Casablanca - the movie: Marseillaise: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KTsg9i6lvqU
4. prosince 2017
27. listopadu 2017
18. listopadu 2017
Námořnictvo, symbol Británie
Kniha Alistaira MacLeana H.M.S. Ulyssess vyšla poprvé v roce 1955 a byla dokonce zfilmována. Děj se na základě vlastních zkušeností autora zabývá osudy příslušníků Královského námořnictva za druhé světové války.
1. Zjistěte si více o autorovi a díle, přečtěte si synapsi. Kompletní originál v pdf je k dispozici na capse.
2. Z první části textu vyberte technické termíny a vyhledejte jejich význam.
3. Přeložte druhou (vyznačenou) část textu.
Jak si s podobným textem poradili vaši předchůdci - LINK
________________
A
ghost-ship, almost, a legend. The Ulysses was also a young ship, but she had
grown old in the Russian Convoys H.U.33B and on the Arctic patrols. She had
been there from the beginning, and had known no other life. At first she had
operated alone, escorting single ships or groups of two or three: later, she
had operated with corvettes and frigates, and now she never moved without her
squadron, the 14th Escort Carrier group.
But
the Ulysses had never really sailed alone. Death had been, still was, her
constant companion. He laid his ringer on a tanker, and there was the erupting
hell of a high-octane detonation; on a cargo liner, and she went to the bottom
with her load of war supplies, her back broken by a German torpedo; on a
destroyer, and she knifed her way into the grey-black depths of the Barents
Sea, her still racing engines her own executioners; on a U-boat, and she
surfaced violently to be destroyed by gunfire, or slid down gently to the
bottom of the sea, the dazed, shocked crew hoping for a cracked pressure hull
and merciful instant extinction, dreading the endless gasping agony of
suffocation in their iron tomb on the ocean floor. Where the Ulysses went,
there also went death. But death never touched her. She was a lucky ship. A
lucky ship and a ghost ship and the Arctic was her home.
Illusion,
of course, this ghostliness, but a calculated illusion. The Ulysses was
designed specifically for one task, for one ocean, and the camouflage experts
had done a marvellous job. The special Arctic camouflage, the broken, slanting
diagonals of grey and white and washed out blues merged beautifully, imperceptibly
into the infinite shades of grey and white, the cold, bleak grimness of the
barren northern seas.And the camouflage was only the outward, the superficial
indication of her fitness for the north.
Technically, the Ulysses was a light cruiser. She was the
only one of her kind, a 5,500 ton modification of the famous Dido type, a
forerunner of the Black Prince class. Five hundred and ten feet long, narrow in
her fifty-foot beam with a raked stem, square cruiser stern and long fo'c'sle
deck extending well abaft the bridge, a distance of over two hundred feet, she
looked and was a lean, fast and compact warship, dangerous and durable. "Locate:
engage: destroy." These are the classic requirements of a naval ship in
wartime, and to do each, and to do it with maximum speed and efficiency, the
Ulysses was superbly equipped. Location, for instance. The human element, of
course, was indispensable, and Vallery was far too experienced and battlewise a
captain to underestimate the value of the unceasing vigil of look-outs and signalmen.
The human eye was not subject to blackouts, technical hitches or mechanical
breakdowns. Radio reports, too, had their place and Asdic, of course, was the
only defence against submarines.
But
the Ulysses's greatest strength in location lay elsewhere. She was the first
completely equipped radar ship in the world. Night and day, the radar scanners
atop the fore and main tripod masts swept ceaselessly in a 360° arc, combing
the far horizons, searching, searching. Below, in the radar rooms, eight in
all, and in the Fighter Direction rooms, trained eyes, alive to the slightest
abnormality, never left the glowing screens. The radar's efficiency and range
were alike fantastic. The makers, optimistically, as they had thought, had
claimed a 40-45 mile operating range for their equipment. On the Ulysses's
first trials after her refit for its installation, the radar had located a
Condor, subsequently destroyed by a Blenheim, at a
range
of eighty-five miles.
Engage
that was the next step. Sometimes the enemy came to you, more often you had to
go after him. And then, one thing alone mattered speed. The Ulysses was
tremendously fast. Quadruple screws powered by four great Parsons
single-reduction geared turbines two in the for'ard, two in the after
engine-room, developed an unbelievable horse-power that many a battleship, by
no means obsolete, could not match. Officially, she was rated at 33.5 knots.
Off Arraa, in her full-power trials, bows lifting out of the water, stern dug
in like a hydroplane, vibrating in every Clyde-built rivet, and with the
tortured, seething water boiling whitely ten feet above the level of the
poop-deck, she had covered the measured mile at an incredible 39.2 knots, the
nautical equivalent of 45 m.p.h. And the "Dude "-Engineer-Commander
Dobson had smiled knowingly, said he wasn't half trying and just wait till the
Abdiel or the Manxman came along, and he'd show them something. But as these famous
mine-laying cruisers were widely believed to be capable of 44 knots, the
wardroom had merely sniffed "Professional jealousy "and ignored him. Secretly,
they were as proud of the great engines as Dobson himself.
Locate,
engage and destroy. Destruction. That was the be all, the end all. Lay the
enemy along the sights and destroy him. The Ulysses was well equipped for that
also. She had four twin gun-turrets, two for'ard, two aft, 5.25 quick-firing
and dual-purpose equally effective against surface targets and aircraft. These
were controlled from the Director Towers, the main one for'ard, just above and
abaft of the bridge, the auxiliary aft. From these towers, all essential data about
bearing, wind-speed, drift, range, own speed, enemy speed, respective angles of
course were fed to the giant electronic computing tables in the Transmitting
Station, the fighting heart of the ship, situated, curiously enough, in the
very bowels of the Ulysses, deep below the water-line, and thence automatically
to the turrets as two simple factors, elevation and training. The turrets, of
course, could also fight independently.
These
were the main armament. The remaining guns were purely AA, the batteries of
multiple pom-poms, firing two-pounders in rapid succession, not particularly
accurate but producing a blanket curtain sufficient to daunt any enemy pilot,
and isolated clusters of twin Oerlikons, high-precision, high-velocity weapons,
vicious and deadly in trained hands.
Finally,
the Ulysses carried her depth-charges and torpedoes, 36 charges only, a
negligible number compared to that carried by many corvettes and destroyers,
and the maximum number that could be dropped in one pattern was six. But one depth-charge
carries 450 lethal pounds of Amatol, and the Ulysses had destroyed two U-boats
during the preceding winter. The 21-inch torpedoes, each with its 750-pound
warhead of T.N.T., lay sleek and menacing, in the triple tubes on the main
deck, one set on either side of the after funnel. These had not yet been
blooded.
This,
then, was the Ulysses. The complete, the perfect fighting machine, man's
ultimate, so far, in his attempt to weld science and savagery into an
instrument of destruction. The perfect fighting machine, but only so long as it
was manned and serviced by a perfectly integrating, smoothly functioning team.
A ship, any ship, can never be better than its crew. And the crew of the
Ulysses was disintegrating, breaking up: the lid was clamped on the volcano,
but the rumblings never ceased.
Corvette
Frigate
Squadron
Cargo liner
Destroyer
long fo'c'sle deck
square cruiser stern
Asdic
Wardroom
Parsons single-reduction geared turbines
twin gun-turrets, two for'ard, two aft,
AA, the batteries of multiple pom-poms
twin Oerlikons
depth-charges
Then
it happened. It was A.B. Ferry's fault that it happened. And it was just
ill-luck that the port winch was suspect, operating on a power circuit with a
defective breaker, just ill-luck that Ralston was the winch driver, a taciturn,
bitter mouthed Ralston to whom, just then, nothing mattered a damn, least of
all what he said and did. But it was Carslake's responsibility that the affair
developed into what it did.
