and fine and crystalline. There was no wind, and it fell straight down, in quiet monotony. He crouched with eyes closed, his head upon his knees, keeping his watch upon the trail with his ears. But no whining of dogs, churning of sleds, nor cries of drivers broke the silence. With twilight he returned to the tent, cut a supply of firewood, ate two biscuits, and crawled into his blankets. He slept restlessly, tossing about and groaning; and at midnight he got up and ate another biscuit. Кундуз куни пойлоқчилик осон ўтди. Ҳаво илиқлашиб, қор ёғди. Қилт этган шабада йўқ. Қор парчалари юлдузчалар каби милтиллаб ерга қўнарди. Моргансон бошини тиззалари орасига олди ва бутун вужуди қулоққа айланди. На итларининг акиллаши, на чаналар ғичир-ғичири, на уларнинг ҳайдовчилари ҳайқириғи эшитиларди. Ғира-ширада Моргансон чодирига қайтди. Ўтин майдалаб, иккита кулчани паққос туширди-ю, кўрпа остига кириб кетди. Туни билан инқиллаб, алаҳсираб чиқди. Ярим кечаси туриб яна битта кулчани еб битирди.
Each day grew colder. Four biscuits could not keep up the heat of his body, despite the quantities of hot spruce tea he drank, and he increased his allowance, morning and evening, to three biscuits. In the middle of the day he ate nothing, contenting himself with several cups of excessively weak real tea. This programme became routine. In the morning three biscuits, at noon real tea, and at night three biscuits. In between he drank spruce tea for his scurvy. He caught himself making larger biscuits, and after a severe struggle with himself went back to the old size. Кундан-кун совуқ забтига ола бошлади. Гарчи Моргансон босиб-босиб игнабарг дамламасидан ичса-да, эндиликда тўрт дона кулча билан бўш қоп тик турмасди. Кунлик тановулдаги кулчаларни олтитага кўпайтиришига тўғри келди – учтаси саҳарликда, учтаси кечликда. Кундузи бир тишлам ҳам нон тишламасди. Суюқ, лекин қайноқ чой билан чекланарди, холос. Орада зангилага қарши игнабарг дамламасидан ичиб турди. Кунлар шу тарзда қувлашмачоқ ўйинини давом эттирарди.
On the fifth day the trail returned to life. To the south a dark object appeared, and grew larger. Morganson became alert. He worked his rifle, ejecting a loaded cartridge from the chamber, by the same action replacing it with another, and returning the ejected cartridge into the magazine. He lowered the trigger to half-cock, and drew on his mitten to keep the trigger-hand warm. As the dark object came nearer he made it out to be a man, without dogs or sled, travelling light. He grew nervous, cocked the trigger, then put it back to half-cock again. The man developed into an Indian, and Morganson, with a sigh of disappointment, dropped the rifle across his knees. The Indian went on past and disappeared towards Minto behind the out-jutting clump of trees. Бешинчи куни йўл жонланди. Жануб томонда қора нуқта кўзга ташланди ва у борган сари катталашаверди. Моргансон ҳушёр тортди. Милтиқни шай ҳолатга келтиришга тушди: стволдан ўқни олиб, ўрнига янгисини жойлади. Тепкини сақлагичга тушириб, қўлқопини тортиб қўйди. Қора нуқта яқинлашавергач маълум бўлдики, у ҳинду экан. Моргансон тараддудланиб қолди. Тепкини кўтарди ва яна сақлагичга туширди. Моргансон ҳафсаласи пир бўлиб, милтиқни тиззасига қўйди. Ҳинду ёнгинасидан ўтиб кетди ва дарахтлар орасида ғойиб бўлди.
He never descended to the trail. A man travelling the trail could have no knowledge of his lurking presence on the bank above. The snow surface was unbroken. There was no place where his tracks left the main trail. Моргансон сира пастга тушмасди. Йўлда кетаётган кишининг қирғоқ юқорисида аллаким беркиниб олиб, уни кузатаётгани хаёлига ҳам келмасди. Оппоқ қор кўрпаси ҳали юмшоққина эди. Чана излари ҳеч ерда йўлдан четга чиқмаганди.
Then there came a cold snap. The temperature went down and down--forty, fifty, sixty degrees below zero. He had no thermometer, but this he knew by the signs and natural phenomena understood by all men in that country--the crackling of water thrown on the snow, the swift sharpness of the bite of the frost, and the rapidity with which his breath froze and coated the canvas walls and roof of the tent. Vainly he fought the cold and strove to maintain his watch on the bank. In his weak condition he was an easy prey, and the frost sank its teeth deep into him before he fled away to the tent and crouched by the fire. His nose and cheeks were frozen and turned black, and his left thumb had frozen inside the mitten. He concluded that he would escape with the loss of the first joint. Аямажиз бирдан теварак-атрофни исканжага олди – ҳаво қирқ, эллик, олтмиш даража нолдан пастга тушиб кетди. Гарчи Моргансонда термометр бўлмаса-да, бу ўлкаларда муқим яшовчилар каби у ҳам ҳаво ҳароратини теваракдаги аломатларга қараб аниқлай оларди – сувни қорга сепганингда вишиллашидан, изғириннинг бутун баданингга ниш санчишидан ёхуд иланг-биланг ўрлаётган ҳовурнинг шитоб-ла музга айланишидан, баъзан қиров сингари чодирнинг дағал матодан тикилган деворларига инишидан. Қирғоқ юқорисидаги пойлоқчилигини ташламай у аёз билан бесамар олишарди. Совуқ унинг вужудига қилич тишларини ботириб олаётганди. Бурни ва ёноқлари совуқдан қорайиб кетди, сўл панжаси бошмалдоғининг биринчи бўғимидан воз кечавериш лозимлигини қўлқопни ечмаёқ тушуниб етди.
