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

Found ва: 7893 words & 2 translates

English Ўзбек
Dawn broke and merged into day. It was cold and clear. Sixty below zero was Morganson's estimate of the frost. Not a breath stirred the chill Arctic quiet. He sat up suddenly, his muscular tensity increasing the hurt of the scurvy. He had heard the far sound of a man's voice and the faint whining of dogs. He began beating his hands back and forth against his sides. It was a serious matter to bare the trigger hand to sixty degrees below zero, and against that time he needed to develop all the warmth of which his flesh was capable. Тонг отди. Ҳаво совуқ ва очиқ. Моргансон, аёз олтмиш даражадан паст бўлмаса керак, деб тахмин қилди. Оғир қутб сукунатини сассизгина эпкин ҳам бузишга журъат этгани йўқ. Туйқус Моргансон қаддини ростлади. Солқиган оёқларини оғриқ хиппа бўғди. Йироқдан аллакимларнинг ҳайқириғи, итларнинг акиллаши элас-элас яқинлашарди. Моргансон қўлларини бели-биқини аралаш ура бошлади. Олтмиш даража совуқда тепкини босиш учун қўлқопни ечишнинг ўзи бўладими?
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.
Morganson turned his attention to Oleson. At the same time that he noted the latter running away towards Minto he noted that the dogs, coming to where the first man's body blocked the trail, had halted. Morganson fired at the fleeing man and missed, and Oleson swerved. He continued to swerve back and forth, while Morganson fired twice in rapid succession and missed both shots. Morganson stopped himself just as he was pulling the trigger again. He had fired six shots. Only one more cartridge remained, and it was in the chamber. It was imperative that he should not miss his last shot. Моргансон бор диққат-эътиборини Ольсонга қаратди. Ольсон Минто томон жидду жаҳд-ла югурарди. Итлар эса кўндалангига узала тушиб ётган ўлик ёнига келиб тўхташди. Моргансоннинг ўқи яна хато кетди; Ольсон кескин бурилиб, дам чапга, дам ўнгга ташланарди. Моргансон унинг ортидан иккита ўқни пайдар-пай қўйиб юборди. Тегмади. Тепкини таваккал босмоқчи бўлди, лекин ўзини қўлга олди. Атиги бир дона ўқ қолибди. Бу сафар янглишишга ҳаққи йўқ.
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 made a movement to start back toward the sled, but found his foot rooted to the trail. He glanced down and saw that he stood in a fresh deposit of frozen red. There was red ice on his torn pants leg and on the moccasin beneath. With a quick effort he broke the frozen clutch of his blood and hobbled along the trail to the sled. The big leader that had bitten him began snarling and lunging, and was followed in this conduct by the whole team. Моргансон чаналари ёнига қайтиб бормоқчи бўлди-ю, бироқ ўрнидан жилолмади: оёғи ерга ёпишиб қолибди. Қараса, оёғи музлаган қизил кўлмакда турганини кўрди. Бир силташ билан бу алвон муз кишандан халос бўлди ва чаналар томон ошиқди. Баҳайбат йўлбошчи ириллаб олдинга талпинар, бутун тўда унга тақлид қиларди.
Morganson wept weakly for a space, and weakly swayed from one side to the other. Then he brushed away the frozen tears that gemmed his lashes. It was a joke. Malicious chance was having its laugh at him. Even John Thompson, with his heaven-aspiring whiskers, was laughing at him. Моргансон ночорликдан ўкириб юборди. Бу гўё қалтис ҳазилга ўхшарди. Қаттол қисмат унинг устидан мағзава тўкиб юборганди гўё. Ҳатто Жон Томсон ҳам соқолини ҳилпиллатиб, унинг устидан кулаётир.
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.
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!
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.

Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

“Қўрғонча” молхонасидаги мистер Жонс оқшом тушиши билан товуқхонасини тамбалаб қўйди, бироқ, у шу қадар маст эдики, девордаги тешикни беркитиш ёдидан кўтарилди. Орқа эшикни оёғи билан туртиб ёпгач, у қўлида силтаниб турган фонуси ёритган ерларда каловланиб, бироз тентиради, кейин ошхонадаги бочкадан бир стакан пивони сиздириб ичди ва хотини Жонс хоним хуррак отаётган тўшакнинг бир четига кирди.