Sub-Lieutenant
Carslake's presence there, on top of the Carley floats', directing the handling
of the port wire, represented the culmination of a series of mistakes. A
mistake on the part of his father, Rear- Admiral, Rtd., who had seen in his son
a man of his own calibre, had dragged him out of Cambridge in 1939 at the
advanced age of twenty-six and practically forced him into the Navy: a weakness
on the part of his first C.O., a corvette captain who had known his father and
recommended him as a candidate for a commission: a rare error of judgment on
the part of the selection board of the King Alfred, who had granted him his
commission ; and a temporary lapse on the part of the Commander, who had
assigned him to this duty, in spite of Carslake's known incompetence and
inability to handle men.
He had
the face of an overbred racehorse, long, lean and narrow, with prominent pale
blue eyes and protruding upper teeth. Below his scanty fair hair, his eyebrows
were arched in a perpetual question mark: beneath the long, pointed nose, the
supercilious curl of the upper lip formed the perfect complement to the eyebrows.
His speech was a shocking caricature of the King's English: his short vowels
were long, his long ones interminable: his grammar was frequently execrable. He
resented the Navy, he resented his long overdue promotion to Lieutenant, he
resented the way the men resented him. In brief, Sub-Lieutenant Carslake was
the quintessence of the worst by-product of the English public school system.
Vain, superior, uncouth and ill-educated, he was a complete ass.
He was
making an ass of himself now. Striving to maintain balance on the rafts, feet
dramatically braced at a wide angle, he shouted unceasing, unnecessary commands
at his men. C.P.O. Hartley groaned aloud, but kept otherwise silent in the
interests of discipline. But A.B. Ferry felt himself under no such restraints. "'Ark
at his Lordship," he murmured to Ralston. "All for the Skipper's
benefit." He nodded at where Vallery was leaning over the bridge, twenty
feet above Carslake's head. "Impresses him no end, so his nibs
reckons."
"Just
you forget about Carslake and keep your eyes on that wire,"
Ralston
advised. "And take these damned great gloves off. One of these
days------"
"Yes,
yes, I know," Ferry jeered. "The wire's going to snag 'em and wrap me
round the drum." He fed in the hawser expertly. "Don't you worry,
chum, it's never going to happen to me."
But it
did. It happened just then. Ralston, watching the swinging paravane closely,
flicked a glance inboard. He saw the broken strand inches from Ferry, saw it
hook viciously into the gloved hand and drag him towards the spinning drum
before Ferry had a chance to cry out.
Ralston's
reaction was immediate. The foot-brake was only six inches away but that was
too far. Savagely he spun the control wheel, full ahead to full reverse in a
split second. Simultaneously with Ferry's cry of pain as his forearm crushed
against the lip of the drum came a muffled explosion and clouds of acrid smoke
from the winch as £500 worth of electric motor burnt out in a searing flash. Immediately
the wire began to run out again, accelerating momentarily under the dead weight
of the plunging paravane. Ferry went with it. Twenty feet from the winch the
wire passed through a snatch block on the deck: if Ferry was lucky, he might
lose only his hand.
He was
less than four feet away when Ralston's foot stamped viciously on the brake.
The racing drum screamed to a shuddering stop, the paravane crashed down into
the sea and the wire, weightless now, swung idly to the rolling of the ship.
Carslake
scrambled down off the Carley, his sallow face suffused with anger. He strode
up to Ralston.
"You
bloody fool!" he mouthed furiously. "You've lost us that paravane.
By
God, L.T.O., you'd better explain yourself! Who the hell gave you orders to do
anything?"
Ralston's
mouth tightened, but he spoke civilly enough.
"Sorry,
sir. Couldn't help it, it had to be done. Ferry's arm------"
"To
hell with Ferry's arm!" Carslake was almost screaming with rage.
"I'm
in charge here and I give the orders. Look! Look!" He pointed to the
swinging wire. "Your work, Ralston, you, you blundering idiot! It's gone,
gone, do you understand, gone!"
Ralston
looked over the side with an air of large surprise.
"Well,
now, so it is." The eyes were bleak, the tone provocative, as he looked
back at Carslake and patted the winch. "And don't forget this, it's gone
too, and it costs a ruddy sight more than any paravane."
"I
don't want any of your damned impertinence!" Carslake shouted. His mouth
was working, his voice shaking with passion. "What you need is to have
some discipline knocked into you and, by God, I'm going to see you get it, you
insolent young bastard!"
Ralston
flushed darkly. He took one quick step forward, his fist balled, then relaxed
heavily as the powerful hands of C.P.O. Hartley caught his swinging arm. But
the damage was done now. There was nothing for it but the bridge.
13. listopadu 2017
Hudba a text
Poválečná populární hudba, to bylo v padesátých a šedesátých letech především zázračné "rádio Laxemberg," z něhož později čerpaly stále četnější české adaptace americké hudby. Ovšem "poklesle kapitalistický" anglický text byl v pokrokovém socialistickém státě nepřijatelný a nepřípustný! Od šedesátých let 20. století se tak intenzivně rozvíjela česká překladová textařina, a často bojovala s nesmyslnou cenzurou. V textu se například nesmělo objevit slova bible nebo Ježíš - tak vznikla záhadná řádka z textu skupiny Spirituál kvintet "Ten starý příběh z knížky vám tu vykládám", nebo název písně "Jesus met a woman" - v české verzi Poutník a dívka.
V současnosti má většina světových písní pop music anglické texty, bez ohledu na národnost autorů a interpretů. Ani ty, které posloucháme česky, nemusejí pocházet z domácí produkce - často čeští interpreti převezmou světový hit a dodají mu český text. Byznys je byznys!
Česká tradice písňových překladů sahá hluboko do historie.
Divotvorný hrnec
U nás doma (How Are Things In Glocca Morra): Burton Lane, V+W
Zpívá Soňa Červená, mluví Václav Trégl
Karel Vlach se svým orchestrem
ULTRAPHON C 15130, mat. 45770, rec. PRAHA 23.4.1948
Americký muzikál Finian's Rainbow (Divotvorný hrnec) napsal Burton Lane na text E. Y. Harburga. Hudbu přepsal z původních gramofonových desek natočených v roce 1947 v New Yorku Zdeněk Petr, který hudbu i aranžoval. Pražské provedení bylo první v Evropě.
Ukázka ze slavné filmové verze
BEGAT in English
Množení - Werich
1. Znáte nějaké české verze původně anglických písní? Uveďte příklady v komentáři k blogu!
2. A jak se přeložené dílko proměňuje? Porovnejte:
Red river
Červená řeka
Three Ravens - A. Scholl
Three Ravens - Djazia
Three Ravens - vocal
Válka růží
L'important C'est la rose
Podívej, kvete růže
Všimněte si, jak se proměnilo i hudební provedení.
Další inspirace z oblasti téměř zlidovělé české popové klasiky zde - Ivo Fišer
http://www.casopisfolk.cz/Textari/textari-fischer_ivo0610.htm
I díla českých písničkářů jasně dokazují, že dobrý a vtipný text je silnou stránkou naší hudební scény.
Zuzana Navarová - Marie
Karel Kryl - Karavana mraků
Karel Plíhal - Nosorožec
Michal Tučný, Rattlesnake Annie - Long Black Limousine
My čekali jaro
... a zatím přišel mráz
Oh, dem golden slippers - parodie (info - WIKI)
Dobrodružství s bohem Panem
Greensleeves
3. Naším úkolem bude OTEXTOVAT píseň s původně anglickým textem. Nejsme nijak vázáni obsahem originálu, rozhoduje jedině forma, zpívatelnost - slovní a hudební přízvuky se musí překrývat. Zvolte si styl - a držte se ho, ať už to bude drama, lyrika nebo ostrá parodie.
