Translations

Herr Bremann first visited Darlington Hall very shortly after the war while still in
his officer’s uniform, and it was evident to any observer that he and Lord
Darlington had struck up a close friendship. This did not surprise me, since one
could see at a glance that Herr Bremann was a gentleman of great decency. He
returned again, having left the German army, at fairly regular intervals during the
following two years, and one could not help noticing with some alarm the
deterioration he underwent from one visit to the next. His clothes became
increasingly impoverished, his frame thinner, a hunted look appeared in his eyes,
and on his last visits he would spend long periods staring into space, oblivious of
the lordship’s presence or, sometimes, even of having been addressed. I would
have concluded Her Bremann was suffering from some serious illness, but for
certain remarks his lordship made at that time assuring me this was not so. It
must have been towards the end of 1920 that Lord Darlingtom made the first of a
number of trips to Berlin himself, and I can remember the profound effect it had
on him. A heavy air of preoccupation hung over him for days after his return, and I
recall once, in reply to my inquiring how he had enjoyed his trip, his remarking:
‘Disturbing, Stevens. Deeply disturbing. It does us great discredit to treat a
defeated foe like this. A complete break with the traditions of this country.’ But
there is another memory that has remained with me very vividly in relation to this
matter. Today, the old banqueting hall no longer contains a table and that
spacious room, with its high and magnificent ceiling, serves Mr. Farraday well as
sort of gallery. But in his lordship’s day, that room was regularly required, as was
the long table that occupied it, to seat thirty or more guests for dinner; in fact, the
banqueting hall is so spacious that when necessity demanded it, further tables
were added to the existing one to enable almost fifty to be seated. Lord
Darlington was once dining there with a solitary guest, I believe it was Sir Richard
Fox, a colleague from his lordship’s Foreign Office days and it was then that I
heard Lord Darlinton talk about Her Bremann. ‘He was my enemy’ he was saying,
‘but he always behaved like a gentleman. He was a gentleman doing his job and I
bore him no malice’.
The only thing which could be said against Miss Casement’s report was that, if
carried into effect, it would damage great many existing interests. Rainborough
was well aware that if he were to sign his name under Miss Casement’s report
and send it to Sir Edward he would be ushering in an era of wars and revolutions
of whose savagery he quailed even to think; and who knew how he himself would
fare in such a struggle? He could think of a number of individuals whose position
was attacked by the report who would certainly not hesitate to take reprisals. In
short, Reinborough felt that in sponsoring the report he would be both offending
against a certain subtle gentleman’s agreement which existed concerning mutual
abstention from criticism and laying himself open to counter-attacks to which he
knew he was more than a little vulnerable. He made to himself a display of
dubiety; but he knew in his heart that he was determined to kill Miss Casement’s
report, and he decided that he had better start breaking this news to her as soon
as possible. He had already stored up a number of phrases about “youthful
enthusiasm”, “sleeping dogs” and so on. The only thing about which he was
unsure, and this caused him a certain uneasiness, was how Miss Casement would
react to the prospect of her report being filed away. He wondered if she knew
how good it was. He had an uneasy suspicion that she did. Such thoughts had
been intruding upon the peace of Rainborough’s week-end. By now, however,
they had almost certainly completely faded away, leaving behind only a sort of
resentment which mingling itself somehow with memories of Miss casement’s
perfume and her red-rimmed cigarette ends faded at least into a tiny cloud of
desire. As Rainborough stood now in his garden, with the spring sun perceptibly
warm upon his neck, other sorrowful matters were in the forefront of his mind.
(Adapted from: The Flight from the Enchanter by Iris Murdoch)