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.
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.
The two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover, came in together, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. Boxer was an enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses put together. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work. Боксёр ва Кловер исмли тулпорлар биргаликда келишди. Улар, кенг ва юнгли туёқлари имкон қадар оз жойни эгаллаши учун, эҳтиёткорлик билан, секин ҳаракатланишарди. Кловер ўрта ёшлардаги баланд байтал бўлиб, тўртинчи тойчоғини туққанидан кейин сўлқиллаб қолганди. Боксёрнинг ташқи кўриниши ғайриихтиёрий ҳурматни уйғотарди — яғрини баландлигидан бўйи 6 фут бўлиб, у шу қадар кучли эдики, оддий отларнинг иккитасичалик қувватга эга эди. Унинг башарасини кесиб ўтган оқ чизиқ тулпорга ахмоқона кўриниш берар, ростини айтганда, ўзи ҳам у қадар ақлли эмас эди, бироқ ўзининг сокин хулқ-атвори ва ғаройиб меҳнатсеварлиги билан ҳаммага ёқар эди.
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.
The two horses had just lain down when a brood of ducklings, which had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side to find some place where they would not be trodden on. Clover made a sort of wall round them with her great foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who drew Mr. Jones's trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing at a lump of sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with. Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly throughout Major's speech without listening to a word of what he was saying. Боксёр ва Кловер ёнбошлаб олган заҳоти, омборга онасини йўқотиб қўйган ўрдакчалар подаси ёпирилиб киришди; ҳаяжон билан ғақиллаб, хавфсиз, биров билиб-билмай босиб олмайдиган жой илинжида, улар у ёндан-бу ёнга югура бошлашди. Байтал Кловернинг узанган оёғи уларга ҳимоя девори бўлиб кўринди, ўрдакчалар бу бошпанага ирғишлаб киришди ва дарҳол уйқуга кетдилар. Ниҳоят омборга, қанд бўлагини қитирлатиб чайнаганча, олифта солланиб, мистер Жонснинг икки ғилдиракли аравасини тортадиган, далли оқ бия Молли кирди. У биринчи қатордан жой олди ва дарҳол тақиб қўйилган қизил тасмачасига эътиборни қаратиш учун оқ ёлларини ўйнай бошлади. Охирги бўлиб мушук кирди, одатдагидай, энг иссиқ жойни излаб, у ён-бу ёнга аланглади ҳамда Боксёр ва Кловернинг ўртасига сирғалиб кириб олди; бу ерда у тинимсиз ағанаб, майорнинг нутқи пайтида миёв-миёвлаб тинмади ва маърузанинг бирорта сўзини ҳам эшитмади.
All the animals were now present except Moses, the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major saw that they had all made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he cleared his throat and began: Орқа эшик ёнидаги таёқ учида ўтирган, қўлга ўргатилган қарға Мозусдан бошқа барча жониворлар жам бўлган эди. Ҳаммага қулай тарзда жойлашиб олишларини ва сукунат чўкишини кутиб, майор томоғини тозалади-да, гап бошлади:
"Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you. — Ўртоқлар, кеча оқшом менинг ғалати бир туш кўрганимни ҳаммаларингиз эшитган бўлсангиз керак. Бу тушга кейинроқ қайтаман. Энг аввало сизларга, мана, нимани айтишим лозим.Сизлар билан яна узоқ ойлар бирга бўламиз, деб айтолмайман, куним битяпти, сезяпманки, сизлар билан ўлимим олдидан йиллар бўйи орттирилган донишмандлик меваларини бўлишишим лозим. Мен узоқ умр кечирдим, бир ўзим оғилда ёлғиз ётганимда, мулоҳаза юритиш учун етарли вақтим бўлди, ўйлайманки, ҳаётнинг моҳиятини замондошларимнинг барчасидан ҳам кўпроқ тушунаман, деб таъкидлай оламан. Мана, шу ҳақда сизларга баён қилмоқчиман.