Sing a song of sixpence

Překládání poezie a písňových textů vyžaduje od překladatele kromě dokonalé znalosti jazyka, jazykového a historického kontextu a reálií také jistý smysl pro rytmus. Záměrně nezmiňuji rým: rýmovačky typu slunce-žblunce (abychom citovali skvělý překlad Neználka) z žádného textu poezii neudělají, a naproti tomu dobrá rytmizace a cit pro slovní a větný přízvuk, se velmi často uplatní i při překládání prózy, zejména v přímé řeči.

Úkoly na dnešní hodinu:

1. SOUTĚŽ!
Připravte si tužku a papír.
Kdo dokáže za 5 minut napsat největší počet česky zpívaných písní, které jsou přeložené z angličtiny?
(Muzikál se počítá jako jeden titul.)

Prémiová otázka: Kdo byl Ivo Fišer?

2. Klikněte na název dnešního blogu - Sing a song of sixpence. Nejprve si přečtěte něco o vzniku a smyslu říkadla a pak se pokuste přeložit alespoň první čtyři řádky. Jaký přístup zvolíte? Máte tři možnosti: dětské říkadlo (rytmizované nesmysly vítány), přesný překlad významu originálu, nebo vlastní "počeštěný" děj.
AUDIO na YouTube

ANTI-INSPIRACE: Horory české populární hudby

3. Porovnejte klasický westernový text s českým překladem. Líbí, nelíbí? a hlavně, PROČ? Názory vkládejte do komentáře k tomuto blogu.

High Noon

Do not forsake me oh my darling on this our wedding day
Do not forsake me oh my darling wait wait along
I do not know what fate awaits me I only know I must be brave
And I must face the man who hates me
Or lie a coward a craven coward or lie a coward in my grave
Oh to be torn twixt love and duty spposin' I lose my fairhaired beauty
Look at that big hand move along nearing high noon
He made a vow while in state's prison vowed it would be my life or his'n
I'm not afraid at all of what will I do if you leave me
Do not forsake me oh my darling you made that promise as a bride

Do not forsake me oh my darling although you're grieving don't think of leaving
Now that I need you by my side
Wait along wait along wait along wait along


ZDROJ

Buď pořád se mnou (z filmu V pravé poledne)


Buď pořád se mnou, lásko sladká
ten slib ti nevrátím.
Až prach se zvedne po šarvátkách,
mé bude tvým.

Jak dobrý přítel pohleď se mnou
vstříc možná trpkým hodinám
Ba smiř se s pravdou nepříjemnou,
že i tvůj milý má slabou chvíli,
že dostalstrašný strach být sám.

Přestože vidím kamarády,
kterak se ke mně točí zády,
věřím, že třeba sám a sám
dál pravdu mám.

V životě asi žádná víra
samotná zámky neotvírá,
mivím, že se musím za ní prát,
prát se i s tím, co mně svírá.

Jen ty buď se mnou, lásko sladká,
tvůj úsměv je mé bázně štít.
A tak tu stojím bez pozlátka.
Až jednou zmizí co je mně cizí,
jen pro tvůj úsměv
chtěl bych žít.
Chtěl bych žít, chtěl bych žít.
Chtěl bych žít, chtěl bych žít.





4. Vyberte si jednu z níže uvedených písní k překladu. Audio najdete v CAPSE. Opet mate dve moznosti - držet se původního obsahu textu nebo ne. Rozhodnutí je na vás!

Bob Dylan - Mr. Tambourine Man
(minimum - 2 sloky + refrén)
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin’
I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun
It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin’
And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn’t pay it any mind
It’s just a shadow you’re seein’ that he’s chasing

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you

http://www.bobdylan.com/#/songs/mr-tambourine-man


Rod Stewart - I am sailing
(celé)

I am sailing, I am sailing,
home again 'cross the sea.
I am sailing, stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.

I am flying, I am flying,
like a bird 'cross the sky.
I am flying, passing high clouds,
to be with you, to be free.

Can you hear me, can you hear me
thro' the dark night, far away,
I am dying, forever trying,
to be with you, who can say.

Can you hear me, can you hear me,
thro' the dark night far away.
I am dying, forever trying,
to be with you, who can say.

We are sailing, we are sailing,
home again 'cross the sea.
We are sailing stormy waters,
to be near you, to be free.

Oh Lord, to be near you, to be free.
Oh Lord, to be near you, to be free,
Oh Lord.

Copyright © 1964, 1965 by Warner Bros. Inc.; renewed 1992, 1993 by Special Rider Music

Rytmus a rým

Dokonce i próza často využívá poetických zvukomalebných prvků - překladatel by měl být proto schopen rytmizaci textu rozpoznat a pokud je to možné, zachovat ji i v přeloženém textu.

