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Found but: 1424 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек

“He used to come to the Terrace sometimes too in the older days. But he was rough and harsh- spoken and difficult when he was drinking. His mind was on horses as well as baseball. At least he carried lists of horses at all times in his pocket and frequently spoke the names of horses on the telephone. ”

— У ҳам авваллари бизнинг Террасимизга келиб турарди. Аммо ичиб олса, тамом, унга ҳеч ҳам бас келиб бўлмасди. У фақат бейсболгина эмас, от жинниси ҳам эди. Ҳар доим чўнтагида мусобақа программасини олиб юрар ва телефон орқали отларнинг номини атаб, уларга пул тикарди.

"Who is the greatest manager, really, Luque or Mike Gonzalez?"

"I think they are equal."

"And the best fisherman is you."

"No. I know others better."

"Que Va," the boy said. "There are many good fishermen and some great ones. But there is only you."

"Thank you. You make me happy. I hope no fish will come along so great that he will prove us wrong."

— Сенингча, энг улуғ тренер ким? Люкми ёки Майк Гонсалесми?

— Менимча, улар бир-бирларидан қолишмайди.

— Дунёда энг чапдаст балиқчи бўлса — сенсан.

— Ундай эмас. Мендан ҳам зўр балиқчиларни кўрганман.

— Qu e Va! деди бола.— Дунёда яхши балиқчилар кам эмас, жуда ажойиблари ҳам бор. Лекин сенинг олдингга тушадигани йўқ.

— Раҳмат. Сен шундай деб ўйласанг, хурсандман. Менга жудаям катта балиқ тушмайди, деб умид қиламан, акс ҳолда, ишни дўндиролмай қолиб ҳафсалангни пир қилиб қўймасам, деб қўрқаман.

"There is no such fish if you are still strong as you say."

"I may not be as strong as I think/' the old man said. "But I know many tricks and I have resolution."

— Ҳақиқатан ҳам аввалги кучинг бўлса, дунёда сен эплолмайдиган балиқ топилмаса керак.

— Балки, илгариги кучим қолмагандир. Лекин менда ғайрат бор, чидамим ҳам етарли.

But many who have tried to do just that have found their efforts blocked on various official pretexts. Аммо рухсат олишга уринганларнинг кўпчилигига турли расмий баҳоналар билан акция ўтказишга изн берилмади.
“Massimov worked for many years with me, but how would you know? Did Jesus Christ know about Judas, who sat close to him?” «Масимов мен билан кўп йиллар ишлаган, аммо қаердан билай? Исо Масиҳ унга яқин ўтирган Яҳудо ҳақида билмаганку?», деди собиқ президент.
But there is a catch -- presidential terms are now a whopping seven years long, the same grace period granted to top decision-makers in democracy-free locales such as Equatorial Guinea, Syria, and Turkmenistan, to name a few. Аммо масаланинг бир жиҳати бор – президентлик муддати эндиликда етти йилга чўзилади. Шу ўринда айтиш жоизки, Экваториал Гвинея, Сурия ва Туркманистон каби демократик бўлмаган давлатларда мамлакатларда президент мана шунча узоқ муддатга сайланади.

It was the last of Morganson's bacon. In all his life he had never pampered his stomach. In fact, his stomach had been a sort of negligible quantity that bothered him little, and about which he thought less. But now, in the long absence of wonted delights, the keen yearning of his stomach was tickled hugely by the sharp, salty bacon.

Моргансоннинг томоғидан сўнгги бекон* тишлами саримойдай ўтиб кетди. У ҳаётида бирор маротаба ошқозонини бундай сийламаганди. Ошқозон Моргансон учун эътибордан холи ва уни кам безовта қилувчи нарса эди, ўзи ҳам ошқозон масаласида кўпам қайғуравермасди. Лекин ҳозир узоқ очликдан сўнг тузланган бекон бўлаги нафсини қондирди.