Vyberte si jednu z níže uvedených tří skladeb a napište nový český text.
Soldier of Fortune - Deep Purple
Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton
Give me Love - Ed Sheeran
4. Že nepoznáte přízvuk ani v textu, natož v hudbě?
Zkuste si polohlasně zarecitovat a označit přízvučné slabiky:
Je to chůze po tom světě -
kam se noha šine:
sotva přejdeš jedny hory,
hned se najdou jiné.
Je to život na tom světě -
že by člověk utek:
ještě nezažil jsi jeden,
máš tu druhý smutek.
A teď si poslechněte zhudebněnou verzi - přízvuky jsou v ní patrné daleko lépe:
Pocestný
Délky not a slabik také hrají svou roli:
. . - - . . - -
. . - - . .
. . - - . . - -
. . - - . .
__________________________________________________________
Amazing Grace
Gott https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYG52fKoRw0
text Zdeněk Borovec http://www.karaoketexty.cz/texty-pisni/gott-karel/uz-z-hor-zni-zvon-36571
Nedvědi https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XagCL9YyBH8
Il Divo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYMLMj-SibU
30. října 2017
Poetry. What is poetry?
Jak překládat poezii? A překládat ji vůbec? Má přednost forma či obsah? Dají se na překlad poesie aplikovat pravidla, o kterých jsme mluvili?
1. Projděte si komentáře k předchozímu vstupu. Jaké typy básnické tvorby se objevují? Mají něco společného?
Dokážete se během 2 minut naučit 4 libovolné řádky zpaměti? Jak postupujete?
2. Stáhněte si z capsy soubor s různými verzemi překladu Shakespearova sonetu.
Shakespeare_Sonet66_13prekladu.doc
Která verze se vám nejvíc líbí? Proč? Napište svůj názor do komentáře k tomuto blogu. Uvažujete nad formou a obsahem nebo více nasloucháte svým pocitům?
Sonet 66 English
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MWBW_c7Fsw
Sonet 66 Hilský
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJw5BQba7zQ
__________________________________
3. Přečtěte si pomalu a klidně následující sonet. Vnímejte rytmus a zvukomalbu textu, při druhém čtení se teprve víc soustřeďte na obsah.
SONNET XII
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves 5
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go, 10
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Pokuste se přeložit jedno ze tří čtyřverší + poslání.
Rozmyslete si, jak budete postupovat.
_______________________
originál
https://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/sonnets/sonnets.php
české překlady Shakespeara
Jan Vladislav-pdf
http://lukaflek.wz.cz/poems/ws_sonet29.htm
http://www.v-art.cz/taxus_bohemica/eh/bergrova.htm
http://www.shakespearovy-sonety.cz/a29/
Hilsky sonet 12 youtube
http://sonety.blog.cz/0803/william-shakespeare-sonnet-12-64-73-94-107-128-sest-sonetu-v-mem-prekladu
https://ucbcluj.org/current-issue/vol-21-spring-2012/2842-2/
http://mikechasar.blogspot.cz/2011/02/gi-jane-dh-lawrence.html
Shakespeare forever!
Vyhledejte jakýkoli český překlad své oblíbené básně a anglický originál spolu s českou verzí vlože do komentáře k tomuto blogu.
Naučte se alespoň 8 řádek zpaměti - česky i anglicky. Zkuste si recitaci před zrcadlem, vnímejte rytmus básně, porovnávejte básnické prostředky použité v originále a v překladu.
23. října 2017
Stylové roviny
Pes vyskočil na gauč.
Postavili jsme dům.
Vložte své návrhy + označení postav do komentářů.
Série synonym najdete například zde:
http://prekladanipvk.blogspot.cz/2016/02/synonymie-stylove-roviny.html
http://prekladanipvk.blogspot.cz/2014/10/stylove-roviny.html
19. října 2017
Jak je důležité míti Filipa
Copyright je věčný problém...
1. Seznamte se pečlivě s celým dílem v originále. Přečtete si více o autorovi i jeho divadelní hře. Seznamte se s jednajícími postavami a se synopsí celého příběhu.
Guttenberg fulltext
2. Následující ukázka je ze závěru komedie a přináší rozuzlení celého příběhu. Přečtěte si nejprve pečlivě celý text, soustřeďte se na charakterizaci jednotlivých postav. Poté začněte překládat vyznačenou část textu.
__________________________
The Importance of Being Earnest
A Trivial
Comedy for Serious People
Oscar Wilde
Lady Bracknell.
[Starting.] Miss Prism! Did I hear you mention a Miss Prism?
Chasuble. Yes, Lady
Bracknell. I am on my way to join her.
Lady Bracknell. Pray
allow me to detain you for a moment.
This matter may prove to be one of vital importance to Lord Bracknell
and myself. Is this Miss Prism a female
of repellent aspect, remotely connected with education?
Chasuble. [Somewhat
indignantly.] She is the most cultivated
of ladies, and the very picture of respectability.
Lady Bracknell. It is
obviously the same person. May I ask
what position she holds in your household?
Chasuble.
[Severely.] I am a celibate,
madam.
Jack.
[Interposing.] Miss Prism, Lady
Bracknell, has been for the last three years Miss Cardew's esteemed governess
and valued companion.
Lady Bracknell. In
spite of what I hear of her, I must see her at once. Let her be sent for.
Chasuble. [Looking
off.] She approaches; she is nigh.
[Enter Miss Prism hurriedly.]
Miss Prism. I was told
you expected me in the vestry, dear Canon.
I have been waiting for you there for an hour and three-quarters. [Catches sight of Lady Bracknell, who has
fixed her with a stony glare. Miss Prism
grows pale and quails. She looks
anxiously round as if desirous to escape.]
Lady Bracknell. [In a
severe, judicial voice.] Prism! [Miss Prism bows her head in shame.] Come here, Prism! [Miss Prism approaches in a humble
manner.] Prism! Where is that baby? [General consternation. The Canon starts back in horror. Algernon and Jack pretend to be anxious to shield
Cecily and Gwendolen from hearing the details of a terrible public scandal.] Twenty-eight years ago, Prism, you left Lord
Bracknell's house, Number 104, Upper Grosvenor Street, in charge of a
perambulator that contained a baby of the male sex. You never returned. A few weeks later, through the elaborate
investigations of the Metropolitan police, the perambulator was discovered at midnight,
standing by itself in a remote corner of Bayswater. It contained the manuscript of a three-volume
novel of more than usually revolting sentimentality. [Miss Prism starts in involuntary
indignation.] But the baby was not
there! [Every one looks at Miss Prism.]
Prism! Where is that baby? [A pause.]
Miss Prism. Lady Bracknell, I admit with shame that I do
not know. I only wish I did. The plain facts of the case are these. On the morning of the day you mention, a day
that is for ever branded on my memory, I prepared as usual to take the baby out
in its perambulator. I had also with me
a somewhat old, but capacious hand-bag in which I had intended to place the
manuscript of a work of fiction that I had written during my few unoccupied
hours. In a moment of mental
abstraction, for which I never can forgive myself, I deposited the manuscript
in the basinette, and placed the baby in the hand-bag.
Jack. [Who has been listening attentively.] But where did you deposit the hand-bag?
Miss Prism. Do not ask me, Mr. Worthing.
Jack. Miss Prism, this is a matter of no small
importance to me. I insist on knowing
where you deposited the hand-bag that contained that infant.