I married young and quick, from a place of love and hope, but without a lot of
discussion over what realities of marriage would mean. Nobody advised me on
my marriage. I had been raised by my parents to be independent, self-providing,
self-deciding. By the time I reached the age of twenty-four, it was assumed by
everyone that I could make all my own choices, autonomously. Of course the
world was not always like this. If I’d been born during any other century of
Western patriarchy, I would’ve been considered the property of my father, until
which time he passed me over to my husband, to become marital property. I
would’ve had precious little say in the major matters of my own life. At one time
in history, if a man had been my suitor, my father might have sat that man down
with a long list of questions to establish whether this would be an appropriate
match. He would have wanted to know: “How will you provide for my daughter?
What is your reputation in this community? How is your health? Where will you
take her to live? What are your debts and your assets? What are the strengths of
your character?” My father would not have just given me away in marriage to
anybody for the mere fact that I was in love with that fellow. But in modern life
when I made the decision to marry, my modern father didn’t become involved at
all. He would have no more interfered with that decision than he would have told
me how to style my hair. I have no nostalgia for the patriarchy, please believe me.
But what I have come to realize is that, when that patriarchal system was
(rightfully) dismantled, it was not necessarily replaced by another form of
protection. What I mean is I never thought to ask a suitor the same challenging
questions my father might have asked him, in a different age. I have given myself
away in love many times, merely for the sake of love.
(Adapted from: Eat, pray, love by Elizabeth Gilbert)

I’m not sure for how long the ‘secret guard’ business carried on. When Ruth and I
discussed it while I was caring for her down in Dover, she claimed it had been just
a matter of two or three weeks – but that was almost certainly wrong. She was
probably embarrassed about it and so the whole thing had shrunk in her memory.
My guess is that it went on for nine months, a year even, around when we were
seven, going on eight. I was never sure if Ruth had actually invented the secret
guard herself, but there was no doubt she was the leader. There were between
six and ten of us, the figure changing whenever Ruth allowed in a new member or
expelled someone. We believed Miss Geraldine was the best guardian in
Hailsham, and we worked on presents to give her- a large sheet with pressed
flowers glued over, as it comes to my mind. But our main reason for existing, of
course, was to protect her. By the time I joined the guard, Ruth and the others
had already known for ages about the plot to kidnap Miss Geraldine. We were
never quite sure who was behind it. We sometimes suspected certain of the
Senior boys, sometimes boys in our own year. There was a guardian we didn’t like
much – a Miss Eileen – who we thought for a while might be the brains behind it.
We didn’t know when the abduction would take place, but one thing we felt
convinced about was that the woods would come into it. The woods were at the
top of the hill that rose behind Hailsham House. All we could see really was a dark
fringe off trees, but I certainly wasn’t the only one of my age to feel their
presence day and night. When it got bad, it was like they cast a shadow over the
whole of Hailsham; all you had to do was turn your head or move towards a
window and they’d be, looming in the distance. Safest was the front of the main
house, because you couldn’t see them from any of the windows. Even so, you
never really got away from them. There were all kinds of horrible stories about
the woods. Once, not so long before we all got to Hailsham, a boy had had a big
row with his friends and run off beyond the Hailsham borders. His body had been
found two days later up in those woods. Another rumor had it that a girl’s ghost
wandered through those trees. The woods played on our imaginations the most
after dark, in our dorms as we were trying to fall asleep. The guardians always
insisted these stories were nonsense.

Most people don’t panic when paid a lot of money for a simple job. I didn’t use to
panic either. That was before Jake disappeared, taking with him my mind-skill to
understand and influence animals’ thoughts, and taking my livelihood along with
it.Before Jake disappeared, I’d been paid a lot of money quite often. I’d tamed
unicorns for wealthy women to ride, captured snow tigers and griffins and black
swans for menageries, saved the last herd of star deer in the world from
destruction. Once I’d persuaded a basilisk to move its nesting ground a mile to the
east-away from the only mountain pass in a hundred miles. I’d been sought after
by kings. And then Jake had disappeared. Not that he’d ever been visible in the
first place.

