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

Found go: 2473 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
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.
His frozen thumb gave him a great deal of trouble. While watching by the bank he got into the habit of taking his mitten off and thrusting the hand inside his shirt so as to rest the thumb in the warmth of his arm-pit. A mail carrier came over the trail, and Morganson let him pass. A mail carrier was an important person, and was sure to be missed immediately. Моргансон совуқ олган бошмалдоғидан хавотирланарди. Қўлқопини ечиб қўлини қўлтиғига тиқиб олиш одат тусига кирди. Йўлда кўринди. Моргансон уни ўтказиб юборди: хат ташувчи анчайин таниқли шахс, ғойиб бўлганини билишса, Моргансонни дарров қўлга туширишади.
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.
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.
The way of the disaster was clear to him. The wolves had scented his cache. One of them had leapt from the trunk of the fallen tree to the top of the cache. He could see marks of the brute's paws in the snow that covered the trunk. He had not dreamt a wolf could leap so far. A second had followed the first, and a third and fourth, until the flimsy scaffold had gone down under their weight and movement. Моргансон фалокат қандай юз берганинин тахмин қилди. Бўрилар гўшт исини олишган. Улардан бири тахтасупага ўзини отган. Моргансон бу сўйлоқтишлар шунчалик баландга сакрай олишини хаёлига ҳам келтирмаганди. Бўрилар бирин-кетин сакрайверишган ва натижада шундоғам омонот турган тахтасупа қулаб тушган.
He spent the rest of the morning dragging the wreckage of the moose down the hillside. In addition, he had at least ten pounds left of the chunk of meat he had dragged down the previous day. "I'm good for weeks yet," was his comment as he surveyed the heap. Тушгача қолган-қутган сарқит суякларни чодирга ташиди. Чодирда ҳам тунов куни олиб келган гўштдан ўн қадоқча қолганди. Озиқ-овқат захирасига назар ташлаб, ўзича: “Икки-уч ҳафтага етади”, деб қўйди.
Thanks to the meat he felt stronger, though his scurvy was worse and more painful. He now lived upon soup, drinking endless gallons of the thin product of the boiling of the moose bones. The soup grew thinner and thinner as he cracked the bones and boiled them over and over; but the hot water with the essence of the meat in it was good for him, and he was more vigorous than he had been previous to the shooting of the moose. Гўшт уни оёққа турғизган бўлса-да, касаллик бутун вужудини сиқувга ола бошлаганди. Бундан кейин қуруқ суякнинг ўзидан қайнатма шўрва тайёрлаб, тирикчилик қилишни ўрганиб олди. Суякларни янчиб, яна ва яна қайнатаверди. Айниқса, гўштли қайнатма жонига оро кирди. Ўша, буғуни отган кундан буён анча-мунча эт олди.
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.
It was dark when he arrived at Minto, but this served him. No one saw him arrive. Besides, he knew he would have moonlight by which to return. He climbed the bank and pushed open the saloon door. The light dazzled him. The source of it was several candles, but he had been living for long in an unlighted tent. As his eyes adjusted themselves, he saw three men sitting around the stove. They were trail-travellers--he knew it at once; and since they had not passed in, they were evidently bound out. They would go by his tent next morning. Минтога кириб келганда қора тун ўз пардасини тортиб улгурганди. Лекин бу ҳам унинг фойдасига эди: қоронғуда биров уни таниб қолмайди. Қайтишда эса ой йўлини ёритиб туради. Ҳув ўша кунги қовоқхона эшигини очиб тўғри кираверди. Ичкарида атиги бир неча дона шам ёғду сочиб турса-да, хонадаги ёруғлик кўзини қамаштириб юборди. Моргансон ҳаддан ташқари узоқ муддат зим-зиё қўналғада яшаганди. Ниҳоят, кўзлари ёруғликка ўргангач, печ атрофида ўтирган уч эркакка кўзи тушди ва ўша ондаёқ ҳаммасига тушунди: учовлон чанада саёҳатга чиқишган, фақат бошқа тарафдан келишган. Эртага чодир ёнидан ўтишлари турган гап.