Miss Prism. I left it in the cloak-room of one of the
larger railway stations in London.
Jack. What railway station?
Miss Prism. [Quite crushed.] Victoria.
The Brighton line. [Sinks into a
chair.]
Jack. I must retire to my room for a moment. Gwendolen, wait here for me.
Gwendolen. If you are not too long, I will wait here for
you all my life. [Exit Jack in great
excitement.]
Chasuble. What do you think this means, Lady Bracknell?
Lady Bracknell. I dare not even suspect, Dr. Chasuble. I need hardly tell you that in families of
high position strange coincidences are not supposed to occur. They are hardly considered the thing.
[Noises heard
overhead as if some one was throwing trunks about. Every one looks up.]
Cecily. Uncle Jack seems strangely agitated.
Chasuble. Your guardian has a very emotional nature.
Lady Bracknell. This noise is extremely unpleasant. It sounds as if he was having an
argument. I dislike arguments of any
kind. They are always vulgar, and often
convincing.
Chasuble. [Looking up.]
It has stopped now. [The noise is
redoubled.]
Lady Bracknell. I wish he would arrive at some conclusion.
Gwendolen. This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last. [Enter Jack with a hand-bag of black leather
in his hand.]
Jack. [Rushing over to Miss Prism.] Is this the hand-bag, Miss Prism? Examine it
carefully before you speak. The
happiness of more than one life depends on your answer.
Miss Prism. [Calmly.]
It seems to be mine. Yes, here is
the injury it received through the upsetting of a Gower Street omnibus in
younger and happier days. Here is the
stain on the lining caused by the explosion of a temperance beverage, an
incident that occurred at Leamington.
And here, on the lock, are my initials.
I had forgotten that in an extravagant mood I had had them placed
there. The bag is undoubtedly mine. I am delighted to have it so unexpectedly
restored to me. It has been a great
inconvenience being without it all these years.
Jack. [In a pathetic voice.] Miss Prism, more is restored to you than this
hand-bag. I was the baby you placed in
it.
Miss Prism. [Amazed.]
You?
Jack. [Embracing her.] Yes . . . mother!
Miss Prism. [Recoiling in indignant astonishment.] Mr. Worthing!
I am unmarried!
Jack. Unmarried!
I do not deny that is a serious blow.
But after all, who has the right to cast a stone against one who has
suffered? Cannot repentance wipe out an
act of folly? Why should there be one
law for men, and another for women?
Mother, I forgive you. [Tries to
embrace her again.]
Miss Prism. [Still more indignant.] Mr. Worthing, there is some error. [Pointing
to Lady Bracknell.] There is the lady
who can tell you who you really are.
Jack. [After a pause.] Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive,
but would you kindly inform me who I am?
Lady Bracknell. I am afraid that the news I have to give you
will not altogether please you. You are
the son of my poor sister, Mrs. Moncrieff, and consequently Algernon's elder
brother.
Jack. Algy's elder brother! Then I have a brother after all. I knew I had a brother! I always said I had a brother! Cecily,--how could you have ever doubted that
I had a brother? [Seizes hold of
Algernon.] Dr. Chasuble, my unfortunate
brother. Miss Prism, my unfortunate
brother. Gwendolen, my unfortunate brother.
Algy, you young scoundrel, you will have to treat me with more respect
in the future. You have never behaved to
me like a brother in all your life.
Algernon. Well, not till to-day, old boy, I admit. I did my best, however, though I was out of
practice.
[Shakes hands.]
Gwendolen. [To Jack.]
My own! But what own are
you? What is your Christian name, now
that you have become some one else?
Jack. Good heavens! .
. . I had quite forgotten that point.
Your decision on the subject of my name is irrevocable, I suppose?
Gwendolen. I never
change, except in my affections.
Cecily. What a noble
nature you have, Gwendolen!
Jack. Then the
question had better be cleared up at once.
Aunt Augusta, a moment. At the
time when Miss Prism left me in the hand-bag, had I been christened already?
Lady Bracknell. Every
luxury that money could buy, including christening, had been lavished on you by
your fond and doting parents.
Jack. Then I was
christened! That is settled. Now, what name was I given? Let me know the worst.
Lady Bracknell. Being
the eldest son you were naturally christened after your father.
Jack.
[Irritably.] Yes, but what was my
father's Christian name?
Lady Bracknell.
[Meditatively.] I cannot at the
present moment recall what the General's Christian name was. But I have no doubt he had one. He was
eccentric, I admit. But only in later
years. And that was the result of the
Indian climate, and marriage, and indigestion, and other things of that kind.
Jack. Algy! Can't you recollect what our father's
Christian name was?
Algernon. My dear
boy, we were never even on speaking terms.
He died before I was a year old.
Jack. His name would
appear in the Army Lists of the period, I suppose, Aunt Augusta?
Lady Bracknell. The
General was essentially a man of peace, except in his domestic life. But I have no doubt his name would appear in
any military directory.
Jack. The Army Lists
of the last forty years are here. These
delightful records should have been my constant study. [Rushes to bookcase and tears the books
out.] M. Generals . . . Mallam, Maxbohm,
Magley, what ghastly names they have--Markby, Migsby, Mobbs, Moncrieff! Lieutenant 1840, Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel,
Colonel, General 1869, Christian names, Ernest John. [Puts book very quietly down and speaks quite
calmly.] I always told you, Gwendolen,
my name was Ernest, didn't I? Well, it is Ernest after all. I mean it naturally is Ernest.
Lady Bracknell. Yes,
I remember now that the General was called Ernest, I knew I had some particular
reason for disliking the name.
Gwendolen.
Ernest! My own Ernest! I felt from the first that you could have no
other name!
Jack. Gwendolen, it
is a terrible thing for a man to find out suddenly that all his life he has
been speaking nothing but the truth. Can
you forgive me?
Gwendolen. I
can. For I feel that you are sure to
change.
Jack. My own one!
Chasuble. [To Miss
Prism.] Laetitia! [Embraces her]
Miss Prism.
[Enthusiastically.]
Frederick! At last!
Algernon.
Cecily! [Embraces her.] At last!
Jack. Gwendolen! [Embraces her.] At last!
Lady Bracknell. My
nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of
triviality.
Jack. On the
contrary, Aunt Augusta, I've now realised for the first
time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest.
TABLEAU
5. října 2017
Vizualizace
1. Přečtete si celý následující úryvek. Soustřeďte se na popis postav a prostředí, představujte si jednotlivé scény jako obrazy. Prožívejte s Janou první příjezd do Thornfieldu.
Vraťte se do reality - a vyhledejte si informace o autorce i díle, přečte si literární analýzy a kritiky. Nepodceňujte tuto překladatelskou přípravu! Usnadní vám samotnou práci s textem.
2. Začněte překládat označenou část. Nejprve si znovu vybavte obrazy, vykreslete si v duchu dům i krajinu, pak teprve začněte tvořit text, který stejný obraz přinese čtenářům.
CHAPTER XI
A new chapter in a novel is something like a new scene in a
play; and when I draw up the curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you see
a room in the George Inn at Millcote, with such large figured papering on the
walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet, such furniture, such ornaments on the
mantelpiece, such prints, including a portrait of George the Third, and another
of the Prince of Wales, and a representation of the death of Wolfe. All this is visible to you by the light of an
oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and by that of an excellent fire, near which
I sit in my cloak and bonnet; my muff and umbrella lie on the table, and I am
warming away the numbness and chill contracted by sixteen hours' exposure to the
rawness of an October day: I left Lowton at four o'clock a.m., and the Millcote
town clock is now just striking eight.