I stood on my front porch in the gray, rainy dawn and read the letter again. It
addressed me by my full, formal name: Miss Maylia Ammerstrom, and was signed
King Darius I in an ornate signature. The heavy paper was embossed at the top
with a stylized dragon wearing a crown around its neck like a collar. I didn’t know
what country Darius was king of, but I knew that he had paid me a thousand
ducats in advance. He’d also told me his agent would arrive soon to discuss travel
plans and further fees. I’d been retired for two years. I’d changed my name to
May Armstrong, bought a modest house in Waverly, and found work as a clerk in
a shipping office. No one was supposed to know where I was or who I was-much
less which bank I used. I felt I had a right to panic. I hooked my hair behind my
ears. King Darius must have a good wizard or clever agents, which meant I
couldn’t run away. He’d just find me again. His letter didn’t say much about what
he wanted me to do. I ought to meet with the king’s agent and hear him out at
least, and then I could refuse the job politely and return his money. I stuffed the
letter in my pocket. I locked the house and walked down to the docks-just a ten-
minute walk, no need to take a cab. The harbor waters were a little choppy, and
beyond the huge statue of Hennon the Bull that guarded the harbor entrance the
ocean swelled gray and sullen. The eastern sky glowed an angry red. A storm was
moving in.

The docks were crowded with workers, as usual this time of morning. There
seemed to be more ships anchored in the harbor than on an ordinary day. No
doubt the impending storm had something to do with that.

(Taken from: The Dragon Whisperer by K.C. Shaw)

Prevodi

Endru Prajs je zatvorio ulazna vrata male bijele kuće i krenuo za mlađim bratom
strmom baštenskom stazom, koja je, smrznuta, krckala pod nogama, a vodila je
prema uličici iza zaleđene metalne kapije u živoj ogradi. Nijedan dječak nije ni
bacio pogled na prepoznatljiv prizor ispod njih: gradić Pagford ušuškan u dolini
između tri brda, a na vrhu jednog od njih nalazila se opatija iz dvanaestog vijeka.
Uska rječica krivudala je oko podnožja brda i kroz gradić, gdje je bila premošćena
malim kamenim mostovima. Braći je taj prizor bio dosadan kao jednobojni zid;
Endru je prezirao to kako je njegov otac, u rijetkim prilikama kada bi im dolazili
gosti, naizgled preuzimao zasluge za vidik, kao da je sam osmislio i izgradio kuću.
Endru je nedavno zaključio da bi mu se više sviđao pogled na asfalt, razbijene
prozore i grafite; sanjao je o Londonu i o značajnim životnim dostignućima.
Nekoliko nedjelja ranije, u diskoteci u školskom amfiteatru, Endru se spetljao sa
Nim Ferdbrader, jednom od Barijevih ćerki bliznakinja. Pokazala je neukusnu
sklonost da ga neko vrijeme poslije toga prati u stopu. Endruovi roditelji su jedva
poznavali Ferbraderove; Sajmon i Rut jedva da su imali prijatelje, ali kao da su
pomalo voljeli Barija, koji je bio upravnik malog ogranka jedine preostale banke u
Pagfordu. Ferbraderovo ime povezivano je sa mnogim stvarima u gradu, kao što je
gradska skupština, gradsko pozorište itd. To su bile stvari koje nisu zanimale
Endrua i kojih su se njegovi roditelji klonili, osim kroz povremene priloge ili
kupovinu srećaka. Endrju nikada ranije nije osjetio zainteresovanost za neku
djevojčicu kao sada. Ona se nedavno upisala; bilo je to čudno vrijeme za promjenu
škole, u drugom polugodištu, pred maturu. Zvala se Gaja, i to je bilo prikladno jer
nikada ranije nije čuo takvo ime, a ona je bila nešto potpuno drugačije-lice joj je
bilo mješavina savršene simetrije i neuobičajenih proporcija; mogao je da ga gleda
satima pokušavajući da otkrije uzroke svog divljenja.

