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

Found thou: 447 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
The main task is to form the new corps of managerial staff and officials with high professional skills and modern thinking, be capable of making the well thought-out and comprehensively correct decisions, and achieving the set goals. Асосий вазифа – бу юқори касб маҳорати ва замонавий тафаккурга эга, пухта ўйланган, ҳар томонлама тўғри қарорлар қабул қила оладиган, белгиланган мақсадларга эришадиган раҳбарлар ва мансабдор шахсларнинг янги таркибини шакллантиришдан иборат.

'You ought to go to bed now so that you will be fresh in the morning. I will take the things back to the Terrace."

"Good night then. I will wake you in the morning."

'You're my alarm clock/' the boy said.

"Age is my alarm clock/' the old man said. "Why do old men wake so early? Is it to have one longer day?"

"I don't know/' the boy said. "All I know is that young boys sleep late and hard."

"I can remember it/' the old man said. "I'll waken you in time."

"I do not like for him to waken me. It is as though I were inferior."

"I know."

"Sleep well old man."

— Энди сен ётиб ухла, эрталаб тетик бўлиб туришинг керак. Мен бўлсам идишларни олиб бориб бераман.

— Майли. Хайрли кеч. Эрталаб мен сени уйғотаман.

— Сен мен учун нақ қўнғироқ соатнинг ўзисан,— деди бола.

— Мен учун қариликнинг ўзи қўнғироқ соат. Чоллар нега жуда барвақт туришаркин-а? Наҳотки, буни қолган умрларидан бир кунини бўлса ҳам чўзиш ниятида қилишса?

— Билмадим. Фақат шуни биламанки, ёшлар қаттиқ ва кўп ухлашади.

— Бошимдан ўтган, биламан,— деди чол.— Мен сени вақтида уйғотаман.

— Негадир мени анови уйғотганини ёқтирмайман. Худди мен ундан қолишадигандек.

— Тушундим.

— Хайрли кеч, Сантьяго.

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.