Reader, though I look comfortably accommodated, I am not
very tranquil in my mind. I thought when
the coach stopped here there would be some one to meet me; I looked anxiously
round as I descended the wooden steps the "boots" placed for my
convenience, expecting to hear my name pronounced, and to see some description
of carriage waiting to convey me to
Thornfield. Nothing
of the sort was visible; and when I asked a waiter if any one had been to
inquire after a Miss Eyre, I was answered in the negative: so I had no resource
but to request to be shown into a private room: and here I am waiting, while
all sorts of doubts and fears are troubling my thoughts.
It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to
feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connection,
uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented
by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that
sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it;
and fear with me became predominant when half-an-hour elapsed and still I was
alone. I bethought myself to ring the
bell.
"Is there a place in this neighbourhood called
Thornfield?" I asked of the waiter who answered the summons.
"Thornfield? I
don't know, ma'am; I'll inquire at the bar." He vanished, but reappeared instantly--
"Is your name Eyre, Miss?"
"Yes."
"Person here waiting for you."
I jumped up, took my muff and umbrella, and hastened into
the inn-passage: a man was standing by the open door, and in the lamp-lit street
I dimly saw a one-horse conveyance.
"This will be your luggage, I suppose?" said the
man rather abruptly when he saw me, pointing to my trunk in the passage.
"Yes." He
hoisted it on to the vehicle, which was a sort of car, and then I got in;
before he shut me up, I asked him how far it was to Thornfield.
"A matter of six miles."
"How long shall we be before we get there?"
"Happen an hour and a half."
He fastened the car door, climbed to his own seat outside,
and we set off. Our progress was
leisurely, and gave me ample time to reflect; I was content to be at length so
near the end of my journey; and as I leaned back in the comfortable though not
elegant conveyance, I meditated much at my ease.
"I suppose," thought I, "judging from the
plainness of the servant and carriage, Mrs. Fairfax is not a very dashing
person: so much the better; I never lived amongst fine people but once, and I
was very miserable with them. I wonder
if she lives alone except this little girl; if so, and if she is in any degree
amiable, I shall surely be able to get on with her; I will do my best; it is a
pity that doing one's best does not always answer. At Lowood, indeed, I took that resolution,
kept it, and succeeded in pleasing; but with Mrs. Reed, I remember my best was
always spurned with scorn. I pray God
Mrs. Fairfax may not turn out a second Mrs. Reed; but if she does, I am not
bound to stay with her! let the worst come to the worst, I can advertise
again. How far are we on our road now, I
wonder?"
I let down the window and looked out; Millcote was behind us;
judging by the number of its lights, it seemed a place of considerable
magnitude, much larger than Lowton. We
were now, as far as I could see, on a sort of common; but there were houses
scattered all over the district; I felt we were in a different region to
Lowood, more populous, less picturesque; more stirring, less romantic.
The roads were heavy, the night misty; my conductor let his
horse walk all the way, and the hour and a half extended, I verily believe, to
two hours; at last he turned in his seat and said--
"You're noan so far fro' Thornfield now."
Again I looked out: we were passing a church; I saw its low
broad tower against the sky, and its bell was tolling a quarter; I saw a narrow
galaxy of lights too, on a hillside, marking a village or hamlet. About ten minutes after, the driver got down
and opened a pair of gates: we passed through, and they clashed to behind
us. We now slowly ascended a drive, and
came upon the long front of a house: candlelight gleamed from one curtained
bow-window; all the rest were dark. The
car stopped at the front door; it was opened by a maid-servant; I alighted and
went in.
"Will you walk this way, ma'am?" said the girl;
and I followed her across a square hall with high doors all round: she ushered
me into a room whose double illumination of fire and candle at first dazzled
me, contrasting as it did with the darkness to which my eyes had been for two
hours inured; when I could see, however, a cosy and agreeable picture presented
itself to my view.
A snug small room; a round table by a cheerful fire; an
arm-chair high- backed and old-fashioned, wherein sat the neatest imaginable
little elderly lady, in widow's cap, black silk gown, and snowy muslin apron; exactly
like what I had fancied Mrs. Fairfax, only less stately and milder
looking. She was occupied in knitting; a
large cat sat demurely at her feet; nothing in short was wanting to complete
the beau-ideal of domestic comfort. A
more reassuring introduction for a new governess could scarcely be conceived;
there was no grandeur to overwhelm, no stateliness to embarrass; and then, as I
entered, the old lady got up and promptly and kindly came forward to meet me.
"How do you do, my dear? I am afraid you have had a tedious ride; John
drives so slowly; you must be cold, come to the fire."
"Mrs. Fairfax, I suppose?" said I.
"Yes, you are right: do sit down."
She conducted me to her own chair, and then began to remove
my shawl and untie my bonnet-strings; I begged she would not give herself so
much trouble.
"Oh, it is no trouble; I dare say your own hands are
almost numbed with cold. Leah, make a
little hot negus and cut a sandwich or two: here are the keys of the
storeroom."
And she produced from
her pocket a most housewifely bunch of keys, and delivered them to the servant.
"Now, then, draw nearer to the fire," she
continued. "You've brought your
luggage with you, haven't you, my dear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'll see it carried into your room," she said,
and bustled out.
"She treats me
like a visitor," thought I. "I
little expected such a reception; I anticipated only coldness and stiffness:
this is not like what I have heard of the treatment of governesses; but I must
not exult too soon."
She returned; with her own hands cleared her knitting
apparatus and a book or two from the table, to make room for the tray which
Leah now brought, and then herself handed me the refreshments. I felt rather confused at being the object of
more attention than I had ever before received, and, that too, shown by my
employer and superior; but as she did not herself seem to consider she was
doing anything out of her place, I thought it better to take her civilities
quietly.
"Shall I have the pleasure of seeing Miss Fairfax
to-night?" I asked, when I had partaken of what she offered me.
"What did you
say, my dear? I am a little deaf,"
returned the good lady, approaching her ear to my mouth.
I repeated the question more distinctly.
"Miss Fairfax?
Oh, you mean Miss Varens! Varens
is the name of your future pupil."
"Indeed! Then
she is not your daughter?"
"No,--I have no family."
I should have followed up my first inquiry, by asking in
what way Miss Varens was connected with her; but I recollected it was not
polite to ask too many questions: besides, I was sure to hear in time.
"I am so glad," she continued, as she sat down
opposite to me, and took the cat on her knee; "I am so glad you are come;
it will be quite pleasant living here now with a companion. To be sure it is pleasant at any time; for
Thornfield is a fine old hall, rather neglected of late years perhaps, but
still it is a respectable place; yet you know in winter-time one feels dreary
quite alone in the best quarters. I say alone--Leah
is a nice girl to be sure, and John and his wife are very decent people; but
then you see they are only servants, and one can't converse with them on terms
of equality: one must keep them at due distance, for fear of losing one's
authority. I'm sure last winter (it was
a very severe one, if you recollect, and when it did not snow, it rained and
blew), not a creature but the butcher and postman came to the house, from
November till February; and I really got quite melancholy with sitting night
after night alone; I had Leah in to read to me sometimes; but I don't think the
poor girl liked the task much: she felt it confining. In spring and summer one got on better:
sunshine and long days make such a difference; and then, just at the
commencement of this autumn, little Adela Varens came and her nurse: a child
makes a house alive all at once; and now you are here I shall be quite
gay."
My heart really warmed to the worthy lady as I heard her
talk; and I drew my chair a little nearer to her, and expressed my sincere wish
that she might find my company as agreeable as she anticipated.
