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Found келди: 134 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
He awoke. It was dark, and he was in his blankets. He had gone to bed in his moccasins and mittens, with the flaps of his cap pulled down over his ears. He got up as quickly as his crippled condition would permit, and built the fire and boiled some water. As he put the spruce-twigs into the teapot he noted the first glimmer of the pale morning light. He caught up his rifle and hobbled in a panic out to the bank. As he crouched and waited, it came to him that he had forgotten to drink his spruce tea. The only other thought in his mind was the possibility of John Thompson changing his mind and not travelling Christmas Day. Моргансон уйғониб кетди. Ҳали тун қора пардасини йиғиштирмабди. У эгни-бошини ечмаёқ қотиб қолган экан. Дик этиб ўрнидан туриб, олов ёқиб, сув қайнатди. Декчага қарағай игнабаргидан сепаётиб субҳнинг илк оқиштоб шуълаларини пайқади-ю, милтиғини олиб, қирғоқ томон шошди. Пистирмага ўрнашиб олгандагина шифобахш дамламасидан ичмагани эсига тушди. Хаёлига, Жон Томсон Рождествонинг биринчи кунида йўлга чиқса керак, деган ўй келди.
Now that he was down, Morganson was no longer afraid. He had a vision of himself being found dead in the snow, and for a while he wept in self-pity. But he was not afraid. The struggle had gone out of him. When he tried to open his eyes he found that the wet tears had frozen them shut. He did not try to brush the ice away. It did not matter. He had not dreamed death was so easy. He was even angry that he had struggled and suffered through so many weary weeks. He had been bullied and cheated by the fear of death. Death did not hurt. Every torment he had endured had been a torment of life. Life had defamed death. It was a cruel thing. Қорда узала тушиб ётган Моргансон ортиқ ҳеч нарсадан қўрқмасди. У ўзининг ўлик танасини қай йўсинда топиб олишларини тасаввур қилди. Хўрлиги келиб кўзидан ёш оқди. Лекин ваҳима уни тарк этганди. Жанг тугади. Кўзини очмоқчи бўлди. Аммо музлаб қолган киприкларини бир-биридан ажратолмади. Қайтиб кўзини очишга уринмади. Энди барибир эмасми?! Жон таслим қилиш бунчалик енгил кечади, деб ўйламаган экан. Азоб-уқубатларга тўла шунча умрини кураш ва қийноқда ўтказганига ўзидан аччиқланди. Ўлимни рўкач қилиб, уни лақиллатишибди. Ўлим ҳеч нарса эмас экан. Барча тортган азоблари ўлим деб аталмиш неъматни бошлаб келди. Ҳаёт ўлимга туҳмат қилди. Қандай бедодлик!
At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major was already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but he was still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never been cut. Before long the other animals began to arrive and make themselves comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the straw immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the sheep and cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the cud. Майор аллақачон омбор охиридаги ўзининг пичан ғарамидан қилинган юксак тахтида, тўсинга осилган чироқ остида оломонни кутиб турарди. У ўн икки ёшда бўлиб, охирги пайтларда бўйига эмас, энига кўпроқ кенгайган эди, барибир, қўрқинч соладиган сўйлоқ тишларига қарамасдан, аввалгидай олийжаноб чўчқалигича қолган, кўзларидан донишмандлик ва меҳр нури таралиб турарди. Ҳамма ҳайвонлар тўплангунча, ҳар бири ўз таъбига монанд жой топиб ўтиргунча, анча кўп вақт ўтди. Биринчи бўлиб учта кўппак — Блюбелл, Жесси ва Пинчер келди, унинг ортидан чўчқалар киришди ва тепалик ёнидаги пичан устидан жой олишди. Товуқлар дераза пештахталарига жойлашдилар, кабутарлар потирлашиб, том остидаги тўсинларга тизилишди, қўйлар ва сигирлар эса дарҳол чўчқаларнинг ёнига ўзларини ташладилар ва пичан чайнашга тушдилар.
After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was usually to make some cynical remark—for instance, he would say that God had given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking. Отлардан сўнг оқ эчки Мюриэл ва эшак Бенжамин келди. У бу молхонада энг кўп яшаган ҳайвон бўлиб, хаддан зиёд расво характери бор эди. У кам гапирар, мабодо гапириб қолса, юзинг-бетинг демай, шарттакилик қиларди — масалан, у бир куни Яратган менга сўна-пашшаларни ҳайдаш учун дум берган, аммо пашшалар ҳам, дум ҳам бўлмаса афзал эди, деган. Ҳайвонлар орасида ҳеч қачон кулмаган ва кулмайдиган жонивор ҳам у эди. Нега бундай ғамгин экани ҳақида савол берилганда, у бу дунёда қувонч учун сабаб ҳали йўқлигини айтганди. Шунга қарамасдан, у тулпор Боксёрга боғланиб қолганди; одатда, улар якшанба кунларини боғ ёнидаги мўъжазгина яйловда майсаларни ковшаниб, ёнма-ён ўтказишарди.

