نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 23 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 1865

by Sherwood Anderson

It was a hard jolt for me, one of the most bitterest I ever had to face. And it all came about through my own foolishness too . Even yet sometimes, when I think of it, I want to cry or swear or kick myself Perhaps, even now, after all this time, there will be a kind of satisfaction in making myself look cheap by telling of it.
 It began at three o'clock one October afternoon as I sat in the grandstand at the fall trotting and pacing meet at Sandusky, Ohio.
 To tell the truth, I felt a little foolish that I should be sitting in the grandstand at all. During the summer before I had left my home town with Harry Whitehead and, with a nigger named Burt, had taken a job as swipe with one of the two horses Harry was campaigning through the fall race meets that year. Mother cried and my sister Mildred, who wanted to get a job as a school teacher in our town that fall, stormed and scolded about the house all during the week before I left. They both thought it something disgraceful that one of our family should take a place as a swipe with race horses. I've an idea Mildred thought my taking the place would stand in the way of her getting the job she'd been working so long for.

ادامه مطلب: I'M A FOOL
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 23 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 992


by Joseph Conrad

THIS could have occurred nowhere but in England, where men and sea interpenetrate, so to speak--the sea entering into the life of most men, and the men knowing something or everything about the sea, in the way of amusement, of travel, or of bread-winning.

We were sitting round a mahogany table that reflected the bottle, the claret-glasses, and our faces as we leaned on our elbows. There was a director of companies, an accountant, a lawyer, Marlow, and myself. The director had been a Conway boy, the accountant had served four years at sea, the lawyer--a fine crusted Tory, High Churchman, the best of old fellows, the soul of honor-- had been chief officer in the P. & O. service in the good old days when mail-boats were square-rigged at least on two masts, and used to come down the China Sea before a fair monsoon with stun'-sails set alow and aloft. We all began life in the merchant service. Between the five of us there was the strong bond of the sea, and also the fellowship of the craft, which no amount of enthusiasm for yachting, cruising, and so on can give, since one is only the amusement of life and the other is life itself.

ادامه مطلب: Youth
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 818


 Sherwood Anderson

 Sherwood_AndersonIT was early evening of a day in, the late fall and the Winesburg County Fair had brought crowds of country people into town. The day had been clear and the night came on warm and pleasant. On the Trunion Pike, where the road after it left town stretched away between berry fields now covered with dry brown leaves, the dust from passing wagons arose in clouds. Children, curled into little balls, slept on the straw scattered on wagon beds. Their hair was full of dust and their fingers black and sticky. The dust rolled away over the fields and the departing sun set it ablaze with colors.

In the main street of Winesburg crowds filled the stores and the sidewalks. Night came on, horses whinnied, the clerks in the stores ran madly about, children became lost and cried lustily, an American town worked terribly at the task of amusing itself.

Pushing his way through the crowds in Main Street, young George Willard concealed himself in the stairway leading to Doctor Reefy's office and looked at the people. With feverish eyes he watched the faces drifting past under the store lights. Thoughts kept coming into his head and he did not want to think. He stamped impatiently on the wooden steps and looked sharply about. "Well, is she going to stay with him all day? Have I done all this waiting for nothing?" he muttered.

نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 964


 Anton Chekhov

  ChekovTwo peasant constables — one a stubby, black-bearded individual with such exceptionally short legs that if you looked at him from behind it seemed as though his legs began much lower down than in other people; the other, long, thin, and straight as a stick, with a scanty beard of dark reddish colour — were escorting to the district town a tramp who refused to remember his name. The first waddled along, looking from side to side, chewing now a straw, now his own sleeve, slapping himself on the haunches and humming, and altogether had a careless and frivolous air; the other, in spite of his lean face and narrow shoulders, looked solid, grave, and substantial; in the lines and expression of his whole figure he was like the priests among the Old Believers, or the warriors who are painted on old-fashioned ikons. “For his wisdom God had added to his forehead” — that is, he was bald — which increased the resemblance referred to. The first was called Andrey Ptaha, the second Nikandr Sapozhnikov. 

ادامه مطلب: Dreams
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 738

An Ideal Family

 Katherine Mansfield

 Katherine-MansfieldThat evening for the first time in his life, as he pressed through the swing door and descended the three broad steps to the pavement, old Mr. Neave felt he was too old for the spring. Spring - warm, eager, restless - was there, waiting for him in the golden light, ready in front of everybody to run up, to blow in his white beard, to drag sweetly on his arm. And he couldn't meet her, no; he couldn't square up once more and stride off, jaunty as a young man. He was tired and, although the late sun was still shining, curiously cold, with a numbed feeling all over. Quite suddenly he hadn't the energy, he hadn't the heart to stand this gaiety and bright movement any longer; it confused him. He wanted to stand still, to wave it away with his stick, to say, "Be off with you!" Suddenly it was a terrible effort to greet as usual - tipping his wide-awake with his stick - all the people whom he knew, the friends, acquaintances, shopkeepers, postmen, drivers. But the gay glance that went with the gesture, the kindly twinkle that seemed to say, "I'm a match and more for any of you" - that old Mr. Neave could not manage at all. He stumped along, lifting his knees high as if he were walking through air that had somehow grown heavy and solid like water. And the homeward-looking crowd hurried by, the trams clanked, the light carts clattered, the big swinging cabs bowled along with that reckless, defiant indifference that one knows only in dreams ...