"But I'll not keep you sitting up late to-night,"
said she; "it is on the stroke of twelve now, and you have been travelling
all day: you must feel tired. If you
have got your feet well warmed, I'll show you your bedroom. I've had the room next to mine prepared for
you; it is only a small apartment, but I thought you would like it better than
one of the large front chambers: to be sure they have finer furniture, but they
are so dreary and solitary, I never sleep in them myself."
I thanked her for her considerate choice, and as I really
felt fatigued with my long journey, expressed my readiness to retire. She took her candle, and I followed her from
the room. First she went to see if the hall-door
was fastened; having taken the key from the lock, she led the way
upstairs. The steps and banisters were
of oak; the staircase window was high and latticed; both it and the long gallery
into which the bedroom doors opened looked as if they belonged to a church
rather than a house. A very chill and
vault-like air pervaded the stairs and gallery, suggesting cheerless ideas of
space and solitude; and I was glad, when finally ushered into my chamber, to
find it of small dimensions, and furnished in ordinary, modern style.
When Mrs. Fairfax had bidden me a kind good-night, and I had
fastened my door, gazed leisurely round, and in some measure effaced the eerie impression
made by that wide hall, that dark and spacious staircase, and that long, cold
gallery, by the livelier aspect of my little room, I remembered that, after a
day of bodily fatigue and mental anxiety, I was now at last in safe haven. The impulse of gratitude swelled my heart, and
I knelt down at the bedside, and offered up thanks where thanks were due; not
forgetting, ere I rose, to implore aid on my further path, and the power of
meriting the kindness which seemed so frankly offered me before it was
earned. My couch had no thorns in it
that night; my solitary room no fears.
At once weary and content, I slept soon and soundly: when I awoke it was
broad day.
The chamber looked such a bright little place to me as the
sun shone in between the gay blue chintz window curtains, showing papered walls
and a carpeted floor, so unlike the bare planks and stained plaster of Lowood, that
my spirits rose at the view. Externals
have a great effect on the young: I thought that a fairer era of life was
beginning for me, one that was to have its flowers and pleasures, as well as
its thorns and toils. My faculties, roused by the change of scene, the new
field offered to hope, seemed all astir.
I cannot precisely define what they expected, but it was something
pleasant: not perhaps that day or that month, but at an indefinite future
period.
I rose; I dressed myself with care: obliged to be plain--for
I had no article of attire that was not
made with extreme simplicity--I was still by nature solicitous to be neat. It was not my habit to be disregardful of
appearance or careless of the impression I made: on the contrary, I ever wished
to look as well as I could, and to please as much as my want of beauty would
permit. I sometimes regretted that I was
not handsomer; I sometimes wished to have rosy cheeks, a straight nose, and
small cherry mouth; I desired to be tall, stately, and finely developed in
figure; I felt it a misfortune that I was so little, so pale, and had features
so irregular and so marked. And why had
I these aspirations and these regrets?
It would be difficult to say: I could not then distinctly say it to
myself; yet I had a reason, and a logical, natural reason too. However, when I
had brushed my hair very smooth, and put on my black
frock--which,
Quakerlike as it was, at least had the merit of fitting to a nicety--and
adjusted my clean white tucker, I thought I should do respectably enough to
appear before Mrs. Fairfax, and that my new pupil would not at least recoil
from me with antipathy. Having opened my
chamber window, and seen that I left all things straight and neat on the toilet
table, I ventured forth.
Traversing the long
and matted gallery, I descended the slippery steps of oak; then I gained the
hall: I halted there a minute; I looked at some pictures on the walls (one, I
remember, represented a grim man in a cuirass, and one a lady with powdered
hair and a pearl necklace), at a bronze lamp pendent from the ceiling, at a
great clock whose case was of oak curiously carved, and ebon black with time
and rubbing. Everything appeared very
stately and imposing to me; but then I was so little accustomed to
grandeur. The hall-door, which was half
of glass, stood open; I stepped over the threshold. It was a fine autumn morning; the early sun
shone serenely on embrowned groves and still green fields; advancing on to the
lawn, I looked up and surveyed the front of the mansion. It was three storeys high, of proportions not
vast, though considerable: a gentleman's manor-house, not a nobleman's seat:
battlements round the
top gave it a picturesque look. Its grey
front stood out well from the background of a rookery, whose cawing tenants were
now on the wing: they flew over the lawn and grounds to alight in a great
meadow, from which these were separated by a sunk fence, and where an array of
mighty old thorn trees, strong, knotty, and broad as oaks, at once explained
the etymology of the mansion's designation.
Farther off were hills: not so lofty as those round Lowood, nor so
craggy, nor so like barriers of separation from the living world; but yet quiet
and lonely hills enough, and seeming to embrace Thornfield with a seclusion I
had not expected to
find existent so near the stirring locality of Millcote. A little hamlet, whose roofs were blent with
trees, straggled up the side of one of these hills; the church of the district
stood nearer Thornfield: its old tower-top looked over a knoll between the house
and gates.
I was yet enjoying
the calm prospect and pleasant fresh air, yet listening with delight to the
cawing of the rooks, yet surveying the wide, hoary front of the hall, and
thinking what a great place it was for one lonely little dame like Mrs. Fairfax
to inhabit, when that lady appeared at the door.
"What! out already?" said she. "I see you are an early
riser." I went up to her, and was
received with an affable kiss and shake of the hand.
"How do you like Thornfield?" she asked. I told her I liked it very much.
"Yes," she said, "it is a pretty place; but I
fear it will be getting out of order, unless Mr. Rochester should take it into
his head to come and reside here permanently; or, at least, visit it rather
oftener: great houses and fine grounds require the presence of the proprietor."
"Mr. Rochester!" I exclaimed. "Who is he?"
"The owner of Thornfield," she responded
quietly. "Did you not know he was
called Rochester?"
21. září 2017
Jižanský monolog
2. Vypište si výrazy a obraty, které neznáte. Při hledání jejich významu pokaždé kontrolujte výsledek ve více zdrojích.
https://www.merriam-webster.com/
http://www.urbandictionary.com/
http://www.slovnik.cz/
https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/
http://dictionary.cambridge.org/
https://www.collinsdictionary.com/
http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/
http://www.wisegeek.com/
3. Přeložte tučně vyznačenou část textu a překlad vložte do komentáře k tomuto blogu.
__________________________________
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
CHAPTER I
"TOM!"
No answer.
"TOM!"
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You
TOM!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them
about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never
looked _through_ them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair,
the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not
service-she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids
just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely,
but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll-"
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down
and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to
punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
"I never did see the beat of that boy!"
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out
among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the
garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance
and shouted:
"Y-o-u-u TOM!"
There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in
time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.
"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth.
What _is_ that truck?"
"I don't know, aunt."
"Well, I know. It's jam-that's what it is. Forty times
I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that
switch."
The switch hovered in the air-the peril was desperate. "My!
Look behind you, aunt!"
The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of
danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared
over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into
a gentle laugh.
"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he
played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this
time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new
tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days,
and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can
torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me
off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a
lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness
knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying
up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but
laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart
to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so,
and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born
of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I
reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, and I'll just be obleeged to
make him work, tomorrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work
Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates
anything else, and I've _got_ to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the
ruination of the child."
29. března 2017
Science fiction
2010:
Odyssey two
Arthur
C. Clarke (1982)
Author's Note
The
novel 2001: A Space Odyssey was written during the years 1964-8 and was published
in July 1968, shortly after release of the movie. As I have described in The
Lost Worlds of 2001, both projects proceeded simultaneously, with feedback in
each direction. Thus I often had the strange experience of revising the
manuscript after viewing rushes based upon an earlier version of the story a stimulating,
but rather expensive, way of writing a novel.
