Hear the blow of the wind Степень критики: Любить, властвовать, доминировать
Короткое описание: На английском. Не спрашивайте, сам без понятия.
Why am I still writing that? This day was greasy and unextraordinary, except of trains roaring beyond the windows. There could have been a beautiful train woman sitting in one of the steel cars. She might even have given me a lovely look, but we are not close enough to turn this sign into something more. So that lonely woman passed by me. Decision to leave the apartment got very slowly in my mind, as it was taken down by dozens of lunch breaks and road accidents. Finally, I’ve managed to get out of the concrete box and made first step on the asphalt. The sexless innkeeper gave me another happy look, though he wasn’t happy at all. Absence of sexual closeness turned him into fake and empty glass, which filled itself with beer every day at 10 pm. It didn’t matter whether it is storming outside or there is a snow avalanche at the streets. He simply floated out from the apartment, hardly made his feet step in one direction, right to the bar. When I first met him, the sexless innkeeper was flooded with tears. The innkeeper’s story was very brief and unfortunate, as the woman he left behind. So, here it is.
THE INNKEEPER’S DRAMA
She said that the jar of peanut butter is exactly what she wants now. The friend of her said so, and I thought it would be perfect to have a three-way peanut butter eating. So there I was, right in front of her door. Confused and ready to share my butter. And when I told her “butter”, I was dreaming that that word meant absolutely another thing. She took the jar and gave a very distracted and cold look to me. I suddenly felt a wave of adrenaline as it was shaking through my whole hands and torso. The distraction and coldness in her eyes was rising, so I stepped aside from her pretending that I’m not here now. “Thank you” – and then the friend of her went out to the kitchen. It was a man, and he was completely naked. I felt ridiculous and very confused, as I forgot to take on my pants and all remaining clothing. “Wow, we’ve got the guests” – his voice was awful and smelled like sweat of football players. I suddenly felt extreme disgust to him and even bigger to what was called my girlfriend. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I wanted to confess later…” I wondered how the tight rope will fit her neck. And then, when she will run out of air, I will tell to her: “Let’s make a deal, you, slut. I let you live, and you’ll be fucking happy with me. No football players, no sweat in the bedroom. Only our damned endless love. Are we clear?” Of course, you would search where to sign the deal as fast as possible. And if you had made a mistake, the water would have carried your body save to the shore.
***
“And then I started to drink” – the sexless innkeeper said to me when I met him at first. “That’s all? No actions, just spoiling your body?” – two years ago I was sure, that he could change the way of life. “Yep, buddy. That’s how it works”. “But why that girl is unhappy too?” “She simply didn’t understand what she lost”. The innkeeper simply didn’t feel the cold when we went outside. I thought that it was last gift of that unfortunate woman. He started to eat rapidly fallen snow, and I got scared. His appetite was as if he was eating one of the most expensive menus in the bourgeois restaurants. “What are you doing?! Stop, please!” But he gave no attention to my words. The snow has dismembered him and now it was simply arms and legs of sexless innkeeper. And gigantic mouth having a white watery supper. Later he told that just wanted pneumonia. This heartless bitch didn’t appear no matter how many snow he ate. “Because when your lungs are burning, you feel much better” – innkeeper made his appointment. Nevertheless, I’d prefer that girl hanging from the roof. I just imagined one of that numerous phone calls which transferred people right to her apartment. “Good day. Is that Route X?” “Yes.” “May I speak to Mrs. Y?” “I’m sorry, but no. She hanged herself”. “Oh, is that true?” And then began whisperings, quelling and tears in the phone. They pictured the lonely woman dancing on the rope and singing the dead song. Soon I visited my innkeeper again . He was trying to start a fight, and the same drunk idiot pushed him out of bar and then disappeared. I looked into the eyes of my sexless friend. They were smiling and full of tears. “I’ve got pneumonia, buddy. I love ya! I love ya all!”. He was dancing and had no second thought about varying truth. Two days later doctors said that it wasn’t pneumonia. And I’m still sitting in the apartment; watch the trains following their routs and wonder, why am I writing this story. Maybe now it’s my turn to drink and eat snow.
He rapidly started eating snow right from the ground, what really scared me. His appetite was as if he had ordered one of the most expensive menus in the bourgeois restaurants. “What are you doing?! Stop, please!”
He started to eat rapidly fallen snow, and I got scared. His appetite was as if he was eating one of the most expensive menus in the bourgeois restaurants. “What are you doing?! Stop, please!” Здесь слишком драматично, как по мне. Здесь надо бы и поругаться. Типа: "Hey, what...? What the fuck (hell) are you doing, man?" Or "Damn! Are you shitting me? Knock it off, now!" Or "Oh, you can't be serious!" Or "That's not funny, dude! Knock it off!"
forgot to put on my pants and all remaining clothing. А также
“Good day. Is that Route X?”
Так было бы приятнее. Ну и еще много мелких косячков ( под "косячок" я имею в виду, что я бы написал не так). Самое главное - есть креативность. Креативность не в сюжете, а в самом стиле написания. Рассказ хороший получился. И еще... В общем, прочитал я его и я задумался, не ошибся ли я с выбором соперника? В общем, моя уверенность в своих силах испарилась. Продолжай в том же духе!
С чего бы начать. Впечатляет, чо. Правда, мне встретилось энное количество косяков, но я не носитель языка, чтобы в них тыкать. Разве что эзы вместо лайков. Мм... мне было легко и приятно читать, проще, чем на родном. Тут, наверное, какая-то такая авторская осторожность избавляет от обычного погромыхивания металлических рюшечек. Очень все неожиданно стилистически изящно, имхо. (Ну, автор, наверное, понимает, что не обязательно забывать "штаны и остальную одежду". И запах пота футболиста порадовал. Только о футболистах там и думать.)
А по содержанию я чото ничего не нашла. Этакий осторожный микс из По, О.Генри и прочего англоязычного прошлых столетий. Обязательный innkeeper со своей трагедью, обязательный "я" (тот же Ватсон)), обязательный френд оф хёр. Мне было.. как это.. более ярко, когда он стал снег поглощать (ибо внезапность) и тут: "“May I speak to Mrs. Y?” “I’m sorry, but no. She hanged herself”. " (Кот Матроскин подойти к телефону не может))
А концовка такая, возвращает сразу сюда, совсем не по-английски. Что-то в ней есть слегка попсовое, но и глубокое есть тоже.
Hear the blow of the wind --- как по мне, так у вас тут ошибка... Скорее, на англ. правильнее будет: Hear the wind blow Blow - это ж глагол (он ставится после сущ., и не имеет перед собой артикля the)
Хотяяяя.... тут гугл переводчик говорит, что может употреблять и как сущ... Дуновение или удар... Какой же у вас смысл?
Я могу привести кучу примеров, когда слово имеет функцию как глагола, так и существительного. Все зависит от контекста и от способа использования. Тут шел акцент на дуновение, порыв (blow),потому я его и перевел в существительное.
Но спасибо, что зашла. Перечитал, нашел пару косяков.
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