He sat back and drew forth a pipe. He looked into it with sharp scrutiny, and tapped it emptily on his open palm. He turned the hair-seal tobacco pouch inside out and dusted the lining, treasuring carefully each flake and mite of tobacco that his efforts gleaned. The result was scarce a thimbleful. He searched in his pockets, and brought forward, between thumb and forefinger, tiny pinches of rubbish. Here and there in this rubbish were crumbs of tobacco. These he segregated with microscopic care, though he occasionally permitted small particles of foreign substance to accompany the crumbs to the hoard in his palm. He even deliberately added small, semi-hard woolly fluffs, that had come originally from the coat lining, and that had lain for long months in the bottoms of the pockets. Моргансон ўтириб олиб мундштугини чиқазди, ҳафсала билан кўрикдан ўтказиб, кафтига нуқиб-нуқиб кўрди, гарчи ичида тамаки бўлмаса-да. Сўнгра тюлен терисидан тикилган тамаки халтасини тескари ағдариб, тамаки қолдиқларини териб, астардан борини сидириб олди. Тўплаган тамакиси ангишвонача чиқмади; чўнтакларини титкилади, бармоқларига тамаки қолдиқлари аралаш бир чимдим қўқим илинди. Увоқдайини ҳам кўздан қочирмай тамаки зарраларини ажратиб олди, адоқсиз ойлар давомида чўнтак тубида яшириниб-чигалланиб ётган майда жун астар толалари ҳам уларга қўшилиб кетганди.
"I thought there was half-a-dollar in it," he said. – Ярим долларлик чиқар, деб ўйловдим.
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.
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.
The cold snap broke, and he was able to remain by the bank once more, and the trail died again. For a week he crouched and watched, and never life stirred along it, not a soul passed in or out. He had cut down to one biscuit night and morning, and somehow he did not seem to notice it. Sometimes he marvelled at the way life remained in him. He never would have thought it possible to endure so much. Шундан кейин аёзнинг попуги хийла пасайди. Лекин аҳвол ўша- ўша. Нақ бир ҳафта қўриқчилик қилган Моргансоннинг кўзи бирон мавжудотга тушмади. Моргансон кунлик тановулини тағин иккита кулчага камайтирди. Гоҳида бу сезилмасди ҳам. Туриб-туриб ҳалигача нафас олаётганидан ажибланарди. Бани башарнинг шунчалар заҳмату азобларга дош бериши мумкинлигини тасаввурига сиғдиролмасди.
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.
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.
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.
"I thought you was dead," he said. – Аллақачон мурдага айлангансан, деб ўйловдим.
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.
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.
They came into view around the outjutting clump of trees. To the fore was the third man whose name he had not learnt. Then came eight dogs drawing the sled. At the front of the sled, guiding it by the gee-pole, walked John Thompson. The rear was brought up by Oleson, the Swede. He was certainly a fine man, Morganson thought, as he looked at the bulk of him in his squirrel-skin parka. The men and dogs were silhouetted sharply against the white of the landscape. They had the seeming of two dimension, cardboard figures that worked mechanically. Morganson rested his cocked rifle in the notch in the tree. He became abruptly aware that his fingers were cold, and discovered that his right hand was bare. He did not know that he had taken off the mitten. He slipped it on again hastily. The men and dogs drew closer, and he could see their breaths spouting into visibility in the cold air. When the first man was fifty yards away, Morganson slipped the mitten from his right hand. He placed the first finger on the trigger and aimed low. Улар ўрмон дўнглиги ортида кўринишди. Олдинда Моргансон исмини билмайдигани. Ортидан чанага қўшилган саккизта ит. Жон Томсон ёнбошда таёқ кўмагида уларни йўлга солиб келмоқда. Энг охирида швед Ольсон. “Хушрўй барзанги”, деб ўйлади Моргансон нигоҳлари бу девқоматнинг эгни-бошида сирпанар экан. Одамлар ва итлар қораси оқ гиламда аниқ-тиниқ намоён бўларкан. Улар сурат сингари ясси кўринар, турнақатор ҳаракатланишарди. Моргансон қуролни тиргакка қўйиб отишга чоғланган замон бармоқлари увишиб қолганини сезди. Одамлар ва итлар борган сари яқин келаверишди. Паға-паға буғ уларнинг оғзидан чиқаётган ҳовур эканлигини кўрди. Олдиндаги эллик ярдга яқинлашганда Моргансон кўрсатгич бармоғини тепкига қўйди.
In order to get to the tent he had to go wide of the sled and the savage animals. He stepped off the trail into the soft snow. Then he felt suddenly giddy and stood still. He was afraid to go on for fear he would fall down. He stood still for a long time, balancing himself on his crippled legs that were trembling violently from weakness. He looked down and saw the snow reddening at his feet. The blood flowed freely as ever. He had not thought the bite was so severe. He controlled his giddiness and stooped to examine the wound. The snow seemed rushing up to meet him, and he recoiled from it as from a blow. He had a panic fear that he might fall down, and after a struggle he managed to stand upright again. He was afraid of that snow that had rushed up to him. Чодирга бориш учун қутурган итларни узоқдан айланиб ўтиш лозим эди. Моргансон юмшоқ қорда юра юбошлади-ю, боши айланиб, таққа тўхтади. Агар яна бир қадам қўйса, йиқилишидан қўрқди. Шу важдан оёқлари қалт-қалт титраб, узоқ туриб қолди. Пастга кўз ташлади – оёқ ости қирмизи гилам тус олибди. Ярасидан қон оқиши тўхтамаганди. Ит шунчалик чуқур тишлайди, деб ким ўйлабди дейсиз! Бош айланиши ўтиб кетгач, жароҳатини текширмоқ учун энгашди. Оппоқ қор унга ташланаётгандай туюлди ва у мушт егандай орқага тисланди. Ваҳима бутун вужудини эгаллаб олди – қулаб тушмаса гўрга эди – у зўр бериб қаддини ростлади. Милт-милт йилтиллаётган оппоқ қор рангга кирди.
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.
But his anger passed. The lies and frauds of life were of no consequence now that he was coming to his own. He became aware of drowsiness, and felt a sweet sleep stealing upon him, balmy with promises of easement and rest. He heard faintly the howling of the dogs, and had a fleeting thought that in the mastering of his flesh the frost no longer bit. Then the light and the thought ceased to pulse beneath the tear-gemmed eyelids, and with a tired sigh of comfort he sank into sleep. Кейин эса қаҳр-ғазаб чекинди. Энди, ҳақиқат аён бўлгач, ёлғон ва мунофиқлик аҳамиятсиз эди. Уни мудроқ енга бошлади, ором ва озодликни ваъда қилиб, ширингина уйқу босди. Олислардан итларнинг улиши элас-элас қулоғига чалинди. Вужудини чирмаб олган аёз зиғирча-да оғриқ бермаяпти, деган ўй шууридан йилт этиб ўтди. Кейин шуури хира тортди, ортидан киприкларидаги дур оралаб қабоқларини ёриб ўтаётган нур ҳам сўнди. Сўнгги оғир хўрсиниқ ила руҳи енгиллашиб, абадий уйқу салтанатига кўчди.
As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during the day that old Major, the prize Middle White boar, had had a strange dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old Major (so he was always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was Willingdon Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone was quite ready to lose an hour's sleep in order to hear what he had to say. Ётоқхонада чироқ ўчиши билан молхонада безовта ҳаракатлар бошланди. Кун бўйи ҳайвонлар орасида миш-мишлар тарқалди, гўёки кекса майор, мидлуайтлик мукофотланган ахта чўчқа ўтган кеча ғалати туш кўрибди ва бугун бу ҳақда бошқа жониворларга сўзлаб берар экан. Ҳаммалари, мистер Жонс кўздан батамом ғойиб бўлиши билан, катта омборда кўришишга қарор қилишди. Кекса майор (уни ҳамиша шундай аташарди, ҳолбуки, кўргазмаларга олиб борганда “Уиллингтон Гўзали” деган ном остида намойиш этишарди) молхонада жуда катта ҳурмат-эътиборга сазовор эди, шунинг учун бу таклифга ҳамма ҳайвонлар рози бўлишди.
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.