"You've been dead for more'n two months, now," the barkeeper explained. "You left here going south, and you never arrived at Selkirk. Where have you been?" – Икки ойдан зиёдроқ сендан бирон хат-хабар бўлмади, – тушунтирди қовоқхона эгаси. – Бу ердан жануб томон йўл солдинг-у, Селкеркка етиб бормадинг. Қаёқларда қолиб кетдинг, ўзи?
"I located across the river," he answered. "I've got a mighty big stack of wood chopped." – Нариги соҳилда эдим. Ўзиям бир дунё ўтин кесдим.
"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 black-whiskered man and one of his companions arose. "Come on, Oleson," the former said to the third one of the party, a fair-haired, ruddy-faced giant. Oleson came to his feet, yawning and stretching. "What are you going to bed so soon for?" the barkeeper asked plaintively. "It's early yet." "Got to make Selkirk to-morrow," said he of the black whiskers. "On Christmas Day!" the barkeeper cried. "The better the day the better the deed," the other laughed. Қорасоқол қўзғалди: ортидан жўраларидан бири ҳам ўрнидан турди. – Кетдик, Ольсон, – деди қорасоқол норғул, юзи қизил, малладан келган йўлдошларига. Ольсон эснаб, керишганча ўрнидан қўзғалди. – Нима, дарров ётмоқчимисизлар? – деди ранжигансимон қовоқхона эгаси. –Ҳали эрта-ку. – Эртага Селкеркда бўлишимиз лозим.– Рождествонинг биринчи кунида-я! – Кундузи йўл юриш хийла осонроқ.
"That's Jack Thompson," the barkeeper said. "Made two millions on Bonanza and Sulphur, and got more coming. I'm going to bed. Have another drink first." Morganson hesitated. – Бу Жон Томсон, – деди қовоқхоначи. – У Олтингугурт сойида ва Бонанзада икки миллионлик олтин қазиб олган. Пуллар унга шундоқ ҳам оқиб келаверади. Энди ётсам бўлаверади. Балки яна пича отволарсан? Моргансон бош чайқади.
Morganson mastered his drunkenness long enough to swallow the whisky, say good night, and get out on the trail. It was moonlight, and he hobbled along through the bright, silvery quiet, with a vision of life before him that took the form of a roll of hundred-dollar bills. Моргансон мастлигини ошкор этмай хайрлашиб, йўлга чиқишга ўзида ирода топа билди. Ойдин кеча. У кумуш сукунат ичра юз долларлик даста пулга эврилган тириклик ва ҳаёт хаёлотида кетиб борарди.
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.
He held his fire and desperately studied Oleson's flight. The giant was grotesquely curving and twisting and running at top speed along the trail, the tail of his parka flapping smartly behind. Morganson trained his rifle on the man and with a swaying action followed his erratic flight. Morganson's finger was getting numb. He could scarcely feel the trigger. "God help me," he breathed a prayer aloud, and pulled the trigger. The running man pitched forward on his face, rebounded from the hard trail, and slid along, rolling over and over. He threshed for a moment with his arms and then lay quiet. Моргансон зўр диққат билан қочоқни кузатар эди. У олға силжиётган Ольсонга милтиғи милини тўғрилади. Бармоғи увушиб қолибди, тепкини сезмади. – Тангрим, ўзинг мадад бер! – нидо қилди ва тепкини босди. Ольсон юзтубан йиқилди, заранг йўлда бир неча марта ўмбалоқ ошди. Қўллари ёрдамида туришга чиранди, бироздан кейин қимирламай қолди.

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.
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.
He prowled around the sled demented, at times weeping and pleading with the brutes for his life there on the sled, at other times raging impotently against them. Then calmness came upon him. He had been making a fool of himself. All he had to do was to go to the tent, get the axe, and return and brain the dogs. He'd show them. Ақлдан озган Моргансон чаналар теграсида тентирарди. Гоҳ ўкиниб,гоҳ ҳўнграб чаналардаги ҳаёт неъматларини итлардан ялиниб-ёлвориб сўрарди. Кейин тинчиб қолди. Қандай аҳмоқгарчилик! Ҳозир чодирга бориб, болтани олиб келади-да, итларнинг бошини мажағлаб ташлайди. Ҳали кўрсатиб қўяди бу итдан тарқаганларга!