"The great Sisler's father was never poor and he, the father, was playing in the Big Leagues when he was my age."

"When I was your age I was before the mast on a square rigged ship that ran to Africa and I have seen lions on the beaches in the evening."

"I know. You told me."

— Улуғ Сайзлернинг отаси ҳеч қачон камбағал бўлган эмас. Менинг ёшимда у чинакам командада ўйнар экан.

— Мен бўлсам сенинг ёшингда елканли кемада юнга бўлиб, Африка қирғоқларига сузиб борганман. Кечқурунлари йўлбарсларнинг қирғоққа чиқишини кўрганман.

— Бир гапириб берувдинг.

"Should we talk about Africa or about baseball?"

"Baseball I think," the boy said. 'Tell me about the great John J . McGraw."

— Хўш, биз нима ҳақда гаплашмоқчимиз ўзи — Африка тўғрисидами ёки бейсбол ҳақидами?

— Яхшиси бейсбол ҳақида. Менга буюк Джон Мак-Гроу ҳақида гапириб бер.

"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.

The boy went out. They had eaten with no light on the table and the old man took off his trousers and went to bed in the dark. He rolled his trousers up to make a pillow, putting the newspaper inside them. He rolled himself in the blanket and slept on the other old newspapers that covered the springs of the bed. He was asleep in a short time and he dreamed of Africa when he was a boy and the long golden beaches and the white beaches, so white they hurt your eyes, and the high capes and the great brown mountains. He lived along that coast now every night and in his dreams he heard the surf roar and saw the native boats come riding through it. He smelled the tar and oakum of the deck as he slept and he smelled the smell of Africa that the land breeze brought at morning.

Бола кетди. Улар чироқ ёқмасдан овқатланишганидан, чол қоронғида ечиниб ётди. У кийимларига газетани ҳам қўшиб ўраб, ёстиқ ўрнига бошига қўйди. Чол одеялига бурканиб, каравотнинг қуруқ пружиналарига ташлаб қўйилган эски газеталар устига чўзилди. У ётди-ю, ухлаб қолди. Уйқусида ёшлик чоғлари ўтган Африка, унинг узун, олтин қирғоқлари ва кўзни қамаштиргудек оппоқ саёзликлар, юксак қоя ва ҳай-батли қўнғир тоғлар тушига кирди. Энди у яна ҳар кеча уйқусида шу қирғоқларга қўнар, уввос билан отилган тўлқинларнинг шовқинини эшитар ва ерлилар тушган қайиқни тўлқин қирғоққа қандай суриб бораётганини кўриб турарди. Тушида у ҳамон палубадан чиқаётган лос ва смола исини туяр, димоғига эрталабки шамол қирғоқдан олиб келган Африка нафаси уриларди.

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.

His face had a wistful, hungry expression. The cheeks were hollow, and the skin seemed stretched a trifle tightly across the cheek-bones. His pale blue eyes were troubled. There was that in them that showed the haunting imminence of something terrible. Doubt was in them, and anxiety and foreboding. The thin lips were thinner than they were made to be, and they seemed to hunger towards the polished frying-pan.

Очликдаги кўриниш Моргансоннинг юзини тарк этадиганга ўхшамасди, афт-ангори сўлиб, ёноқ суяклари туртиб чиққанди. Нурсиз мовий кўзлари жавдирар; уларда ночорлик олдидаги қўрқув намоён эди. Нигоҳида ёқимсиз кўнгилсизликлар, иккиланиш, ваҳима сезилиб турарди. Табиатан юпқа лаблари яна бир қават пўст бойлаганди.