Cetvrte godine svoga vezirovanja posrnu veliki vezir Jusuf, i kao žrtva jedne
opasne intrige pade iznenada u nemilost. Borba je trajala celu zimu i prolece. (Bilo
je neko zlo i hladno prolece koje nije nikako dalo letu da grane.) A sa mesecom
majem izide Jusuf iz zatocenja kao pobednik. I život se nastavi, sjajan, miran,
jednolican. Ali od onih zimskih meseci, kad izmedu života i smrti i izmedu slave i
propasti nije bilo razmaka ni koliko je oštrica noža, ostade u pobedniku veziru
nešto stišano i zamišljeno. Ono neizrecivo, što iskusni i napaceni ljudi cuvaju u
sebi kao skrovito dobro, i što im se, samo pokatkad, nesvesno odražava u
pogledu, kretnji i reci.
Živeci zatocen, u osami i nemilosti, vezir se setio svoga porekla i svoje zemlje. Jer,
razocaranje i bol odvode misli u prošlost. Setio se oca i majke. (Umrli su oboje još
dok je on bio skroman pomocnik nadzornika carskih štala, i on je dao da im se
opervaze grobovi kamenom i podignu beli nadgrobni nišani.) Setio se Bosne i sela
Žepe, iz kog su ga odveli kad mu je bilo devet godina.
Bilo je prijatno, tako u nesreci, misliti na daleko zemlju i raštrkano selo Žepu, gde
u svakoj kuci ima prica o njegovoj slavi i uspehu u Carigradu, a gde niko ne
poznaje i ne sluti nalicje slave ni cenu po koju se uspeh stice.
Još toga istog leta on je imao prilike da govori s ljudima koji su dolazili iz bosne.
Raspitivao je, i kazivali su. Posle buna i ratova bejahu naišli nered, oskudica, glad i
svakojake bolesti. On odredi znatnu pomoc svima svojima, koliko god ih još ima u
Žepi, i u isto vreme naredi da se vidi šta im je najpotrebnije od gradevina. Javiše
mu da ima još cetiri kuce Šetkica i da su ponajimucniji u selu, ali da je i selo i sav
taj kraj osiromašio, da im je džamija oronula i pogorela, cesma presahla; a najgore
im je što nemaju mosta na Žepi. Selo je na bregu kraj samog utoka Žepe u Drinu, a
jedini put za Višegrad ide preko Žepe, pedesetak koraka poviše ušca. Kakav god
most nacine od brvana, voda ga odnese. Jer, ili nabuja Žepa, naglo i iznenada kao
svi gorski potoci, pa podrije i otplavi grede; ili nadode Drina, pa zajazi i zaustavi
Žepu kod ušca, i ona naraste i digne most kao da ga nije ni bilo. A zimi se opet
uhvati poledica po brvnima, pa da se polome i stoka i ljudi. Ko bi im tu most
podigao, ucinio bi im najvece dobro. (Ivo Andric “Most na Zepi”)