But more mysterious still was the coming of Imber to Dawson to give himself up. It was in the late spring, when the Yukon was growling and writhing under its ice, that the old Indian climbed painfully up the bank from the river trail and stood blinking on the main street. Men who had witnessed his advent, noted that he was weak and tottery, and that he staggered over to a heap of cabin-logs and sat down. He sat there a full day, staring straight before him at the unceasing tide of white men that flooded past. Many a head jerked curiously to the side to meet his stare, and more than one remark was dropped anent the old Siwash with so strange a look upon his face. No end of men remembered afterward that they had been struck by his extraordinary figure, and forever afterward prided themselves upon their swift discernment of the unusual.

Бироқ энг катта жумбоқ шу бўлдики, Имбернинг ўзи Доусонга – одил суд ҳукмига бош эгиб келди. Баҳорнинг охирроғида, Юкон ўзининг муз кишанларини ечишга уриниб ҳайқириб-бўкирганда мўйсафид ҳинду муз устидаги йўлидан бурилди-да, қирғоқ тепалигидан амал-тақал ўтди ва саросима ичида шоҳкўчада тўхтади. Чолга кўзи тушганларнинг бари пайқашдики, у анчайин кучдан қолган. У гандираклаб ёғоч уюмига етиб борди-да, чўкди. Ён-веридан ўтиб кетаётган оқ танлиларнинг адоқсиз оқимига разм солганча уззукун шу ерда ўтирди. Кўпчилик унга қараш учун бот-бот ўгирилишар, ғалати афт-ангорли бу кекса сиваш баъзиларни ўйга толдирарди. Кейинчалик ўнлаб кишилар ҳиндунинг ғайриқиёфаси уларни ҳайратга солганини эслаб, кун бўйи зийракликларидан гердайиб юришди.

Imber grunted and stalked up to Emily Travis. He looked her over, keenly and carefully, every square inch of her. Especially did he appear interested in her silky brown hair, and in the color of her cheek, faintly sprayed and soft, like the downy bloom of a butterfly wing. He walked around her, surveying her with the calculating eye of a man who studies the lines upon which a horse or a boat is builded. In the course of his circuit the pink shell of her ear came between his eye and the westering sun, and he stopped to contemplate its rosy transparency. Then he returned to her face and looked long and intently into her blue eyes. He grunted and laid a hand on her arm midway between the shoulder and elbow. With his other hand he lifted her forearm and doubled it back. Disgust and wonder showed in his face, and he dropped her arm with a contemptuous grunt. Then he muttered a few guttural syllables, turned his back upon her, and addressed himself to Dickensen.

Имбер нимадир деб минғиллаб, Эмили Тревисга яқинроқ келди. У қизни бошдан-оёқ синчиклаб кўздан кечирди. Айниқса қизнинг ипаксимон қўнғир сочлари ва ол ёноқлари чолда алоҳида қизиқиш уйғотди. У нигоҳини узмай қизни айланиб ўтди, гўё отнинг бўй-бастини ёки қайиқни ўрганаётгандай. Ногаҳон у ботаётган қуёшнинг нурлари қизнинг қизғиш қулоқларидан ўтиб шуълаланаётганини пайқадию, таққа тўхтади. Кейин яна унинг юзларини «текшириш»га тушди ва қизнинг мовий кўзларига узоқ тикилиб қолди. Тағин ниманидир тўнғиллаб, бир қўли билан нозикойимнинг билагидан ушлаб, иккинчиси билан тирсагини букиб кўрди. Ҳиндунинг юзида нафрат ва ҳайрат акс этди, пўнғиллаб Эмилининг қўлини қўйиб юборди. Сўнг бўғзидан қанақадир товушлар чиқариб, қизга орқа ўгирди ва Диккенсенга нимадир деди.


A mounted policeman (unmounted for Klondike service) joined the group and heard Imber's wish repeated. He was a stalwart young fellow, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, legs cleanly built and stretched wide apart, and tall though Imber was, he towered above him by half a head. His eyes were cool, and gray, and steady, and he carried himself with the peculiar confidence of power that is bred of blood and tradition. His splendid masculinity was emphasized by his excessive boyishness,--he was a mere lad,--and his smooth cheek promised a blush as willingly as the cheek of a maid.