….
The
Saturnian system was reached via Jupiter: Discovery made a close approach to
the giant planet, using its enormous gravitational field
to produce a 'slingshot' effect and to accelerate it along the second lap of
its journey. Exactly the same manoeuvre was used by the Voyager space probes in
1979, when they made the first detailed reconnaissance of the outer giants.
…
No
one could have imagined, back in the mid-sixties, that the exploration of the
moons of Jupiter lay, not in the next century, but only fifteen years ahead. Nor
had anyone dreamed of the wonders that would be found there - although we can
be quite certain that the discoveries of the twin Voyagers will one day be surpassed
by even more unexpected finds. When 2001 was written, Io, Europa, Ganymede,
and Callisto were mere pinpoints of light in even the most powerful telescope;
now they are worlds, each unique, and one of them - Io - is the most volcanically
active body in the Solar System.
…
2001
was written in an age that now lies beyond one of the Great Divides in human
history; we are sundered from it forever by the moment when Neil Armstrong set
foot upon the Moon. The date 20 July 1969 was still half a decade in the future
when Stanley Kubrick and I started thinking about the 'proverbial good
science-fiction movie' (his phrase). Now history and fiction have become
inextricably intertwined. The Apollo astronauts had already seen the film when
they left for the Moon.
The
crew of Apollo 8, who at Christmas 1968 became the first men ever to set eyes
upon the Lunar Farside, told me that they had been tempted to radio back the
discovery of a large black monolith: alas, discretion prevailed.
And
there were, later, almost uncanny instances of nature imitating art. Strangest
of all was the saga of Apollo 13 in 1970.
As
a good opening, the Command Module, which houses the crew, had been christened
Odyssey, Just before the explosion of the oxygen tank that caused the mission
to be aborted, the crew had been playing Richard Strauss's Zarathustra theme,
now universally identified with the movie. Immediately after the loss of power,
Jack Swigert radioed back to Mission Control: 'Houston, we've had a
problem.'
The words that Hal used to astronaut Frank Poole on a similar occasion were:
'Sorry to interrupt the festivities, but we have a problem.'
When
the report of the Apollo 13 mission was later published, NASA Administrator Tom
Paine sent me a copy, and noted under Swigert's words: 'Just as you always said
it would be, Arthur.' I still get a very strange feeling when I contemplate
this whole series of events - almost, indeed, as if I share a certain
responsibility.
…
Inevitably,
therefore, the story you are about to read is something much more complex than
a straightforward sequel to the earlier novel - or the movie. Where these
differ, I have followed the screen version; however, I have been more concerned
with making this book self-consistent, and as accurate as possible in the light
of current knowledge.
Which,
of course, will once more be out of date by 2001...
Arthur
C. Clarke
COLOMBO,
SRI LANKA
JANUARY
1982
I
LEONOV
1
Meeting
at the Focus
Even
in this metric age, it was still the thousand-foot telescope, not the three-hundred-metre
one. The great saucer set among the mountains was already half full of shadow,
as the tropical sun dropped swiftly to rest, but the triangular raft of the
antenna complex suspended high above its centre still blazed with light. From
the ground far below, it would have taken keen eyes to notice the two human
figures in the aerial maze of girders, support cables, and wave-guides.
'The
time has come,' said Dr Dimitri Moisevitch to his old friend Heywood Floyd, 'to
talk of many things. Of shoes and spaceships and sealing wax, but mostly of
monoliths and malfunctioning computers.'
'So
that's why you got me away from the conference. Not that I really mind I've heard
Carl give that SETI speech so many times that I can recite it myself. And the
view certainly is fantastic - you know, all the times I've been to Arecibo,
I've never made it up here to the antenna feed.'
'Shame
on you. I've been here three times. Imagine - we're listening to the whole
universe - but no one can overhear us. So let's talk about your problem.'
'What
problem?'
'To
start with, why you had to resign as Chairman of the National Council on Astronautics.'
'I
didn't resign. The University of Hawaii pays a lot better.'
'Okay
- you didn't resign - you were one jump ahead of them. After all these years,
Woody, you can't fool me, and you should give up trying. If they offered the
NCA back to you right now, would you hesitate?'
'All
right, you old Cossak. What do you want to know?'
'First
of all, there are lots of loose ends in the report you finally issued after so
much prodding. We'll overlook the ridiculous and frankly illegal secrecy with
which your people dug up the Tycho monolith -'
'That
wasn't my idea.'
'Glad
to hear it: I even believe you. And we appreciate the fact that you're now
letting everyone examine the thing - which of course is what you should have done
in the first place. Not that it's done much good...'
There
was a gloomy silence while the two men contemplated the black enigma up there
on the Moon, still contemptuously defying all the weapons that human ingenuity
could bring to bear upon it. Then the Russian scientist continued.
'Anyway,
whatever the Tycho monolith may be, there's something more important out at
Jupiter. That's where it sent its signal, after all. And that's where your
people ran into trouble. Sorry about that, by the way - though Frank Poole was
the only one I knew personally. Met him at the '98 IAF Congress – he seemed a
good man.'
'Thank
you; they were all good men. I wish we knew what happened to them.'
'Whatever
it was, surely you'll admit that it now concerns the whole human race - not
merely the United States. You can no longer try to use your knowledge for
purely national advantage.'
'Dimitri
- you know perfectly well that your side would have done exactly the same
thing. And you'd have helped.'
'You're
absolutely right. But that's ancient history - like the just departed administration
of yours that was responsible for the whole mess. With a new President, perhaps
wiser counsels will prevail.'
'Possibly.
Do you have any suggestions, and are they official or just personal hopes?'
'Entirely
unofficial at the moment. What the bloody politicians call exploratory talks.
Which I shall flatly deny ever occurred.'
'Fair
enough. Go on.'
'Okay
- here's the situation. You're assembling Discovery 2 in parking orbit as
quickly as you can, but you can't hope to have it ready in less than three years,
which means you'll miss the next launch window -,
'I
neither confirm nor deny. Remember I'm merely a humble university chancellor,
the other side of the world from the Astronautics Council.'
'And
your last trip to Washington was just a holiday to see old friends, I suppose.
To continue: our own Alexei Leonov -,
'I
thought you were calling it Gherman Titov.'
'Wrong,
Chancellor. The dear old CIA's let you down again. Leonov it is, as of last
January. And don't let anyone know I told you it will reach Jupiter at least a
year ahead of Discovery.'
'Don't
let anyone know I told you we were afraid of that. But do go on.'
'Because
my bosses are just as stupid and shortsighted as yours, they want to go it
alone. Which means that whatever went wrong with you may happen to us, and
we'll all be back to square one - or worse.'
'What
do you think went wrong? We're just as baffled as you are. And don't tell me
you haven't got all of Dave Bowman's transmissions.'
'Of
course we have. Right up to that last "My God, it's full of stars!" We've
even done a stress analysis on his voice patterns. We don't think he was hallucinating;
he was trying to describe what he actually saw.'
'And
what do you make of his doppler shift?'
'Completely
impossible, of course. When we lost his signal, he was receding at a tenth of
the speed of light. And he'd reached that in less than two minutes. A quarter
of a million gravities!'
'So
he must have been killed instantly.'
'Don't
pretend to be naive, Woody. Your space-pod radios aren't built to withstand
even a hundredth of that acceleration. If they could survive, so could Bowman -
at least, until we lost contact.'
'Just
doing an independent check on your deductions. From there on, we're as much in
the dark as you are. If you are.'
'Merely
playing with lots of crazy guesses I'd be ashamed to tell you. Yet none of
them, I suspect, will be half as crazy as the truth.'