...Ima dana i noci kad tajna ispuni moj kut i posrnem kao zivince krvavih uplasenih
ociju,i zaboravim sve,i nemam kome da utecem,ni glasa da ga zovem.
Java i san,kao dva ogledala,dodaju moj bol jedno drugom.
Zaspem misleci na bol moga dana,onda ga u snu dozivljujem ponovno i sanjam da
je bol prosao,da nije nikad ni bio,i veseo sam i blagodaran rad zaludna straha.
A kad se probudim,gle,bol moj jucerasnji na svom mjestu,kao kamen.
I sve je istina.
I nema druge istine do jedne:bola,ni druge stvarnosti do patnje,bola i patnje u
svakoj kaplji vode,i svakoj vlati trave,i svakom bridu kristala,i svakom zvuku ziva
glasa,u snu i na javi,u zivotu,prije zivota,a valjda i poslije zivota..." Ivo
Andric,"Nemiri"
Napolju toplo i svetlo. Ceo vidik ispunjava more, potki?eno nizom oniskih
bledozelenih tamariska, kao nepomi?an dekor. Na otvorenoj verandi velikog
restorana beli se dug niz malih zastrtih stolova. Lazar sedi za jednim od njih sam.
Za stolom prema njegovom dvoje mladih ljudi. Muškarac mu je okrenut licem, a
žena, koja sedi bliže, le?ima. On je plav, dugokos, široka negovana lica, pažljivo
odeven. One je u posve lakoj, širokoj haljini svetle boje, na crvene pruge. Žena mu
zaklanja muškarca, i on može da ga vidi samo na mahove i samo malo, kad se
pomeri ulevo ili udesno. Nju vidi dobro, iako samo s le?a. Bujna i živa kosa,
zaobljen ali još vitak vrat. Sve sama mladost. Kad je prošao pogledom naniže, na
parketu je ugledao dve njene noge, bez ?arapa, u plitkoj mokasinskoj obu?i. Fini
zglobovi, ni suviše slabi ni jaki. Koža mlada i zagasita, u prigušenoj senci suknje i
stolice. Sve je bilo obi?no i svagdanje, samo su živi pokreti tih nogu zadržali
njegovu pažnju. Žena se neprestano izuvala i obuvala. ?as bi izvukla jednu nogu iz
mokasina, ?as drugu, ?as obe odjednom, da ih nekoliko trenutaka docnije obe
veselo sakrije u svoju meku crvenu obu?u. Celo ženino telo bilo je gotovo
nepomi?no. Ona nije pomerala glavu ni kretala ramenima, nije mahala pri govoru
rukama. Izgledalo je kao da i ne govori, ili vrlo malo i vrlo tiho. Ali noge mlade
žene, ni suviše velike ni suviše male, nekako izdvojene i same u svom skloništu,
nisu mirovale ni jednog trena, niti su dopuštale njenoj obu?i da miruje. Taj par
bosih nogu i par crvenih mokasina kretali su se kao ?etiri figure u pozorištu lutaka,
koje neki vešt i smeo reditelj, nevidljiv, pokre?e nevidljivim koncima po smislu
nekog nepoznatog teksta, prema ritmu neke ne?ujne muzike, u duhu neke
fantasti?ne režije. Parket i na njemu ?etiri noge stolice, prekrivene sa tri strane
svilom široke suknje, sa?injavali su pozornicu na kojoj su te ?etiri figure izvodile
svoju skrovitu i samo sa Lazarovog sedišta vidljivu igru.

(prilago?eno iz pripovijetke „Igra“ od Iva Andri?a)

Komendija je došla tiho i bezazleno. Dok su pobijali kolje i zatezali konopce,

sakupljala su se samo djeca. Tek drugog dana, kad su podigli i cirkus i manji šator
u kom su bili nišani za puškaranje, pro?oše komendijaši kroz varoš. Nabijeljen
klaun sa bubnjem, igra?ica u kratkoj suknji od žute svile i direktor u izlizanom
fraku i ?izmama. Najmili su i Sumbu Ciganina da svira u zurnu pred njima. Za njima
su išla bezbrojna djeca i Boško policajac. Maknuše se i du?andžije, a žene su
provirivale iza prozora. Prve ve?eri su prošle mirno. Dok momci ne po?eše da se
kupe u puškarnici i ga?aju u nišane iza kojih su, kad bi se pogodilo, izlazile figure
od lima. Kova?i koji zvonko tuku u nakovanj i djevojka koja maše rupcem. Malo-
pomalo, postade opšta strast da se ga?a u nišan. Avdaga Sara?, nekad poznat
bekrija, a sad ?ovjek oženjen i miran, svaki ?as preprije?i sohu na du?anska vrata
pa zapne u puškarnicu. Direktorova žena, krupna i sva zborana pod lažnom
plavom frizurom, puni i dodaje puške. A Avdaga samo prilegne po tezgi i nišani
polako. On ga?a uvijek samo u jedan nišan: to je onaj na sredini iz koga se, kad
pogodi, podigne Leda i po njoj polegao labud koji zamahne dva-triput krilima i
onda se sve spusti iza zaklona. Kad ne pogodi, on opsuje nešto u brkove i
nestrpljivo pruža ruku za punom puškom. Kad pogodi, on se malo izmakne pa
posmatra golu ženu od bijela lima i labuda na njoj i govori sam sebi, poluglasno:
„Ih, kako je bijela!“. A o?i mu sijaju kao u ?ovjeka koji je meraklija i na dobru
pušku i na lijepo žensko. Strast se širi i raste. Miješaju se školska djeca, mladi?i i
gazde. ?esto dolaze šegrti i zovu majstore, a oni ih rastreseno psuju i gone.
Avdagin šegrt je bio tako bijen da zbog toga ne smije više da u?e kad ga zove,
nego izdaleka vi?e: „Majstore, došo Mula Mujo iz Okrugle, ?eka te u du?anu“. A
majstor se ne okre?e, nego cilja u Ledu sa labudom, a ako ne pogodi, onda ga goni
i bije ?im stigne. „Sikter i s njim zajedno! Šta imam ja s Mula Mujom?“ I prihva?a
novu, napunjenu pušku. Ali uve?e je igra?ica na žici ono što baca kasabu u zanos i
plijeni sve što je muško.