 


Қироллик отлиқ полициясидан миршаб етиб келди (Клондайкда улар отсиз юришади), у ҳам Имбернинг талабини эшитди. Миршаб кенг яғринли, девкор, оёқлари бақувват давангир эди; Имбер қанча новча бўлмасин, миршаб ундан ярим калла баланд эди. Кўзлари совуқ ва кўк, нигоҳи теран, келбатидан ҳув, ўша асрлар оша аждодлардан ўтиб келаётган ўз кучига бўлган ишонч ёғилиб турарди. Қойилмақом жасорати ёшини яшириб турарди – у ҳали ёш бола эди, силлиқ ёноқларида қизиллик қизалоқнинг юзидаги каби тезлик-ла югурарди.

 

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we‘ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. Аммо орадан юз йил ўтган бўлса-да, ғоят нохуш бир ҳолатни тан олишимиз керак: негр ҳамон озод эмас. Афсуски, бугун бир аср ўтиб ҳам негрнинг ҳаёти ҳамон сегрегация кишанлари ва дискриминация занжирлари билан зимистонга айлантирилмоқда. Орадан юз йил ўтган бўлса-да, ҳамон негр фаровон ҳаёт уммонининг ўртасидаги қашшоқлик оролида кун кўрмоқда. Юз йилдан буён негр америка жамиятининг пана-пастқам хилватларида эзилмоқда ва ўз ерида сиғинди мақомида яшамоқда. Бугун биз бу ерга айнан шунинг учун, вазиятнинг нақадар аянчли эканини таъкидлаш учун келдик.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed to the unalienable rights of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Биз давлатимиз пойтахтига рамзий маънода чек бўйича нақд пул олишга келдик дейишимиз мумкин. Бир пайтлар республикамизнинг тамал тошини қўйганлар Мустақиллик декларацияси ва конституциядаги гўзал сўзларни ёзишар экан, бу билан ҳар бир америкаликка мерос бўлиб қоладиган ўзига хос векселни имзолашган эди. Ушбу вексел билан ҳамма одамларга яшаш, озод яшаш ҳуқуқи, фаровон турмуш кафолатланган эди.

Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check that has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to his hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now.

Қиёмат қарзини қайтариш ўрнига Америка негрларнинг қўлига сохта чек тутқазди, буни эса «маблағ етишмайди» белгиси билан қайтардилар. Аммо биз адолат банки касод бўлганига ишонмаймиз. Улкан имкониятлар хазинасига эга давлатимизда маблағ етишмаслигига ишонмаймиз. Шунинг учун ушбу чек бўйича ҳаққимизни олгани келдик, бу чек бўйича бизга эркинлик ганжи ва одиллик кафолати берилиши керак. Биз бу ерга, бу муқаддас жойга яна Америкага бугунги куннинг қатъий талабини эслатиш учун ҳам келдик.

This is not time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children. Ҳозир кўнгилга таскин берадиган чоралар билан ёки тадрижий қарорлар шаклидаги тинчлантирувчи дорини ичиш билан қаноатланиб қоладиган пайт эмас. Сегрегациянинг зим-зиё водийсидан ирқий адолатнинг чароғон йўлига чиқиш вақти келди. Ҳамма имкониятлар эшигини очиш мавриди келди. Бизнинг миллатимизни ирқий адолатсизликнинг билқиллама қумлоқларидан биродарликнинг мустаҳкам қоясига олиб чиқиш фурсати етди.
57. O people! There has come to you advice from your Lord, and healing for what is in the hearts, and guidance and mercy for the believers. 57Эй одамлар! Сизга ўз Роббингиздан мавъиза, кўксингиздаги нарсага шифо, мўминларга ҳидоят ва раҳмат келди.
74. Then, after him, We sent messengers to their people. They came to them with the clear proofs, but they would not believe in anything they had already rejected. Thus We set a seal on the hearts of the hostile. 74Сўнгра ундан кейин Пайғамбарларни қавмларига юбордик. Бас, улар очиқ­ ойдин ҳужжатлар ила келдилар. Аммо у(қавм)лар олдин ёлғонга чиқарган нарсаларига иймон келтирувчи бўлмадилар. Тажовузкорларнинг қалбига шундай қилиб муҳр босамиз.
78. They said, “Did you come to us to divert us from what we found our ancestors following, and so that you become prominent in the land? We will never believe in you.” 78Улар: «Сен бизни оталаримиз тутиб келаётганида топган нарсамиздан буриш учун ва икковингизга ер юзида катталик бўлиши учун келдингми? Биз икковингизга иймон келтирувчилардан эмасмиз», дедилар.