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.
"Not quite," answered the other, "but near enough. I'll get it back with the down weight on the next comer." – Жиндай етмади, – деди қовоқхона эгаси. – Ҳечқиси йўқ! Бошқа бирортасидан ҳиссасини чиқариб оларман.
"A touch of it," he answered. "But I haven't begun to swell yet. Maybe I can get to Dyea and fresh vegetables, and beat it out." – Ҳа, озроқ, – жавоб қилди Моргансон, – лекин ҳали очликдан ўлганимча йўқ. Дайига етиб олай, эт олиб, ўзимга келиб оламан.
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.
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.
But Morganson conceived an idea. He changed his crouching spot to a place where cottonwood limbs projected on either side of him. Into these with his axe he chopped two broad notches. Then in one of the notches he rested the barrel of his rifle and glanced along the sights. He covered the trail thoroughly in that direction. He turned about, rested the rifle in the other notch, and, looking along the sights, swept the trail to the clump of trees behind which it disappeared. Моргансоннинг хаёлига ялт этиб бир фикр келиб қолди. Дарахт шохлари ерга тегай-тегай деб турган жойга ўтди. Йўғон шохларни болта билан йўниб, тиргак учун иккита чуқур кертик ясади. Кейин милтиқни тиргакка қўйиб, йўлни кузата бошлади. Йўлнинг бир қисми унинг нишони остида эди. Моргансон милтиқни нариги тиргакка жойлади; бу вазиятда у ўрмон дўнглигигача бўлган сайҳонликни нишони остида кузата оларди.
So it was that he conceived of the sled for which he waited. It was loaded with life, his life. His life was fading, fainting, gasping away in the tent in the snow. He was weak from lack of food, and could not travel of himself. But on the sled for which he waited were dogs that would drag him, food that would fan up the flame of his life, money that would furnish sea and sun and civilisation. Sea and sun and civilisation became terms interchangeable with life, his life, and they were loaded there on the sled for which he waited. The idea became an obsession, and he grew to think of himself as the rightful and deprived owner of the sled-load of life. Пистирмада кўзлари тўрт бўлиб кутганча чаналар борасида шундай хаёлларга борарди. Чаналарда ҳаёт деб аталмиш неъмат бор эди, унга аталган неъмат. Унинг вужудидаги ҳаёт сўниб бораётибди. Гоҳида чодирга ташриф буюрган ўлим аскарларини қувиб солмоқда. Чалақурсоқликдан мажолсизланиб борар, сафарни давом эттиролмасди. Кўпдан бери кутаётган чаналарда унинг тириклик шамига аланга бериши мумкин бўлган егулик бор эди. Чаналарда яна муллажиринг ҳам бор эдики, улар денгиз, қуёш, тараққиётни ваъда қиларди. Денгиз, қуёш, тараққиёт – буларнинг барчаси тирикликнинг манбаи. Бу фикр унга тинчлик бермай қўйди ва аста-секин ўзини ҳаётбахш неъматлар ортилган чаналарнинг хўжайинидай ҳис эта бошлади.
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.
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.
The next morning circumstance eased its grip on him. As he started to come out of the tent he saw a huge bull-moose crossing the swale some four hundred yards away. Morganson felt a surge and bound of the blood in him, and then went unaccountably weak. A nausea overpowered him, and he was compelled to sit down a moment to recover. Then he reached for his rifle and took careful aim. The first shot was a hit: he knew it; but the moose turned and broke for the wooded hillside that came down to the swale. Morganson pumped bullets wildly among the trees and brush at the fleeing animal, until it dawned upon him that he was exhausting the ammunition he needed for the sled-load of life for which he waited. Эртасига тақдир унга мурувват кўрсатди. Тонг саҳар кулбадан чиқибоқ тўрт юз ярд нарида юрган буғуга кўзи тушди. Моргансон илкис томирларида қон тезоблик билан югургилаётганини ҳис этди. Кейин эса вужудини тушуниксиз мадорсизлик эгаллади, томоғи қақраб кетди. Ўзига келиб олиш учун бир зумга қорга ётиб олди. Кейин милтиқни тўғрилаб, буғуни аста мўлжалга олди. Биринчи ўқ нишонга тегди, бунга ишончи комил. Бироқ буғу юқорига, тепалик томон чопиб кетди. Моргансон ғазабланиб, дарахтлар орасида лип-лип кўзга ташланаётган ҳайвоннинг ортидан кетма-кет ўқ узаверди. Бу ҳол токи у ҳаёт-мамоти учун зарур бўлган ўқларни ҳавога учираётганини англамагунча давом этди.
He shook the hysteria from him. He drew his hunting knife and worked as rapidly as his injured thumb and weakness would permit him. He did not stop to skin the moose, but quartered it with its hide on. It was a Klondike of meat. Асабий кулгусини босиб, ов пичоғини чиқарди ва дарҳол ишга киришди. У буғунинг терисини шилиб ўтирмади, тери-периси билан тўрт бўлак қилиб нимталади. Бу нақ Клондайк ўлкасини тўйдирадиган бир дунё гўшт эди.