H.G. Wells «The Door in the Wall» (9/27)

t.me/english_frank

Г. Дж. Уэллс «Дверь в стене» (9/27)

He mused for a while (он задумался на некоторое время). “Playmates I found there (друзей для игр нашел я там). That was very much to me (это было очень много для меня), because I was a lonely little boy (потому что я был одиноким мальчиком). They played delightful games in a grass-covered court (они играли в радостные игры во дворе, покрытом травой) where there was a sun-dial set about with flowers (где были солнечные часы, обрамленные цветами). And as one played one loved (когда играешь, то начинаешь любить: «любишь»)…

“But — it’s odd (но странно) — there’s a gap in my memory (в моей памяти есть пробел). I don’t remember the games we played (я не помню игр, в которые мы играли). I never remembered (и никогда не помнил). Afterwards, as a child (впоследствии, ребенком), I spent long hours trying, even with tears (я тратил долгие часы, пытаясь до слез: «даже со слезами»; to spend — тратить; проводить), to recall the form of that happiness (вспомнить вид того счастья = в чем заключалось то счастье; form — форма, внешний вид, внешнее очертание). I wanted to play it all over again (я хотел сыграть в нее снова; all over again — снова, еще раз, заново) — in my nursery — by myself (в детской комнате сам). No (нет)! All I remember is the happiness and two dear playfellows who were most with me (все, что я помню, — это счастье и двух дорогих друзей по игре, которые были со мной больше всего)…

Then presently came a sombre dark woman (затем через некоторое время пришла хмурая мрачная женщина), with a grave, pale face and dreamy eyes (с серьезным бледным лицом и мечтательными глазами), a sombre woman wearing a soft long robe of pale purple (хмурая женщина, одетая в мягкое длинное одеяние бледно-пурпурного цвета), who carried a book and beckoned (которая несла книгу и сделала /мне/ знак) and took me aside with her into a gallery above a hall (и повела меня в сторону с собой в галерею над залом) — though my playmates were loth to have me go (хотя мои товарищи по играм не хотели отпускать меня; loth — несклонный, не желающий что-л. делать; неохотный; to be loth to do smth. — не хотеть делать что-л.), and ceased their game and stood watching as I was carried away (и прекратили игру и стояли, наблюдая за тем, как меня уводят). ‘Come back to us (возвращайся к нам)!’ they cried (кричали они). ‘Come back to us soon (скорее возвращайся к нам)!’ I looked up at her face (я посмотрел вверх на ее лицо), but she heeded them not at all (но она совершенно не обращала на них внимания; to heed — обращать внимание, учитывать, принимать во внимание). Her face was very gentle and grave (ее лицо было очень спокойным и серьезным). She took me to a seat in the gallery (она повела меня к скамье в галерее), and I stood beside her (и я стал возле нее), ready to look at her book as she opened it upon her knee (готовый смотреть /на/ ее книгу, когда она раскрыла ее на коленях). The pages fell open (страницы распахнулись). She pointed (она показывала), and I looked, marvelling (а я смотрел, изумляясь), for in the living pages of that book I saw myself (ибо на живых страницах той книги я увидел себя); it was a story about myself (это была история обо мне), and in it were all the things that had happened to me since ever I was born (и в ней были все события, которые произошли со мной с тех пор, как я родился)…

He mused for a while. “Playmates I found there. That was very much to me, because I was a lonely little boy. They played delightful games in a grass-covered court where there was a sun-dial set about with flowers. And as one played one loved…

“But — it’s odd — there’s a gap in my memory. I don’t remember the games we played. I never remembered. Afterwards, as a child, I spent long hours trying, even with tears, to recall the form of that happiness. I wanted to play it all over again — in my nursery — by myself. No! All I remember is the happiness and two dear playfellows who were most with me…

Then presently came a sombre dark woman, with a grave, pale face and dreamy eyes, a sombre woman wearing a soft long robe of pale purple, who carried a book and beckoned and took me aside with her into a gallery above a hall — though my playmates were loth to have me go, and ceased their game and stood watching as I was carried away. ‘Come back to us!’ they cried. ‘Come back to us soon!’ I looked up at her face, but she heeded them not at all. Her face was very gentle and grave. She took me to a seat in the gallery, and I stood beside her, ready to look at her book as she opened it upon her knee. The pages fell open. She pointed, and I looked, marvelling, for in the living pages of that book I saw myself; it was a story about myself, and in it were all the things that had happened to me since ever I was born…