(prilago?eno iz „?orkan i Švabica“, od Iva Andri?a)

Nišan = meta – engl. target

Zurna – fife
Komendija ima znacenje circus

Samanta je pozvala Kaj na veceru iz mjesavine osvetoljubivosti i dosade. Gledala

je na to kao na osvetu protiv Majlsa, koji je uvijek smisljao planove o kojima joj
nije govorio vec je ocekivao da ona saradjuje; zeljela je da vidi kako mu se svidja
kad ona organizuje stvari bez dogovora sa njim. Onda ce priteci Morin i Sirli, te
radoznale stare babe, koje su bile tako obuzete Gavinovim privatnim poslovima,
ali nisu znale gotovo nista o odnosu njega i njegove djevojke iz Londona. Konacno,
to ce joj pruziti priliku da prekori Gavina sto je plasljiv i neodlucan u vezi sa
ljubavnim zivotom: mogla bi pred Kej da prica o vjencanjima ili da kaze kako je
lijepo konacno vidjeti Gavina u ozbiljnoj vezi. Ipak, planovi o osujecivanju drugih
ljudi nijesu zadovoljili Samatnu koliko se nadala. Kad je u subotu ujutro rekla
Majlsu sta je uradila, on je reagovao sa sumljivim entuzijazmom. Otisao je. Slusala
je kako kola izlaze iz dvorista, zatim je otisla u kuhinju, otvorila bocu vina i ponijela
je sa casom u dnevnu sobu. Stalno je zamisljala Hauarda, Sirli i Majlsa kako
zajedno veceraju u Vili Svitlav. Nije mogla da se odupre mislima koje su skrenule
prema onom što je knjigovodja rekao tokom nedjelje. Profiti padaju, bez obzira na
to sta ona govorila Hauardu. Knjigovodja je cak predlozio zatvaranje prodavnice i
usredsredjivanje na onlajn prodaju. To bi bilo priznanje neuspjeha na koje
Samanta nije bila spremna. Jedno je sigurno, Sirli bi voljela da se prodavnica
zatvori; nije to odobravala od pocetka. Ali Samanta je voljela svoju malu crvenu i
crnu prodavnicu u Jarvilu; voljela je da svaki dan odlazi iz Pagforda, razgovara sa
musterijama, tracari sa Karli, svojom pomocnicom. Svijet bi joj bio mali bez te
prodavnice koju je njegovala cetrnaest godina; sveo bi se, ukratko receno, na
Pagford. Taj prokleti Pagford-Samanta nikada nije namjeravala da zivi ovdje. Ona i
Majls su planirali da prije zaposlenja godinu dana putuju svijetom. Vec su
isplanirali putovanje, izvadili vize. Samanta je sanjala da bosonoga hoda, ruku pod
ruku sa njim, dugim bijelim australijskim plazama. A onda je saznala da je trudna…

(Dz. K. Rouling: Upraznjeno mjesto)