Then it was, beaten into the tent by the frost, that the trail, with monstrous irony, suddenly teemed with life. Three sleds went by the first day, and two the second. Once, during each day, he fought his way out to the bank only to succumb and retreat, and each of the two times, within half-an-hour after he retreated, a sled went by. Айни аёз уни чодирга ҳайдаб киргизган кунлари йўл мазах қилаётгандай жонланди. Биринчи кун учта, иккинчи кун иккита чана қорни ғарчиллатиб ўтиб кетди. Мана, икки кун мобайнида у пойлоқчиликка чиққан эса-да, совуқ билан жангда енгилганди. Икки сафар ҳам чодирга кириб кетгандан сўнг ярим соатлар чамаси вақт ўтиб чаналар йўлни жонлантирганди.
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.
He stopped shooting, and watched. He noted the direction of the animal's flight, and, high up on the hillside in an opening among the trees, saw the trunk of a fallen pine. Continuing the moose's flight in his mind he saw that it must pass the trunk. He resolved on one more shot, and in the empty air above the trunk he aimed and steadied his wavering rifle. The animal sprang into his field of vision, with lifted fore-legs as it took the leap. He pulled the trigger. With the explosion the moose seemed to somersault in the air. It crashed down to earth in the snow beyond and flurried the snow into dust. Зимдан кузата бошлади. Буғунинг йўналишини белгилаётиб, ўрмон ичидаги ялангликда қулаб ётган қарағайни пайқаб қолди. Хаёлан “қочоқ”нинг йўналиш чизиғини тортаётиб, буғу айнан шу қарағайнинг ён-веридан ўтади, деган тўхтамга келди. Яна битта ўқнинг баҳридан ўтса ўтибди-да. Қалтироқ қўллари билан милтиқни маҳкамроқ сиқиб, қарағай узра бўшлиқни нишонга олди. Буғу олд оёқларини кўтариб сакраган кез Моргансон варанглатиб ўқ узди. Буғу ҳаводаёқ жонсизланиб, қорга қулади.
When he had finished he selected a piece of meat weighing a hundred pounds, and started to drag it down to the tent. But the snow was soft, and it was too much for him. He exchanged it for a twenty-pound piece, and, with many pauses to rest, succeeded in getting it to the tent. He fried some of the meat, but ate sparingly. Then, and automatically, he went out to his crouching place on the bank. There were sled-tracks in the fresh snow on the trail. The sled-load of life had passed by while he had been cutting up the moose. Гўштни бир ёқлик қилгач, юз қадоқ вазнли бўлагини танлаб олиб, чодир томон судраб кетмоқчи бўлди. Аммо бунинг уддасидан чиқолмади. Шунда йигирма қадоқлигини танлаб олди-да, тўхтамасдан чодирга судраб олиб келди. Бир парча гўштни қовуриб, нафсини қондирди. Кейин эса беихтиёр оёқлари ўзининг постига бошлаб кетди. Қорда янги излар пайдо бўлибди: буғу билан андармонлигида чаналар ўтган кўринади.
But he did not mind. He was glad that the sled had not passed before the coming of the moose. The moose had changed his plans. Its meat was worth fifty cents a pound, and he was but little more than three miles from Minto. He need no longer wait for the sled-load of life. The moose was the sled-load of life. He would sell it. He would buy a couple of dogs at Minto, some food and some tobacco, and the dogs would haul him south along the trail to the sea, the sun, and civilisation. Лекин у аза тутиб ўтирмади. Чаналар аввалроқ ўтиб кетмаганидан хурсанд эди: буғу режаларини ўзгартириб юборди. Бир қадоқ гўшт эллик цент туради, Минтогача эса уч чақиримдан зиёдроқ йўлни босиб ўтиши керак. Энди ноз-неъматлар ортилган чаналарни кутиб ўтиришга ҳожат йўқ: буғу уларнинг ўрнини боса олади. У гўштни сотиб, Минтода бир нечта ит, егулик ва тамаки харид қилади ҳамда итлар уни жанубга – денгиз, серқуёш ўлкалар, тамаддун ўчоғи томон олиб кетади.
He felt hungry. The dull, monotonous ache of hunger had now become a sharp and insistent pang. He hobbled back to the tent and fried a slice of meat. After that he smoked two whole pipefuls of dried tea leaves. Then he fried another slice of moose. He was aware of an unwonted glow of strength, and went out and chopped some firewood. He followed that up with a slice of meat. Teased on by the food, his hunger grew into an inflammation. It became imperative every little while to fry a slice of meat. He tried smaller slices and found himself frying oftener. Ошқозони боз сурнай чала бошлади. Муттасил давом этаётган золим очлик чидаб бўлмас майлга айланди. Қўналғасига етиб келди-ю бир бўлак гўштни қовуриб еб олди, кейин қуруқшаган шамадан тўлдириб, нақ икки марта мундштук бурқситди ва яна бир парча гўштни паққос туширди. Сўнг ўзида ғайриоддий куч-қувватни ҳис қилди. Ташқарига чиқиб шох-шабба йиғиб келди. Шундан кейин яна гўшт бўлагидан баҳраманд бўлди. Гўшт нафсини қитиқлар, егани сари иштаҳаси очиларди. Моргансон ўзини тия олмас – дам-бадам гўштга қўл узатарди. Кичикроқ бўлакни кесмоқчи бўлар, лекин қўллари ўзига бўйсунмасди.
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.