Dokážete najít v textu přízvučné slabiky? Nejsnazší to bývá u písňových textů - přízvuk textu se obvykle shoduje s přízvukem hudebním.

Zkopírujte si následující text do Wordu a barevně vyznačte přízvučné slabiky.

1.
Hoj ty štědrý večere,
ty tajemný svátku,
cože komu dobrého
neseš na památku?

2.
Znám křišťálovou studánku
kde nejhlubší je les
tam roste tmavé kapradí
a vůkol rudý vřes.

3.
Byl pozdní večer, první máj,
večerní máj byl lásky čas
hrdliččin zval ku lásce hlas
kde borový zaváněl háj.

4.
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

Veď mě dál cesto má
veď mě dál, vždyť i já
tam kde končíš chtěl bych dojít
Veď mě dál cesto má

5.
Oh when the saints go marching in
Oh when the saints go marching in
oh I’d want to be in that number
when the saints go marching in

Vlak z Paddingtonu

Texty Agathy Christie se vyznačují plynulostí, čtivostí, bohatou slovní zásobou a barvitým vyjadřováním. Slovní hříčky, narážky, ironie a hrátky se jmény jsou téměř pravidlem; živá, realistická přímá řeč tvoří více než polovinu textu a často slouží k výrazné charakterizaci jednotlivých postav.


1. Seznamte se krátce s autorkou - například na Wikipedii nebo na stránkách AC či Mystery. Bližší údaje o textu, kterým se budeme zabývat, najdete ZDE.
Uvědomte si, v jakém historickém a sociálním prostředí se detektivní příběh odehrává, a jaké tedy budou odpovídající stylové roviny textu.

2. Přečtěte si text určený k překladu v kontextu celé knihy (str. 80) - ke stažení na
CAPSE (Login a heslo se dozvíte v hodině). Rozhodněte, s jakými problémy se budete muset při překládání vypořádat.

- So Miss Marple had duly been fetched by Lucy and installed by the fire...
- Really, your grandfather did? In the classical style, aren't they? Very handsome. How delightful...
- Miss Marple launched full steam ahead...
- ...the boys rather wet and dirty as a result of an enthusiastic search for clues.
- Very naughty about it, he was.


3. Pusťte se do překládání :) Nešetřete prací se slovníky!!

4. Prémiová otázka: co může v kontextu této detektivky znamenat zkratka A.C.? (Nápověda: najděte v knize místo, kde je použita, pomocí vyhledavače - Ctrl+F.)

ŘEŠENÍ

Dodatek pro zajímavost...

_____________________________________

TEXT K PŘEKLADU

So Miss Marple had duly been fetched by Lucy and installed by the fire and she was now smiling up at Alfred as he handed her sandwiches with the approval she always showed towards a good-looking man.
"Thank you so much... May I ask...? Oh, egg and sardine, yes, that will be very nice. I'm afraid I'm always rather greedy over my tea. As one gets on, you know... And, of course, at night only a very light meal... I have to be careful."
She turned to her hostess once more. "What a beautiful house you have. And so many beautiful things in it. Those bronzes, now, they remind me of some my father bought - at the Paris Exhibition. Really, your grandfather did? In the classical style, aren't they? Very handsome. How delightful for you having your brothers with you? So often families are scattered - India, though I suppose that is all done with now - and Africa - the west coast, such a bad climate."
"Two of my brothers live in London."
"That is very nice for you."
"But my brother Cedric is a painter and lives in Ibiza, one of the Balearic Islands."
"Painters are so fond of islands, are they not?" said Miss Marple. "Chopin - that was Majorca, was it not? But he was a musician. It is Gauguin I am thinking of. A sad life - misspent, one feels. I myself never really care for paintings of native women - and although I know he is very much admired - I have never cared for that lurid mustard colour. One really feels quite bilious looking at his pictures."
She eyed Cedric with a slightly disapproving air.
"Tell us about Lucy as a child, Miss Marple," said Cedric.
She smiled up at him delightedly. "Lucy was always so clever," she said. "Yes, you were, dear - now don't interrupt. Quite remarkable at arithmetic. Why, I remember when the butcher overcharged me for topside of beef..."
Miss Marple launched full steam ahead into reminiscences of Lucy's childhood and from there to experiences of her own in village life.
The stream of reminiscence was interrupted by the entry of Bryan and the boys rather wet and dirty as a result of an enthusiastic search for clues. Tea was brought in and with it came Dr. Quimper who raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked round after acknowledging his introduction to the old lady.
"Hope your father's not under the weather, Emma?"
"Oh, no - that is, he was just a little tired this afternoon -"
"Avoiding visitors, I expect," said Miss Marple with a roguish smile. "How well I remember my own dear father. 'Got a lot of old pussies coming?' he would say to my mother. 'Send my tea into the study.' Very naughty about it, he was."
"Please don't think -" began Emma, but Cedric cut in. "It's always tea in the study when his dear sons come down. Psychologically to be expected, eh, Doctor?"