ادامه مطلب: An Ideal Family
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 389

La Biblioteca Total


 jorge-luis-borgesEl capricho o imaginación o utopía de la Biblioteca Total incluye ciertos rasgos, que no es difícil confundir con virtudes. Maravilla, en primer lugar, el mucho tiempo que tardaron los hombres en pensar esa idea. Ciertos ejemplos que Aristóteles atribuye a Demócrito y a Leucipo la prefiguran con claridad, pero su tardío inventor es Gustav Theodor Fechner y su primer expositor es Kurd Lasswitz. (Entre Demócrito de Abdera y Fechner de Leipzig fluyen -cargadamente- casi venticuatro siglos de Europa.) Sus conexiones son ilustres y múltiples: está relacionada con el atomismo y con el análisis combinatorio, con la tipografía y con el azar. En la obra El certamen con la tortuga (Berlín, 1929), el doctor Theodore Wolff juzga que que es una derivación, o parodia, de la máquina mental de Raimundo Lulio; yo agregaría que es un avatar tipográfico de esa doctrina del Eterno Regreso que prohijada por los estoicos o por Blanqui, por los pitagóricos o por Nietzsche, regresa eternamente.

ادامه مطلب: La Biblioteca Total
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 557

The Nuisance

 Doris Lessing

Doris LessingTwo narrow tracks, one of them deepened to a smooth dusty groove by the incessant padding of bare feet, wound from the farm compound to the old well through half a mile of tall blonde grass that was soiled and matted because of the nearness of the clustering huts: the compound had been on that ridge for twenty years.

The native women with their children used to loiter down the track, and their shrill laughter and chattering sounded through the trees as if one might suddenly have come on a flock of brilliant noisy parrots. It seemed as if fetching water was more of a social event to them than a chore. At the well itself they would linger half the morning, standing in groups to gossip, their arms raised in that graceful, eternally moving gesture to steady glittering or rusted petrol tins balanced on head-rings woven of grass; kneeling to slap bits of bright cloth on slabs of stone blasted long ago from the depths of earth. Here they washed and scolded and dandled their children. Here they scrubbed their pots. Here they sluiced themselves and combed their hair.

ادامه مطلب: The Nuisance
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 374



 GABRIEL GARCIA MARQUEZEl tren salió del trepidante corredor de rocas bermejas, penetró en las plantaciones de banano, simétricas e interminables, y el aire se hizo húmedo y no se volvio a sentir la brissa del mar. Una humareda sofocante entró por la ventanilla del vagón. En el estrecho camino paralelo a la vía férrea había carretas de bueyes cargadas de racimos verdes. Al otro lado del camino, en intempestivos espacios sin sembrar, habia oficinas con ventiladores eléctricos, campamentos de ladrillos rojos y residencias con sillas y mesitas blancas en las terrazas entre palmeras y rosales polvorientos. Eran las once de la mañana y todavia no había empezado el calor.

-Es mejor que subas el vidrio-dijo la mujer-. El pelo se te va a llenar de carbón.

La niña trató de hacerlo pero la ventana estaba bloqueada por el óxido.

نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 437


 Somerset Maugham

 somerset-maughamFor the first six weeks that Ashenden was at the sanatorium he stayed in bed. He saw nobody but the doctor who visited him morning and evening, the nurses who looked after him, and the maid who brought him his meals. He had contracted tuberculosis of the lungs, and since at the time there were reasons that made it difficult for him to go to Switzerland the specialist he saw in London had sent him up to a sanatorium in the north of Scotland. At last the day came that he had been patiently looking forward to when the doctor told him he could get up; and in the afternoon his nurse, having helped him to dress, took him down to the veranda, placed cushions behind him, wrapped him up in rugs, and left him to enjoy the sun that was streaming down from a cloudless sky. It was mid-winter. The sanatorium stood on the top of a hill and from it you had a spacious view of the snow-clad country. There were people lying all along the veranda in deck-chairs, some chatting with their neighbours and some reading. Every now and then one would have a fit of coughing and you noticed that at the end of it he looked anxiously at his handkerchief. Before the nurse left Ashenden she turned with a kind of professional briskness to the man who was lying in the next chair.