In
small crimson explosions the navigation warning lights winked on all around
them, and the three slim towers supporting the antenna complex began to blaze
like beacons against the darkling sky. The last red sliver of the sun vanished
below the surrounding hills; Heywood Floyd waited for the Green Flash, which he
had never seen. Once again, he was disappointed.
'So,
Dimitri,' he said, 'let's get to the point. Just what are you driving at?'
'There
must be a vast amount of priceless information stored in Discovery's data
banks; presumably it's still being gathered, even though the ship's stopped transmitting.
We'd like to have that.'
'Fair
enough. But when you get out there, and Leonov makes a rendezvous, what's to
prevent you from boarding Discovery and copying everything you want?'
'I
never thought I'd have to remind you that Discovery is United States territory,
and an unauthorized entry would be piracy.'
'Except
in the event of a life-or-death emergency, which wouldn't be difficult to
arrange. After all, it would be hard for us to check what your boys were up to,
from a billion kilometres away.'
'Thanks
for the most interesting suggestion; I'll pass it on. But even if we went
aboard, it would take us weeks to learn all your systems, and read out all your
memory banks. What I propose is cooperation. I'm convinced that's the best idea
- but we may both have a job selling it to our respective bosses.'
'You
want one of our astronauts to fly with Leonov?'
'Yes
- preferably an engineer who's specialized in Discovery's systems. Like the
ones you're training at Houston to bring the ship home.'
'How
did you know that?'
'For
heaven's sake, Woody - it was on Aviation Week's videotext at least a month
ago.'
'I
am out of touch; nobody tells me what's been declassified.'
'All
the more reason to spend time in Washington. Will you back me up?'
'Absolutely.
I agree with you one hundred per cent. But -'
'But
what?'
'We
both have to deal with dinosaurs with brains in their tails. Some of mine will
argue: Let the Russians risk their necks, hurrying out to Jupiter. We'll be
there anyway a couple of years later - and what's the hurry?'
For
a moment there was silence on the antenna raft, except for a faint creak from
the immense supporting cables that held it suspended a hundred metres in the
sky. Then Moisevitch continued, so quietly that Floyd had to strain to hear him:
'Has anyone checked Discovery's orbit lately?'
'I
really don't know - but I suppose so. Anyway, why bother? It's a perfectly
stable one.'
'Indeed.
Let me tactlessly remind you of an embarrassing incident from the old NASA
days. Your first space station - Skylab. It was supposed to stay up at least a
decade, but you didn't do your calculations right. The air drag in the ionosphere
was badly underestimated, and it came down years ahead of schedule. I'm sure
you remember that little cliffhanger, even though you were a boy at the time.'
'It
was the year I graduated, and you know it. But Discovery doesn't go anywhere
near Jupiter. Even at perigee - er, perijove - it's much too high to be affected
by atmospheric drag.'
'I've
already said enough to get me exiled to my dacha again - and you might not be
allowed to visit me next time. So just ask your tracking people to do their job
more carefully, will you? And remind them that Jupiter has the biggest magnetosphere
in the Solar System.'
'I
understand what you're driving at - many thanks. Anything else before we go
down? I'm starting to freeze.'
'Don't
worry, old friend. As soon as you let all this filter through to Washington -
wait a week or so until I'm clear -things are going to get very, very hot.'
22. března 2017
Hudba a text
Poválečná populární hudba, to bylo v padesátých a šedesátých letech především zázračné "rádio Laxemberg," z něhož později čerpaly stále četnější české adaptace americké hudby. Ovšem "poklesle kapitalistický" anglický text byl v pokrokovém socialistickém státě nepřijatelný a nepřípustný! Od šedesátých let 20. století se tak intenzivně rozvíjela česká překladová textařina, a často bojovala s nesmyslnou cenzurou. V textu se například nesmělo objevit slova bible nebo Ježíš - tak vznikla záhadná řádka z textu skupiny Spirituál kvintet "Ten starý příběh z knížky vám tu vykládám", nebo název písně "Jesus met a woman" - v české verzi Poutník a dívka.
V současnosti má většina světových písní pop music anglické texty, bez ohledu na národnost autorů a interpretů. Ani ty, které posloucháme česky, nemusejí pocházet z domácí produkce - často čeští interpreti převezmou světový hit a dodají mu český text. Byznys je byznys!
Česká tradice písňových překladů sahá hluboko do historie.
Divotvorný hrnec
U nás doma (How Are Things In Glocca Morra): Burton Lane, V+W
Zpívá Soňa Červená, mluví Václav Trégl
Karel Vlach se svým orchestrem
ULTRAPHON C 15130, mat. 45770, rec. PRAHA 23.4.1948
Americký muzikál Finian´s Rainbow (Divotvorný hrnec) napsal Burton Lane na text E. Y. Harburga. Hudbu přepsal z původních gramofonových desek natočených 30.3. a 3,7,10.4. 1947 v New Yorku Zdeněk Petr, který hudbu i aranžoval. Pražské provedení bylo první v Evropě.
Ukázka ze slavné filmové verze
1. Znáte nějaké české verze původně anglických písní? Uveďte příklady v komentáři k blogu!
2. A jak se přeložené dílko proměňuje? Porovnejte:
Red river
Červená řeka
Three Ravens - A. Scholl
Three Ravens - Djazia
Three Ravens - vocal
Válka růží
L'important C'est la rose
Podívej, kvete růže
Všimněte si, jak se proměnilo i hudební provedení.
Další inspirace z oblasti téměř zlidovělé české popové klasiky zde - Ivo Fišer
http://www.casopisfolk.cz/Textari/textari-fischer_ivo0610.htm
I díla českých písničkářů jasně dokazují, že dobrý a vtipný text je silnou stránkou naší hudební scény.
Zuzana Navarová - Marie
Karel Kryl - Karavana mraků
Karel Plíhal - Nosorožec
Michal Tučný, Rattlesnake Annie - Long Black Limousine
My čekali jaro
... a zatím přišel mráz
Oh, dem golden slippers - parodie (info - WIKI)
3. Naším úkolem bude OTEXTOVAT píseň s původně anglickým textem. Nejsme nijak vázáni obsahem originálu, rozhoduje jedině forma, zpívatelnost - slovní a hudební přízvuky se musí překrývat. Zvolte si styl - a držte se ho, ať už to bude drama, lyrika nebo ostrá parodie.
Vyberte si buď jednu z níže uvedených tří skladeb, nebo si zvolte jinou dle vlastní preference - v tom případě ale musíte k přeloženému textu do komentáře k blogu uvést i odkaz na originální audiozáznam, nejlépe na youtube.
Downtown
I see fire
Hotel California
4. Že nepoznáte přízvuk ani v textu, natož v hudbě?
Zkuste si polohlasně zarecitovat a označit přízvučné slabiky:
Je to chůze po tom světě -
kam se noha šine:
sotva přejdeš jedny hory,
hned se najdou jiné.
Je to život na tom světě -
že by člověk utek:
ještě nezažil jsi jeden,
máš tu druhý smutek.
A teď si poslechněte zhudebněnou verzi - přízvuky jsou v ní patrné daleko lépe:
Pocestný
Délky not a slabik také hrají svou roli:
. . - - . . - -
. . - - . .
. . - - . . - -
. . - - . .
__________________________________________________________
Gott https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYG52fKoRw0
text Zdeněk Borovec http://www.karaoketexty.cz/texty-pisni/gott-karel/uz-z-hor-zni-zvon-36571
Nedvědi https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XagCL9YyBH8
Il Divo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYMLMj-SibU
Přihlásit se k odběru:
Příspěvky (Atom)
