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Английский с нуля

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СергейСмирнов

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Английский с нуля #143


Английский с нуля
 5 сентября 2006 года. Выпуск 143 

  All in good time! - Всему свое время!
Сегодня в номере:


Фонд Магистр, совместно со школой International House представляет в России первую онлайн-языковую школу с реальными преподавателями Net Languages, аккредитованную при университете Астона (Великобритания).
Общий курс английского и испанского языка: полный уровень (1 год) - 365 евро, пол уровня (6 мес.) - 198 евро.
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Hello, my friends!

I'm glad to meet you.

Сегодня я публикую начало романа Максима Свириденкова из Смоленска, ранний вариант которого пару лет назад был напечатан в московском альманахе "ЛитРос". 

Максим пишет: "Высылаю кусочек из первой главы. Буду рад, если Вы там найдёте какие-нибудь грамматические, орфографические или стилистические ошибки и укажете мне их. В любом случае, мне интересно Ваше мнение о моём творчестве и моём английском."

Многие из Вас уже достаточно хорошо владеют языком, и, возможно, Вы поможете Максиму оценить правильность перевода этого романа на английский язык.

Max SVIRIDENKOV

The bloody angels

(The novel)

  PART ONE

Under Ichkerian sky

1

At the last day of 1994 the snow was falling on Ichkerian land. It was white like feathers of swans flying in one flock with angels. Resinous aroma was mixed with cool matutinal wind.

"If I am killed in Grozny, when we come there, the most fucking thing would I shall never become a father. I always hated kids, because of their usual cries and hollers, and, understandable, I hadn't time to make children before my serv, but now ––", Zhenka Charin said to Matvey (it was nickname for friends of Igor Matveew[1]), who was such either as he a soldier of eighteen years old.

"Boy, you are going to die too early", answered Matvey and unsuccessful tried to smile. "Tolik says that Chechens defeated and the remainder of their army runs out from the city now".

"It's a shit! It's a real shit. Tolik is only the platoon commander, but not general. He can't know all fucking truth"

"What’s a difference? We are lucky guys; we'll come to Grozny without any shot".

"You are kidding, old spot!” said Zhenka. "You and I were watching corpses in that lorries. We can't believe that our troops will come to Grozny without a shot”.

"We had to believe, because we'll have to come to this devil’s city", thought Matvey, but said nothing.

He was beginning to detest Zhenka, who had been always irritated and evaluate everything as shit or fucking things. But Zhenka was right. In the morning, when their regiment arrived to the base, Matvey was busy of driving own evil thoughts out. First minutes in Chechnya reminded him the cinematography pretence of the war.

The base of federal troops consisted of airsheds and huge premiseses, where not so long ago there were peace craft shops. But now a lot of army lories were here. When Matvey picked in one of them, he saw motionless men in camouflage. Suddenly he understood that these were dead bodies.

The lieutenant, who stood not far away, offered to Matvey, "You can look at our sharpshooter in the next lorry. Yesterday he was in Grozny with carry of two soldiers. He lagged behind them. The Chechens took him in captivity. Afterwards we found his broken corpse".

This lieutenant took a cigarette from his pocket. The cigarette-lighter trembled in his hands. He continued the conversation quietly and somehow nervously, "Sergey, that sharpshooter, had seen all business of our curs with men from Chechen fighting group. He knew too much, and that’s why bastards of his carry leaved him. I know too much too and I'm afraid I shall be next dead body".

The corpse of the sharpshooter seemed to be made from plasticine. His camouflage was cut into pieces and blood-flooded. His head laid apart his torso.

Seeing this, Matvey sicked right on dead body. The Lieutenant shouted at him, "Oh, mongrel! Fuck your mother!"

The war became real for Matvey, but he repeated three times for himself: "This is only an accident. The war can't begin in Russia. There is nothing to be afraid of". He trembled and did not notice it.

At that moment Zhenka Charin came to them. "What are the shouts?” he asked and looked at the lorry. Seeing the sharpshooter, he couldn’t sick.

"Has seen and that was enough ––", said the lieutenant.

"Asshole, why did you think, that I gave the order for someone looking?!” the low-statured major with mustaches unexpectedly appeared around lorries. He was fat, and, probably, from this seemed jumping making each step. For contrast major's voice sounded certain and aloud. The Lieutenant immediately stood straight and silly to watch major.

"Who are you, puppies?” the major shouted at Matvey and Zhenka not caring about their answers ordered. "Don’t tell to anybody about corpses, that you saw! You mustn't create a panic. I'll fuck you if somebody knows something!"

Major smells vodka and oranges. The lorries left soon. To become disconnected from the war’s air, Matvey began to fasten fir-branch to armoured personnel carrier.

"It will be better if you are hitch a pair of New-Year balls on it!” smiled the tall, light-brown-haired and blue-eyed soldier, whose nickname was Kissel (for the reason his surname was Kisselev). He was the best friend of Matvey.

"Hardly we'll find them here", answered Matvey and umpteenth thought that it is necessary to tell the Kissel about the dead bodies in the lorries. But when Matvey looked at his lucky face, he umpteenth didn't dare.

"In any case it will be easier for him, if he wouldn't hear about corpses and not become to be afraid beforehand", Matvey stony looked at empty snowbound field and thought about varicolored festoons, laughing girls and light-heartedly days. All that was exactly year back and now recalled by his memory like unreal appearance in the dreams of a fairy tale.


[1] Matvey is an old Russian name. And Matveew is a widespread Russian surname, that origin by this name.

 

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