ادامه مطلب: SANATORIUM
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 799

The War in the Bathroom

 Margaret Atwood

Late this afternoon she moved out of the old place into the new one. The moving was accomplished with a minimum of difficulty: she managed to get everything into the two suitcases and was able to carry them herself for the three blocks that separate the old place from the new one. She only had to stop and rest twice. She is quite strong for her age. A man came along and offered to help her, rather a pleasant-looking man, but I have told her never to accept help from strangers.

 I think the German woman was glad to see her go. She always regarded her with a certain amount of suspicion. She stood on the wooden porch in her slippers, watching, her arms in their gray ravelled sweater-sleeves folded across her fat stomach, her slip hanging an inch below the figured cotton housedress she always wore. I, for one, have always disliked the German woman. I had become tired of seeing that certain things in the room had been moved (though she took pains to set them back in the approximate proper spot, she was never quite meticulous enough), and I had begun to suspect lately that she was looking at the mail: the envelopes had greasy thumbprints, and it is still too cold for the postmen to go without their gloves. The new place has a landlord instead of a landlady; I think, on the whole, I prefer them.

ادامه مطلب: The War in the Bathroom
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 363


 Doris Lessing

  Doris_Lessing “Look at him,” says Helen. “I don’t say anything, and I go on looking.”

“What does he do then?” asks Mary, gazing at Helen as she so often does, as if Helen had the secret of something or other.

“Then he gives in,” says Helen, and laughs. The laugh, as always, takes Mary captive, and this time it seems to reverberate right through her, and Helen seems to be remembering something delicious, for she sits smiling.

Helen is the Greek wife of Tom, who is English. He saw her in a taverna in Naxos, where she was waiting on him and on the other foreign tourists as if she were doing them a favor, and he fell in love and persuaded her to return to England with him. Not entirely foreign ground to her, because she has relatives in the large Greek and Cypriot community in Camden Town, and she visited them one summer. Mary is the English wife of Demetrios, and she was with a girlfriend on holiday in Ándros when the handsome waiter in the café overlooking the sea fell in love with her. He, too, has relatives in London. Now he is a waiter in a Greek restaurant called the Argonauts; and he intends to have his own restaurant soon. He will call it Dmitri’s, because Dmitri is what Mary calls him. Meanwhile they live in two rooms over the grocery owned by Helen’s Tom.

ادامه مطلب: THE STARE
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 458

 The Rabbit-pen

 Sherwood Anderson

 Sherwood_AndersonIN a wire pen beside the gravel path, Fordyce, walking in the garden of his friend Harkness and imagining marriage, came upon a tragedy. A litter of new-born rabbits lay upon the straw scattered about the pen. They were blind; they were hairless; they were blue-black of body; they oscillated their heads in mute appeal. In the center of the pen lay one of the tiny things, dead. Above the little dead body a struggle went on. The mother rabbit fought the father furiously. A wild fire was in her eyes. She rushed at the huge fellow again and again.

  The man who had written two successful novels stood trembling in the path. He saw the father rabbit and the furious little mother struggling in the midst of the new life scattered about the pen, and his hands shook and his lips grew white. He was afraid that the mother of the litter would be killed in the struggle. A cry of sympathy broke from his lips. "Help here! Help! There is murder being done!" he shouted. 

ادامه مطلب: The Rabbit-pen
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 1111

The Garden of Forking Paths

 Jorge Luis Borges

On page 22 of Liddell Hart's History of World War I you will read that an attack against the Serre-Montauban line by thirteen British divisions (supported by 1,400 artillery pieces), planned for the 24th of July, 1916, had to be postponed until the morning of the 29th. The torrential rains, Captain Liddell Hart comments, caused this delay, an insignificant one, to be sure.

 The following statement, dictated, reread and signed by Dr. Yu Tsun, former professor of English at the Hochschule at Tsingtao, throws an unsuspected light over the whole affair. The first two pages of the document are missing.

ادامه مطلب: The Garden of Forking Paths
نوشته شده توسط سيداحمدخزايي دسته: داستان هاي بلند انگليسي ( با ترجمه / بدون ترجمه )
نمایش از 16 خرداد 1393 بازدید: 659

Mr and Mrs Dove

 Katherine Mansfield

Of course he knew - no man better - that he hadn't a ghost of a chance, he hadn't an earthly. The very idea of such a thing was preposterous. So preposterous that he'd perfectly understand it if her father - well, whatever her father chose to do he'd perfectly understand. In fact, nothing short of desperation, nothing short of the fact that this was positively his last day in England for God knows how long, would have screwed him up to it. And even now ... He chose a tie out of the chest of drawers, a blue and cream check tie, and sat on the side of his bed. Supposing she replied, "What impertinence!" would he be surprised? Not in the least, he decided, turning up his soft collar and turning it down over the tie. He expected her to say something like that. He didn't see, if he looked at the affair dead soberly, what else she could say.

ادامه مطلب: Mr and Mrs Dove

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