Mluv s nimi!

Překádání rozhovorů je příjemná práce. Stránky rychle přibývají, a překladatel má dojem, jako by si s postavami sám povídal. Překládat přímou řeč znamená "znát" každou postavu - vědět, ke které společenské vrstvě dotyčný patří, jaká stylová rovina jazyka je pro něho typická, zda si dává záležet na smyslu každého svého slova či s oblibou používá metamorfované idiomy, narážky a ironii... Při překladu je proto nejdůležitější dobře znát celé dílo a umět si každou postavu představit jako živého člověka.
Zkuste si přeložené věty říct nahlas, či ve dvojici přečíst celý dialog. Pokud se vám některá část textu obtížně vyslovuje nebo pokud rozhovor v některých místech ztrácí logiku a bezprostřednost, bude něco špatně :)


Jinak mluví bystrá, důstojná starší dáma z anglického venkova, jinak indický plukovník. Pokuste se specifika jejich řeči obsažená v originále převést do češtiny (pouze tučně vyznačené úseky přímé řeči). Nejprve zavřete oči a představte si konkrétni postavu v konkrétním prostředí - asi jako byste se dívali na film s českým dabingem a anglickými titulky!


TEXT 1
'Deucedly sorry and all that, chaps, but time is of the essence.' Wyatt-Turner, a big, redfaced,
heavily moustached colonel, tapped his cane against a. wall-map of Germany,
pointing to a spot just north of the Austrian border and a little west of Garmisch-
Partenkirchen. 'Our man was brought down here at 2 a.m. this morning but SHAEF, in
their all-knowing wisdom, didn't let us know until 10 a.m. Damned idiots! Damned idiots
for not letting us know until so late and double-damned idiots for ignoring our advice in
the first place. Gad, will they never learn to listen to us?' He shook his head in anger,
tapped the map again.

Alistair MacLean: Where Eagles Dare
prostředí: velitelství britských výsadkových jednotek, 1944

--------------------------------------------

TEXT 2
Hercule Poirot smiled.
‘It is clear, therefore, that you do not understand the A B C of the position. There are unpleasantnesses!
Yes, there are a lot of unpleasantnesses. To begin with, there is suspicion .’
‘Suspicion?’
It was Miss Johnson who spoke. Mr Poirot looked at her thoughtfully. I had an idea that he regarded
her with approval. He looked as though he were thinking: ‘Here is a sensible, intelligent person!’
‘Yes, mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘Suspicion! Let us not make the bones about it.You are all under
suspicion here in this house. The cook, the house-boy, the scullion, the pot-boy—yes, and all the
members of the expedition too.’
Mrs Mercado started up, her face working.
‘How dare you? How dare you say such a thing? This is odious—unbearable! Dr Leidner—you can’t sit
here and let this man—let this man—’
Dr Leidner said wearily: ‘Please try and be calm, Marie.’

Agatha Christie: Murder in Mesopotamia
Poirot's first meeting with a group of decent archeologists whose colleague was murdered

--------------------------------------------

TEXT 3
A grassy slope cascaded downward onto an expansive lowlands where clusters of sugar maples dotted quadrangles bordered by brick dormitories and footpaths. Scholarly looking individuals with stacks of books hustled in and out of buildings. As if to accentuate the collegiate atmosphere, two longhaired hippies hurled a Frisbee back and forth while enjoying Mahler’s Fourth Symphony blaring from a dorm window.
“These are our residential dorms,” Kohler explained as he accelerated his wheelchair down the path toward the buildings. “We have over three thousand physicists here. CERN single-handedly employs more than half of the world’s particle physicists - the brightest minds on earth-Germans, Japanese, Italians, Dutch, you name it. Our physicists represent over five hundred universities and sixty nationalities.”
Langdon was amazed. “How do they all communicate?”
“English, of course. The universal language of science.”

Dan Brown: Angels and Demons
Langdon being taken to the Swiss particle physics scientific centre CERN

--------------------------------------------

TEXT 4
"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.
"Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!"
He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.
"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure?"
"I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."
"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."
Scrooge, having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, "Bah!" again; and followed it up with "Humbug!"
"Don't be cross, uncle!" said the nephew.
"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas-time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books, and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will," said Scrooge indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"
"Uncle!" pleaded the nephew.
"Nephew!" returned the uncle sternly, "keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine."

Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol
read more about the heroes HERE

A Simple Beginning

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in
there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts
of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and
stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick,
man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the
place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car
and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in
the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the
glistening brown coils.
"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the
glass, but the snake didn't budge.
"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly
with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.
"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.
Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He
wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no
company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying
to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a
bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door
to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.
The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised
its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.
It winked.
Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was
watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised
its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:
"I get that all the time.
"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the
snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."
The snake nodded vigorously.
"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.
The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry
peered at it.
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.
"Was it nice there?"
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on:
This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to
Brazil?"
As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of
them jump.
"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU
WON'T BELIEVE
WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.
"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by
surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened
so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were
leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with
howls of horror.
Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank
had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering
out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and
started running for the exits.
As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low,
hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."
The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"
The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea
while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only
gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except
snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were
all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had
nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to
squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers
calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you,
Harry?"
Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before
starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to
say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before he collapsed into a
chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.
Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He
didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were
asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen
for some food.

VIDEO online :)

Ring volný

Vaším dnešním úkolem je vybrat si z nabídnutých knih tu, která vás zaujme, seznámit se s ní a pak zvolit úryvek textu k překladu.
Pracujte ve dvojicích (nebo individuálně, dle vlastní volby).
Využijte internet - najděte si informace o autorovi, kritiky zvolené knihy atd.
Do komentáře k tomuto blogu uveďte, kterou knihu jste si zvolili, a který úryvek, a to v podobě normovaných bibliografických údajů.



Do 18. května odevzdejte hotový překlad v rozsahu minimálně jedné normostrany (30 řádek, 60 znaků na řádku) VYTIŠTĚNÝ, spolu s kopií originálního textu.

Jack London

Dobrodružná literatura musí mít především spád. Správný autor tohoto žánru se nezdržuje dlouhými popisy a jde přímo k věci. To ovšem neznamená, že by jeho text byl méně bohatý! Jen využívá např. k charakteristice postav jiných literárních prostředků.

Jack London byl mistrem dobrodružné literatury; jeho texty jsou dramatické, dynamické, úsporné a přitom barvité.
Máte před sebou ukázku z knihy "Smoke Bellew", která dvakrát vyšla česky (Mezi zlatokopy: Praha, Albatros 1974, přel. Milan Rejl; Praha, Svoboda 1988, přel. Milan Rejl a Vladimír Svoboda); dokonce byla zdramatizována jako rozhlasová hra pro děti ("Ten kouř kolem tebe" - napsal Viktorín Šulc). Literární rozcestník ji uvádí jako "povídkový cyklus o znuděném intelektuálovi, který najde sám sebe mezi zlatokopy na Aljašce" (ref)

Plný text je volně k dispozici díky projektu Guttenberg.

1. Nejprve si přečtěte/prolistujte začátek románu; proč se hlavní hrdina vydal na Aljašku? Nemyslete na překládání, čtěte rychle, bavte se a hledejte dobrodružství :)
2. Soustředěně si několikrát pročtete následující odstavec. Co se z něho o Kitovi dozvíte? Jakých prostředků London používá k tomu, aby měl text rychlý spád?
==============================================================
On his way back to the beach, Kit turned the phrase over and over. It
rankled to be called tenderfoot by a slender chit of a woman.
Going into a corner among the heaps of freight, his mind still filled
with the vision of the Indian with the redoubtable pack, Kit essayed
to learn his own strength. He picked out a sack of flour which he knew
weighed an even hundred pounds. He stepped astride it, reached down,
and strove to get it on his shoulder. His first conclusion was that one
hundred pounds were real heavy. His next was that his back was weak. His
third was an oath, and it occurred at the end of five futile minutes,
when he collapsed on top of the burden with which he was wrestling. He
mopped his forehead, and across a heap of grub-sacks saw John Bellew
gazing at him, wintry amusement in his eyes.
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3. Přeložte následující úryvek (nejprve si ho najděte v kontextu):

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"What other men can do, we can do," Kit told Robbie, though down in his
heart he wondered whether or not he was bluffing.

"And I am twenty-seven years old and a man," he privately assured
himself many times in the days that followed. There was need for it. At
the end of a week, though he had succeeded in moving his eight hundred
pounds forward a mile a day, he had lost fifteen pounds of his own
weight. His face was lean and haggard. All resilience had gone out
of his body and mind. He no longer walked, but plodded. And on the
back-trips, travelling light, his feet dragged almost as much as when he
was loaded.

He had become a work animal. He fell asleep over his food, and his sleep
was heavy and beastly, save when he was aroused, screaming with agony,
by the cramps in his legs. Every part of him ached. He tramped on raw
blisters; yet even this was easier than the fearful bruising his feet
received on the water-rounded rocks of the Dyea Flats, across which the
trail led for two miles. These two miles represented thirty-eight miles
of travelling. He washed his face once a day. His nails, torn and broken
and afflicted with hangnails, were never cleaned. His shoulders and
chest, galled by the pack-straps, made him think, and for the first time
with understanding, of the horses he had seen on city streets.